An overseer, usually a veteran of the Civil war, is in charge of the grounds, ready at any time to point out to visitors the graves of noted personages. The Stars and Stripes are kept floating at the top of a staff in the center of the cemetery. It consists of about five acres of land occupying a gently sloping ridge and is enclosed in a solid stone wall.
It was established by the Federal government many years prior to the Civil war as a last resting place of soldiers in the service of the Government. One of the interesting historic spots of this section of the country is the National Cemetery located about two miles east of Fort Gibson. They are waiting for the Master’s call to cross the dark mysterious river separating life from death, to be with Lee and Jackson, Price and McCulloch, Cooper and our own beloved Stand Watie.” The Fort Gibson National Cemetery Feeble, aged and gray they will soon be gone to live only in song and story. Less than one hundred of General Watie ‘s brigade have withstood the ravages of time. I see hundreds of brave men, Indians and whites, too numerous to mention in this brief sketch, who followed the flag and leadership of the matchless Gen. Schrimsher as they pilot the victorious forces of McIntosh and Watie at Hominy Creek. Scales as he leads the Confederate advance above the Webber Falls, that resulted in the capture of a train. I see Major Howland hold the bridge across Elk Creek at Honey Springs against superior numbers until the Federals were about to envelope him and his command. Lindsey, at the battle of Honey Springs take his battery across Elk Creek Bridge amid the storm of shot and shell and roar and din of the conflict. Thompson in many battles and skirmishes, always displaying the highest qualities of a soldier. Moses Frye, ever ready to answer to the call of duty. Vann, at Cabin Creek, that brave and aggressive soldier. Vann as he charged the Negroes at Negro Creek almost annihilating them. I see Major General Bryan as he charged the Federals at Short Creek, Mo., and drove them into the timber. Brewer, then a captain, as he drove the Federal picket into the fortifications of Old Fort Gibson, and rounded up the vast herd of horses and mules, and drove them south of the Arkansaw River. Parks, as he defeats a Federal force with artillery, on Greenleaf Creek near Braggs a deep ravine alone, saved the Federal battery from the onward and victorious rush of Parks and his men.
Thomas Fox Taylor with his dark waving plume as he selects his own kith and kin to check the Federal advance at the Ford of Spavinaw, near General Watie ‘s mill. Bell, as he bravely led his men to victory at Mazzard Prairie, Ark.
Boudinot, on this same field with his long black hair floating on the breeze as we charged to victory. I also see that other gallant soldier and brilliant statesman Elias C. William Penn Adair with his long flowing black hair on the bloody field of Wilson Creek, Mo. Stand Watie, as colonel of the famous first Cherokee cavalry as he directs and leads his victorious charge at Pea Ridge, Ark. I see the muster, the march and the encounter. I hear again the blast of Dutch Billy’s bugle. “Looking backward down the corridor of time through the dim vista of more than half a century of departed years I see again the warlike spirit of the southern Cherokee, from the years of 1861 to 1865.
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