Pokin Around: A marker for a fallen Confederate soldier

We will never know why Martin Van Buren McQuigg chose to join the Confederate army and not the Union army.

But as of Saturday, finally, a marker was put in place to indicate where he is likely buried. He was mortally wounded during the battle of Wilson's Creek on Aug. 10, 1861.

I was one of 40 people at the small, rolling Brick Church Cemetery, between Springfield and Willard, for the ceremony.

More than likely, McQuigg made his choice based on where he lived, which was Greene County, says Travis Archie, the 26-year-old Commander of the local chapter of the Sons of Confederate Veterans.

McQuigg lived at a time when few Americans ventured more than 20 miles from hearth and home. Back then, your "country" in large part was where you lived. And the governor of Missouri was calling for men to fight for the Confederacy.

This we do know about McQuigg, thanks to Archie, of Bois D'arc:

McQuigg was born in Tennessee in 1838. His parents died within 13 months of each when he was 7. As a result, he and nine siblings — orphans —moved to Missouri to live with an aunt named Margaret White. She resided outside Willard, next to the Brick Church Cemetery.

Her house no longer stands, but her grave is in the cemetery.

In 1860, the Confederates captured U.S. Fort Sumter, near Charleston, S.C., starting the Civil War, and McQuigg fell in love and married Francis Louise Weaver. By the end of the year Franny was pregnant.

We could spend days discussing why McQuigg took up arms and whether the Confederate cause was just, says William Piston, a history professor at Missouri State University. He spoke on Saturday.

"If we did know them, we might or might not agree with them," he says.

As we know by arguments over displaying the Confederate flag, it is a war that haunts us today, 156 years later.

"Yet here we stand; here we stand together," Piston says. "So I ask: What is it that you value so highly that you have taken the time and effort to come to this cemetery today? What is it that you bring to this graveside? I believe it is honor."

Most in attendance are connected to Campbell's Company Camp #2252, which is part of the Sons of Confederate Veterans.

Some in attendance work or volunteer at Wilson's Creek National Battlefield, including the men who fire the cannon during the ceremony.

I know why I am here — to write this column.

Aug. 10, 1861, was a scorcher. The battle lasted five hours, about 555 men died and thousands more were wounded. It is considered a Confederate victory.

McQuigg was shot on the battlefield. He did not die there.

According to eye-witness accounts, friends and family went to the battlefield and took him to his aunt's house near Willard. Archie says the group included Franny, who rode to the battlefield on horseback while eight months pregnant.

McQuigg died that night. He likely was surrounded by those who loved him. More than likely, he was wrapped in a blanket — due to a shortage of coffins — and buried by the light of lanterns next to the graves of cousins and family members. No marker was placed.

Archie knows that McQuigg was laid to rest in this cemetery. The marker represents his best guess as to where.

The new marker was paid for with tax dollars. That's because McQuigg is a veteran of the United States of America. The question of whether Confederate soldiers are veterans of this nation was decided by federal law in 1958. They are veterans. They served active duty for this nation.

The black cloak is removed. The marker is upright and simple.

The cannon sounds. The six members of the Turkey Creek Fusiliers fire their rifles.

I know it is military tradition and done with respect. But to me, the firing of weapons at funerals is an homage to war. I prefer the somber sound of "Taps."

I am far more emotionally touched by the details of Private McQuigg's death, handed down in an eye-witness account from fellow Confederate soldier Felix R. Porter, a 17-year-old farm boy who would later become a Springfield judge.

At Wilson's Creek, McQuigg's unit was only lightly engaged; it suffered few casualties. The day's battle on that hot day had just ended.

Private McQuigg could have lived to fight another day.

But instead, he heard the desperate pleas for water of a fallen Union soldier mad with thirst. In an act of compassion, McQuigg, age 22, went to a nearby pool to fill his canteen.

He was shot from a distance by another wounded Union soldier who did not realize the Northern Army was in retreat at the time.

McQuigg's child was born a month later. It was a boy.

These are the views of Steve Pokin, the News-Leader's columnist. Pokin has been at the paper 4½ years and over the course of his career has covered just about everything — from courts and cops to features and fitness. He can be reached at 836-1253, spokin@gannett.com, on Twitter @stevepokinNL or by mail at 651 N. Boonville, Springfield, MO 65806.