We were not long quiet. Burris had a detachment raiding in the
neighborhood of Independence. We struck their camp at sunset. We were
thirty-two; they eighty-four; but we were sure shots and one volley broke
their ranks in utter confusion. Five fell at the first fire, and seven
more died in the chase, the others regaining Independence, where the
presence of the rest of the regiment saved them. That day my persistent
pistol practice showed its worth when one of the militiamen fell, 71 yards
away, actual measure. That was Nov. 10, 1861.
All that winter Independence was the scene of a bloody warfare. One day
early in February Capt. Quantrell and David Pool, Bill Gregg and George
Shepherd, George Todd and myself, charged in pairs down three of the
streets to the court house, other members of the company coming through
other streets. We had eleven hurt, but we got away with ammunition and
other supplies that were badly needed. Seven militiamen died that day.
Another charge, at daybreak of Feb. 21, resulted badly. Instead of the
one company we expected to find, there were four. Although we killed
seventeen, we lost one, young George, who fell so close to the guns of the
foe that we had considerable difficulty in getting him away for burial.
Then we disbanded for a time. Capt. Quantrell believed that it was harder
to trail one man than a company, and every little while the company would
break up, to rally again at a moment’s notice.