Saturday, December 13, 2014

Singleton claimed to see Civil War statue weep tears of blood in 1992

George 'Buster' Singleton
(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Civil War statues appeared to shed tears of blood,” was originally published in the Oct. 8, 1992 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Throughout my life, I have devoted much time and energy visiting the battlefield and skirmish sites of our dreadful Civil War. Since the time that I learned to read, I have spent hours researching the facts of this terrible time in our history. I have visited some areas many times, each time seeing or learning some strange fact or story that I had overlooked on my last visit there.

As a young child, I sat many hours and listened to stories about my great-grandfathers and my great-great-uncles and of the struggles and hardships they encountered during the years of the war. Because of these stories handed down through the family, I sometimes feel that I too might have been a part of those days of suffering and hardships. These feelings are often times hard for me to understand.

Just a few weekends ago, my wife and I journeyed to Vicksburg, Miss. We have been to this area many times in the past, but the desire to return presents itself every year or so. We also have good friends that live in Vicksburg, and they, too, are Civil War buffs. So, over a cup of hot coffee, many stories are relived, and time permitting, many of the battle sites are visited once again.

As we stood among the many markers and looked at the various statues that had been placed as tributes to the fallen soldiers from both the North and South, we knew that we were standing on hallowed ground. On the 18th of May 1863, the Battle of Vicksburg began; it last until July 4, 1863, when Confederate Gen. John Pemberton surrendered what was left of his army. Around 29,000 Confederate soldiers laid down their arms that day. Many young men from both sides spent the last hours of their lives on this hill overlooking the great Mississippi River.

As I stood looking at this particular statue, the thought came to mind that something about this one seemed familiar. Then I remembered that I had visited this same spot, a few years back, during the late hours of the night. As I stood and faced the statue of three soldiers standing with heads bowed, the story of the statue and the happenings of that night several years ago came to mind.

I remembered being told that during the hours around midnight, tears of blood could be seen falling from the eyes of the soldiers. My two friends, who had accompanied me on this trip to Vicksburg, laughed at the story and only one of them decided that he would brave the night air and visit the statue with me to see for ourselves.

While the other friend slept soundly in our motel room, the two of us made our way to this place on the large battlefield. We parked some distance away and sat down on the thick grass near the monument to wait for something to happen. As the hour of midnight approached, we heard the hushed voices of several others behind where we were sitting. They were wondering if the statues of the Confederate soldiers would do tonight what they had come to see. The wait began; the time of midnight was close at hand. If it was to happen, we would soon know.

The lights of Vicksburg could be seen faintly in the distance. The granite statue loomed up into the night about 18 feet. I had taken my eyes away from the monument for a few moments as I looked in the direction of the distant river.

From behind my friend and I came a loud gasp for breath, then the words, “Oh my God, look.” Turning my eyes to the statues of the three soldiers, I saw teardrops that appeared the color of blood, falling from the eyes of one of the statues. I felt a strong grasp on my left arm as my terrified friend began to shake his head and try to say something. We were now standing; not knowing that we had gotten to our feet from our seat on the thick grass. All three of us were standing deathly still, looking toward the statue in sheer amazement.

The sound of someone weeping could be heard from among those who were standing behind us. It sounded like a woman crying. I continued to stare at the statues; I wasn’t believing what I was seeing. But sure enough, what seemed to be tears of blood continued to fall slowly to the base of the statue. The crying from behind us continued. It now seemed as if someone else had started crying also.

After what seemed to be about 10 minutes, the blood-colored tears ceased to fall. I wanted to go to the base of the monument and see for myself if there was evidence of the fallen tears there, but no one moved. The crying from behind us had ceased; a sniffle or two was heard as the sound of someone who had been crying cleared their throat. As I stepped toward the statues, it seemed as everyone else was thinking as I was. About 12 people, those who had witnessed this strange event, all stepped forward, almost as one. But there was nothing to be found there on the base of the large statue.

Today I did the same thing that I had done that night several years ago, I stepped forward and ran my fingers around the base of the large monument.

Do these soldiers weep for those thousands fallen here 129 years ago? Or do they weep for the dead of all the wars that our country has fought in and forgotten so quickly? We owe it to them; we must remember.


(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from 1964 to 1987. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)

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