No Veteran of any war can tell a tale more filled with adventure, hardships, suffering and romances that can James L. Moss 94, who fought all through the Civil War, MOSS born June 18, 1840 is the oldest patient ever admitted to the United States Veterans hospital here and since October 9 when he arrived has become loved his fellow patients and members of the staff.  He is affectionately greeted as “boy Scout”, and “Old Pal”.  When he taps his way down the corridor with his cane.  Though his eyesight is greatly impaired and he can hear a bit better with one ear than the other, These things don’t keep him from a keen enjoyment of life.  He is quite anxious to fully recover his health and return  to his home south of Proctor, because he has a new car in which he wants to go driving.

                    BACK THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS

“Which regiment was I in? He asked, “I fought out and in all during” the war, and was in several regiments.  My first regiment was all murdered, all the Third North Carolina cavalry.  I lived in North Carolina a joinin’ Georgia, and joined up in ‘1862.  I was captured by the rebels, and I had good friends among ‘em, that I’d been born brought up with, I wasn’t in long, my friends let me out.  The rebels was good me.

             “After I got out.  I had the worst time a gettin’ back thought them Smokey Mountains.

I better begin right at the beginning, and tell you all about it.  I was born and raised in Cherokee county, North Carolina.  Next to Dorkie.  I married Dorkie, January 8, 1860.  Would you want to know her name? It was Dorcas Farmer.  We lived there in North Carolina until the war come up.  I enlisted in company C. Third North Carolina Calvary, under Colonel Bryson.  We worked our way through to Tennessee, and there wasn’t but 250 of us got through.  At Knoxville, Tennessee, the siege come up.  The bush Whacker was killin’ the men behind and they couldn’t get out.  We got lief to go back and collect the boys.  The Colonel took 150 men, what he had an went back to North Carolina to get the other boys out.  A regular regiment of cavalry followed along after us and we got to North Carolina and begin to collect the other boys and the first thing we knew the Rebels has us surrounded.  They killed the Colonel and two Captains and a Lieutenant or two and what got away made toward them mountains and to Tennessee and the boys didn’t know nothing’ and went to any soldiers they came to.

                    TO CAROLINA AS SPY

I found the First Wisconsin Cavalry and soldiered with them.  Colonel Granger wanted a spy to go to North Carolina and got at me and I took the job.  I would travel of a night.  I knew the country, and the people, and knew where to go.  I’d lie up of a day, hid out, till it got through.  I’d go back and report and then  he’d send me as a pilot.  Well, I was with him six months, when they was a makin’ up the Third Tennessee, and I jinned that, served my time out and was discharged at Knoxville, Tennessee.

During my service I was captured at Nileses Ferry in Tennessee.  They taken me to Qualleytown, North Carolina, and there they kept me until I got out by the help of some good rebel friends.  I went back to North Carolina through the bear, panther, wolves and wildcats with nothing to eat.

Night overtaken me and I didn’t know what to do.  My feet was wore to the bone, and wolves was following me by the bloody tracks.  I picked out a limby tree I thought I’d climb, but I was afraid I’d fall out and kill myself.  I was miles from anybody, I looked up the ridge and saw a chestnut tree and went to it.  On the opposite side was a big hole in the trunk, full of dry leaves and I went into it and curled up like a dog and lay there till morning.  I struck out on one of the long mountains traveling through hemlock and spruce, nearly naked.   I had pants that come below the knee and I’d picked up a rag in prison that I wrapped around by hear for a cap.

I hit out.  Some of those mountains is 25 miles long, and I went along one.  Just before sundown I looked away as far as I could see and saw a big ribbon that looked like it wound around through the country, but I knew there wasn’t no ribbon like that and I had come to the Tennessee river, I had turned down it a quarter a mile and found shucks where there had been corn and crawled in and lay.  The fog settled down.  You couldn’t see a man ten steps.

                    RECOGNIZED HOUSE ON A RIVER

The next morning I found an old canoe and two paddles and a pole and hopped in.  It was full of water but I bailed it out untied it and pushed off to the middle of the river, and turned down it.  After about 15 miles the fog was risin’ and the first person I see was a lady with a fire under a wash pot.  I kept a polin’ After abut five miles the next person I see was a lady and children up on a hill.  I kept a paddlin’.  My hands all blistered.  The Sun shined out and I noticed houses I thought I knew.  Then I saw houses I knew I’d been there.  They was full of refugees.  About 40 yards from the first house was a old lady and two girls.  They didn’t ask me in.  I looked so shabby.  I went up and finally she says “Jim is that you?”

What’s left,’ I says.  She grabbed me the hand and pulled me to them, and asked me if I was hungry.  I said no, but I ain’t eat in six days.” 

“She had meat hid out and run and got it and she begun to cook a little thin hoe cake, and put it and some meat in the plate and kept a frying and a bakin”.  Finally, “Ain’t you eat enough?”  She says.  It was the sweetest morsel I ever et.  I asked after her husband and son.  They was hid in the thickets about a half mile away.  Rebels was all about.  She had a boy about 10 and he knew where, and she sent for him, and he brought a pony, and she told me whare my wife and two little babies was, two miles from their.

I got on the pony and we lit out, and 100 yard from the house where my wife was I saw it, and knew the house.  It was a double house with an entry between.  I told the boy to turn back, and I went right down to the front door, and there was a lookin’ glass, a big one just inside.  I pulled off my rag I wore for a cap, and roached my hair back and walked through the entry.  Two girls was there, and picked up the babies and run off to some cedar thickets.

                WIFE DIDN’T KNOW HIM

“My wife ordered me to not come in.  ‘My man was killed long ago’ she says.  I kept a beggin’ her, Her mother sat there and never opened her mouth.  My wife hit me across the head with a pole she had right there.”  Here tears dimmed the old may’s eyes., as he recalled the time when he had returned to his wife in spite of almost impossible difficulties, and she was thinking him dead.  Hysterical with fear of the “rebels” did not recognize him.

“I can’t hardly talk about it. It hurts me so “so he said, wiping his eyes.  “I said ‘Don’t hurt me Dorkie, I’ve been hurt so much’.  Finally, her mother recognized my eyes, and told Dorkie to stop.  She quieted down.  I asked for clothes, she gave me some, and after she got clothes on me , she said, ‘You look more like Jim, but you’re so poor.’  I weighed 180 when I was captured, and 123 then.  As soon as I had clothes on and had talked to Dorkie I broke for the cedar thickets and my babies.

I’ve told you my travels till I got back to her.  After the rebel raid was over.  I went back to soldlerin’ as soon as I could get out.  I was in lots of battles at the Salt Works., and Cumberland Gap, and the siege of Knoxville for 40 days.  The boys said you could walk on dead men for a mile, but I wouldn’t try nothing like that.  I was a Murphy, North Carolina, the country I was raised in and the battle at Qualleytown, North Carolina, and many little bushwhacking’ skirmishes, 10 or 75 or hundred or two.

When I got back from the Army to my wife, and bless your life, it’d have took death to keep me away and my two little children and the little bulldog.  I stayed in Tennessee two years.  Then we went to North Carolina, when everything was quieted down and stayed there two years.   Then I sold out all my possessions and started west to Clarksville, Arkansas.  We all took sick and I went to the Boston Mountains for our health.  There was good land, water, and I taken me a homestead of 90 acres and lived there for 45 years

I served the good people eight years; four years as county judge and four years as probate judge.  Grand Army of the Republic build up and come west.  I joined and belonged to the post 17 years.

                HAS 75 GRANDCHILDREN

“Then me and my wife and all our children sold out come out to Adair County, Oklahoma.  I lost my dear wife nine year ago.  I couldn’t keep house by myself and I found another good woman and married her.  She died two year ago.  We went down to election to vote and come out to get in the car, she walked around to get in the other side and fell dead.

“My dear wife, Dorkie and I, had eleven children.  We lost three girls and two boys and I have one girl and five boys [living].  They’er all married and have homes.  I had 75 grandchildren the last time I counted and half a dozen great-grandchildren and two-three great-great grand children.  “I farmed ‘till 56 years ago, when my eyes got too bad”.

Just them, Dr. Ross Brown, physician at the Veteran’s Hospital, under whose care Mr. Moss is entered the office.   “I’ve been talking and talking,’ Doc., he said.  “You know I come from North Carolina right near where you’s from.  I left ‘fore’ you was there though.

Mr. Moss proudly walked down the hall, tapping his stick not admitting that he could scarcely see, but graciously allowed Miss Lola Kaiser, a recreational aide, to take his arm.  “Dear girl, she’s nice to me.”  He said.  “They all is.   Don’t know what I would do without ‘em, but I want to get home, when they fix up my eyes a bit.  You say this’ll be in the paper?  I’ll get them to read it to me.  You want my picture, too?” He squared his frail shoulders, and walked outside, where he posed for the photographer.

“I’ve told you my adventures,” he said in farewell, “and I could tell you lots more.   I could talk all day and all night.