Aspiring newspaperman remembers his Civil War-childhood — Part No. 1: the ‘Devils Incarnate’ and their fate

By Greg Gresham
North Alabama Civil War Roundtable

When I was a child, during the school-less summers the boys in my neighborhood would often tramp to the nearby woods to begin building a fort. Girls who had proven themselves as true “tom-boys” would often join us and we might have a dozen or more kids involved. The pre-adolescent boys were the leaders and often we’d split up into opposing sides with two forts being built. And then of course we’d play “war,” using sticks as rifles and adding “bang-bang” sound effects. Sometimes someone would have an air gun that sounded to us like a cannon. We defended our forts, setting up ambushes along narrow paths. We understood how to flank the “enemy,” although we had no idea of what “flanking” meant. It was all fun and we didn’t have a worry in the world.

This wasn’t the case for one DeForrest Hyde, a native of the Shoals area, who was 7 years old when the Civil

War started and 11 when he “went off to the woods” not to build forts and play war but to camp and guard the neighborhood’s livestock.  Hyde remembered many of the events of the war, as he saw them through a child’s perspective.  Between 1890 and 1910 he wrote news articles in Shoals-area papers about the Civil War, recounting events from his youth. Although Hyde wrote some of those articles when he was the editor of the Sheffield Reaper, most of them appeared in the Florence Times under his pen name “The Bohemian.”

Times readers probably knew that Hyde was “The Bohemian” as they perused his articles titled “Random Ramblings.”

Many would also know that Hyde’s family were of Unionist sentiment during the conflict. Hyde’s father, Samuel Hyde, was imprisoned for meeting with the Union Navy at the Florence Landing in February 1862.  What readers didn’t know was that prior to Hyde writing in the area’s newspapers, while starting in the newspaper business as a printer he was writing stories of his Civil War childhood under a different pen name in a Northern newspaper.  In these articles, Hyde, as an eyewitness, gave us a glimpse of the Civil War in the Muscle Shoals area not often told and mostly forgotten.

In the following story, Hyde discusses what Lauderdale County looked like in 1865, before and just after the war ends. The county was lawless and dangerous.  This was the period in which the infamous Wilson murders occurred and Union troops were executing outlaws on the spot; quick drum-head court martials were the only requirement to serve justice to the accused. To clarify the story’s location, Hyde had resided since the beginning of the war in Florence but now had moved to the northern part of the county to live with family related to his aunt. Here is his story:

After the rout of Hood from Tennessee, I beat about North Alabama, and finally found myself domiciled among the “hills” of one of the extreme northern counties, on a mad little river that

flows into the rushing Tennessee. In the neighborhood in which I found myself was one of those ever-present gang of cut-throats, known as bushwhackers, who made a practice of robbing citizens of all political shades for the benefit of the confederacy — they were the confederacy!

The citizens hid their horses in deep ravines or swamps a short distance from the larger streams, and sent their youngest sons, aged 13 to 15 years, to care for the stock. On one occasion, I was

sent out with the youthful stock guard to care for five animals. We had our “hide” in a large swamp, on either side of which was a long hill covered with open woods, which gave the stock guard an opportunity to watch all approaches. At daybreak of the morning after our first night in the swamp, we were startled by hoofbeats on the rocky hill, a mile to the south of us. In two minutes, we were all mounted and listening for the enemy. Soon they appeared, and, by a fatal mistake on our part, espied our bright campfire. Then they came up on us like an avalanche and we —— fled!

On come our pursuers, and on we fly. Just hear the spiteful “pop! pop! pop!” of the navy-six, and the “spat! spat!” of the bullets as they slap the sides of the trees. — Holy terror! Steve’s mule has

stopped short to kick the atmosphere. I am just behind riding a young horse, and he has stopped, too!

“Steve,” I call, “let’s swap!”

“All right!” returns Steve.

Off we roll and change animals. Steve takes the lead, and the way that little mule follows is enough to make glad the heart of the most despondent. In a race of about five miles, we completely eluded the “devils incarnate.” The only casualties in this foray were a tremendous scare and two lacerated faces, Steve’s and mine.

Four of this outrageous gang met their fates soon after, in this manner:

In the neighborhood lived a man named P———, who was a soldier in Lee’s army. P——— had a brother about 17 years old, whom he gave an old decrepit nag to make a crop with, so he could

support their old and infirm widowed mother. This gang went to the house, took the horse, and abused the old mother. Time rolled on. Lee surrendered. P——— came home. My brother made a trip to F——— then in the possession of United States forces, and P——— sent by him for some caps, lead and powder; he possessed a fine Kentucky rifle he had kept securely hid at home during the war. Well, to cut a long story short, within the space of two months four of these miserable wretches were found dead by the roadside, shot through the head, the bullet invariably penetrating the head just above the left ear. There were no investigations; none were necessary.  No one said P——— shot them, but then everybody simply thought he did. In six months, the entire gang disappeared.

Hyde’s comment “…. sent their youngest sons, 13 to 15” may have been a stretch as he was only 11 at the time and his writing makes one believe that Hyde may have been as old if not older than his buddy Steve.  Regardless, it was no doubt an exciting ride and the lacerations must have been from the limbs, vines and briars that his mount raced through along the rugged ridges of Lauderdale County.

I’m guessing that Hyde’s hidden camp was somewhere near one of the tributaries of Bluewater Creek, along, as he stated, the Alabama-Tennessee line.  His aunt’s extended family lived near here and I believe if the camp were further west nearer Shoal Creek, he would have mentioned Tom Clark, as Clark was hanged not far from the Hyde home in 1871.  He was aware of Tom Clark’s gang and in my opinion would have mentioned them if he thought Clark’s outfit was involved.

As far as the second part of Hyde’s story, about a man named P———, one can only speculate who he might be, but in Part No. 2 we’ll explore a possibility and tell a sad story about that family as relayed to me by another local historian who recently passed away. Check back here soon!