More than a century after a young man from Jackson shipped out to fight in the trenches of Europe, a small piece of him has come back. The dog tags of Hilliard Chastain , an Alabama soldier who served in World War I, were recently discovered in France — and French citizens intend to hand them back to his family. The Discovery The tags were found in the French village of Jussarupt , in the Vosges region of eastern France.
Residents there plan to return them to the Chastain family on Bastille Day, July 13 , at a reception in Atlanta. Bastille Day is France's national independence holiday, commemorating the storming of the Bastille in 1789 — a fitting occasion for a gesture of Franco-American remembrance. Dog tags are, by design, among the most personal objects a soldier carries. Stamped with a name and identifying information and worn against the skin, they exist for the grim purpose of identifying a man who cannot identify himself.
That a set belonging to an Alabama soldier remained in French soil for more than a hundred years, and was then recognized, researched and traced back to a family across the Atlantic, speaks to the care with which French communities in former battle zones continue to tend the memory of the Americans who fought there. Who Hilliard Chastain Was Chastain was born in 1897 and joined the Alabama National Guard in 1917 — just in time for the United States' entry into World War I. He served in the U.S.
Army's 167th Infantry Regiment , part of the 42nd Infantry Division . That division is one of the most storied formations in American military history, known then and now as the Rainbow Division . The Rainbow Division The 42nd Division was assembled from National Guard units drawn from 26 states , an unusual composition at a time when Guard divisions were typically raised within a single state. It was Maj.
Douglas MacArthur — decades before he became one of the most famous generals in American history — who supplied the nickname, observing that the 42nd would "stretch over the whole country like a rainbow." The Rainbow Division proved key in several of the battles that turned the war against Germany. Its Alabama component, the 167th Infantry Regiment, descended from the state's National Guard and earned a formidable reputation in France for its aggressiveness in close combat. Men from small Alabama towns — places like Jackson — fought in some of the most severe engagements the American Expeditionary Forces experienced.
Background and Context
The 167th Infantry's lineage traces back to the 4th Alabama Infantry of the Civil War and the 1st Alabama Infantry of the Spanish-American War. When federalized for World War I, the regiment absorbed recruits from across the state, but its core identity remained rooted in the communities that had sustained the Guard for generations. The regiment saw heavy action in the Champagne-Marne defensive, the Aisne-Marne offensive, the Battle of Saint-Mihiel, and the Meuse-Argonne offensive — the largest and deadliest battle in American military history, involving 1.2 million U.S. soldiers and resulting in over 26,000 killed in action.
In the Meuse-Argonne alone, the 167th suffered hundreds of casualties while helping crack the Hindenburg Line. The regiment's nickname, "The Alabama Brigade," was earned in blood. Survival, Illness and Discharge Chastain served in France and Germany until April 1919 , remaining overseas well past the November 1918 armistice as part of the occupation and demobilization. He was honorably discharged in May 1919 after recovering from influenza and pneumonia, which had hospitalized him for nearly a month, according to Anne-Laure Desjonqueres, the Consul General of France in Atlanta. That detail places him within one of the great catastrophes of the era.
The 1918 influenza pandemic swept through the armies of Europe and killed enormous numbers of soldiers who had survived combat. For many American servicemen, the deadliest enemy in France was not German artillery but the virus that moved through the crowded camps and hospitals. Chastain contracted it and lived. The 1918 pandemic, often misnamed the "Spanish flu," killed an estimated 50 million people worldwide, including roughly 675,000 Americans. In the U.S. Army alone, more than 45,000 soldiers died of influenza and pneumonia — more than were killed in combat.
The virus spread with particular ferocity in the embarkation camps where troops awaited transport home, and in the occupation zones where men like Chastain were billeted in close quarters with local populations. His survival and subsequent discharge in May 1919 meant he beat odds that claimed many of his comrades. A Life on the Water After the war, Chastain moved to Mobile , where he became the captain of the tugboat Carrie Mack — a working life on the waterways of the Alabama Gulf Coast, guiding vessels through the port that has long been the economic engine of the region.
He died in 1959 of an apparent heart attack at the age of 61. His family's roots ran throughout southwest Alabama. His obituary listed four brothers, two of whom lived in Jackson — A.W. and Clarence Chastain. Another brother, Herbert Chastain, lived in Prichard , and Joseph Chastain lived in Saraland . He had one son, Hilliard Chastain Jr., who died in Georgia in 1993. Mobile's tugboat fleet in the mid-twentieth century was the invisible machinery of the port's growth.
Background and Context
The Carrie Mack and her sister vessels maneuvered ocean-going freighters, barges, and naval ships through the Mobile River channel, the turning basin, and out to the bar. Captains like Chastain held a license that required years of apprenticeship and an intimate knowledge of currents, shoals, and the rhythm of the tides. The Port of Mobile, already a major exporter of cotton, coal, and lumber in Chastain's era, was entering a period of expansion that would see it become one of the nation's busiest ports by tonnage.
The work was demanding, often round-the-clock, and carried real risk — collisions, groundings, and sudden weather changes on the bay were daily hazards. That a combat veteran of the Rainbow Division chose this life speaks to the generation's capacity for steady, skilled labor after the war. Why These Returns Still Happen Across the former Western Front, farmers, hobbyist historians and local heritage societies continue to recover artifacts from ground that saw fighting more than a century ago. Helmets, shell casings, buttons and occasionally identification tags still emerge from fields and forests.
In France, returning such items to the descendants of the soldiers who carried them has become something of a tradition — an act of thanks that outlasts the generation that received it. For Clarke County, the story restores a name. Hilliard Chastain was a teenager from Jackson who enlisted the year his country entered the war, served in one of its most famous divisions, survived both German guns and the influenza pandemic, and came home to work the waters of Mobile Bay. On July 13, in Atlanta, his tags will be placed back into the hands of his family.
The ceremony in Atlanta, hosted by the Consulate General of France, reflects a diplomatic tradition that has deepened since the centennial of World War I. The French government's "Mission du Centenaire" and its successor initiatives have supported local communes in identifying, researching, and repatriating artifacts tied to American servicemen. The Consulate General in Atlanta covers the Southeastern United States, a region that contributed disproportionately to the AEF's manpower.
Alabama alone sent more than 74,000 men to the war, and the 167th Infantry was one of only a handful of National Guard regiments to serve in a division as storied as the 42nd. Each returned artifact — a dog tag, a helmet plate, a mess kit — represents not just a soldier's story but a family's closure and a community's reconnection with its past.
Wider Significance for Coastal Alabama
This story is part of a broader set of changes playing out across Mobile, Baldwin and the wider Gulf Coast region. Local residents, businesses and government agencies have been watching developments like this one closely, because decisions made in Mobile and Baldwin counties often ripple outward into neighboring communities across south Alabama, Mississippi and the Florida Panhandle. Public meetings, council work sessions and state legislative hearings have all carried echoes of the underlying concerns, with stakeholders ranging from neighborhood associations to industry groups weighing in on what the outcomes will mean for daily life along the Gulf Coast. Reporters and editors in the region have worked to document how these issues affect ordinary people, from commuters on Interstate 10 to families visiting the public libraries and parks that anchor so many of the Port City’s neighborhoods. The deeper context often emerges over months rather than days, as projects move from announcement to planning to construction, and as the people most directly affected find their voices in the public record. Continued coverage remains important, both for accountability and for the historical record, and the unfolding situation is one that warrants attention from anyone with a stake in the future of south Alabama.
Looking ahead, observers across the region expect the conversation to continue evolving. Local officials have signaled their intent to monitor outcomes closely, and community organizations have indicated they will remain engaged as new information becomes available. The intersection of state policy, local implementation and on-the-ground impact is precisely where stories like this one tend to develop their lasting significance. For Mobile and Baldwin residents, the practical effects will play out over time, in everything from tax bills and utility rates to traffic patterns and the availability of public services. Following the developments requires patience and attention to detail, but it is also a reminder of how civic life in coastal Alabama continues to be shaped by decisions that begin far from the neighborhoods they ultimately touch. Residents who want to stay informed can do so by following local government meetings, attending public hearings when significant issues arise, and reading the regional reporting that tracks how these stories progress from one phase to the next.
Local news organizations continue to follow this story closely, and updates are expected as more details emerge. The developments have generated discussion across the region, with attention from both longtime residents and newcomers who are following the issue for the first time. Community leaders have emphasized the importance of staying engaged with local government and participating in public meetings when significant decisions are being made. As the situation continues to unfold, residents are encouraged to remain informed through reliable local reporting and official city and county communications channels. The story remains active, and additional information is anticipated in the coming days and weeks as the relevant agencies and stakeholders complete their work.