A Confederate Map 14

(Last Chapter)
So there we sat in the woods drinking and trying to figure out what to do next. The lantern light lit up the little clearing and even in the 90 degree heat, everyone was still ready to continue. We discussed the map and the notation of 690 feet beside the X. Everyone knew we had found the marker we were looking for but not how to use it.
I called Cookie on my cell phone and told him the bad news but not to give up on us.
Mark cleared out around the metal rod protruding from the hole and finally sat down to have a drink and relax. He and I both had checked with the metal detector and I can assure you that no cannon full of gold was buried at the bottom of the hole. We relaxed and drank away the heat of the day and it seemed like a good time to retell the whole story about the journal of Julian Christmas and everyone sat quietly while I retold the tale in the glow of the lantern light.
I guess we would have sat there for another hundred years if it was not for Bob. He had spent a lot of time gazing at the metal rod tip and suddenly said “ It looks like you put something on top and turn it.” I peeped over in the hole as all talk suddenly stopped.
Instantly I knew exactly what to do next.
“Eureka!” I said and gave Bob a hug. Everyone crowded around the hole again to look at the tip of the rod and see if they could figure out what the heck I was talking about and I went back up the hill to the Gator and got my backpack out. I zipped it open and pulled out the strange wrench I had found and hurried back to the glow of the lantern. I slid the wrench down on the tip but we had to dig out around it a little more. I tried again, it would not fit. I moved it round the square end, turned it over, kept going and suddenly it slipped on perfectly. Everyone looked down the line it pointed. I tried it from every position but it only fit in that one particular spot. A cheer went up and Mark and I quickly moved the survey instrument over it.
The wrench pointed almost due Southwest.
All we lacked was 690 feet to find the treasure.
It was almost 10:00 PM now but everyone started cutting and moving brush, while Mark and I tried to figure out how to look through the survey instrument in the pitch dark. After about thirty minutes we got the first 75 feet shot by Mark holding the stake in front of him while Denise shone a flashlight at his chest. We moved, shot our back line by holding a light there and got ready for the next shot.
The open woods had disintegrated into a giant thicket of cane, thorns, and thick brush but everyone kept hacking on it. We got another 100 feet through this mess until all of the gang was completely exhausted. We took a break, then Mark and I looked at each other, picked up the big curved blades and waded into the wall of thick vines and cane again. We put a flashlight down on the ground to see by and started cutting away.
What came next was a complete surprise.
Mark and I stood almost shoulder to shoulder cutting away when the ground gave way under our feet. We both yelled as down we fell. We tried to grab anything to hold onto. I flipped, rolled, fell against him and then there was a giant SPLASH.
When I came up sputtering, I was neck deep in the lake. Mark surfaced and we spent a second or two just staring at each other and deciding if our bodies were broken and if we would live. Nothing was hurt except my pride. We looked at each other a moment, we both looked out across the lake, then almost straight up to where a sharp overhanging bank had broken off from our weight. Lantern light shone down on us and Marian yelled “Did-You-Find-ittttt?” Mark and I turned and looked out at the center of the lake. He yelled up “Nooooo, But-We-knows-Where-It-Issss!”
Wet and muddy we staggered out of the lake and so ended our treasure hunt. We marked our last survey point and if we ever drain the lake we can start from that spot.
Everyone has kept the secret (GuyK evens laugh about it now) but I can’t convince Dad that he needs to drain the lake to restock it. If I tell him the treasure is there he will call me a fool and laugh at me again.
Somewhere under that 40 acre lake, I still believe there is a cannon barrel full of gold and one day I’m going to get it.

A Confederate Map 13

You would think it would be easy to take a simple map that has two lines drawn to intersect and find that spot, wouldn’t you? Well, it is not.
It was afternoon by the time that Mark, Marian and Bob, GuyK, Denise, and myself had loaded up a couple of jo-blades and the survey equipment and driven around to the old Christmas Cemetery. There we unloaded in a little pull-off from the road and slipped over to the graveyard. We were on posted land but we do know the landowner Paul Brown. He would have given us permission to visit, but we did not want any questions about what we were doing. We all felt excited as if it was a great adventure; like we were in the middle of the book “Treasure Island.”
Mark and I quickly located the flat marble slab over the grave, checked everywhere for snakes and brought everyone up while we used our hands and the bush blades to clear the marble top so we could inspect it.
The writing was faded with his name, date of birth and death (just a few years after coming here). In the center was a round shape like a sun in the clouds. There were no other markings found that we could use, so we put the instrument over the sun shape, leveled it and aimed it due West. I quickly found out that this was not going to be easy.
100 years ago, I am sure this was all open crop and pasture land, but now it was a grown up forest. It took Mark and I about 15 minutes to cut a hole through the brush enough for us to run out first 100 foot line. After that I would aim, people would chop and cut enough to see and we would move.
A lot of time was spent shooting around trees and resetting the instrument. By 6:00 PM we had only covered half the distance shown on the map.
At 8:30 PM we called it a day and headed back to steaks on the grill that Denise and Marian had decided to get going after it looked like there would not be a treasure chest of gold found. We ate hearty and talked about the journal and map for a few hours, enjoyed a nice fire and went to bed eager to start again the next day.
Noon on that next day, GuyK drove a stake in the ground at the 1962 foot mark. There did not seem to be anything there special that marked the spot. I am not a surveyor so I figured we were within 15-20 yards of the spot at worse. We left that line and headed over to the big Indian Mound near the Beehive Stand marked on the map. Another hour of clearing, looking for a marker and finally setting the instrument as close to the center of the top of the mound as possible and we shot our first line due South.
Once again it was tough work to clear a line through the woods. The woods were bigger and more open but we still had to shoot around a few trees. We drove the stake in the ground at the 849 foot mark at around 6:00 PM. Unfortunately, the two lines did not meet. Did I mention that I am not a damn surveyor.
Anyway we were within 10 feet of the westerly line but over about 20 feet west of the first stake. Everyone was determined to figure out what was there, so we decided to take a quick dinner break and come back with the metal detector. Once again a good meal of hamburgers made by the ladies and by 7:30 PM we were back in the woods. It does not get dark in the summer until close to 9:00 PM here. We had shovels and high hopes as Mark turned on the metal detector and slowly started covering the area.
He almost missed it, it was getting dark and just a slight reading came on the metal detector as he made his way around a large rock. Looking back, I should have realized the rock was not supposed to be there anyway. Excitedly we dug around the rock (with Guy giving directions) and pried it up and out of the way. Everyone got quiet as Mark turned the metal detector back on and moved it over the hole. It gave a loud buzz and everyone almost went crazy. Denise grabbed a shovel and started digging like crazy.
Finally we all cooled down and Mark and I started carefully digging. It was dark now but we had some flashlights and a large Coleman lantern that Marian lit that gave us a bright circle of light.
Metal scraped on metal and I got on my knees to dig around whatever we had hit. To my surprise it was the tip of a metal rod about a quarter inch around that stuck up from the hole. This cooled everyone off as we gathered around and stared at the tip of the rod sticking out of the ground. A bottle was produced, a few cokes from a cooler and some plastic glasses were found and we sat down to talk about what it meant and what to do next.

A Confederate Map 12

It was the weekend of the 4th of July that I set for the treasure hunt. I had taken the old rifle, removed the butt plate and pulled out a folded, yellow piece of parchment. I understood the writing easily. It was drawn to show a point on the East that said Parker, with a line from there going West 1962 ft.
Another point on the map said Indian Mound with a line running South 849 feet. Where they met was the proverbial X with a notation beside it that said 690 feet.
Here is how it looked. Not much of a treasure map I thought to myself. I realized that the point labeled Parker was the grave of Mr. Parker that had originally started the plantation. I also knew from the map exactly which Indian Mound the other point was supposed to be. I bought a good compass, borrowed a survey instrument and I had a hundred foot tape. I set my plan in motion.
I needed help and finally told Mark (Mailrider) who eagerly agreed to help me after reading the journal. Denise was gung-ho to start and I also brought Marian and GuyK into the search after swearing them to secrecy. Cookie was kept in the loop by cell phone.
As friends and bloggers, I thought it would be fun for all of us to write about our experience. They were all invited up for the 4th of July that year.
I wrote all about the fun we had in this post.
The weekend ended, we all packed up to leave and I watched GuyK leave with his camper. Marian pulled out after many hearty good-byes, then we all got in our trucks and left for home too.
An hour later I met my friends in Yazoo City and we headed back to camp for the treasure hunt. Dad and the rest of the family were gone and we opened the camp back up, got the map out and looked it over. Mark and I knew we would have to do most of the walking and measuring but it was thrilling to actually start.
The treasure hunt was on!

A Confederate Map 11

I spent part of the fall and winter trying to figure out what we had missed in the old rock carvings. I tried to remove from my drawing everything that I knew was recent. John loves Mary, lots of dates like June 1955, names and anything else that did not seem as old as the 1800's. I left all the old code we had found and finally realized that it kind of ended with these symbols. I thought the middle one was a deer since there are several carved in the rock. That spring it occured to me that it might be some other animal and the answer struck me that it was a mule.
Then the three symbols made sense, box, mule, barn. The barn had the main beam through it strangely marked.
The next week, without anyone knowing, I took the wooden key and a flashlight and went into the old mulebarn to look. I had to fight wasps and be careful of snakes but I managed to study the rafters and main beams carefully.
The main beam across the structure was 6 inches by at least 10 inches hand hewn white oak and seemed in great condition after all these years. It was in two sections that met in the middle of the building and had a 3 foot gap between the two end pieces secured by two braces of equal size than ran down the 12 feet to the floor. I worked a ladder into this space, tried not to get bitten by a brown recluse and shined my light in the space. I ended up using a hammer to clear away the dirt dobber nest and finally found what I was looking for.
A small keyhole in the end of one of the beams. All of this took the whole day, plus I could not get the key to turn and ended up getting a can of oil to squirt in the hole. I tapped on the end, eased the key and it finally turned. More banging and the plug in the end of the beam came out. I shined the light in and saw something wrapped in canvas. I started pulling it out, got down to the floor and opened the long bundle. Inside was the rusted old rifle that Julian Christmas had used as a crutch all those years ago.
I rubbed the old rifle clean, rewrapped it and headed back to the camp. I knew what was hidden in the stock.

A Confederate Map 10

It took awhile after I had found the strange looking wrench to figure what in the world to do next. I took the three items I had and placed them on the kitchen table one night and tried to decide exactly what to do or was my little quest over with.

The journal of Julian Christmas had been incredible but I had read and re-read it from cover to cover many times. I had even examined it for invisible ink like in that movie.
Nothing else was there.



I laid the strange wrench out and studied it. I picked it up and looked through the little square hole, used a magnifying glass to see if there was any writing on it besides the obvious Masonic symbols on it.
There was no clue on it.






The third thing I had was a little box that I had discovered in the cornerstone of the old house. I opened the box and took out a little handmade wooden key. I was pretty sure it was made out of one of the plentiful Bodock trees on the place. That wood lasts forever.
I knew the key opened something, like a treasure chest, but I still had no idea where to use it and the little box had no writing or clues inside.
Another dead end.

Cookie had figured out that the rock carvings on the property had a clever code hidden inside the drawings. Confederate Navy Semaphore signals that had helped me get this far.
I talked to him but that was all he could figure out. Maybe we both had missed something is all I could imagine.
On a Saturday, I took a pad and made an effort to draw the strange symbols exactly as they were on the rocks. You could tell some were older than others, but I wrote them all down anyway. I figured I had better start acting like Sherlock Holmes if I ever wanted to get to the end of the mystery. It was right in front of me but darned if it did not take me 'till spring to figure it out; and only then completely by accident.

Confederate Treasure Synopsis

It has been so long since I have written about the treasure that was buried by General Forrest at the famous Christmas Place that I figured I had better give a quick rundown of what happened.
1. I discovered the hidden journal of Julian Christmas one day while cleaning out the old house at camp; thanks to a bowling ball and a bad hook shot.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/04/diary-of-julian-christmas.html
2. I read how he had been wounded near Atlanta and made his way home at the end of the war. I also read that he had a map and two $10 gold pieces hidden in the stock of the worthless rifle he used as a crutch.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/04/confederate-map-pt-1.html
3. The journal then described the heartache of the Reconstruction Era. How the many people of that area both black and white had to band together just to survive in a lawless time. He told how they managed to learn to sharecrop the land, protect each other and provide for the people when there was no place left to go. A sad time in our history.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/04/confederate-map-pt-2.html
4. Mr. Christmas was ill with yellow fever or pneumonia that would not go away and began to tell the story of how fate had thrown him together with a soldier that had been with General Forrest at the Christmas Plantation. He described what happened and why they had to bury the treasure and how a cannon barrel was used to pour the coin into and sealed shut.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/05/confederate-map-pt-3.html
5. He wrote in the journal the fantastic story of how a group of soldiers were blindfolded in the night and led to a small Indian Mound in the middle of nowhere and buried the cannon full of gold.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/05/confederate-map-pt-4.html
6. Lt. Christmas wrote about how the strange encounter with this soldier occurred in a foxhole near Atlanta. the long night he spent tending the injured man and the tale that unfolded. The Private and the Lieutenant shook hands on splitting the treasure and starting over (if it was still there) after the war. Unfortunately, the soldier died in the night and Lt. Christmas took the map case in hopes of surviving and going home.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/05/confederate-map-pt-5.html
7. Julian Christmas wrote about his stay in several hospitals as the war raged around him. He wrote how he converted his twisted rifle into a crutch, carved a hidden space in the stock to carry the map and two gold pieces that were with it and the start of his long trip home as the war ended. He also wrote how his strength was failing and he was unable to search for the treasure. He ended that part of the journal with a strange entry that I knew was a clue to the map.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/05/confederate-map-pt-5_29.html
8. The journal continued in his wife’s handwriting and mentioned that the strange rock carvings on our property were the key to the mystery.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/06/confederate-map-pt-7.html
9. I finally told Dad about the journal. He laughed and said the treasure was long gone but was sure I would have a good time looking for it. I also realized an old lawman in New York named Cookie could help me figure it out.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/07/confederate-map-8.html
10. Cookie, by accident discovered that hidden in the rock carvings was a message in the Confederate Naval semaphore code and after much trying was able to decode it enough for me to follow the message and finally dig up a strange looking wrench buried in the woods.
http://bodocktimes.blogspot.com/2008/08/confederate-map-pt-9.html
This is where I ended the story but now it is time to tell you how Me, Marian, GuyK and a few others managed to figure it all out over a 4th of July holiday.

A Confederate Map Pt. 9

Now we get to the part that I have written about before. I had changed the story of the Strange Rock Carvings up a little because I wanted to make sure not to leave a clue to anyone that a real treasure was buried on our property.
This is what happened. I carefully photographed all aspects of the strange carved rock face deep in the center of our property. I also sketched each figure and put them exactly on the paper like they were chiseled into the rock.
I took the whole mess and sent a copy to Cookie, the old codebreaker. He said he would let me know when he figured something out. A month went by, then two and I received an email from him. The email said that he had part of the code figured out and went into detail of how it was written. To make the story short for this blog, it was written in semaphore from the Confederate Navy. A slight change had been carried out by these forces, to keep the Union army from intercepting their messages and it was only used late in the war and later forgotten. There were still a few copies of it around and of course it was somewhere on the internet. Cookie happened to stumble on it after talking to some of his old friends in Washington that had access to the Super Cray computers.
After getting that information and figuring out the rest of it. This is what I found buried near the site.
It is some kind of intricately designed Naval wrench (the handle has CSA on it) and I carefully put it away with the old diary until I could figure out what to do with it. Soon after this, I got another break and the Treasure Hunt was about to start in earnest. I will write about this and how GuyK and Marian spent a couple of extra days at the camp with me after everyone had left after the 4th of July. We had a wild treasure hunt that they have all agreed that I can now tell you about. Stay Tuned.

A Confederate Map 8

I have told you that I had managed to keep the discovery of the old diary a complete secret. Later, as I had read through the faded writing and the hints of a buried Confederate treasure started to emerge, I was even more secretive but finally the feeling was too great and I had to confide in someone. Who else but my Dad? He has always been there and was there when we found the hidden cellar beneath the old house.
On a warm afternoon while working at the camp I asked him to come sit in the shade in front of the Witches House and have a cold beer with me. We sat down and I began the story of everything that had happened. I told him about the bowling ball and finding the diary. I told him the story of Lt. Julian Christmas and how General Forrest had buried the treasure on our property. I told him everything I could think of about all of it and showed him the diary. At the end I showed him the puzzling final paragraph.
“The key beginning is a stone at the start of our dream
The answer to our hope is carved in the heart of the wood.
To find the first, you must find the second,
and your future will depend on ancient rock to guide you.”
Dad sat and we talked about the excitement of it and how much fun it would be to find the treasure but he did not seem to be as excited as I was. Finally, he said “ The truth is that the treasure is not here, it had to have been dug up a long, long time ago. As long as anyone that knew about it had survived the war, they would have made sure to get it as soon as they could.” He followed with the advice “Keep your story secret and don’t let anyone see the diary. It will be fun for you to look for it but I assure you it is long gone”
Maybe not, I thought to myself, I already knew where to start my search. The Strange Rock Carvings hidden in a small valley in the bluffs had to be the beginning point and I also knew the man that could help me decipher the hidden meanings there. He was a Yankee blogger from New York, an old submarine man that finished his career in law enforcement. What people did not know was that while on those submarines, he had specialized in code breaking. On the net, he is affectionately known as Cookie and his blog is called The Cook Shack. Go visit, email him, maybe he will tell you the truth of what we discovered.

A Confederate Map Pt. 7

I had read the last paragraph of the amazing hand-written journal and sat staring at it. I flipped a few pages more and they were blank, so I went to work studying and trying to find out what the tantalizing and mysterious paragraph could mean. It WAS the answer to the puzzle but how to decipher it. Was it code? Was the meaning obvious? I tried to figure it out and finally after an hour or so copied the writing in my notebook and flipped through the remaining blank pages Ten pages later there was another entry, but in a different hand-writing. This was a larger and feminine hand that penned the last entry in the journal.
My husband Julian H Christmas died March 23, 1870.
Since that time I have told no one the secrets in this diary and hope that when our son, Nathaniel is older, he will be able to retrieve the treasure and ensure his success in life.
I have studied the notes and feel that the strange rock carvings in the bluffs hold the answer to the location of the marker for the treasure.
I am to marry Col Matthew Coughlin in the spring and join our families together. He has graciously asked me to become his wife and join our fortunes together for which I am grateful. I will be a kind hostess and dutiful wife, but to protect my son and his family plantation I am hiding this book underneath the hearth of our fireplace so that Nathaniel can find it when he is older.
I hope to one day make my beloved late husband proud.
Kristine Shreve Christmas July 17, 1872


A few days later I went into the Geneological records for Holmes county and was able to discover that this wonderful woman and her son both died in 1875 from the Yellow Fever Epidemic.

A Confederate Map Pt. 6

Lt. Christmas had taken the map from the dead soldier and started his way across the broken battlefield, carrying his now twisted and useless rifle, trying to escape under cover of night and regain the Confederate lines. He wrote that he does not know if it was the Yankees or his own side that shot him as he made his escape. All he notes in the diary is that rain finally woke him and he was helped to a doctor and a hospital soon after. He was injured enough that he was relieved of duty. He spent many months recuperating and moving from hospital to hospital, to avoid capture, until he was finally sent home. He was on the road when he finally heard that General Lee had given his surrender on April 9, 1865. Most of the men he was with realized the war was over in everything but final surrender and they were all anxious to return home and forget the killing and madness of war. He took his muzzle loader with the twisted and split barrel that he had held onto and made a crutch out of it and during his recovery carved a small cubbyhole in the stock.
He put the map and two $10 gold pieces that had been in the packet inside and finally left the hospital for the long walk home. This is as much as I could figure from his faded handwriting.
Time was moving and now, Mr.Christmas, wrote about his thoughts for his family and a dawning that the sickness he could not shake was getting the best of him. He mentioned the few time he had made day trips to look for the markers on the treasure map but his strength would not let him spend any time searching. He made mention of the fact that if anyone found out about the map it might be the death of his family during the terrible Reconstruction Era they were in and he had to protect them and make sure that if he died, that his son would get the map and be able to locate the hidden cannon barrel. He decided to hide the map and unfortunately his journal does not say exactly where. He ended that part of the journal with this cryptic last paragraph.

“The key beginning is a stone at the start of our dream
The answer to our hope is carved in the heart of the wood.
To find the first, you must find the second,
and your future will depend on ancient rock to guide you.”

A Confederate Map Pt. 5

As Julian Christmas wrote of the strange twist of fate that led to the map of a buried treasure, I could envision him sitting in a hole with the wounded Corporal Paulson and speaking in low whispers by the light of several burning wagons around them. I could see him checking the wound and trying to keep the feverish man alive as they quietly talked.
The strange tale of how the treasure was buried in secrecy was written here before me, but many things were left out as the handwriting continued with the story of the map.
Lt. Christmas gave the man water and prayed that they could escape back to their lines before the daylight that promised renewed fighting directly on top of their position.
The burning wagons around them gave light for Union sharpshooters and he had seen at least two men shot down while trying to move through the light from the fires. He only hoped that the fires would die down within a few hours so that he could escape in the darkness.
Lt. Christmas did not explain how he got there or the strange coincidence of how the Corporal had ended in that spot either, but I tried to piece it together in my mind.
Strange things happen in war. Remember that a simple rest stop and the finding of a small packet with three cigars changed the course of history at Antietam; and there are multitudes of stories of brother meeting brother or kin on several of the great battlefields of the Civil War. Maybe meetings like this are not merely coincidence, but fate. I had spent many late night hours trying to decipher the stilted handwriting and as the two men talked of the hidden treasure and how they could all start over after the war; finally the story of the map came out.
General Forrest and his cavalry were ordered to disrupt the supply lines that kept the Federals moving eastward toward Atlanta. The Union troops outnumbered him at least 3 to 1 and the Confederates were really no match as they found themselves out-gunned and out-manned.
The General had to split his forces and the Corporal found himself under the orders of Major Bryan. The overwhelming forces they faced soon had them cut-off and late in the afternoon, the Major was mortally wounded. Corporal Paulson had been wounded and left unconscious. When he awoke, the battle had moved on and he found himself lying next to the Major. He checked him for signs of life and found none. He remembered that the map had been carried inside the Major’s tunic at all times and after a quick check, he slipped the leather case inside his own shirt and started working himself across the bloody landscape to get back to his lines even though he was badly injured and bleeding.
Darkness, loss of blood and exhaustion had put him in the foxhole, and the circling battle had led to Lt. Christmas tumbling into the hole with him after his horse was killed. A strange coincidence had thrown these two men together in the midst of a bloody and epic battle that would end the war. The fires burned lower as Corporal Paulson pulled the leather dispatch folder from his shirt and offered to split the treasure so they could start anew in the rich Mississippi Delta after the war. Julian shook hands with him to seal the deal. Just before dawn Lt. Christmas checked on the sleeping man and Corporal Paulson had died of his wounds. Lt. Christmas took the leather packet and made his escape in the still darkness before day.

A Confederate Map Pt. 4

Julian Christmas was putting as much detail as he could remember into the tiny, faded pages of the diary and in my mind I could see how the tale unfolded. In the strangest of coincidences he sat in a foxhole on a battlefield near Atlanta with a man that had recently been to his plantation, knew his name and held the key to a buried treasure. Sometimes I had to use a magnifying glass to make out the words as now, Lt. Christmas continued writing about his night meeting with the wounded Corporal Paulson and how the treasure was buried.
The Corporal told him that his squad of 10 men were blindfolded and put in a wagon with General Forrest’s second in command, Major Jon Bryan and the cannon barrel. Only the Generals most trusted aides left with them and they traveled a couple of miles with many twist and turns. In the pitch dark they could not have seen where they were or even tell exactly where they were going. The Chief of Staff and the General led the way with one small lantern to guide them. After about an hour they stopped and Major Bryan helped them unload from the wagon. The Major helped them down and then the ordeal started. The men grabbed the heavy cannon and blindfolded they walked for at least 45 minutes fighting the roots and trees every step of the way as they wandered through the thick woods. Several officers helped guide them and they finally came to the spot where the treasure was to be buried. Most of the squad was bruised and battered by the walk and were grateful to lower the cannon and have the blindfolds removed.

It was a small clearing in a creek bottom. It was a dark moonless night and their only light was the one small lantern that the General held. He could not tell where he was but he could hear the trickle of a small creek near him.
In the center of the small clearing was a slight, low mound that he knew was the remnants of an old Indian Mound. The top of the little mound had picks and shovels already arranged and after a few minutes rest, he and his men started to dig. The hole was not big enough for all of them and after his turn digging he watched the General and Major Bryan conferring as they added to the details of their map. Finally the two men were satisfied and the map was folded and put into a leather map case. Major Bryan slipped it inside his tunic for safekeeping.
The hole soon reached a depth of about 6 feet through the mound and he had seen several Indian artifacts thrown out of the hole as they dug.
Meanwhile he and several others had wrapped the barrel in canvas, tied it tight with rope and got ready to lay it in the hole. The men were cleared out as they worked the wrapped bundle down into the dirt and started covering it over. Soon the hole was filled in and after about 10 minutes of talk amongst the officers; the men were all blindfolded again and led back through the woods to the wagon. They made it back to camp and early the next morning the cavalry troop was on the road back to Greenwood.
prologue, Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A Confederate Map Pt. 3

The dates on the faded writing in the old diary were sporadic, and as the next couple of years went by, Julian Christmas found himself with a farm to rebuild. He wrote about finally being able to close the large camp of displaced people and gaining on his former life.
He had to build barns, mend fences, and figure out a way to grow food crops along with the cash crop of cotton. Family members returning from the war had taken over old slave quarters and these all needed repair. He bought more land for timber use and started a sawmill. The old map was not mentioned again until the summer of 1868.
He had developed chills to go with his lingering illness. (I think he may have contracted yellow fever) That summer he spent a lot of time at home in bed fighting for his life.
During this time he started writing in the diary on a nightly basis and finally gave the background on what and how the map came into his possession.
Mr. Christmas was in the cavalry of General Hoods division near Atlanta and they had received very simple orders. Defend Atlanta to the last man. Some of the bloodiest fighting of the Civil War was done as Sherman crept closer and closer to the city. General Hood obliged by sending waves of his Army against him in a desperate and futile endeavor.
Julian found himself in a foxhole, next to his dead horse, nursing a fellow wounded soldier named Kevin Paulson during one of those dead still nights that always seemed a prelude to a major battle. He wrote about the horrible moaning of men in the darkness and the knowledge that he could not help any of them, much less himself.
As the two men sat there, they began to talk and the Corporal was very interested in his name of Christmas. He seemed to ask questions until he was satisfied and then a very strange story started to emerge.
The man had been with General Forrest early and as the war spread, he found himself taking the last of the Bank of Greenwoods gold and silver coin toward Vicksburg to keep it from being looted by the Union Army. After several days of fighting and some stealthy maneuvers they found themselves taking a few days rest at the Christmas Place Plantation. They were well taken care of by the mistress which was Julian’s’ wife and the men relaxed there till they could find out any enemy movement in the area. This was fine till General Forrest received an afternoon dispatch. Union soldiers were moving up the Yazoo river toward Greenwood to attack and destroy the shipyard that held the newly constructed ironclad, the C.S.S. Arkansas. He was urged to return to that position immediately.
Late that night Corporal Paulsen was called to the smithy with 9 other of his men to meet with the General. Once gathered together they saw that the largest of their cannons was being worked on. It was loosened from it’s catch and the fuse hole was welded shut. Then all of the gold and silver that they were transporting was poured into the barrel.Wadding was crammed into the end and hot lead was poured in to seal the barrel tight.
Corporal Paulson knew that they were about to bury the treasure but did not know how they would ever find it again if they buried it in an unknown place during the night.
General Forrest laughed and told them that he was making a detailed map.
Prologue, Part 1, Part 2

A Confederate Map Pt. 2

I had read the tiny and faded writing until my eyes hurt from the strain but the thought that he had been smart enough to hide two gold pieces inside of the butt of his rifle caught my imagination. Where did the coins come from, and what was this handwritten map that he mentioned? Was it a treasure map to a chest of gold pieces? That would be too wild, but my heart leaped at the thought of it. Reality was that it was a map for something else. Maybe a proposed railroad or an engineers map of some kind.
I hid the diary away, but later that week I stayed late at the office, got a magnifying glass and reading lamp and opened the yellow pages again. The map was not really mentioned but the horror of Reconstruction was in full swing.
He wrote about the need to get the fields going as gardens. There was no cotton crop or thought of that. It was a matter of survival. He mentioned that many of the ex-slaves had come back to the place for protection and a chance to at least eat. They were welcomed as family, given food and shelter and promised jobs when and if they ever got any money.
He wrote about thousands of people traveling the roads with nowhere to go. Julian and his wife fed as many as mercy or kindness would allow and a camp quickly sprang up on the property that filled with these Reconstruction Era nomads. The old slave quarters were filled with families both black and white. The ex-soldiers, ex-slaves and farmers worked day and night to survive the brutal, heavy hand of the Reconstruction Government and the carpetbaggers in charge.
They lost most of the property to taxes but still kept the main part of the low ground. The men worked as hard as they could just to grow crops or fix the homes so they had a roof over their heads. They all worked, ate and slept together and protected each other in a very lawless time.
Many of the people (especially women) stayed to help tend the needy which were too sick to travel, and stayed till they recovered or died and the many others that constantly took their place. The first year was a nightmare, but a small close knit community sprung up with a tiny store and the organization of the first groups of sharecroppers trying to make it after the Civil War.
There were hundreds of people coming and going and Julian Christmas and his family took them all in. It was a busy time and though the map was mentioned once or twice, it was only mentioned how dangerous it would be to use it.
For almost two years Mr. Christmas and his family did everything they could to help his neighbors and himself survive.
The other thing is that Mr. Christmas developed a chest cold and cough that he could not get rid of.
Prologue
Pt. 1

A Confederate Map Pt. 1

After finding the diary, I took it back and studied it that night after Dad had gone to bed. The writing was faded and covered with water marks, making it very hard to read and I will not bore you with that. Instead, I will put down on paper the impressions that I have and make it basically into a story form.
The faded handwriting dated the first entry at what I think was springtime at the end of the Civil War. The writer (Julian Christmas) had been wounded in the retreat from Atlanta and had finally recovered. He had made a deal and pledge with the Union Army and started the long trip home. He walked, hitched a ride where he could and slept in the woods at night. It was a long and teacherous trip back to the Christmas Place near Yazoo City, Mississippi.
The rain fell heavily as the soldier eased down the old Grey Rock Road. He was only a half mile from his home at the Christmas Plantation and was already imagining finally getting into his own bed after all this time. The war had been over for four months and the wound in his side still gave him trouble. It was a long way from Atlanta to home. He had gone slowly and had to rest many times to let his side heal enough to continue the journey. He also had to move a lot at night or cut through the wilderness to keep from being stopped and searched. He had panicked when early in his trip, a Yankee troop had forcibly made him give up an old horse he had bargained for. They laughed at the old rifle he carried with the bent and split barrel that he used as a crutch. He moved forward sticking the twisted gun barrel into the muddy road. He had put splints around the stock, wrapped it in gauze and old bed linen and made a serviceable crutch out of the useless rifle.
A long streak of lightning lit up the abandoned fields as he drew nearer and he thought of the work it was going to take to get the farm going again. Maybe he could at least get a good garden and some clearing done when spring rolled around again. He would have the money to hire labor and take care of buying mules and equipment as soon as he was well, but right now he was tired, hungry, and needed to get home to his wife and family.
A dog barked, then several came rushing out to meet him and turned from angry to loving as he called their names, then knelt down and hugged each of them as they danced around smelling him. A few seconds later he saw the glow of a coal-oil lamp. He had made it home. He had also managed to make it back with the hand-written map and two $10 gold pieces that he had hidden in the secret space in the butt of the old rifle.
Prologue

The Diary of Julian Christmas

It all started logically enough with a bowling ball. I was at the famous Christmas Place with my father who had a special project for me that weekend. Clean out the old home that we called the Witchs’ House.
The old home had been on the property for well over a hundred years and was now used for storage. I got up Saturday morning, backed a trailer up to the front door and got started while Dad headed to the lake to catch some fish.
Clothes, broken furniture, old farm records, assorted boxes, books, trash and an old bowling ball were in the front room. I started hauling stuff out. For some reason I picked up the bowling ball and did a great basketball hook shot with it into a large overstuffed chair. The ball promptly bounced out and straight onto the fireplace hearth.
Wham! The stone hearth was cracked open on one corner where the ball had landed. I looked and could see a narrow cavity. The bowling ball and cleaning were forgotten as I left to get a flashlight and a crowbar. Returning I shined the light in the hole and could see the edge of a wrapped bundle.
There was a very narrow and cleverly disguised gap under the hearth just big enough to hold the oil-skinned wrapped book I pulled out.
Opening it carefully I found the original Parker/ Christmas Family Bible.
I sat down in the old chair, made myself comfortable and started looking through it.
Faded birth and death dates were on many of the pages and the book was so fragile that I had to be very careful that it did not fall apart. In fact the back pages seemed all glued together and to the rear binding. I carefully pulled a few pages apart at this point and realized that the last few books of the bible had been hollowed out and a smaller book hidden inside the large Bible. I lifted it out and opened it. The first page said Diary and Journal of Lieutenant Julian Christmas CSA 1865.