Trip to Hamburg with fifteen men.—Hung a Dutchman and shot
another.—Attacked some Federals in Hamburg, but got gloriously
whipped.—Retreated to Coon Island.—Return to St. Francis
river.—Killed Oller at Flat Woods.—Robbed Bean‘s store at
Irondale.
About the middle of August, 1863, at the solicitation of two brave boys
who had kindly assisted me on several trips to St. Francois county, and
expected my assistance in return, I started to a small place called
Hamburg, with fifteen men under my command.
We wished to take in three or four Dutchmen who had given the relatives
of my two men a great deal of trouble, causing them to be robbed, and
in some instances imprisoned.
We crossed into Butler county, and then into Stoddard; passing south
and east of Bloomfield, we crossed Little river above Buffington, and
entered Scott county. By traveling altogether in the night we created
no disturbance until we got near the point to which we were aiming.
About ten o‘clock in the forenoon we rode up and surrounded the house
of one of the men whom we were after. He recognized us as Union
soldiers and came out without being called. He commenced addressing us
in Dutch, but I told him that we did not belong to that persuasion; he
then began speaking broken English and still advanced toward us. When
in the act of extending his hand toward one of my men who was nearest
to him, he suddenly discovered his unfortunate mistake, and called to
his wife who was yet in the house. The whole family came out, placed
themselves in a group near us and implored us in broken English to
spare their father. To the bottom of my heart I cursed the man who
first invented war; but as war on one side and mercy on the other would
only lead to death, we marched our Dutchman off about a mile and hung
him to a leaning tree. About one hour afterwards we came to the house
of another of those cunning informers; he broke out at a back door and
ran so fast that we all had to fire before we brought him down.
We now pushed on to get a couple more who lived at Hamburg, but on
entering the place we were met by a volley of musket shots which made
our ears ring. One of my men was killed on the spot, at which we
charged the enemy, seeing that their numbers were only about twelve.
They took refuge behind an old dilapidated frame house; and while
I placed some of my men in positions to command both ends of the
building, others marched up to the front of the house and set it on
fire.
By this time the shooting had attracted the attention of other Federals
in the vicinity, who came to the rescue, and before we were aware of
their presence we were nearly surrounded. We made a dash to clear their
lines, and in the attempt four of my men were badly wounded, but none
of them killed.
I began to think that I had met with more than our match, for as we
retreated they followed us in a solid phalanx. Our horses were put to
the utmost of their speed, our wounded were left behind, the chase
after us was gloriously exciting; we probably gained a little after we
had gone about two miles, but they did not by any means give up the
chase, for we were not allowed to enjoy anything that had the least
resemblance to peace and tranquility, until we had gained Little river
and swam across to Coon Island. We lost nearly everything we had except
our horses and they were badly injured; some of my men lost their guns,
and others lost every bit of fight that they formerly had in them.
The Federals made no attempt to cross the river, but left us to brood
over the sad result of our rash and inconsiderate adventure. The whole
matter looked to me a great deal like a defeat, and I must confess that
I viewed it rather in that light; but if it had been the Army of the
Potomac they would have called it “a strategic movement—merely a change
of base.”
We lost one man killed and four wounded, prisoners whom we supposed
would be shot. In justice to General Steele, however, I can proudly say
that in this case he did us more than justice by retaining our men as
prisoners of war and treating them well. Their wounds were healed, and
in three months they were exchanged and returned to our Green County
Confederacy.
On leaving Coon Island we struck the St. Francis river at Twelve
Mile creek, and remained there several days recruiting our horses.
Not wishing to be idle, I concluded that while my men and horses were
resting, I would take a trip on foot to Flat Woods and pay my respects
to George F. Oller, who was so intent on bushwhacking me that he
spent most of his time in the woods watching for my appearance on my
accustomed routes.
Aside from his many boisterous threats against me he was in the habit
of marking out “Old Sam,” as he called me, on trees and shooting
at the figure at various distances. His vindictive spirit was not
manifested against me alone, but even against the children of Southern
sympathizers. At one time he went to St. Francis river where some
Southern boys were in the habit of bathing, and at the high rock from
which they were fond of plunging, he drove some cedar stakes and
sharpened the upper ends which were just under the water.
Fortunately when the boys next went there to bathe the water had fallen
a few inches, and the ends of the stakes exposed so that the boys
discovered them before making the fatal leap. Oller of course did all
this for the patriotic motive of subjugating the South; but the result
was that the little boys were saved and the country lost.
On arriving in the neighborhood I learned from a very kind German lady
whom I happened to meet and who mistook me for a Federal, that the hunt
for me was still going on.
I learned also that Oller‘s zeal for the good of the Union cause was
not in the least abated by his many failures to hit my figure which he
had cut on a large oak near his house, nor by his failure to kill the
innocent children whom he was afraid would be Rebels at some future
time.
At night I went and inspected his premises, and before daylight I took
my position; but the day passed off and he did not make his appearance.
When night came I repaired to the house of a friend, obtained two days‘
rations, returned to my ambush, and slept until the first peep of day.
I was again doomed to disappointment; but on the third day, late in
the evening, as I lay brooding over the many failures I had made to
inflict justice upon those who were seeking my blood, Mr. Oller made
his appearance.
He walked slowly up to the premises with his gun on his shoulders. On
getting to a pig pen he got over the fence and commenced marking a pig.
I shot him through and hastily left the place; on gaining the top of a
small hill a few hundred yards off, I heard the pig squealing, for Mr.
Oller had fallen across it, and it was not able to extricate itself
from the trap.
On getting back to my men I selected five of them to go with me, and
permitted the rest to return to Arkansas.
As soon as it was dark I started with my five men for Irondale, on the
St. Louis and Iron Mountain railroad.
Just after dark on one evening in the early part of September, we
entered the town. We saw no soldiers in the streets, and no one else,
except Dr. Poston, a citizen of the place. We compelled him to knock at
the door of Bean‘s store and ask for admittance; when this was done we
entered without any trouble, took all the goods we could conveniently
pack, and returned to Arkansas by the way of Black river.