MEMORIES OF MY MATERNAL CONFEDERATE ANCESTOR,
Charles W. Mathews (1840-1936)
By Miss Katherine L. Ryals, Real Granddaughter
(Member of the United Daughter of the Confederacy)

My grandfather, Charles W. Mathews, was born in a community know as Skipperton in Bibb County, Georgia, on December 4, 1840.

He enlisted in the Confederate States’ Army on July 15, 1861, in Bibb County, Georgia, as a Private in Company "C" of the 8^th Regiment, Georgia Volunteer Infantry, Army of Northern Virginia. He was paroled at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia, on April 9, 1865, after the surrender.

He received three minor and two major wounds with complications but he survived the war and returned home.

Charles had a 15-year-old brother, James (Jack) who wanted to go along with him and who falsified his age to volunteer. James was killed at the Battle of the Wilderness on May 4, 1864.

Charles was also seriously wounded at the same time. The battle was supposedly over, but an enemy shell was thrown into a group of Rebels at the river where they were caring for the wounded and refreshing themselves. Charles and James were sitting on the ground side by side. James was hit by the enemy shell and he died in Charles’ arms. Charles, also wounded, was carried to a hospital; therefore, he had no information about James’ burial – only that there were so many casualties, the bodies were buried in mass graves.

My grandfather related to his children and grandchildren how often he’d lie down on the cold ground and put his blanket over him, only to awaken the next morning covered with snow. This was disturbing to us as children and we would question him "Was he not terribly cold?"

His reply was "not so cold as it might seem because the snow packed down, keeping out a draft and body heat was able to withstand the bitter cold."

He also related on their long marches how they would stop and build a campfire to cook their food. Many times, they got orders to move; and they would extinguish the campfire and take their partially-cooked food along to eat on their journey.

By April of 1865, it became apparent that General Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia could not proceed any further without great bloodshed and loss of life. The supply lines had not been able to reach the troops for several days. During this time, their rations consisted of sparse amounts of parched corn. The few horses that belonged to officers survived on grass or whatever else they could find on the ground.

For a long time, clothing was at a premium; and, many times, usable garments were removed from the dying and dead on the battlefield.

After several days of studying the situation, General Lee decided to surrender to General Grant at Appomattox Courthouse on April 9, 1865.

After the signing of the surrender, General Lee mounted his gray horse, "Traveler," went to his troops and had them gather around him for his forthcoming announcement of the surrender.

What a sight it was! The soldiers, many of them having been wounded in previous battles, were dressed in tattered uniforms – weary, undernourished and yet courageous and proud but not in despair.

My grandfather, Charles W. Mathews, was fortunate to be so near General Lee that he could hear every word of Lee’s farewell message to his comrades. He praised them for their gallantry and for a job well-done despite the fact that it was not victorious for them.

In his remarks, he said, "Boys, we were not whipped but overpowered because our enemy had more men, and supplies were easily accessible to them due to their location."

Further, he told them that they were paroled from service and could return home or do whatever they wished but that the army had nothing to offer them at this time.

He knew it meant a long journey for many of these men, and he advised them that any time they could find a train in operation, even though it might be for a short distance, just to hop aboard for a free ride.

It was a long homeward journey to Middle Georgia, sleeping out in the open or in a vacant house and occasionally staying overnight with families who could accommodate soldiers. Food was very scarce but people were willing to share what little they had.

One afternoon at a farm in Virginia, my grandfather and a group came upon some geese. The men immediately had the idea that some of these would provide a feast that night. Several of the geese were enticed to follow as the men dropped on the ground some corn which they had picked along the way.

A short distance down the road, they came upon a vacant two-story house and, with darkness approaching, they saw this as a haven. In an upstairs room, the geese were picked and cleaned and prepared for roasting. The feathers were thrown out a window. After a good meal, the men were ready for sleep.

Upon arising the next morning, the men arose and looked outside. What a sight they did behold! A yard full of white feathers, making it look as if a feather mattress had been emptied!

My grandfather finally got home to his mother and the family who had waited so patiently during the war years. The homecoming was saddened because James would not be returning.

My grandfather was embarrassed to face his family because he was so ragged and dirty. His mother began the task of weaving cloth to make her son some clothes. He began planning to earn a livelihood to help his widowed mother and the family rebuild their lives. As a true Southerner, he engaged in farming.

Nine years later, he moved to Houston County near what is now Centerville. Here he met and married the young maiden next door. They established a Christian and happy home. Six children were born to this union, but three died in infancy.

He was a successful farmer, landowner, and respected citizen, contributing much to the community in his quiet, affable, and gentle manner. From early childhood, he was a devoted member of the Methodist Church, serving for 50 years on the Board of Stewards.

My grandfather was interested in knowing what his grandchildren were learning from their history textbooks about his period of history. He read our books with great interest and, at this time, he would tell some of his own experiences.

He enjoyed a number of reunions with his Confederate comrades. In later years when the wearers of the Gray and Blue had dwindled to a small number, a joint reunion was held at Richmond, Virginia. This one he wanted to attend but his health would not permit. The last reunion he attended was in 1930 at Savannah, Georgia, where he led the Grand March.

He always kept in step while walking, never forgetting his military training. He continued to enjoy a band; and, when "Dixie" was played or sung, one could easily see it had a special meaning for him and brought back many memories.

He never failed to observe Southern Memorial Day on April 26, and he taught others, including his children and grandchildren, to respect the day. He attended Memorial Day exercises, which were held in Perry, Georgia. He always wore his uniform and he would stay dressed until we grandchildren came home from school to see him.

How proud we were of him and how handsome he was in that gray uniform! Today, I am proud of my Southern heritage.

On November 11, 1936, while the nation was paying tribute to their war veterans, Charles W. Mathews passed away at the age of 96. As he had requested, he was buried in the gray uniform of which he was justly proud. Thus, Houston County’s last surviving Confederate veteran joined his comrades.

The thought he passed on to his successors is that he and his fellow soldiers fought hard and honorable and endured much suffering for what they believed to be right.

(Katherine L. Ryals passed away September 23, 1996)