Commemorative Medallions

I Was There: The Battle of Champion Hill

By Bertha Lewis

A Memorial Poem Read at the Sesquicentennial
of the Battle of Champion Hill

For almost half a century, Bertha Lewis has felt the ghost of the soldiers who fought on the land she calls home. Home for Bertha is Champion Hill where Blue met Gray on May 16, 1863, in a pivotal battle that turned the tide for the Union Army. Her poem “I Was There: The Battle of Champion Hill” was written for the Sesquicentennial of the Battle of Champion Hill. Bertha's desire was to honor those who fought and died and their ancestors who received honorary medallions in their memory.

Ed Shelnut, actor and performer, read “I Was There: The Battle of Champion Hill” at the Sesquicentennial event. Ed is a graduate of the Guildhall School of Music and Drama, London and a former member of the Screen Actors Guild. He has appeared in three feature films and numerous radio & TV shows. Ed is presently an instructor at the Mississippi School for the Blind.

Click on the arrow to hear the poem read by Ed Shelnut.

"I Was There: The Battle of Champion Hill"

I Was There: The Battle of Champion Hill

When I was young, it was said to me,

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose

under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die."

Now, as I stand on the hallowed grounds of Champion Hill, May 16th, 1863,

the year of our Lord, the same words still ring out to me, as the Union and

Confederate soldiers go into battle. You see ---

I WAS THERE

On May 16th before the break of dawn, I was awakened by what seemed to be

a soldier's hand pressing down on my throat and cheek. My soul rode within

myself, knowing that this day, I could not rest.

I turned my head and noticed tears were flowing from the corner of one

soldier's eyes, like water gently running in a spring brook. The tears concaved

on his parched lips and scorched tongue. Suddenly, I sprang to my feet

and grabbed my rifle, sensing the tumultuous day that lay ahead. You see ---

I WAS THERE

Just a short distance away, you could hear thousands of crickets singing, which

sounded like an old battle song. Then, my regiment was ordered into battle with

musket, fife and drum. Suddenly an unsettling dark shadow passed over our

infantry, casting uncertainty amidst the ranks.

As a ray of sun peaked between two gray clouds, cannons began to raise their

ugly voices. Shot, shell and shrapnel fell like rain, stripping the leaves from the

trees and leaving a trail of smoke behind. You see ---

I WAS THERE

The sound of a polished brass horn blew as the drummer tapped on his worn out

drum. The commander barked, "Attention!!! Forward March" as the soldiers

pressed onward, all fearing that this could be their final day. You see ---

I WAS THERE

I heard a soldier cry out in the trench next to mine. I could not just pass the

fellow by. He grabbed my sweaty shaking hand and asked, "Soldier, soldier, will

you please pray with me?" As I lay down my hat and gun, tears flowed from

both our eyes, knowing that death would soon come.

With his head cradled in my arms, we prayed, "Our Father, who art in heaven,

Hallowed be Thy name..." As we prayed, the dying soldier closed his eyes until the

sound of battle was no more. Death had taken him by the hand.

"...for Thine is The Kingdom and the Power and the Glory – forever and ever." Amen.

Deep in the rain-soaked ravines as we pressed upward toward the

HILL OF DEATH - Hell's voices called out as the sights and sounds

of battle fell all around. Men, horses, cannon and the debris

of both armies were scattered throughout. The magnolia trees were in full

bloom, their beautiful blossoms contrasting with the horrible scene of death.

Six thousand blue- and gray-coated men were lying in the woods,

dead or wounded, when the last gun of Champion Hill was fired. You see ---

I WAS THERE

Today, we gather on the Champion Hill battlefield to remember

AND TO honor those of us who fought that fateful day.

Those who lived and those who died.

The MEMORIAL MEDALLION you hold in your hand will serve as a keepsake,

not only for you --- but also for your descendents in the years to come.

"O ye, in silent comradeship asleep,

in the long bivouac of the martyred dead,

Ye are not yet forgotten -

nor can be while in this fair magnolia land

there blooms a fragrant flower

with which to deck your grave."

By William Forman Dunbar

Bertha Lewis of Champion Hill

Bertha Lewis with her mannequin, Darwina Loud, an 1865 Freedmen's Bureau school teacher at Champion Hill.

Bertha Lewis was born at Champion Hill almost five decades ago. Her parent's home overlooks the rear of the Hill of Death and they own a major portion of the battlefield west of the Hill of Death. From the time Bertha could walk, she knew what it mean to pick up Minnie balls and other Civil War memorabilia buried in the debris around their property.

Her young life was spent listening and learning about the battle that took place on the hill on May 16th, 1863. Many a day was spent in the lap of her great Aunt Lula who was born on the hill thirteen years after the Siege of Vicksburg. From Aunt Lula, she learned the difference between the soldiers in Blue and the soldiers in Gray. She was saddened to learn that, on that fateful day that many lived while many died. "Even as a child," she recalls, "I got chill bumps every time I walked on the battlefield."

Bertha is a member of Champion Hill Missionary Baptist Church, a historic church donated to the black community by Matilda Champion in 1893. Since that time a church as stood on the site that was once the Champion's home and Grant's headquarters.

Today, Bertha, her brother, Norman and his sister Ollie, serve on the board of The Champion Heritage Foundation. Their input has made events at Champion Hill more special than ever. To celebrate the Sesquicentennial, Bertha created a very special poem dedicated to the soldiers who fought and died in the Battle of Champion Hill. The poem, I was There: The Battle of Champion Hill, was read during the main ceremony by Edward Shelnut and the audience was moved to tears.

Bertha not only writes poetry but she is also the designer of all of the period mannequins that are seen on the grounds during events. The mannequins are a hobby for her and she loves recreating the images of people who played a part in the history of Champion Hill.