SHELBY’S MISSOURI RAID, SEPTEMBER, 1863
Certain parts of Missouri were settled, almost entirely, by
Kentuckians. In the earlier days there had been a tremendous
emigration from Kentucky to Indiana and Illinois, and when these
States had received a large quota of inhabitants from Kentucky, the
overflow from that State then turned to Missouri. Its counties and
towns were designated by Kentucky names which were brought over by
these new people from their home State. In and around 1850 this
tide of emigration flowed with a deep and wide current. Among those
who left their homes to find an abiding place in the new State,
marvelous accounts of the fertility and splendor of which were
constantly being carried back to Kentucky, was Joseph O. Shelby. He
was born at Lexington in 1831, and when only nineteen years of age
joined in the great march westward and found a home on the Missouri
River at Berlin, one hundred and fifty miles west of St. Louis.
These Missouri-Kentuckians carried with them one of the important
manufacturies of the State,—hemp, which for many years was chiefly a
Kentucky product. In the rich, loamy lands of Missouri, this staple
grew with great luxuriousness, and the introduction of hemp seed from
China both improved the quality and increased the production per
acre. Not only did the fertile land and the salubrious climate turn
these people westward, but a love of change also aroused this spirit
of emigration.
Young Shelby was fairly well educated. He was a born leader, and
no braver heart ever beat in human bosom. Warrior blood coursed
through his veins. His grandfather was a brother of Isaac Shelby.
This guaranteed patriotism and valor. He had great dash, a spirit of
unlimited enterprise, willing and ready to work, with a vigorous body
and a brave soul, he became a Missourian and was an ideal immigrant.
He had come from the very center of hemp manufacture in Kentucky.
This product was made into bagging and bound with hemp ropes. The
cotton country of the South was largely dependent upon Kentucky and
Missouri for these two things so essential in marketing cotton. It
was a most profitable and remunerative manufacture and was largely
carried on by the use of negro labor. Modern machinery had not then
been invented for the use of weaving the bagging or of twisting the
ropes. To produce these products so important in cotton growing, it
was necessary to rely upon the crudest implements.
Sixty miles east of Kansas City, Shelby selected a location at
Waverly, Lafayette County, and there began his operations as a
bagging and rope manufacturer. It was easy to ship the product down
the Mississippi and from thence to scatter it throughout the cotton
districts by the waterways over Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi,
Tennessee and Alabama. Shelby was successful from the very inception
of his new enterprise. He was hardly well settled in his new home
before the difficulties in Kansas began. Strongly believing in
slavery, his views as well as his interests and his proximity to the
Kansas line intensified his opinions. Loving adventure, brave in war,
he returned to Kentucky to recruit there for the Kansas imbroglio.
In these days it was not difficult to find in Shelby’s native State
men who loved adventure, who were always ready for war, and were
overjoyed at the chance to get into a fight. With Clark, Atchison and
Greene, Shelby did his full share in the Kansas fighting. It gave him
experience that was valuable to him a few years later in the great
war. He won reputation with his Kentucky fighters, and when the truce
was patched up he went back to the peaceful surroundings of his rope
walk in Waverly. This place was noted for its uncompromising Southern
sentiments. The anti-slavery settlers who went by it, ascending the
Missouri River, always steered away from it. They knew there was
neither comfort to be obtained nor security to be assured when they
passed this point. They could not buy anything they wanted there, and
they were likely to find trouble.
When the troubles of 1860 began to develop, no one was more
enthusiastic for the South or more willing to fight for its rights
than Joseph O. Shelby. There was no section, even in Confederate
States, more loyal to the South than the immediate territory about
Waverly. With sentiments fixed and embittered by the Kansas War,
the young men of that portion of Missouri were not only brave and
ambitious, but they were anxious to go to war. With his prejudices
quickened and enlarged by his nearness to Kansas, which was even then
a bitter State, in so far as slavery was concerned, Shelby organized
and equipped a company of cavalry at Waverly. It was easy to fill
up its ranks with enthusiastic, dashing young fellows who were only
too happy in taking the chances of battle, and they were charmed to
find a leader of Shelby’s experience, of his enthusiasm, and of his
intrepidity.
Independence, Missouri, the county seat of Jackson County, was only
twelve miles from Kansas City. A vast majority of its people were
intensely southern, and when Independence was threatened with the
presence of Federal dragoons, Shelby and his company lost no time in
marching forty miles from Lafayette County to see that their friends
and sympathizers at Independence had a square deal from the Union
soldiers. It soon was spread abroad that if the dragoons did come
there was trouble ahead and they stayed away. Shelby, now in for the
war, rode to join Governor Jackson and General Price in defense of
Missouri.
[Illustration: GENERAL J. O. SHELBY]
In these days it did not take long for fighting men in Missouri to
find people who were willing to fight them. The southern part of the
State was much divided in political sentiment, and the bitterness
of a civil war found full development in that territory. At the
Battle of Carthage, July 5th, 1861, Shelby and his men did splendid
service, and their excellent discipline, their superb courage, did
a great deal, not only to create, but to intensify the spirit and
steady the arms of the entire Missouri contingent. Beginning as a
captain, rising to brigadier-general in three years, Shelby had an
activity and experience that few enjoy. He fought in the Army of the
Tennessee, and he fought in the Trans-Mississippi Department, and
he was never more delighted than when fighting.
Wilson’s Creek, one of the sanguinary battles of the war, was fought
on the tenth day of August, 1861, and there Shelby again demonstrated
that the only thing necessary to make a reputation and fame as a
great cavalryman was the opportunity.
General John H. Morgan, in Kentucky, and Shelby were close friends.
They began their careers in much the same way. Morgan had his company
of Kentucky riflemen: Shelby his company of Missouri cavalrymen.
Morgan died in the struggle: Shelby lived thirty-six years after
the close and died in 1897. These two soldiers had grown up in
Lexington, and while Morgan was five years Shelby’s senior, they
were intimates. Shelby’s career did not close until May, 1865. At
the end, unwilling to accept the results of the war, he marched into
Mexico with five hundred of his followers and undertook to found an
American colony. This project soon failed. The wounds of the war
began to heal, and Shelby and his colonists were glad to come back
and live under the flag they had so bravely and tenaciously fought.
No man in the Confederate army marched more miles, and, with the
possible exception of General Joe Wheeler, fought more battles. His
activities were ceaseless as the seasons, and his capacity for riding
and fighting had no limit. The Trans-Mississippi Department had more
difficulties to face than any other part of the Confederacy. They
were styled “The Orphans.” They were the step-children in supplies
of provisions and munitions of war, and, but for the trade in cotton
which was arranged through Mexico, its conditions would have been
difficult and well-nigh hopeless. Far removed from Richmond, the
seat of the government, it was the scene of jealousies and disputes
as to the rank of officers. Covering a territory greater than the
remainder of the Confederate States, separated by the Mississippi
River from the armies of the East, assailable by the ocean on the
south, pierced by many navigable streams, with few manufactories, and
with contentions caused by conflicting claims, it was the theatre
of much mismanagement; but, through all, its soldiers were brave,
loyal and patriotic, and lose nothing in comparison with the best
the Confederacy produced. Considering the means at hand, the men in
Missouri, Arkansas, Texas, Louisiana and Indian Territory did much
to win the garlands with which fame crowned the brows of those who
immortalized the gray.
In 1862 and the beginning of 1863, when the call became more urgent
from the East, Shelby was among the Missourians and other soldiers
from the Trans-Mississippi who crossed the Mississippi River. Leaving
their own territory unprotected, these thousands of Arkansas,
Missouri and Texas men cheerfully and bravely took their lives in
their hands and went over to help their brethren in Mississippi
and Tennessee who stood with hands uplifted, crying, “Come over
and help us.” Shelby, with his company, gladly crossed the stream.
They left their horses behind them and went to aid Beauregard and
Bragg, Hardee, Van Dorn and Polk, who, with their armies, were so
sorely pressed by the descending avalanche, which, coming down
through Kentucky and Tennessee and along the Mississippi and up
the Tennessee River, was surely and quietly destroying the life
of the Confederacy. The pressure, in the absence of these men who
had been transferred into Mississippi and Tennessee, became so
tense in Missouri, Arkansas, Texas and Northern Louisiana, that
additional measures were taken to enlist soldiers who would prevent
the occupation of the western bank of the Mississippi, and among the
men commissioned to raise regiments, Shelby was the first named.
It was not much to do for a man to tell him that he might raise a
regiment when he was a thousand miles away from anybody he could hope
to enlist. He had a hundred trained, disciplined and gallant men,
and with these, hope made the future attractive. Difficulties in
those days did not discourage Shelby, and so, taking his one hundred
men—whose terms of enlistment had expired, they found their way by
railway and on foot to the Mississippi River, at a point opposite
Helena, Arkansas. At this time, that part of the Mississippi River
was under control of the Federals, except Vicksburg and Port Hudson.
It required an unusual man to meet the conditions that now faced
Shelby. He was a wonderful man, and by January, 1863, he had entered
the State of Missouri, then within the grip of Federal forces, and
almost entirely under Federal control with garrisons in every center
over the State. With fifty thousand Federal soldiers controlling
that Commonwealth, he passed through all these; he safely evaded
the enemies in the southern part of the State, carrying his one
hundred men for two hundred and seventy-five miles through territory
thoroughly occupied by his enemies, In a very brief while, he was
not only able to get together a regiment, but a brigade. He was
unwilling to take any more chances on twelve months’ enlistments,
and he swore his recruits in for the war. The men who had been with
him gave him the best possible credentials among the young men along
the Missouri River. Threatened Federal conscription and persecution
by their foes had made them desperate, and they were only too glad
to find a leader who had come from Corinth, Mississippi, with fame
in battle, to organize and lead them. It was splendid material,
and Shelby’s success was not only surprising to him but to all the
commanders further south in Arkansas. Such an experience was an
unusual one in the life of any man, and only one of great resources
and iron will could have succeeded when going into the enemy’s
country garrisoned on every hand and made liable to arrest and even
death, and secure three regiments of a thousand men each and march
them three hundred miles into friendly territory. Having no arms,
except such as they could find at home, consisting of shotguns and
revolvers, they furnished their own mounts and gladly went where
Shelby asked them to go.
[Illustration: MAP OF SHELBY’S MISSOURI RAID]
Only a man who had the essential qualities of a cavalry leader
could have won in the face of such difficulties. Shelby improved
every opportunity that came his way. There were constant jealousies
which opposed his promotion. After he had organized and disciplined
his brigade, it was nearly twelve months before his commission
as brigadier-general came. This he was to win by his raid into
Missouri in September, 1863, but he got it later. Waverly, the most
northerly point which Shelby was to reach on this raid, was, as
the crow flies, two hundred and seventy-five miles from the Arkansas
line. From Arkadelphia, where Shelby started, it was two hundred
and fifty miles to the Arkansas line. He had been long teasing his
superiors to let him make a raid. There were many inducements for him
to take the chances of such an expedition. He felt sure in the first
place he could carry his men in and safely bring them out. He felt
extremely confident that he could enlist a large number of recruits,
and he was not devoid of ambition, so he longed to demonstrate his
power and his capacity as a leader. He had been a colonel for nearly
two years. He had self-confidence, he had marvelous resources, and
he always won the admiration of his associates. General Schofield
was in command of the department of Missouri. The State covered an
area of sixty thousand square miles. To defend this, he had fifty
thousand soldiers, and Missouri herself had enlisted many of these,
which, while in the employ of the State, were subject to Federal
jurisdiction.
On the 10th of September, 1863, Little Rock had been evacuated and a
few days later taken possession of by the Federals. This was a great
blow to the men of the Confederacy. Fort Smith also had fallen, and
these two towns on the Arkansas River gave control to the Federals
of one-half of the State. Through the White and Arkansas Rivers it
opened up means for transporting men and supplies four hundred miles
south of St. Louis. To Arkansas the loss of the Arkansas River was
what the loss of the Mississippi River was to the Confederacy. It
was yet, however, a great task for the Federals to move supplies
from the White River or the Mississippi River when the stages of
the Arkansas River prevented the passage of boats along its waters.
The loss of Little Rock and Fort Smith and the shutting off of
the Confederate troops from easy access to Missouri had done much
to depress the spirit of the men who, west of the Mississippi,
were struggling for Southern independence. For months Shelby had
entertained the idea that if he were but turned loose with one
thousand men he could ride to the banks of the Missouri River, do
much damage to the property of the Federals, and bring out a large
number of recruits. In Missouri the conditions had rendered it unsafe
for men who sympathized with the South to express their sentiments,
and anxious again to turn his face towards his adopted home and meet
his friends and family, and longing for the glory which he felt would
come to the successful prosecution of such an expedition, he pleaded
with Generals Holmes and Price and Governor Reynolds and the other
officials in the Trans-Mississippi to give him this permission. The
Confederate authorities looked at the thing more calmly than the
young military enthusiast. He assured them that recruits would be
abundant and that he could fill up his ranks, dismay his enemies,
and inflict severe loss in every way upon his foes. They felt that
he was taking a tremendous risk to make such an expedition. Some
suggested that he was hot-headed, that he lacked the experience as
well as the poise for so grave an undertaking. He had been a colonel
for twenty-two months. None could deny that he was courageous,
that he had faith in himself, that he was possessed of unlimited
enthusiasm. These were a splendid equipment for the work he essayed
to do. Shelby’s persistence at last availed, and on September 10th,
1863, consent was given for him to make the attempt to carry out his
plans. He was allowed eight hundred men, twelve ammunition wagons,
and two pieces of artillery. Only six hundred of his men started
with him from Arkadelphia, two hundred recruits he was to pick up
later further north. Arkadelphia, in Clark County, Arkansas, was one
hundred and fifteen miles south of Ozark, at which point Shelby had
determined to cross the Arkansas River. From Fort Smith, as well
as from Little Rock, scouting parties had gone sixty miles south
of Ozark, so that in fifty miles from where Shelby started it was
certain he would meet opposition, and that the Federals would attempt
to thwart his plans. Once permission was given, there was nothing
short of death could stop Shelby’s march. He had pleaded to go, and
no dangers, no opposition, could deter him from his purpose. It
was true that gloom and doubt had settled in the hearts and minds
of many of the leaders who at that time were gathered in and about
Arkadelphia, but this spirit, either of hesitation or fear, never
touched the soul of Shelby. The people who permitted Shelby to go had
forebodings of the outcome, and permission was only granted when it
became apparent that nothing would satisfy Shelby but an opportunity
to work out his plans. The limited number of soldiers allowed him
showed that the Confederate leaders were not willing to risk very
much on his undertaking. Marmaduke, always ready to take risks,
assented, but he gravely doubted the result. The men who were to go
with Shelby were as enthusiastic as he. It was “Home-going,” it was
an opportunity to try out chances with the militia over in Missouri,
whom Shelby and his men hated with greatest bitterness. The autumn
sun was shining brightly when Shelby aligned his small force, placed
himself at their head, and waved adieu to Governor Reynolds. The
other troops, watching the departure of these gallant and dashing
raiders, experienced deepest sorrow when they realized that they were
to be left behind. There was no man among the thousands who witnessed
the going of these brave boys who would not have willingly taken
chances with them. There were no fears of what the future would bring
forth. One man in every six of those who rode away would not come
back, when at the end of thirty-six days Shelby would return.
Two hundred men taken each from four regiments lacked in some
respects homogeneity, but all shouted and waved their hats and guns
as the command to march passed down the line. From that moment they
became brothers with a common purpose and common courage. The fact of
going had by some subtle telepathy, which always marked cavalrymen,
gone out among the entire brigade, and from that moment there was
universal eagerness to ride with Shelby, and when the assignments
were made and the columns formed there were two thousand disappointed
men who felt most keenly the dealings of fate which deprived them
of a place in the moving column. If the selection had been left to
Shelby he would most likely have taken his entire regiment. These
had become with him so dependable, and between themselves and
Shelby there had grown up not only affection but completest trust.
They believed in him and he believed in them, and they felt that no
emergency could arise and that he would make no call upon them that
was not demanded by duty. As these six hundred brave men mounted
into their saddles and the column started, cheer after cheer greeted
each company as it passed by. Governor Reynolds and General Price
forgot the formality of military etiquette, and with those who went
and those who stayed they joined in vociferous cheers. Benedictions
came from every heart as out into the unknown dangers and experiences
of the expedition these men rode, souls all aglow with patriotism,
joy and soldierly valor. When Shelby held the hand of Governor
Reynolds, the expatriated governor prayed him to be cautious, begged
him to save as far as possible the lives of the young heroes under
him and to be watchful even unto death. As this kindly admonition
ended the governor pulled the leader close to him and whispered into
his ear, “Joe, if you get through safely, this will bring you a
brigadier-general’s commission.”
An ugly wound received eighty days before at the assault upon
Helena, July 4th, still gave Shelby intense suffering. It was
unhealed and suppurating. A minie ball had struck his arm and passed
longitudinally through the part from the elbow down. It was still
bandaged and supported with a sling. With his free hand he gathered
up the reins of his bridle and ignoring pain and danger, he looked
more the hero, as thus maimed and yet courageous he started on so
long a ride and so perilous a campaign. With his great physical
handicap, the admiration was all the more intense, for the spirit and
the grit of the man who was undertaking one of the most dangerous
and difficult expeditions of the war. Shelby’s body was subordinated
to the beckonings of glory and the splendor of the opportunity which
had now come in obedience to his pleadings to serve his State, his
cause, his country. Other men, less brave or determined, would have
hesitated. Some men, possibly equally chivalrous, would have taken
a furlough rather than have sought new dangers and more difficult
service.
None of these boys marching away cared to peer into the future. Along
the roads and the paths of the ride and in the midst of battles
they were to fight, one in six was to find a soldier’s grave, or,
struck down by wounds or disease, might meet death under the most
distressing circumstances at the hands of the bushwhackers and home
guards who then filled the garrisons of Missouri towns. The joy of
home-going eliminated all thought of misery of the future. These men
were to ride two hundred and twenty-five miles to the Arkansas State
line and two hundred and fifty miles from the Arkansas State line
through Missouri to Waverly, in all four hundred and seventy-five
miles. The return made nine hundred and fifty miles, even if they
marched by an air line.
A little way out on his journey Shelby met Colonel David Hunter with
a hundred and fifty men, recruits who were coming out from Missouri
to join the Confederates in Arkansas. Hunter and Shelby were kindred
spirits. The persecution of some of Hunter’s family had rendered
him an intense fighter. He was considered one of the rising infantry
officers, but cavalry work suited him better, and so he gave up his
rank of colonel with a regiment of infantry in order to take the
chances of recruiting a cavalry command. Hunter was bringing out
with him several hundred women and children who had been driven
from their Missouri homes. Turning these over to a portion of his
command, he chose the more promising of his followers and fell into
line with Shelby. At Caddo Gap, on the fourteenth day, it was learned
that a company of Confederate deserters and Union jayhawkers were
in the mountains close by. With a horror and deepest hatred born of
the crimes of these men, outlaws from both armies, it was resolved
that the first work of the raid should be their extermination. Major
Elliott, commanding one of the battalions under Shelby, discovered
the lair of these men later in the afternoon, and as soon as it was
dark he attacked them with great vigor. Seventy-nine of them were
killed and thirty-four captured. Their leader was as brave as any
soldier in either army. Puritan blood coursed through his veins.
Condemned to death for his crimes, he was left with Major Elliott
while the remainder of the force marched forward. The captain of the
firing party with a small squad was left to finish up reckonings of
justice with this bloody robber and murderer. There had been no court
martial. These men were to be killed by common consent. They had
been taken in the act, and their crimes were known. The captain in
charge of the execution thought it would not be unreasonable to allow
any of those who were to be put to death a brief time for prayer.
Lifting up his voice, so that all his captors and executioners could
hear, the condemned captain prayed—“God bless the Union and all its
loyal defenders. Bless the poor ignorant rebels; bless Mrs. McGinnins
and her children; bless the Constitution which has been so wrongly
misinterpreted, and eradicate slavery from the earth.” The increasing
distance between the command induced the captain to cry out, “Hurry
up, hurry up, old man, the command has been gone an hour and I will
never catch up,” to which the captain, so soon to die, responded, “I
am ready, and may Heaven have mercy upon your soul.” The order was
given, and the death of twenty old men who had been murdered by this
man in the immediate neighborhood shortly before, was avenged, in so
far as human law could mete out punishment for horrible crimes. Both
sides hated these outlaws, and Federal reports are full of similar
condign punishment inflicted upon this class of marauders, who
plundered and killed without the least regard for the laws of God or
man.
When near Roseville, a short distance south of the Arkansas River,
Shelby encountered the 1st Arkansas Federal Cavalry. In northern
Arkansas, by the summer of 1863, Union generals had been able to
induce enlistments among the residents of that part of the State,
and naturally the feeling between these so-called renegades and the
Missouri and Arkansas Confederates was extremely bitter, and whenever
they faced each other in battle there was no great desire to hear the
cries or calls of surrender. These Federal Arkansians and a battalion
of the 3rd Illinois Regiment undertook to dispute Shelby’s right
of way. They were speedily ridden over and the road cleared of this
impediment. The river was forded near Ozark, and here again Shelby
found some old acquaintances of the 6th Kansas Cavalry. This regiment
had seen much service in southwest Missouri and northern Arkansas.
It had hunted Shelby and Shelby had hunted it, and neither avoided
an opportunity to measure swords with the other. Shelby disposed of
this new menace in short order. He had now gotten far up among the
mountains, and he traveled a hundred and forty miles, with two fights
to his credit, and concluded to give his men one day’s rest.
On the 21st of September, Shelby received authority to make the
expedition, and on the 22nd he promptly started on this tremendous
march of fifteen hundred miles. Cutting the telegraph wires north of
the Arkansas River, Shelby planned to enter the Boston Mountains,
from which, northwardly, no intelligence of his coming could be
disseminated. It did not take Shelby long to find Federal forces.
Within four days from the time he left Arkadelphia, he had learned
that his advance would be fiercely contested. His chief concern was
to pass the Arkansas River. He found it fordable, but treacherous,
and by the 29th, seven days after starting, reached Bentonville,
Arkansas. By the 4th of October, Shelby had marched two hundred
and fifty-five miles to Neosho, Missouri, where there were three
hundred Federal cavalry. These were quickly surrounded and forced
to surrender. Their equipment was tremendously valuable, but their
horses were a real godsend.
So soon as Shelby passed Neosho, his enemies were fully aware not
only of his presence but of his plans. They argued reasonably that
he would seek to reach his own home at Waverly and that he would
not diverge from a straight line more than twenty or thirty miles.
The Federal forces then in Missouri were concentrated at points
between Neosho and Waverly over a space twenty or thirty miles wide.
By this time, the passions of the war had been fully aroused. Life
became no longer a certain thing, the law having been suspended and
the southern part of Missouri having been greatly divided; hates
had been aroused, excesses committed, men killed, families driven
from their homes. McNeil’s disgraceful order for the deportment of
Southern sympathizers from a large portion of the State had been
savagely enforced, and so, on reaching Bower’s Mills, a place where
the militia had been particularly offensive, the town was sacked and
then burned. Along the route Shelby traveled the next day, after
leaving Bower’s Mills, every house belonging to a Southern family had
been burned and, in many instances, the inhabitants put to death.
On the 7th of October Shelby captured Warsaw in Benton County, far
up towards the point he was attempting to reach. Here, too, Federal
forces attempted to dispute his passage of the Osage River. By this
time a spirit of highest enthusiasm had taken deepest hold upon the
men. Nothing could chill their spirits. Soldiers dashed into and
across the river. Neither nature nor man could stay their progress.
At Warsaw vast quantities of all kinds of stores and supplies,
including horses, had been concentrated and these all fell prey to
the hungry raiders, and what they could not use were turned over to
the remorseless touch of the flames.
By the 10th of October, Tipton was reached. On an air line, this
left Shelby only fifty miles from Waverly, to which place, the abode
of his dearest friends, he purposed in his heart to go. From Tipton
for thirty miles in every direction rails were torn up, bridges
destroyed, wires cut, and cattle guards and water tanks obliterated.
When leaving Tipton, Shelby found opposed to him Colonel T. T.
Crittenden, a Kentuckian, whom Shelby had known in earlier days, and
who had a thousand well-armed and well-drilled mounted men. Shelby
had two reasons for destroying Crittenden: first, he hated him,
because he was a renegade Kentuckian, according to Shelby’s standard;
second, because he stood across his pathway to Booneville. The
artillery was brought into line with the cavalry, and Shelby’s whole
command, with his artillery in the center, made a galloping charge at
Crittenden’s regiment. The Federal regiment melted away, leaving the
killed and wounded behind and a few prisoners as hostages.
Booneville, on the south side of the Missouri River, had been a place
from which many expeditions had been sent out and from which many
orders had been issued for the persecution of the Southern people.
The town authorities, pleading for mercy, gladly surrendered. It
looked as if Shelby had disregarded all prudence and brought himself
into a trap from which it would be impossible for him to escape.
Hardly had Booneville been passed when General Brown, a Federal
commander, with four thousand men, came up. Brown was a vigilant
general, an impetuous fighter and a soldier of both renown and
courage. He was not afraid of Shelby. In this respect he was better
off than some of his associates. Game, ambitious and enterprising, he
thought it would be a splendid stroke to bag Shelby in his territory
and take him a prisoner to Jefferson City—Missouri’s capital. To
accomplish these ends, he carefully laid his plans and bent his
utmost energies. He well understood this meant real fighting. He lost
no time in assailing Shelby’s pickets. He resolved to push his foes
at every point, and fight whenever he could find a Confederate.
Shelby had broken an axle of his rifled gun. This he felt would
be extremely useful to him later on. He ordered Colonel Hunter to
hold the enemy in check until he made the necessary repairs on his
cannon. By ten o’clock at night, stores had been removed and the gun
repaired. The night before had been one of a great downpour of rain.
This prevented much sleep. Shelby, not unmindful of the tremendous
work that was immediately before him, determined to give his troopers
a night’s rest, so that they might be better prepared for the
strenuous experiences that the morrow and the next three days had in
store for them. General Brown was fiercely persistent and assailed
Shelby’s rear furiously and incessantly. The Federal authorities were
clamoring for Shelby’s destruction or his capture. At the crossing of
the Lamine River, Shelby ambushed the Federals and inflicted serious
loss and routed the assailants; but only momentarily, and then they
came back more savagely. To reach Waverly, it was necessary to pass
through Marshall, and, as Shelby approached that place, he found
four thousand more Federal soldiers under General Ewing, drawn up
ready for the gage of battle. With Brown in the rear and Ewing in the
front, it looked gloomy for the Confederates. Shelby was now five
hundred miles from any real hope of succor. General Sterling Price
and Governor Reynolds at Arkadelphia, Arkansas, however much they
might desire to help the dashing raider, could do naught for his
rescue. A few scattered companies far down in Missouri had neither
the will nor the chance to help him. He was four hundred miles inside
the enemy’s lines, and these enemies were hunting him with extremest
vigor. His capture meant fame for the captor, and his destruction
meant temporary peace in war-torn Missouri. Every available man was
being thrown across Shelby’s pathway, and every possible obstacle put
along the road he was of necessity compelled to travel. His march
from Marshall and Waverly, from a military standpoint, was both
audacious and reckless, and appeared to be the act of a man trifling
with fate. To his enemies, it seemed that Shelby’s impetuosity and
the longing for home-going had destroyed all sense of safety, and
they were congratulating themselves that he had gone into places from
which escape was impossible. Measured by the ordinary standards of
military prudence and foresight, Shelby had pursued a most unwise
course, and the omens were bad for him and his small brigade. Shelby
conceived the idea of destroying Ewing before Brown could come up
in his rear, and then take his chances with Brown, and so, with
his twelve hundred cavalry he attacked four thousand infantry.
In a short while Ewing had been roughly handled, and his rout was
inevitable. Fate seemed propitious, and hope rose high in Shelby’s
breast. The battle with Ewing was almost won, and with him out of the
way, with shouts of victory on their lips, Shelby would, he believed,
make short work of Brown. An evil destiny now intervened. Brown had
overwhelmed Shanks’ two hundred and fifty men left to delay his
crossing the Lamine River, and he had rushed on to help Ewing at the
moment when Shelby’s genius and vigorous attack had nearly completed
victory. Shelby needed no interpreter to tell him that; the firing in
his rear demonstrated that he had miscalculated the rate of Brown’s
approach and that six pieces of artillery and four thousand fresh
troops were upon him.
In such an emergency there was only one course left open and that
was to retreat. Shelby had left a valiant lieutenant to dispute the
crossing of the Lamine River with Brown, and to hold him while he
whipped Ewing. Well did this gallant soldier, Colonel Shanks, perform
this task. He stood the test as only a brave man could, but the storm
he faced was more than any two hundred and fifty men could withstand.
There was nothing left for Shelby but to cut his way through the
lines of Ewing. This was a dangerous undertaking. Even to so brave
a man as Shelby, it was a hazardous task. He looked and saw a weak
place in the Federal line. Only instantaneous action could save
him. A Federal regiment stationed in a corn field with skirmishers
well to the front, and safely ensconced behind corn shocks, seemed
to be the best chance for a hard drive and successful onslaught.
He was too far from his base to give up his ammunition. He hated to
abandon his meagre supply of cannon. If he stood still between the
two advancing Federal armies of four thousand men each, annihilation
or surrender was the only fate that could befall him and his men,
however brave they might be. The flash of the eye and the resolve
of a practiced warrior decided the course he would follow. Escape
he would or die in the attempt. Widening the front of regiments and
placing a rider on each horse of the ammunition wagons and artillery,
he dashed furiously at the Federal forces. The Federals met the
shock with courage and stout resistance, but the fierce riding
Confederates were too much: they yielded sufficiently to allow Shelby
to pass through with his wagons and his cannon. Hunter’s regiment,
becoming entangled in the thick woods, did not keep well closed
in, and the Federals rallied and cut off Hunter while Shelby rode
triumphantly away. Hunter, true to the necessities of the occasion,
turned squarely to the right and galloped through another part of the
Federal line and made his escape. Shelby’s force was now divided,
but it had left the enemy behind. It was impossible for any troops
to out-march them. Shelby, hoping against hope, waited two hours for
his separated forces to join him. Prudence told him longer waiting
meant destruction, and he retreated to Waverly. For eight miles the
Federals pressed his rear with relentless zeal. By three o’clock in
the morning Shelby passed through his home town. The desire of his
heart was gratified. A few moments were spent in greeting, and now
he was ready to find his own again, and so, turning squarely south,
he started on his long and ever-lengthening march to the place from
whence he had come.
A little way from Waverly, at Hawkins’ Mills, Shelby concluded that
his wagons and his artillery would be troublesome, and so he sunk
them in the Missouri River and reduced everything to the lightest
possible weight. It was of the highest importance that he should
safely pass the Osage River. It was a long march from Waverly to this
river. Sleep and rest were out of the question. The tired beasts
were allowed to feed a little and the men took an hour or two for
repose. Even an hour’s delay might bring disaster. Nature pleaded
for repose and rest, but safety pointed her finger forward, and
fate, willing to extricate the bold horseman, bade him stay not his
hand nor speed. Leaving Waverly, on the morning of the 14th, to the
evening of the 16th, he had marched more than one hundred miles. He
had gone through from the Missouri to the Osage River in two days.
This was a tremendous spurt. Nothing now, short of bad management,
could prevent Shelby’s escape, and so he began to move somewhat
more leisurely. Along by the road at Warrensville, there were two
thousand Federals waiting to hold him up; but he passed a few miles
west without alarming them, and proceeded on to Johnson County, to
which point they pursued him. One of the Federal commanders reported
that Shelby’s men were “running like wild hogs,” and another, that,
bareheaded and demoralized, they were making their escape in detached
parties through the woods, thickets and byways. Even though hard
pressed, and with no time to spare, Shelby could not refrain from
one effort to punish those who had so vigorously and so sorely
pressed upon him. He ordered a dash at his foes, and they, quickly
realizing that it was not wise to press Shelby, even if he was
running, fled at his coming. On the 17th, 18th and 19th of October,
men and horses were put to the utmost limit. The Federals were loth
to permit Shelby’s escape, and they hung on to the Confederate rear
with the grip of death. With such odds in their favor, they held it a
great misfortune to let him get away, and they judged that all sorts
of inquiries and criticisms would follow, if, with fifty thousand
Federal soldiers in Missouri, even so resourceful and dashing a
cavalryman as Shelby could march nearly through the entire State in
the face of so many pursuers, and then safely ride away. Energies
were redoubled, orders of concentration kept the wires warm; but
warm wires, circulating orders and relentless pursuit could not stop
the mad speed and the ceaseless tramp of Shelby and his men. They
had better reason to urge them escape than those who were following
had to run them down. On the 20th of October, he was safely on the
Little Osage River in Arkansas, and there, to Shelby’s gratification
and surprise, he found the remainder of his command under Colonels
Hunter, Hooper and Shanks. Reunited, their spirits rose to the
highest pitch of enthusiasm. They had been battered and hammered
and pursued, but they were all safe. One hundred and fifty of the
eight hundred men who started were either wounded or dead along the
line of march; but the expedition was completed, and the apparently
impossible was accomplished.
Fate dealt more generously with Hunter and Hooper and Shanks than
with Shelby. At Florence and Humansville and Duroc, on the Osage,
they had had their troubles with the First Arkansas cavalry. They had
a fight with McNeil’s two thousand men at Humansville, but he was
held in check. The Federal forces were fierce in their attacks, and
they marched with the greatest strenuosity to block the way these
men were taking to avoid capture. Artillery with cavalry in a forced
march is never a thing to be desired. Guns and caissons make heavy
pulling, and no horses can for many miles keep pace with horsemen
who are pushed to their highest speed. The help of the cannon had
now lost much of its value and as it might retard the speed in
some slight degree, it was destroyed and abandoned and the last of
Shelby’s battery went down before the aggressive pursuers. It was
abandoned at Humansville, and the fleeing horsemen were glad to get
rid of such a grievous burden.
The greatest sufferers on the tremendous march had been the horses.
They were goaded, tired and driven to the greatest effort. Half
starved, with reduced flesh, their speed was ever-decreasing. Mercy
was so incessant and so insistent in her appeals that the beasts were
given three days’ rest. Not a single soldier was willing to scout
except when absolutely necessary to keep in touch with the movements
of the enemy. The Federals, under John Cloud, hearing that Shelby had
escaped from Missouri, left Fayetteville and went out to hunt him,
but Cloud was not very anxious to find Shelby. He followed slowly and
at a safe distance and pursued Shelby to Clarksville on the Arkansas
River where Shelby crossed the stream twelve miles east of Ozark,
where he had passed thirty days before.
A great march was ended, and Shelby, in his reports, claimed that he
had in the thirty days killed and wounded six hundred Federals; he
had taken and paroled as many more; he had captured and destroyed ten
forts, about eight hundred thousand dollars’ worth of property and he
had captured six hundred rifles, forty stand of colors, three hundred
wagons, six thousand horses and mules, and destroyed a million
dollars’ worth of supplies. At one place in Arkansas he had dispersed
eight hundred recruits and destroyed fifty thousand dollars’ worth of
ordnance. At the time Shelby left Arkadelphia, Rosecrans was calling
for help, and one day after Shelby started, the Battle of Chickamauga
had been finished and Rosecrans, with his army driven back and
discouraged, was at Chattanooga, crying for help. Ten thousand men
were kept from reinforcing Rosecrans. All this was accomplished by
eight hundred men. Shelby’s superiors had led him to believe that
this was a forlorn hope. The young Confederate colonel had shown them
they were mistaken in their estimate of him and that he was worthy of
the wreath on his collar which would make him a brigadier-general.