Sevierville Sharpshooters were known far and wide, as probably the best marksmen in the country and Sevierville Sam, one of the best, knew how to really talk turkey. Surely you’ve heard of Sevierville Sam or just Big Sam and his smaller cousin. Not only was Sam big, but if you remember, his whole family was huge, dad, mom and sisters all crammed into that little cabin up on the mountain. Anyway, Big Sam’s kin survived mainly on a diet of Smokey Mountain critters that swam, crawled, slithered, hopped, flew or just mosied along the mountain trails and woods. It wasn’t considered sport, it was a matter of survival and Big Sam needed to be a Sevierville Sharpshooter in order to feed his huge family. One of Sam’s family favorites and plentiful, at the time, was wild turkey and Big Sam knew just how to call the feathered flocks in, his neighbors and kin related how Sevierville Sam could really talk turkey.
Big Sam and his smaller cousin, had enlisted in the Union Army, were captured at Chickamauga, rescued by their Smokey Mountain kin and saved the infant Sarah and the blonde bundle’s creature. Now, Big Sam and his diminutive cousin, neighbors, friends and kin were preparing to break the siege of Chattanooga and retake Missionary Ridge. Sevierville Sam could just make out the rebels across the field, on the craggy ridgeline, their rifles and bayonets glinting occasionally on the fog shrouded precipice. Those Johnny’s over yonder knew an assault was pending and they were taking up hidden positions among the rocks and crevices assuring a clear field of fire.
Orders came down the line, to fix bayonets and prepare to advance and capture the first rifle pits half way up the ridge. Sam reminded his smaller cousin, how they had been taught to hold their aim low or risk shooting over the heads of the enemy. Attaching the bayonet to the barrel of the rifle added extra weight and increased the probability of missing the intended target completely. A Sevierville sharpshooter would keep his bayonet handy, but never risk a miss, because of a pig sticker on the end of his gun.
It had been a long, cold night in the treeline below the ridge and Big Sam and his smaller cousin, were having some hard crackers and salt pork for breakfast and washing the whole mess down with just a taste of mountain medicine. The food and the potent potion warmed them and they both checked their cartridge boxes and stuffed a few extra rounds in their pockets. Because Sam was a Big’un, he carried more weapons than most. The Sevierville Sharpshooter, had his rifle, two revolvers and several large knives, not that he had ever needed the extras, but one could never know for sure. Sam always would rather be safe than sorry.
The order came to advance and Big Sam, as always, was leading the way. For every three strides of his smaller cousin, Sam would only need one and across the field they sprinted and the Rebs in the first pits, lit out up the hill, hardly firing a shot. Sam and his smaller cousin, jumped into the closest hole and peered up at the Johnnys hiding in the rocks and crags on the ridge. Most of the boys in their unit kept on running up the hill and started climbing the rocky face, the rebels pouring a deadly fire down on them. The Sevierville Sharpshooter, took a deep breath, wetted his thumb on his tongue, wiped his thumb on the front blade sight of his rifle, took deadly aim and tumbled a reb off the top most boulder of the ridge. There was no shortage of enemy targets, Big Sam and his smaller cousin, took their time, there was really no hurry. Picking off the Rebs that impeded the progress of their comrades, the two Smokey Mountain cousins laid down a deadly pathway for the advance up the rocky ridgeline.
It didn’t take the Dixie Boys long to realize that every time they peeked over a rock, one of their number would meet their maker. A group of the defenders started to run single file, up a ravine and Big Sam reminded his smaller cousin how they shot turkeys back home, never shoot the lead bird and spook the followers. The two Smokey Mountain cousins began banging away at the end of the fleeing Rebels and bowled them all back down the ravine in a heap of death, not spooking the lead bird, but bagging the flock.
It didn’t take long for Big Sam and his smaller cousin, to realize that the only enemy left on Missionary Ridge were the stubborn Johnny snipers hiding behind the rocks and boulders, their comrades having fled for parts unknown. Every once in a while a rifle crack would lay one of the boys out and the culprits were hidden in the craggy reaches above. The Sevierville Sharpshooter had an idea, he cupped his hands over his mouth and began the mating call of a lonely gobbler. It was a strange sound to some, but Big Sam and his smaller cousin, knew it would get the attention of their southern brethern. As soon as Sam began the mating conversation, Rebel heads began apearing all over the rocky terrain and the two Sevierville Sharpshooters began finishing the job they had started earlier that morning. Neither of the two Smokey Mountain cousins expected any recognition for their contribution to the Union victory at Missionary Ridge that day, both just realized the importance of being a Sevierville Sharpshooter and Sam’s ability to talk turkey.
Bummer
