Anonymous Saints

Anonymous Saints

Rev. Jerry J. Pokorsky

Based on:

https://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2005/may/20/20050520-081044-4087r/

See also pictures from roadside plaques

We may find ourselves gushing over a kind gesture with pious flattery: “You’re a saint.” But it is safer – and more honest and, frankly, less manipulative -- to keep out of the canonization business until the beloved has passed on to his (or her) putative reward. Even after death, as we extol the virtues of our beloved departed, it is better to pray for the repose of their souls. Nevertheless, we can all point to inspiring examples of holiness, and venture that they are among the elect of heaven.

Here’s a story of courage and, perhaps, a saint.

Behind a little church in Flint Hill, Virginia, in Rappahannock County is a grave of a Confederate soldier, Albert Gallatin Willis. The gravestone, badly worn, indicates the date of death: October 14, 1864. He was twenty years old.

Willis was the son of Robert and Emily Hudson Willis. He grew up in Locust Grove in Culpeper County. He was studying to become a Baptist minister, but he had not yet completed his schooling when the Civil War became increasingly protracted. He enlisted as a cavalry soldier riding with Col. John Singleton Mosby’s famed “Mosby’s Rangers.”

Mosby himself was a notable and colorful historical character. The Yankees were frequent targets of his guerilla tactics. After their hit-and-run skirmishes, they melded into the towns and farms where friendly civilians provided them safe haven.

By 1864, Mosby’s men were legendary. During the famous Greenback Raid outside of Winchester, Mosby’s men derailed the train, robbed the passengers, and seized a handbag and a tin box from army paymasters that contained $173,000 in Federal greenbacks. The partisans pulled the passengers off the train before burning the cars and the locomotive before making their getaway. (The robbery became the model for the many post-war train robberies, grist for Old West Hollywood entertainment.)

Willis accompanied Mosby’s Rangers for several months and, with them, experienced his share of narrow escapes. In February 1864, the Union forces identified the location of some of Mosby’s men. Willis, being a ministerial student, was boarding with the local minister. He narrowly escaped capture when he leaped from a second-story window of the minister’s home.

Generals William T. Sherman, Philip H. Sheridan, and George A. Custer and those of their ranks were increasingly alarmed by the guerrilla tactics of Mosby and his Rangers. The Rangers had killed more than a few Federals, and the Union troops were eager for revenge. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant directed that his soldiers kill one of Mosby’s Rangers for each Federal killed by them. Any prisoners were to be “hung without trial.”

After several months with Mosby’s group, Willis was on furlough and proceeding toward his home in Culpeper. About four miles from Flint Hill, his horse went lame, and he stopped at the blacksmith’s shop at Gaines Crossroads. The Union troops of the 2nd West Virginia Cavalry captured him there along with an unnamed comrade. Col. William H. Powell (promoted to general a few days later after the Battle of Cedar Creek on October 19) told the young man that he would not execute him if he claimed a chaplain’s exemption. But Willis considered himself a soldier and undeserving of the distinction. So he refused Powell’s merciful offer.

Powell ordered Willis and the other captured soldier to draw straws to decide who would lose his life. The Yankees would send the other as an emissary to warn the Confederates of the cost of waging a guerrilla war. The unknown man was the unlucky one; he burst into tears, saying: “I have a wife and children, I am not a Christian, and I am afraid to die.” Willis replied: “I have no family. I am a Christian and not afraid to die.” With those words, the soldiers released the family man, and they hanged young Albert Willis from the limb of a large poplar tree in the town of Huntly, Virginia.

If his story is stitched together with accuracy, it is a remarkable account of courage, atonement, and Christian sacrifice. It has a timeless exemplary value: “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13)

The Church canonizes many saints after extensive investigations. But not all saints are canonized. I suspect that this obscure, courageous, and Christian Confederate soldier is also among the elect of heaven for his selfless charity. This pious opinion is offered here without sinful presumption, only admiration. No flattery intended.

This piece relies on an article by Martha M. Boltz in the Washington Times, May 20, 2005 [https://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2005/may/20/20050520-081044-4087r/] as well as the narratives of roadside historical markers.