HUMOR: Wee Willie Tinkler, Ran (40 Yards) through the Town ...
... then became the second civilian casualty of the Battle of Gettysburg. Don't bother looking for a marker, there are none. It took a son of the KeyStone state to resurrect Wee Willie's story.
By Drew Gallagher
HUMORIST
This weekend we remember the men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice in the establishment and preservation of the United States of America. Many of their hallowed names are etched in marble and in memory.
Of course it was not only the Hugh Mercers, Sergeant Kirklands, and the brothers of Private Ryan who gave their lives. There are myriad names and exploits that have been forgotten to the dustbin of history, but their sacrifice was in no way less than those whose apothecary shops are on downtown trolley tours.
Today we offer up a little-known story of gallantry and self-sacrifice that has sadly been erased from our history and from our collective memory. (Seriously, don’t Google it because you’ll want to delete your search history.)
Wee Willie Tinkler (born February 24, 1820 — died June 30, 1863)
One of the most remarkable facts about the pivotal Battle of Gettysburg during the Civil War was that only one civilian was killed during the three days of carnage. Twenty-year-old Jennie Wade was baking bread in her kitchen when a stray bullet entered the house and mortally wounded her. The story of Jennie Wade has been preserved in the house where she died which is now a popular museum in downtown Gettysburg.
Some members of the Pennsylvania Tinklers, however, would argue that there were two civilians killed at the Battle of Gettysburg and point to the sad story of their beloved Wee Willie who passed hours before Day 1 of Gettysburg. (There is no historical marker where the last bit of life spewed out of Wee Willie.)
Born and raised in Central Pennsylvania, Wee Willie spent much of his life trying to outrun his unfortunate birth name and his even more unfortunate nickname. It takes a special person to overcome the last name of “Tinkler” and Wee Willie was not that person. Like most boys who grew up in the farmlands of the Keystone State, he dreamed of making his mark on history or, at the very least, getting to visit Hershey Park and ride the Super Dooper Looper. Fortune had other plans.
While walking with his horse to gaze upon his fields on a warm summer day in 1861, Wee Willie encountered a small number of Confederate soldiers on horseback who were scouting for supplies. The soldiers wanted to get information from Wee Willie as well as his shoes, but when he thrust out his chest and proclaimed that no shoes would be taken on this day because he was “Wee Willie Tinkler, proudest son of the Union!”, the soldiers started to laugh uncontrollably and nearly fell out of their saddles. Seizing upon this moment of side-splitting paralysis, Wee Willie jumped on his sway-backed horse and rode back into town with what he assumed would be Paul Revere-like swiftness to alert his hometown and his country of the pending arrival of Johnny Reb in the North.
Though it was broad daylight, Willie figured such a ride required a lantern or at the very least the nub of a candle which he always kept with him so that if his destiny approached in darkness he would be found ready. He lit the candle nub as he rode and started to shout: “The Rebels are Coming!” “The Rebels are Coming!” to the assorted cows and livestock grazing in the fields west of Gettysburg. Alas, Wee Willie was a better ploughman than horseman and the combination of a lit candle next to the eye of a horse without blinkers and the bellowing of a crazed farmer combined to make his faithful steed pause abruptly in their ride into the annals of history. This abrupt pause launched Wee Willie from his seat (mostly because he was holding a candle and waving his other arm in a zealous attempt to alert the land of the enemy at the doorstep which meant he was not holding the reins).
The nearby Confederate scouts only paused in their laughter when they heard a sharp snap that sounded like the crack of a Union sniper rifle. They quickly realized though that it was not in fact a gun shot, but rather the demise of Wee Willie who was now sprawled in the road with his head curved at an angle not often found in nature. The air-splitting sound they had heard was that of Willie’s neck snapping. They walked the short distance to his lifeless body (Willie and his trusty mount had only travelled about 40 yards when the horse threw its rider after experiencing flame and the Wee Willie Whoop in quick succession). These sons of the Confederacy were once 12-year-old boys so it is assumed they considered depantsing poor Willie to see if his nickname matched the equipment before quietly saying a prayer over his limp body and moving him to the side of the modest road and stealing his shoes. It was not until four days later that Union stretcher bearers happened upon the engorged corpse of Wee Willie and alerted his family of his death which did not appear to be related to the battle just ended.
It was 50 years later that the ancestors of Wee Willie finally learned of his heroic deed and how he died in service to his beloved country. A Confederate soldier who was present for Wee Willie’s spirited ride had returned to Gettysburg for the 50th reunion gathering at the battlefield and decided to walk the short distance to where the life had ebbed from Wee Willie. On this walk he passed an old woman who was sitting on a rocker on her front porch. The soldier did not know what possessed him to stop, but he bid this woman a good day and she waved in return. The soldier asked if she was from these parts, and she said she was born and raised on this very same plot of land. He then asked if she ever knew a man by the name of Wee Willie Tinkler?
She paused for a moment and said: “No finer Tinkler has ever graced this great land of ours.” The old soldier bowed his head, likely trying to conceal the mirthful memory that had led him to this moment in history, and told her he had been present for Wee Willie’s last hurrah. She invited him in for lemonade and the seeds of the Wee Willie Tinkler legend were sown.
Wee Wilie’s relative, overcome with Tinkler pride, begged the old soldier to reach out to Ken Burns so he could include this tale in his groundbreaking documentary 77 years later, but the soldier told her he had to get back to the reunion so he could shake hands across the stone wall at The Angle.
Many men can speak about wings, but Wee Willie Tinkler just flew. So this weekend, as you raise a glass or light a luminary in the memory of the fallen, please think of dear Wee Willie Tinkler. A hero who should forever be held with great fondness.
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Summer of 1861?