THE FIRST BATTLE IN MISSOURI
Moving up the River.--A Landing Effected.--The Battle.--Precipitous
Retreat of the Rebels.--Spoiling a Captured Camp.--Rebel Flags
Emblazoned with the State Arms.--A Journalist's Outfit.--A Chaplain of
the Church Militant.--A Mistake that might have been Unfortunate.--The
People of Booneville.--Visiting an Official.--Banking-House
Loyalty.--Preparations for a Campaign.
Daybreak on the 17th found us slowly moving up the river toward
Booneville. General Lyon sat forward of the steamer's cabin, closely
scanning both banks of the stream. Four miles below the town his glass
sought out two pieces of artillery, partially concealed in a clump of
trees, and trained upon the channel by which we were to pass. At once
our engines were reversed, and the boats moved back to a landing about
eight miles below Booneville. A little before seven o'clock we were
on shore, and our column of fifteen hundred men began its advance upon
the Rebel camp.
It was the story that has found its repetition in many a battle since
that time. The enemy's pickets were driven in. The enemy, in line of
battle, was discovered on a long ridge, and our own line was formed
on a ridge parallel to it. Then we opened fire with our artillery (one
battery was all we possessed), and received no response, save by a
desultory discharge of small-arms. Next our infantry added its tenor
notes to the bass of the field-guns; the Rebel forces melted steadily
away, and the field was in our possession, twenty minutes after the
opening shot had been fired.
Once in retreat, the Rebels did not halt until out of harm's reach.
Their camp lay in the line of retreat, but they made no stop in
passing it. Following in the rear of our column, I entered the camp,
and found many signs of a hasty departure. I found the fires burning,
and dozens of coffee-pots and frying-pans filled with the materials
for breakfast. Here was a pan full of meat fried to a crisp, from the
neglect of the cook to remove it before his sudden exodus. A few feet
distant lay a ham, with a knife sticking in a half-severed slice. A
rude camp-table was spread with plates and their accessories, and a
portion of the articles of food were carefully arranged. The seats for
the breakfast party were in position, two of them being overturned.
I could not help fancying the haste with which that table had been
abandoned, only a few moments before. The tents were standing, and in
some the blankets were lying on the ground, as if they had been
very suddenly vacated. In one tent was a side-saddle, a neat pair of
gaiters, and a hoop-skirt. The proper connection of those articles
with the battle-field I was unable to ascertain.
In that camp was a fine lot of provisions, arms, equipments, and
ammunition. Saddles were numerous, but there were no horses. It was
evident that, the hasty evacuation left no time for the simple process
of saddling.
Early in the day I had come into possession of a horse with a very
poor outfit. Once in camp, I was not slow to avail myself of the
privilege of supply. I went into battle on foot, carrying only a
knapsack containing a note-book and two pieces of bread. When the
fight was over, I was the possessor of a horse and all the equipments
for a campaign. I had an overcoat, a roll of fine blankets, and a pair
of saddle-bags. The latter were well filled from the trunk of some
one I had not the pleasure of knowing, but who was evidently "just
my size." Mr. Barnes, of the Missouri _Democrat_, was my companion
on that occasion. He was equally careful to provide himself from the
enemy's stores, but wasted, time in becoming sentimental over two
love-letters and a photograph of a young woman.
The flags captured in this affair were excellent illustrations of the
policy of the leading Secessionists. There was one Rebel flag with
the arms of the State of Missouri filling the field. There was a State
flag, with only fifteen stars surrounding the coat of arms. There was
a. Rebel flag, with the State arms in the center, and there was one
Rebel flag of the regular pattern. The rallying-cry at that time was
in behalf of the State, and the people were told they must act for
Missouri, without regard to any thing else. In no part of the country
was the "State Rights" theory more freely used. All the changes were
rung upon the sovereignty of States, the right of Missouri to exclude
United States soldiers from her soil, the illegality of the formation
of Union regiments, and the tyranny of the General Government.
The flags under which Missouri soldiers were gathered clearly blended
the interests of the State with secession.
Our troops entered Booneville amid demonstrations of delight from one
portion of the inhabitants, and the frowns and muttered indignation
of the other. The Rebels had fled, a part of them by land, and the
balance on a steamboat, toward Lexington. Quiet possession obtained,
there was time to examine into the details of the fight. We had lost
twelve men, the enemy probably twice as many. The action, three years
later, would have been considered only a roadside skirmish, but it
was then an affair of importance. Every man with General Lyon felt far
more elation over the result than has since been felt over battles
of much greater moment. We had won a signal victory; the enemy had
suffered an equally signal defeat.
During the battle, a chaplain, provided with four men to look after
the wounded, came suddenly upon a group of twenty-four Rebels. An
imperative demand for their surrender was promptly complied with, and
the chaplain, with his force of four, brought twenty-four prisoners
into town. He was so delighted at his success that he subsequently
took a commission in the line. In time he was honored with the stars
of a brigadier-general.
General Lyon was my personal friend, but he very nearly did me great
injustice. Seeing myself and a fellow-journalist on a distant part
of the field, he mistook us for scouts of the enemy, and ordered
his sharp-shooters to pick us off. His chief-of-staff looked in our
direction, and fortunately recognized us in time to countermand the
order. I was afterward on the point of being shot at by an infantry
captain, through a similar mistake. A civilian's dress on the
battle-field (a gray coat formed a part of mine) subjects the wearer
to many dangers from his friends, as most war correspondents can
testify.
While approaching the town, I stopped to slake my thirst at a well. A
group of our soldiers joined me while I was drinking. I had drank
very freely from the bucket, and transferred it to a soldier, when
the resident of a neighboring house appeared, and informed us that
the well had been poisoned by the Rebels, and the water was certain to
produce death. The soldiers desisted, and looked at me with much pity.
For a moment, I confess, the situation did not appear cheerful, but
I concluded the injury, if any, was already done, and I must make the
best of it. The soldiers watched me as I mounted my horse, evidently
expecting me to fall within a hundred yards. When I met one of them
the following day, he opened his eyes in astonishment at seeing me
alive. From that day, I entertained a great contempt for poisoned
wells.
In Booneville the incidents were not of a startling character. I found
the strongest secession sympathy was entertained by the wealthier
inhabitants, while the poor were generally loyal. Some cases of
determined loyalty I found among the wealthy; but they were the
exception rather than the rule. Accompanied by a small squad of
soldiers, myself and companion visited the house of a gentleman
holding office under the United States Government. We obtained from
that house several Rebel cockades and small flags, which had been
fabricated by the ladies.
With the same squad we visited the principal bank of Booneville, and
persuaded the cashier to give us a Rebel flag which had been floating
for several days from a staff in front of the building. This flag was
ten yards in length, and the materials of which it was made were of
the finest quality. The interview between the cashier and ourselves
was an amusing one. He protested he knew nothing of the flag or its
origin, and at first declared it was not about the building. According
to his own representation, he was too good a Union man to harbor
any thing of the sort. Just as he was in the midst of a very earnest
profession of loyalty the flag was discovered.
"Somebody must have put that there to ruin me," was his exclamation.
"Gentlemen, I hope you won't harm me; and, if you want me to do so, I
will take the oath of allegiance this minute."
Soon after the occupation of Booneville, General Lyon sent a small
expedition to Syracuse, twenty-five miles in the interior. This force
returned in a few days, and then preparations were begun for a march
to Springfield. Colonel Blair left Booneville for St. Louis and
Washington, while General Lyon attended to the preliminaries for his
contemplated movement. The First Iowa Infantry joined him, and formed
a part of his expeditionary force. The Rebels gathered at Lexington,
and thence moved southward to reach the Arkansas line, to form a
junction with the then famous Ben McCulloch.
The prospect was good that Central Missouri would soon be clear of
Rebels. Our general success in the State depended upon occupying
and holding the Southwest. General Lyon was to move thither from
Booneville. General Sweeney had already gone there by way of Rolla,
while another force, under Major Sturgis, was moving from Leavenworth
in a southeasterly direction. All were to unite at Springfield and
form an army of occupation.
Preparations went on slowly, as the transportation was to be gathered
from the surrounding country. Foreseeing that the expedition would
be slow to reach Springfield, I returned to St. Louis. There I made
preparations to join the army, when its march should be completed, by
a more expeditious route than the one General Lyon would follow.
At Booneville, General Lyon established a temporary blockade of the
Missouri River, by stopping all boats moving in either direction. In
most cases a single shot across the bow of a boat sufficed to bring it
to land. One day the _White Cloud_, on her way from Kansas City to St.
Louis, refused to halt until three shots had been fired, the last one
grazing the top of the pilot-house. When brought before General Lyon,
the captain of the _White Cloud_ apologized for neglecting to obey the
first signal, and said his neglect was due to his utter ignorance of
military usage.
The apology was deemed sufficient. The captain was dismissed, with a
gentle admonition not to make a similar mistake in future.
At that time the public was slow to understand the power and extent of
military law and military rule. When martial law was declared in St.
Louis, in August, 1861, a citizen waited upon the provost-marshal, in
order to ascertain the precise state of affairs.
After some desultory conversation, he threw out the question:--
"What does martial law do?"
"Well," said Major McKinstry, the provost-marshal, "I can explain
the whole thing in a second. Martial law does pretty much as it d--n
pleases."
Before the year was ended the inhabitants of St. Louis learned that
the major's assertion was not far from the truth.