#3
Captain Francis A. Donaldson
(118th
PA) on his Discovery of Captain William Dunklin (44th
AL)
“At the foot of the hill (Big Round Top) and in the gorge
(Slaughter Pen), there were thrilling, horrifying scenes of blood and
carnage. The dead lay in all shapes and in every direction, some
upon their faces, others on their backs, while others were twisted
and knotted in painful contortions.
I counted thirty seven bodies, all dressed alike, in a course dark
material with black felt hats...
A little in front of these bodies, with his head resting on a stone,
his body straightened out and hands folded across his breast, lay, as
if asleep, one of the handsomest men I ever saw...He appeared to be
about 35 years of age, was dressed in gray cloth jacket and pants,
neither showing much wear, and appeared to be at least 5 feet 10
inches in height, weighing, probably, about one hundred and seventy
pounds. His face had been shaven upon the cheeks the day of his
death, leaving a splendid luxuriantly flowing chestnut beard upon his
chin. The ball that had slain him had pierced his heart, passing
thro' a letter in his breast pocket from which I learned his name to
be Wm. A. Duncan, [sic] Capt. 44th Alabama Regt., and
dated from Selma...I cannot tell you how sad the fat of this fine
looking soldier made me feel. Indeed I could picture to myself the
anxiety of his family for intelligence from this terrible
battlefield,...and I could fancy the long lapse of years without one
word, without one sign from their dear one, and their heart sickness
from hope deferred. At parting, I grasped his cold hand in mine and
bid farewell to the noble form that lay stretched in death before
me.”
The area where Captain Dunklin was killed was a hotspot for
discoveries of remains from the great battle and sadly, Captain
Donaldson's prediction about the want of intelligence from his loved
ones was fulfilled. There is no record that exists showing Dunklin
was ever even buried and as was the case with many of the dead in and
around the “Slaughter Pen”, many were just thrown into the great
crevices among the boulder strewn banks of Plum Run, probably resting
there to this day.
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