Lest We Forget ~ May 26, 2025

May 22, 2025

Share this article

It was February 19, 1917 when Will Dubose and Lona May Rook were united in holy matrimony; just a few months later, on June 5th, he was registering for the draft in Hardeman County. His registration card listed his occupation as a teamster with the G M & K Ry Co. The transport schedule showed him departing for Europe aboard the George Washington on June 15th of the following year after training at Camp Meade in Baltimore, Maryland. On July 4th he wrote his father saying “Listen father, I am just as happy as a boy can be, to be so far from home. Tell all of my friends I said be men don’t be boys. I very often think of times past. And I am glad for this reason when I come home I can tell what pretty trains and citys I seen, and nothing make me feel so good as my officers is so nice to me and that make me want to be a soldier more and more every day. So give my love to all.” Three months later, his father received a telegram from the Adjutant General which read as follows:

“Deeply regret to inform you that private Will Dubose Infantry is officially reported as killed in action September twenty seventh” 

It was sent at 7:41 PM. Short and to the point; his family would later learn he had been wounded in France while engaged in combat, his death following three days later on September 30th. Will was originally buried in France, as were so many of the young men who died there, but was returned to his home in Bolivar, Tennessee in September of 1921 and buried in Bethlehem Missionary Baptist Church Cemetery.

Recent Posts

February 19, 2026
Their marriage began as a civil contract, entered into so she could remain in Great Britain.
February 12, 2026
All I wanted to do was let the cable company know the box that held my connection to the outside world was lying on the ground, no longer willing or able to communicate on my behalf.
February 5, 2026
Over the last week or so, we’ve lost a lot, and I don’t mean to Death, although he was one of the culprits. No, I’m talking about the destruction levied by Mother Nature . . .
January 22, 2026
Rachel Beckwith was approaching her ninth birthday, complete with party-planning and all the anticipated gifts. But then she heard about Charity: Water . . .
January 15, 2026
When I first married a hundred years ago, it was understood that every Christmas morning we would migrate to my husband’s grandmother’s home for a breakfast feast shared with everyone else in the family.
January 8, 2026
It was the morning of Christmas Eve, and I was frantically trolling the aisles of Walmart (please don’t judge me . . .), looking for the last of the elusive stocking stuffers, ‘cause at our house stockings are always stuffed, most often to overflowing.
December 19, 2025
In just a week . . . seven days as I write this . . . Christmas will arrive in all its magical splendor, followed closely by the New Year with all its promises and hope.
December 11, 2025
It was December 25, 2009 and I was sitting in the combination living room/den at my in-laws’ house, surrounded by my husband’s family and a mountain of ribbons and shredded wrapping paper.
December 4, 2025
It was one of those family-gathering occasions, the kind where the house is filled with laughter and conversations and at least two children running wild.
November 20, 2025
A few weeks ago I was supposed to be in Memphis, spending a considerable amount of time in the great outdoors, specifically in cemeteries (which, if I can’t be in the middle of a forest, is the next best thing). According to the weather on my handy, dandy phone, this was not advisable.
Show More