THE BATTLE OF WILSON CREEK.
The Return from Dug Spring.--The Rebels follow in
Pursuit.--Preparations to Attack them.--The Plan of Battle.--Moving
to the Attack--A Bivouac.--The Opening Shot.--"Is that
Official?"--Sensations of a Spectator in Battle.--Extension of
Distance and Time.--Characteristics of Projectiles.--Taking Notes
under Fire.--Strength and Losses of the Opposing Armies.--A Noble
Record.--The Wounded on the Field.--"One More Shot."--Granger in his
Element.--General Lyon's Death.
The return of General Lyon from Dug Spring emboldened the enemy to
move nearer to Springfield. On the 7th of August the Rebels reached
Wilson Creek, ten miles from Springfield, and formed their camp
on both sides of that stream. General Ben. McCulloch was their
commander-in-chief. On the night of the 8th, General Lyon proposed to
move from Springfield for the purpose of attacking their position.
The design was not carried out, on account of the impossibility of
securing proper disposition of our forces in season to reach the
enemy's camp at daylight.
During the 8th and the forenoon of the 9th, preparations were made for
resisting an attack in Springfield, in case the enemy should come upon
us. In the afternoon of the 9th, General Lyon decided to assault the
Rebel camp at daylight of the following morning. A council of war
had determined that a defeat would be less injurious than a retreat
without a battle, provided the defeat were not too serious. "To
abandon the Southwest without a struggle," said General Lyon, "would
be a sad blow to our cause, and would greatly encourage the Rebels. We
will fight, and hope for the best."
In arranging a plan of battle, Colonel Sigel suggested that the forces
should be divided, so that a simultaneous attack would be made upon
either extremity of the enemy's camp. The two columns were to move
from Springfield at sunset, bivouac within four miles of the proposed
battle-field, and begin their march early enough to fall upon the
enemy's camp a little past daylight. We left Springfield about sunset
on the 9th, General Lyon taking about three thousand men, while
Colonel Sigel took less than two thousand. Exceptions have frequently
been made to this mode of attack. Had it been successful, I presume no
one would have found it faulty. It is an easy matter to criticise the
plans of others, after their result is known.
The columns moved by different roads to obtain the desired positions.
The march was as silent as possible. The only sounds were the rumbling
of wheels and the occasional clank of arms. No one was heavily
encumbered, as we expected to return to Springfield before the
following night. Midnight found us in a hay-field, four miles from the
Rebel camp. There we rested till morning.
On the previous night I had been almost without sleep, and therefore
took speedy advantage of the halt. Two journeys over the Plains,
a little trip into New Mexico, and some excursions among the Rocky
Mountains, had taught me certain rules of campaign life. I rarely
moved without my blankets and rubber "poncho," and with a haversack
more or less well filled. On this occasion I was prepared for sleeping
in the open air.
One bivouac is much like another. When one is weary, a blanket on the
ground is just as comfortable as a bed of down under a slated roof. If
accustomed to lie under lace curtains, a tree or a bush will make an
excellent substitute. "Tired nature's sweet restorer" comes quickly to
an exhausted frame. Realities of the past, expectations of the future,
hopes, sorrows, wishes, regrets--all are banished as we sink into
sweet repose.
At dawn we were in motion. At daylight the smoke hanging over the
enemy's camp was fully before us. Sunrise was near at hand when
the hostile position was brought to our view. It lay, as we had
anticipated, stretched along the banks of Wilson Creek.
Until our advance drove in the pickets, a thousand yards from their
camp, the Rebels had no intimation of our approach. Many of them were
reluctant to believe we were advancing to attack them, and thought the
firing upon the pickets was the work of a scouting party. The opening
of our artillery soon undeceived them, a shell being dropped in the
middle of their camp.
A Rebel officer afterward told me about our first shell. When the
pickets gave the alarm of our approach, the Rebel commander ordered
his forces to "turn out." An Arkansas colonel was in bed when the
order reached him, and lazily asked, "Is that official?" Before the
bearer of the order could answer, our shell tore through the colonel's
tent, and exploded a few yards beyond it. The officer waited for no
explanation, but ejaculated, "That's official, anyhow," as he sprang
out of his blankets, and arrayed himself in fighting costume.
Before the Rebels could respond to our morning salutation, we heard
the booming of Sigel's cannon on the left. Colonel Sigel reached the
spot assigned him some minutes before we were able to open fire from
our position. It had been stipulated that he should wait for the sound
of our guns before making his attack. His officers said they waited
nearly fifteen minutes for our opening shot. They could look into the
Rebel camp in the valley of the stream, a few hundred yards distant.
The cooks were beginning their preparations for breakfast, and gave
our men a fine opportunity to learn the process of making Confederate
corn-bread and coffee. Some of the Rebels saw our men, and supposed
they were their own forces, who had taken up a new position. Several
walked into our lines, and found themselves prisoners of war.
Previous to that day I had witnessed several skirmishes, but this was
my first battle of importance. Distances seemed much greater than they
really were. I stood by the side of Captain Totten's battery as it
opened the conflict.
"How far are you firing?" I asked.
"About eight hundred yards; not over that," was the captain's
response.
I should have called it sixteen hundred, had I been called on for an
estimate.
Down the valley rose the smoke of Sigel's guns, about a mile distant,
though, apparently, two or three miles away.
Opposite Sigel's position was the camp of the Arkansas Division:
though it was fully in my sight, and the tents and wagons were plainly
visible, I could not get over the impression that they were far off.
The explosions of our shells, and the flashes of the enemy's guns, a
short distance up the slope on the opposite side of the creek, seemed
to be at a considerable distance.
To what I shall ascribe these illusions, I do not know. On subsequent
battle-fields I have never known their recurrence. Greater battles,
larger streams, higher hills, broader fields, wider valleys, more
extended camps, have come under my observation, but in none of them
has the romance exceeded the reality.
The hours did not crowd into minutes, but the minutes almost
extended into hours. I frequently found, on consulting my watch, that
occurrences, apparently of an hour's duration, were really less than a
half or a quarter of that time.
As the sun rose, it passed into a cloud. When it emerged, I fully
expected it would be some distance toward the zenith, and was
surprised to find it had advanced only a few degrees.
There was a light shower, that lasted less than ten minutes: I judged
it had been twenty.
The evolutions of the troops on the field appeared slow and awkward.
They were really effected with great promptness.
General Lyon was killed before nine o'clock, as I very well knew.
It was some days before I could rid myself of an impression that his
death occurred not far from noon.
The apparent extension of the hours was the experience of several
persons on that field. I think it has been known by many, on the
occasion of their first battle. At Pea Ridge, an officer told me,
there seemed to be about thirty hours between sunrise and sunset.
Another thought it was four P.M. when the sun was at the meridian.
It was only at Wilson Creek that I experienced this sensation. On
subsequent battle-fields I had no reason to complain of my estimate of
time.
The first shell from the enemy's guns passed high over my head. I well
remember the screech of that missile as it cut through the air and
lost itself in the distance. "Too high, Captain Bledsoe," exclaimed
our artillery officer, as he planted a shell among the Rebel gunners.
In firing a half-dozen rounds the Rebels obtained our range, and then
used their guns with some effect. The noise of each of those shells
I can distinctly recall, though I have since listened to hundreds of
similar sounds, of which I have no vivid recollection. The sound made
by a shell, in its passage through the air, cannot be described, and,
when once heard, can never be forgotten.
I was very soon familiar with the whistling of musket-balls. Before
the end of the action, I thought I could distinguish the noise of
a Minié bullet from that of a common rifle-ball, or a ball from a
smooth-bored musket. Once, while conversing with the officer in charge
of the skirmish line, I found myself the center of a very hot fire.
It seemed, at that instant, as if a swarm of the largest and most
spiteful bees had suddenly appeared around me. The bullets flew too
rapidly to be counted, but I fancied I could perceive a variation in
their sound.
After I found a position beyond the range of musketry, the artillery
would insist upon searching me out. While I was seated under a small
oak-tree, with my left arm through my horse's bridle, and my pencil
busy on my note-book, the tree above my head was cut by a shell.
Moving from that spot, I had just resumed my writing, when a shot tore
up the ground under my arm, and covered me with dirt. Even a remove
to another quarter did not answer my purpose, and I finished my notes
after reaching the rear.
It is not my intention to give the details of the battle--the
movements of each regiment, battalion, or battery, as it performed
its part in the work. The official record will be sought by those who
desire the purely military history. It is to be regretted that the
official report of the engagement at Wilson Creek displays the
great hostility of its author toward a fellow-soldier. In the early
campaigns in Missouri, many officers of the regular army vied with the
Rebels in their hatred of "the Dutch." This feeling was not confined
to Missouri alone, but was apparent in the East as well as in the
West. As the war progressed the hostility diminished, but it was never
entirely laid aside.
The duration of the battle was about four and a half hours. The
whole force under the National flag was five thousand men. The Rebels
acknowledged having twelve thousand, of all arms. It is probable that
this estimate was a low one. The Rebels were generally armed with
shot-guns, common rifles, and muskets of the old pattern. About a
thousand had no arms whatever. Their artillery ammunition was of
poorer quality than our own. These circumstances served to make the
disparity less great than the actual strength of the hostile forces
would imply. Even with these considerations, the odds against General
Lyon were quite large.
Our loss was a little less than one-fifth our whole strength. Up to
that time, a battle in which one-tenth of those engaged was placed
_hors de combat_, was considered a very sanguinary affair. During the
war there were many engagements where the defeated party suffered a
loss of less than one-twentieth. Wilson Creek can take rank as one
of the best-fought battles, when the number engaged is brought into
consideration.
The First Missouri Infantry went into action with seven hundred and
twenty-six men. Its casualty list was as follows:--
Killed................................ 77
Dangerously wounded................... 93
Otherwise wounded..................... 126
Captured.............................. 2
Missing............................... 15
---
Total.......................... 313
The First Kansas Infantry, out of seven hundred and eighty-five men,
lost two hundred and ninety-six. The loss in other regiments was quite
severe, though not proportionately as heavy as the above. These two
regiments did not break during the battle, and when they left the
ground they marched off as coolly as from a parade.
At the time our retreat was ordered our ammunition was nearly
exhausted and the ranks fearfully thinned. The Rebels had made a
furious attack, in which they were repulsed. General Sweeney insisted
that it was their last effort, and if we remained on the ground we
would not be molested again. Major Sturgis, upon whom the command
devolved after General Lyon's death, reasoned otherwise, and
considered it best to fall back to Springfield. The Rebels afterward
admitted that General McCulloch had actually given the order for
retreat a few moments before they learned of our withdrawal. Of course
he countermanded his order at once. There were several battles in the
late Rebellion in which the circumstances were similar. In repeated
instances the victorious party thought itself defeated, and was much
astonished at finding its antagonist had abandoned the struggle.
In our retreat we brought away many of our wounded, but left many
others on the field. When the Rebels took possession they cared for
their own men as well as the circumstances would permit, but gave no
assistance to ours. There were reports, well authenticated, that some
who lay helpless were shot or bayoneted. Two days after the battle a
surgeon who remained at Springfield was allowed to send out wagons for
the wounded. Some were not found until after four days' exposure. They
crawled about as best they could, and, by searching the haversacks of
dead men, saved themselves from starvation. One party of four built a
shelter of branches of trees as a protection against the sun. Another
party crawled to the bank of the creek, and lay day and night at the
water's edge. Several men sought shelter in the fence corners, or by
the side of fallen trees.
Two days before the battle, ten dollars were paid to each man of the
First Kansas Infantry. The money was in twenty-dollar pieces, and
the payment was made by drawing up the regiment in the customary two
ranks, and giving a twenty-dollar piece to each man in the front rank.
Three-fourths of those killed or wounded in that regiment were of the
front rank. The Rebels learned of this payment, and made rigid search
of all whom they found on the field. Nearly a year after the battle a
visitor to the ground picked up one of these gold coins.
During the battle several soldiers from St. Louis and its vicinity
recognized acquaintances on the opposite side. These recognitions were
generally the occasion of many derisive and abusive epithets. In the
Border States each party had a feeling of bitter hostility toward the
other. Probably the animosity was greater in Missouri than elsewhere.
A lieutenant of the First Missouri Infantry reported that he saw one
of the men of his regiment sitting under a tree during the battle,
busily engaged in whittling a bullet.
"What are you doing there?" said the officer.
"My ammunition is gone, and I'm cutting down this bullet to fit my
gun." (The soldier's musket was a "54-caliber," and the bullet was a
"59.")
"Look around among the wounded men," was the order, "and get some
54-cartridges. Don't stop to cut down that bullet."
"I would look around, lieutenant," the soldier responded, "but I can't
move. My leg is shot through. I won't be long cutting this down, and
then I want a chance to hit some of them."
Captain Gordon Granger was serving on the staff of General Lyon. When
not actively engaged in his professional duties, he visited all parts
of the field where the fight was hottest. Though himself somewhat
excited, he was constantly urging the raw soldiers to keep cool and
not throw away a shot. Wherever there was a weak place in our line,
he was among the first to discover it and devise a plan for making
it good. On one occasion, he found a gap between two regiments,
and noticed that the Rebels were preparing to take advantage of it.
Without a moment's delay, he transferred three companies of infantry
to the spot, managing to keep them concealed behind a small ridge.
"Now, lie still; don't raise your heads out of the grass," said
Granger; "I'll tell you when to fire."
The Rebels advanced toward the supposed gap. Granger stood where he
could see and not be seen. He was a strange compound of coolness and
excitement. While his judgment was of the best, and his resources were
ready for all emergencies, a by-stander would have thought him heated
almost to frenzy. The warmth of his blood gave him a wonderful energy
and rendered him ubiquitous; his skill and decision made his services
of the highest importance.
"There they come; steady, now; let them get near enough; fire low;
give them h--l."
The Rebels rushed forward, thinking to find an easy passage. When
within less than fifty yards, Granger ordered his men to fire. The
complete repulse of the Rebels was the result.
"There, boys; you've done well. D--n the scoundrels; they won't come
here again." With this, the captain hastened to some other quarter.
The death of General Lyon occurred near the middle of the battle. So
many accounts of this occurrence have been given, that I am not fully
satisfied which is the correct one. I know at least half a dozen
individuals in whose arms General Lyon expired, and think there are
as many more who claim that sad honor. There is a similar mystery
concerning his last words, a dozen versions having been given by
persons who claim to have heard them. It is my belief that General
Lyon was killed while reconnoitering the enemy's line and directing
the advance of a regiment of infantry. I believe he was on foot at
the instant, and was caught, as he fell, in the arms of "Lehman," his
orderly. His last utterance was, doubtless, the order for the infantry
to advance, and was given a moment before he received the fatal
bullet. From the nature of the wound, his death, if not instantaneous,
was very speedy. A large musket-ball entered his left side, in the
region of the heart, passing nearly through to the right. A reported
wound in the breast was made with a bayonet in the hands of a Rebel
soldier, several hours afterward. The body was brought to Springfield
on the night after the battle.
It was my fortune to be acquainted with General Lyon. During the
progress of the war I met no one who impressed me more than he, in his
devotion to the interests of the country. If he possessed ambition
for personal glory, I was unable to discover it. He declared that
reputation was a bubble, which no good soldier should follow. Wealth
was a shadow, which no man in the country's service should heed. His
pay as an officer was sufficient for all his wants, and he desired
nothing more. He gave to the Nation, as the friend he loved the
dearest, a fortune which he had inherited. If his death could aid in
the success of the cause for which he was fighting, he stood ready to
die. The gloom that spread throughout the North when the news of his
loss was received, showed a just appreciation of his character.
"How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!"
At that battle there was the usual complement of officers for five
thousand men. Two years later there were seven major-generals and
thirteen brigadier-generals who had risen from the Wilson Creek Army.
There were colonels, lieutenant-colonels, and majors, by the score,
who fought in the line or in the ranks on that memorable 10th of
August. In 1863, thirty-two commissioned officers were in the service
from one company of the First Iowa Infantry. Out of one company of the
First Missouri Infantry, twenty-eight men received commissions. To the
majority of the officers from that army promotion was rapid, though
a few cases occurred in which the services they rendered were tardily
acknowledged.
[Illustration: DEATH OF GENERAL LYON]