THE RED RIVER EXPEDITION--DEATH OF COLONEL MUDD--HOW COLONEL MARSH
HELD THE LINE--FIGHTING GUERRILLAS--"ALTON HELL-HOUNDS"--THEIR REMEDY
FOR PICKET SHOOTING--INCIDENTS AT CLINTON, LOUISIANA--COLORED WARDS AND
THE RIVER JORDAN--DASH UPON LIBERTY, MISSISSIPPI--CAPTURE OF ONE
HUNDRED AND FOUR CONFEDERATE OFFICERS--CHIVALRY OF THE PRISONERS AND
CAPTORS HOW A CONFEDERATE CAPTAIN "MADE GOOD."
"The greatest gift a hero leaves his race is to have been a
hero. Say we fail!
We feed the high traditions of the world
And leave our spirit in our children's breast."
--_George Eliot._
One of the important and humiliating campaign features of 1864 was the
Red River Expedition, which was foredoomed to ignominious failure. It
was one of Halleck's favorite projects and was started before Grant
received his general command; otherwise, it probably would not have
been ordered. Grant, in his "Memoirs," says of it: "I had opposed the
movement strenuously but acquiesced because it was the order of my
superior (Halleck) at the time."
Another sentence of Grant's indicates the disadvantage at which it
placed our army, aside from the great and needless loss of life and
property entailed by it. He says: "The services of forty thousand
veteran troops, over and above the number required to hold all that was
necessary in the Department of the Gulf, were thus paralyzed."
The Second Illinois Cavalry, with the exception of the re-enlisted men,
including a part of Company A, was one of the regiments which
accompanied this ill advised and ill fated expedition. It was charged
at that time, and quite generally believed, that the movement had its
inception in commercialism. The enormous profits upon the sale of
captured cotton furnished the motive. At a time when there was not
enough cotton in the North to make wrapping-twine, and resort was had
to twisted strips of Manila paper as a substitute for that commodity,
the value of cotton may be imagined. Any general who was in position to
connive at this traffic, had a fortune at his command; and it was
claimed that Banks was eager for some of the spoils. This charge is not
consistent however, with General Grant's statement that Banks "opposed
the expedition." Whatever the truth may have been as to that, Banks had
another and more trifling weakness which was much in evidence; he was
passionately fond of dress-parades. This may have had some influence in
bringing about his undoing. It was currently reported at the time that
a part of his train was loaded with paper-collars and white gloves. It
was soon found however, that there were more vital things required for
the welfare of an army than these agreeable accessories.
That portion of our regiment which was involved in the enterprise,
started for Alexandria, Louisiana, on February 29, 1864. After a long
and trying experience in marching through swamps and cane-brakes, they
arrived at that place where a large force of infantry and artillery and
a flotilla of twenty-five gunboats had assembled. The plan was to move
on to Shreveport, which was what the Confederates did not intend to
permit.
The enemy apparently realized his advantage from the outset. But little
opposition was made until the expedition had left Alexandria and was
well under way. On the eighth of April, at Sabine Cross Roads near
Mansfield, the opposition developed; and, according to the statements
of those who were in it, the fighting was severe and continuous. The
Confederate force, under command of Generals Taylor, Price and Muttal,
was concentrated in a well chosen position, while that of Banks was
hopelessly scattered. With our thin lines strung out for 30 miles in a
swampy country which afforded every advantage of concealment to the
Confederates who were familiar with it, it was an easy matter to harass
our army and defeat its scattered units in detail. The enemy was
strong, determined, and, worst of all, in many cases--invisible.
Allowing for the difference of climate, conditions were not unlike
those which confronted Napoleon in a part of his Russian campaign with
the exception that our commander was entirety lacking in the military
skill and resourcefulness of that famous leader. The deplorable
tragedies of the Banks enterprise would fill volumes. The failure was
not because our men did not fight; it was their fighting which saved
them from utter annihilation; but even that was of little avail, except
to accentuate instances of heroism. On one occasion, amid a deluge of
bullets, a stampede was started, when Colonel Dudley rode up to Colonel
Marsh of our regiment and said: "Colonel, can you hold this line for
five minutes?" Marsh replied, "I can hold it until I die." Each
color-bearer was shot down the instant he raised the flag, until five
were killed in succession. Thereupon Colonel Marsh grasped the colors
and standing in his stirrups, sang, "Rally 'Round the Flag Boys." It
was effectual. The struggle was terrific and at times looked hopeless,
but he held the line for an hour and gave our men a chance to retreat
in some semblance of order.
Instead of an aggressive campaign as was intended, the whole series of
battles were but desperate efforts to cover a retreat.
Of about one hundred and fifty of our men who were in the fight at
Sabine Cross Roads, more than one-third were killed, wounded and
missing and eighty-six horses were slaughtered. Most of those who were
captured, died in those unspeakable Texas prisons of which mention has
been made.
One of the tragedies directly chargeable to lack of foresight in an
attempt to fight an invisible enemy, was that which resulted in the
death of our former Colonel, John J. Mudd and the slaughter of a large
number of helpless men. At the outset of the expedition, Colonel Mudd
was promoted to the rank of Brigadier General and was on his way to
take command of a brigade of cavalry. We were glad of his promotion but
sorry to lose him, for he was loved by all. As he rode along the line
shaking hands with the boys and bidding them good-bye, some, in order
to hide their real feelings, pretended to make light of the matter and
simulated a mock-grief; a thing which would not have happened had they
foreseen the near future. The General embarked upon a transport loaded
with troops; but, with the characteristic lack of foresight of the
project, no gun-boat was provided to escort it. Three days later, the
transport was surprised by a terrific fire from a masked battery,
captured and destroyed. General Mudd was killed and most of the others
either killed or captured, and that without any opportunity for
defense. Those left behind, received the sad news in silence. As our
Colonel, he was loved and revered. He was always in closest sympathy
with his men whose welfare was his constant study. His wish was
recognized as a command and obeyed with pleasure.
General Sherman's famous aphorism that "War is Hell," has become
classic. Indeed, for one who has been through it, it is not possible to
realize that it can be anything else; but if there are compensations
for such a brutalizing calamity, one of them must be the development
and example of such princely characters as that of General John J.
Mudd, whose transcendent virtues outlive the sickening horrors amid
which they were so uniformly displayed.
While our regiment was stationed at Baton Rouge, the bushwhackers
became so bold and aggressive that it was decided to chastise them.
Their headquarters were at Clinton, a small town about twenty miles
northeast of Baton Rouge. The expedition was commanded by General Lee
of Kansas, whose force consisted of our regiment, the Fourth Wisconsin
Cavalry and Nimms' Massachusetts Battery. After crossing a deep river,
the name of which I have forgotten, we soon arrived at a larger stream
where the enemy in considerable force endeavored to prevent our
passage. A sharp engagement took place which lasted about an hour,
during which the Colonel of the Fourth Wisconsin was killed. His body
was sent back to Baton Rouge with a detail from his regiment, a
platform having been improvised for the purpose upon one of the caisson
carriages of Nimms' Battery.
We succeeded in crossing the stream and soon reached Clinton. The
skirmish with the enemy was continued during the entire day. In the
evening we moved out of town about two miles and went into camp, the
men lying upon their arms. There was every reason to anticipate a night
attack and all were prepared for it. George Taylor and myself were
stationed as pickets upon the main Clinton Road. There was no moon and
the night was still and dark. Our position was in a hollow by the side
of a turn-pike. About twelve o'clock our horses began to show signs of
uneasiness and soon became quite restless. It was apparent that
something unusual was about to happen. We dismounted and took positions
upon opposite sides of the pike with our carbines cocked and nerves
under tension. Our attention was soon attracted by a peculiar sound; a
kind of pat, pat, pat, upon the ground. It seemed to be several rods
away and yet it was distinct. We knew that it was somebody or something
approaching upon the road. As it came nearer we called "Halt!" but
there was no reply and no stop. We then stepped upon the grade and
again called "Halt!" It was hard to keep from pulling our triggers.
Suddenly, those whom we took to be the enemy, commenced to jabber in a
plantation negro dialect. Still we were uncertain, thinking that it
might be the enemy attempting to deceive us. We called the corporal of
the guard and ordered them to advance one at a time. They proved to be
negroes, two men and four women. Others soon followed and the
procession continued until morning. It was made up of all ages, shades
and conditions. They had evidently cast their lot with us and showed
every evidence that they were going to stay.
In the morning when we broke camp, our guests were ready to move with
us and they kept closely to the head of the column during the entire
day. There were two streams to cross, both nearly deep enough to swim a
horse. We crossed our stirrups over the saddles, held up our arms and
plunged in in "column of fours." The darkies followed by a common
impulse and could not have shown less hesitation had it been the River
Jordan. Men and women, boys and girls, all floundered through and shook
themselves upon the opposite bank as complacently as if they had
reached the promised land.
This was one of many like experiences. It was common for negroes to
approach the guards at night, but it was not pleasant to have them do
so, in view of the fact that all kinds of strategy were resorted to by
the enemy to enable them to either capture or shoot down our pickets.
Constant and careful vigilance was necessary to protect us against
these things.
We had not been in Baton Rouge long before it become a common practice
for the enemy to steal upon out pickets and shoot them. The ground was
swampy for several miles along the Clinton road and afforded
concealment for roving bands of guerrillas. It was their custom to
locate a picket, tie their horses in the swamp, steal as closely to the
picket as they could with safety, shoot him and escape. Every
precaution was exercised to safeguard the men but without success.
Finally our men grew desperate and some of them decided to meet this
brutal practice in a like spirit. Company D of our regiment was
recruited from Alton. Many were river men and they were all rough
fellows; so much so that they had acquired the suggestive name of "The
Alton Hell-Hounds." On one occasion when these men were on guard, about
the middle of the day, two fellows crawled up and shot at the men on
post, slightly wounding one of them. The reserve was called out, a
charge made and the sneaks captured. Picket ropes from their own mules
were then placed around their necks, thrown over the limb of a tree and
made fast. They were then ordered to stand upon the mules which were
driven from under them. For two days the bodies were left there as a
warning to their associates, when they were cut down and buried. The
example was a grewsome one and not pleasant to relate; but it proved
effectual, for it practically ended the shooting of our pickets from
that time.
Upon a subsequent trip to Clinton, one hundred of our men were dressed
in rebel uniforms to act as decoys. They were chosen from "Scott's Nine
Hundred," which was a New York regiment, the Fourth Wisconsin and the
Second Illinois. They succeeded in getting in with the Confederates and
captured a number of prisoners.
Later in the year when it began to get cold, Colonel Marsh, with four
hundred men from our regiment and one hundred from the 12th Illinois,
started out in the afternoon with Clinton as his apparent destination,
but his real objective was elsewhere. We followed the Clinton road
until dark and then turned abruptly to the right and swam a stream the
crossing of which was generally considered impracticable on account of
its steep banks and swift current. The rebels depended entirely upon a
ferry to make the passage. We succeeded however, in getting over
without accident and kept right on pell-mell. Before realizing it we
found ourselves in the midst of a camp of about fifty bushwhackers.
William Stilwell who was with the advance, received a shot through the
arm. We gave them a volley and passed on. After marching about two
hours, a terrible storm burst upon us. We were in a lane fenced with
rails. Dismounting, we tied our horses to the fence and hastily
constructed what the boys called a "floating-dock." Two rails were laid
parallel upon the ground to serve as supports or sills, and upon these
were placed cross-rails which were arranged side by side in groups of
two or three. Each group was straddled by a number of men who sat upon
them back to back in pairs, a poncho being placed over the heads of
each pair as a protection. With our feet several inches in water and
mud, we remained in this attitude until the storm ceased. At daylight,
we fed our horses, ate some hard-tack and resumed our march through
woods and blind trails until nearly dark, when we arrived at a
plantation where a carriage and team were pressed into service for
Stilwell's use. This was about eight miles from Liberty, the County
Seat of Amite County, Mississippi, where we expected to surprise and
capture a large number of Confederate officers and men.
It was as dark as ink when we came to a long covered bridge on the Port
Hudson road, leading over the Amite River to the town. Great care was
necessary to prevent an alarm. We succeeded in capturing the bridge
guard, passed quietly into the town where we secured the pickets, one
by one, without alarm and placed a guard at every outlet. All night the
Confederates continued to enter the town where they were captured as
soon as they appeared. This continued until we had about two hundred
prisoners, of whom more than half were commissioned officers. The
prisoners were lodged in the Court House, a brick building two stories
high. There were double-doors in front and three windows upon each
floor at the sides. In the morning the command started out upon a short
raid, leaving Company A, under charge of Lieutenant James J. Tipton, of
Company E, to guard the town and prisoners. The latter were in charge
of Calvin Steel of our company. All went well until about noon, when a
Confederate force of about eight hundred men under command of Colonel
Scott, was seen approaching the town. Steel, with three men, was left
to guard the prisoners, while the remainder of the company stole out to
intercept the enemy. Hiding our horses behind a knoll, we took a
position by some abatis, which had been constructed for the defense of
the town and waited until the enemy had approached within about ten
rods, when we fired. The volley completely staggered the oncomers who
had scarcely recovered from their surprise when the remainder of our
command returned to our assistance. The Confederates, sighting them,
immediately retreated.
In the meantime, Steel passed some anxious moments with his two hundred
prisoners. He placed one man at each side to guard the windows, while
he, with another, guarded the doors. The men were surging to get out
and they could have succeeded had they made a rush, but no one dared
meet Steel's ultimatum and take the risk of being first. Steel
afterwards told me that it was the most trying and critical position
that he had ever held.
That evening Major Hughes arrived from Port Hudson with the Forty-Sixth
Illinois and a battery. He took the foot-prisoners back to Port Hudson,
while our detachment, under command of Lieutenant James J. Tipton,
returned to Baton Rouge with the others. There were one hundred and
four of the latter and, what then seemed inexplicable to us, all of
them were commissioned officers.
This incident led to one of the most remarkable exhibitions of real
chivalry that occurred during the war; and one that did more to make us
respect our enemies than any acts of bravery upon the field.
The weather had become intensely cold and the prisoners had only their
ordinary clothing. As night came on a severe storm arose which rapidly
turned into a blizzard. We had been marching, fighting and undergoing
the most trying hardships for forty-eight hours without sleep and with
no food except hard-tack, and this was the third night. To stand guard
over our prisoners under these conditions, and that in a raging storm,
seemed beyond endurance. Besides, we felt that it was our duty to make
the prisoners as comfortable as possible. The country was sparsely
settled and there seemed to be but little prospect of shelter. At last
we came to a building which was large enough to hold the prisoners but
not ourselves.
Lieutenant Tipton was a Mason, as were all but four of the prisoners.
Tipton spoke to one of the former, Captain Grant, of Shreveport,
Louisiana, and frankly told him the situation; stating that he would do
all in his power to make them comfortable but that he could not do so
and guard them well; that if Grant would give his word "upon the
square" that the prisoners would not attempt to escape, they would be
given shelter and protection in preference to our own men. Grant
consulted with his associates and, as spokesman for them, accepted
Tipton's proposal. The men were all quite comfortably housed, while
their captors, who had blankets and ponchos, protected themselves
outside in the storm as best they could.
In the morning, all of the prisoners were present except the four who
were not Masons. Captain Grant was greatly mortified and indignant when
he learned of the escape of the four, and offered to go back and bring
them in. Tipton could not, under his orders, permit this, but offered
to report the matter to his superior at Baton Rouge. Upon arriving at
the latter place the report was made and as a result, Captain Grant was
passed through our lines, found his men and preferred charges against
them. A military court was convened, the offenders tried, reduced to
the ranks and given in charge of Captain Grant who brought them under
guard into our lines, where he formally surrendered himself and them as
prisoners of war.
All the men, including Captain Grant, were sent to the Dry Tortugas. At
the instance of Lieutenant Tipton, a subscription was circulated among
our men and a purse of eight hundred dollars was raised and presented
to them upon their departure as a testimonial from their captors. Nor
was Lieutenant Tipton forgotten by his friends, "the enemy," who
subsequently indicated their appreciation of his conduct by placing his
portrait upon the east wall of St. James Lodge at Baton Rouge.
It would be difficult, if not impossible, to outmatch this incident in
the entire history of war. It is not so surprising that the men did not
attempt to escape, but that Captain Grant should have been permitted by
either side to carry out his proposal, is, so far as I am aware, in
direct violation of all military laws and precedents.
When peace was declared, our regiment was stationed at Shreveport,
Louisiana, the home of Captain Grant, and our then Colonel, D. B. Bush,
occupied a part of Captain Grant's house as his headquarters. I met the
Captain there a number of times and had several pleasant conversations
with him. He looked sad and broken, but met us with a cordial
hand-shake and seemed to accept the situation philosophically and
manfully. On one occasion I asked him why it was that we captured so
many officers at Liberty. He replied, "Now that the war is over, I can
tell you." He then stated that in view of the numerous raids upon
Clinton, their cavalry scouts were greatly disconcerted; and in order
to decide upon some satisfactory way of meeting conditions, a council,
composed of delegations from various cavalry commands within a radius
of a hundred miles, was called to meet at Liberty upon the day
following the night of our arrival. It was thus evident that our
commander at Baton Rouge had been secretly advised of the proposed
meeting and had acted accordingly.
[Illustration: E. C. CHATTERTON]