Read time: 7 min.

Some Revolutionary War stories arrive neatly packaged. They’re complete with crisp discharge papers, well-kept family Bibles with firm records, and a paper trail that ties everything together. Most, however, don’t. Instead, they survive in sworn statements, half-remembered marches, and the strong insistence of veterans who knew what they had endured. The story of Benjamin Wallis belongs in that second category.

To mark the United States’ 250th birthday, the Daughters of the American Revolution has joined forces with America250, the nationwide commemoration of our country’s semiquincentennial, to pay tribute to Revolutionary War Patriots. As part of the celebration, I’ll be sharing the stories of those laid to rest in Delaware County, with help from Kathi Hirons Kesterson -the regent of the Paul Revere Chapter of Muncie’s DAR– over the next several Fridays.

Benjamin Wallis was born on January 12, 1758, in Caswell County, North Carolina. His birth was carefully recorded in the family Bible, but the heirloom passed to one of his siblings after his father’s death. Years later, Wallis never knew what became of it¹. 

What is known is that Wallis entered service as a volunteer from Caswell County in 1780. Under Captain Adam Sanders, he marched to Hillsboro, where troops from several counties formed a regiment believed to be the North Carolina Militia. There, Major Taylor took command. 

The regiment traveled to the mouth of the Cooper River, where a detachment was ordered onto the water. Their mission was a daring one: move upriver, bore holes into British vessels to sink them, seize any ships carrying valuable property, and bring them ashore at Red Banks².

Wallis’ detachment managed to seize several enemy vessels along the way, but the momentum didn’t last. While on the river, they heard the thunder of heavy cannon fire from Charleston and assumed the worst- that the American forces there had already surrendered. Ordered to turn back, Captain Adam Sanders made a fateful choice instead. He ingored his colonel’s command, raised anchor, and pushed on toward Red Banks, sailing straight into uncertainty.

Warned by a man on shore that Banastre Tarleton and his British cavalry were lying in wait, Wallis’ regiment slipped into the swamps and abandoned their ship. They remained hidden there for several days before rejoining General Buford’s army as it fell back toward Charleston. Unfortunately, Buford was defeated. Wallis’ militia detached from the force and were soon dismissed from service.

At Fayetteville, the group was declared unfit for further duty thanks to the suffering its members endured³. All of that wasn’t enough to prevent Wallis from rejoining, though: in 1781, he volunteered under Captain William Wilson and Colonel William Moore. Wallis’ three-month enlistment came to an end under Colonel Moore, and he returned home. 

Later the same year, Wallis furnished his own horse and arms when he volunteered again under Captain John McMullin. Wallis flanked British forces marching towards Little York, where he helped prevent the British from plundering and the Tories from causing more mischief. Wallis applied for provisions from his quartermaster, but was refused. From there, he returned to Caswell County, where he was dismissed but received no written discharge⁴. 

More than fifty years after he shouldered a musket, Benjamin Wallis found himself recounting those distant days to William Babb, the acting justice of the peace in Hawkins County, Tennessee, to obtain a pension. Although Wallis made his home in Virginia, five years of debilitating “fits” made significant travel difficult, if not impossible. 

Age and illness had blurred the finer details of Wallis’ recollections, but they hadn’t shaken his sense of duty. Wallis could still trace the broad arc of his wartime service, and he didn’t waver on one essential point: he’d given no less than fourteen months to the cause.

In Wallis’ day, proving Revolutionary War service meant more than personal testimony. In addition, it required the word of trusted men who could vouch for a veteran’s character. To meet that standard, Wallis turned to his neighbors, Samuel Marion and John Fritts, both of whom affirmed his honesty and their firm belief that he had indeed served in the Revolution. As he applied, Wallis relinquished his right to any other pension claim, aside from perhaps a pension roll from North Carolina⁵. 

In 1837, Wallis appeared for a supplemental deposition in Rush County, Indiana. There, he swore that he was the same man who had rendered the service, that his name had previously been placed on Tennessee’s pension rolls, and that he had recently relocated from that state to Indiana. Owing to his age and declining health, his children had moved with him to care for him, and he asked that his pension be paid in Indiana⁶. Fortunately, it was.

After they settled in Rush County, Wallis and his family moved near the village of Bethel in Delaware County’s Harrison Township. There, in 1838, he died at the age of eighty. Wallis, now memorialized as Benjamin Wallace, was among the very first buried in what would become Miller Cemetery.

Unfortunately, I haven’t made it back to visit Wallis’ grave yet. Miller Cemetery is barely bigger than a generous backyard, and it’s tucked deep in the woods about a quarter mile east of where Bethel Pike jogs north. Permission is required to access the place, and it doesn’t seem like many people find their way there anymore: of the roughly hundred people buried there, the most recent was laid to rest in 1916. 

Like most of the Revolutionary War Patriots whose stories I’ve told, Benjamin Wallis’ tale doesn’t end with a tidy discharge paper or a neatly preserved family Bible. Instead, it lingers in fragments. His service was real even if the paperwork wasn’t, and his life followed the same restless arc as the young nation he helped defend: from North Carolina to Virginia, Tennessee, and finally the Indiana frontier.

Today, Wallis rests in a cemetery so small and secluded that it feels almost accidental. Even when the details fade, though, its outline remains. Sometimes that’s enough to bring the stories of Patriots like Benjamin Wallis back into focus! I’ll revisit his story once I stand above his Patriot grave for myself.

Sources Cited
1 Benjamin Wallis (Wallace), Revolutionary War pension declaration, pension no. S 32,571, service from North Carolina; Case Files of Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Applications Based on Revolutionary War Service, 1800–ca. 1912; publication M804, roll 2482; Record Group 15; National Archives and Records Administration (Washington, D.C.); digitized images, Fold3 (https://www.fold3.com : accessed 20 January 2026); transcribed by Kathryn Hirons Kesterson.
2 (See footnote 1). 
3 (See footnote 1). 
4 (See footnote 1). 
5 (See footnote 1). 
6 Benjamin Wallis (Wallace), Revolutionary War pension, supplemental declaration, Rush County, Indiana, 1 September 1837; Case Files of Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Applications Based on Revolutionary War Service, 1800–ca. 1912; pension no. S 32,571; publication M804, roll 2482; Record Group 15; National Archives and Records Administration (Washington, D.C.); digitized images, Fold3 (https://www.fold3.com : accessed 20 January 2026); transcribed by Kathryn Kesterson.
7 Builders Of A Nation (1910, May 21). The Muncie Star. p. 4.