_Back Into Missouri._
I have no distinct recollection of leaving the camp on Saline River,
nor do I recall the military operations that followed the battle
I have just described. I know that Steele went on south and that
Price did not follow him. Steele and Banks were both well out of the
country, and it is probable that we passed a few weeks of idleness and
inactivity. At all events, my memory, upon which I depend entirely,
fails to account for the events immediately following the experience
I have related, and my next vivid recollection begins at White River,
where we were swimming our horses across on our march back into
Missouri. Price, Shelby and Marmaduke were all together. We passed
through Dover, a little town where John H. Bennett, a cousin of mine,
who was captain of one of our companies, lived and thence on to
Ironton.
There we found about two thousand government troops, well fortified
just north of town, in a little valley at the foot of a mountain. They
came out and met us two miles from Ironton where we had a skirmish and
they went back into their den. We marched into town and camped. It was
reported among the soldiers that Price was having ladders made with
which to scale the walls, but I did not believe it. Such an attack
would have been successful in all probability, but it would have cost
Price many men and I was sure he had none to spare. Toward night he
had two field pieces rolled up on top of the mountain by hand and
began to drop shells into their camp. They had neglected to fortify
the heavens above them and Price was taking advantage of their
neglect. When a shell dropped into camp you could see them running
away in every direction looking for a place to hide.
Some time in the night they broke through our picket line and marched
ten miles to a railroad station where they were loaded upon flat
cars and taken to St. Louis. Price continued on toward St. Louis and
greatly alarmed that city. Troops were hurried from east and west to
its defense, but Price had no such plan. His sole idea was to threaten
and draw troops from other places to its protection.
On the way up from Ironton we captured two or three hundred militia
at every county seat. For all that could be guessed from his actions,
Price intended to march directly into Jefferson City, but shortly
before he reached there he turned to the west and went to Boonville.
There he captured quite a large force of Federal troops and a steam
ferry boat. Marmaduke with his brigade crossed the river and marched
up the north side toward Glasgow, while Price and Shelby kept to the
south side. Price put a guard on the boat and compelled the crew to
run it up the river in conjunction with his forces. At Glasgow we
captured something like a thousand troops. Marmaduke then recrossed
the river and joined Price.
At Glasgow Lieutenant Evans got permission for himself and twenty-five
men to return to Buchanan County to see their friends. I was one of
the twenty-five. From Glasgow we went to Keytesville where we met
Bill Anderson, the noted "Bushwhacker," with about one hundred men.
Anderson and his men accompanied us to Brunswick, where we learned
that there were about three hundred militia at Carrollton. Anderson
said they were dreadfully afraid of "bushwhackers," and that he
believed the twenty-five of us could run them out of town, but he
sent fifteen of his men with us. We left Brunswick in the night and
at four o'clock next morning were a mile north of Carrollton. There
we stopped to wait for daylight. When it began to grow light we all
rode together until we encountered the pickets. As soon as they saw
us they turned and galloped into town as fast as their horses could
carry them without firing a shot. This enabled us to get into the town
before any alarm was given, as our horses were as fast as those ridden
by the pickets. We rode in with a whoop and a yell, dismounted and
got behind a fence. The fifteen bushwhackers ran around to the west
side of town in plain view of the militia camp and commenced firing.
Lieutenant Evans sent a man asking them to surrender. The colonel
asked who the attacking force was. The man told him it was Jo Shelby.
The colonel sent word back that he would surrender in one hour. Evans
returned the messenger with directions to the Colonel that if he did
not surrender in five minutes he would open the artillery upon him.
The colonel decided to surrender and marched his men out into an open
place and had them stack arms and march away to a safe distance. We
closed in and immediately took possession of the arms and marched the
Federals into the court house and locked them up. They had surrendered
believing we were merely the detachment detailed to come and receive
the surrender and were greatly chagrined when they found that we
constituted the entire force that had attacked them. It was all over
by six o'clock in the morning.
We cooked our breakfast upon their fires and out of their provisions.
The town took a holiday, as it was strongly southern in sentiment,
and so did we. In the afternoon we engaged all the barbers in town,
and as we were coming back home to see our girls we had considerable
shopping to do.
The ferry boat, still under order of General Price, had come up the
river and we sent a messenger down to stop it, and late in the evening
marched our prisoners down and loaded them on. We also hauled along
all the provisions, guns and equipment and sent the whole across to
Price.
Anderson's men left us and returned to Brunswick, and we camped for
the night on Waukenda Creek, two miles west of Carrollton. Early next
morning we moved on and by noon were in the hills north of Richmond
and at night were in camp at Watkins' woolen mills in Clay County, two
miles east of the home of my sister, whom I have frequently mentioned.
Watkins gave us a cordial welcome, dressed a shoat and a sheep and
brought them out to us and otherwise showed us many kindnesses. Next
day we visited Mrs. Wilson and the following day completed our journey
and camped in the brush in Tremont Township.
Everything seemed quiet, but we observed great discretion and did not
venture from camp in the daytime. After remaining on the east side
of Platte for about ten days without being molested, we crossed the
river and camped in the hills along Pigeon Creek. Wall Brinton, Harvey
and Bennett Reece, George Berryhill, and Joe, Bill and John Evans,
boys in our party, all lived on that side of the river. Our camp
remained there some two weeks without being molested. During the time
we captured three soldiers a few miles west of Agency. They were on
picket, sent out from St. Joseph, and in patroling the road came very
close to our camp. As we did not need any pickets we took them in.
One of them volunteered to join us, and as we knew him we allowed him
to do so and to keep his gun. The other two were kept prisoners and
their guns given to Bennett Reece and Harvey McCanse, two recruits,
who had joined us.
Shortly after this our camp was moved back to the east side of the
Platte and located in the bluffs near the home of Joab Shultz. Here
we remained in seclusion, keeping the captured pickets as prisoners
to prevent them from returning to St. Joseph and disclosing that we
were in the country. We had little difficulty in keeping our presence
from the knowledge of Penick and his men, as most of the residents
of the community were our friends. Bad luck, however, befell us.
John Utz and Billy Jones, hearing that we were at home and desiring
to go south with us on our return, came to my old home to ascertain
our whereabouts. My sister, who lived on the place, would tell them
nothing but referred them to James Jeffreys. Instead of going to James
Jeffreys, they went to George Jeffreys, a strong Union man, and asked
him if he knew where Gibson and Brinton were. Jeffreys replied that he
did not know they were in the country. Jones said, "Yes, they are here
with twenty-five or thirty men." Failing to learn of us from Jeffreys
they returned to the home of my sister, where, during their absence,
Cousin Margaret Gibson had arrived, and as she knew Utz and Jones,
told them how to find us.
George Jeffreys, that "good Union man," lost no time in communicating
with Penick, for next day all roads were full of soldiers. Cousin
Margaret Gibson came running to our camp and told us the soldiers
were looking for us. We released our prisoners and started. When well
out on the road we agreed upon a meeting place and separated, thus
leaving each man to look out for himself and at the same time taking
responsibility for any one else off of each man. This was thought to
be wise, as our little band was no match for the enemy, but the enemy
were not acquainted with the by paths through the woods and brush, and
by going singly we were at liberty to dodge to better advantage. Jones
and Utz came to join us shortly after we broke camp, and undertook to
follow. Penick's men caught them and made them prisoners.
Every man showed up at the meeting place a mile below Agency. There we
crossed to the west side of the river and stopped for a hasty lunch
and to see if we were being followed. Seeing nothing of the enemy
we concluded they had taken another course and that we were safe in
remaining in the neighborhood over night. In the afternoon we procured
flour and bacon from Jim Patee, where we were all given a square meal,
after which we went to old man Reece's for the night in order that the
Reece boys might say farewell to their father and mother.
In the morning early we started, crossing the Pigeon Creek hills and
making our way south. At Isaac Farris' blacksmith shop we stopped and
got horse-shoe nails and a shoeing hammer. I shall never forget also
that Mr. Farris brought out a stack of pies which seemed to me to be
a foot high. Although I had been at home a month where I had feasted
bountifully, pies still tasted good. I had lived on hard tack or worse
so long that I felt I could never again satisfy my appetite with good
things to eat.
We next stopped at the home of Pleas Yates, where we found Captain
Reynolds, an officer in Penick's regiment. He had left his company
and was visiting his family. He had been very active against the
southern people in the community and, as we believed, justly deserved
their censure, if the word hatred would not better describe their
sentiments. As we rode up Reynolds came to the door, the ivory shining
on the pistols in his belt. He seemed to think we were his own men.
Lieutenant Evans ordered four men, myself and three others, to go
in and arrest him. Reynolds remained in the door until he saw us
dismount. He seemed to step behind the door, but in fact he made a
dash for the back door to make his escape. I saw him pass out and gave
the alarm. Evans ordered the men to follow and commanded them not to
take him alive. I threw the gate open and the boys galloped into the
yard. It seemed to me that Yates had ten acres of land fenced off into
small lots about his place, but they delayed us only a short time. The
first man to reach the fence would jump from his horse and throw it
down, the remainder would ride forward. All this time the boys were
shooting at the running captain as fast as they could discharge their
guns and reload them.
We had with us a tall, swarthy Kentuckian, with black hair and long
black whiskers, whose name I have forgotten, and who looked, in his
rough soldier clothing, more like a bear than a man. He was the first
to reach Reynolds. As he came up Reynolds pulled a silver mounted
navy from his belt, but the Kentuckian was too quick for him and had
a holster pointed at his head. In an instant Reynolds dropped to his
knees, threw up his hands and began to beg. The Kentuckian disobeyed
orders and took him prisoner. He said if Reynolds had continued to
show fight he would have killed him, but he could not shoot a man who
was begging for his life. He brought the Captain back and, as he was
then our prisoner, his life was safe, for no man with whom I ever
served ever mistreated a prisoner.
When we reached the house Reynolds' wife and the Yates family came
out begging and crying pitifully for his life. We had no time to stay
and argue or explain. We feared the reports of our guns had reached
the ears of Reynold's company and that they would come upon us at any
moment. Wall Brinton told the Captain he must go with us, and ordered
him to get behind him on his horse. The captain did so amid the
wailing and crying of the women and we started away. Reynolds' wife
said she would go too, but I told her she could not do so, as we rode
through thick brush, and that she could do no good by going.
As we rode along Reynolds said he feared we were Bill Childs and his
band of bushwhackers, and that if Childs had found him he would not
have been permitted to surrender. He expressed the fear also that his
life would not be safe even as our prisoner, if Childs should fall in
with us. I assured him that Childs was not as bad as he thought him
to be, and that he need have no fear. But even this did not satisfy
him. On further inquiry, I learned that Child's wife had been taken by
the Union forces and placed in jail, and that Childs charged Reynolds
with responsibility for this act. Reynolds' terror of Childs made me
believe, without knowing the facts, that the charge was probably well
founded.
Evans and I rode along with Brinton and Reynolds and allowed the
remainder of the boys to get considerably ahead of us and completely
out of sight. When the proper time came we turned out of the road into
the thick woods and stopped. Evans then told Reynolds if he would go
to St. Joseph and have John Utz and Billy Jones released from prison
and resign his office and go back to his family and stay there and
behave himself we would turn him loose. The Captain was more than
willing to do all this. Evans then asked him to hold up his hand and
be sworn. I told Evans that was not necessary, as I would vouch for
the good conduct of the prisoner. Evans then set him free and I never
saw a more grateful man in my life. We parted good friends and I
learned after the war was over that Reynolds kept his promise, except
that he was unable to secure the release of Utz and Jones, as that was
out of his power. In all other things he was faithful. I have heard
that he often said to those who wanted him to return to the service
that Watt Gibson had saved his life, and that but for him both his
company and his family would have been without his services; and that
he did not propose to break the promise to which he owed his life.
When we overtook the boys and they found we had released Reynolds,
it required hard work to keep them from going back after him, but we
finally prevailed and the whole squad moved on into Platte County.
We camped about two miles east of Camden Point and remained a few
days. Mose Cunningham and a man by the name of Linville joined us as
recruits. During our stay there some of the boys went over to New
Market and spent a portion of the time. The day before we expected
to leave, Brinton and I went over to Alfred Jack's, as I wanted to
see his daughter, Mollie, before I left. We rode up to the yard fence
and there in front of the house lay a dead man--a Federal soldier. We
called Mr. Jack and asked him how the man came to be there. He said
that some hours before a party of Union militia and a few men that he
took to be Confederates had passed his house shooting at each other,
but that he did not know anyone had been killed. This was the first
news we had that the Federals were in the community. The skirmish was
between some of our men and a scouting party from the other side.
Mr. Jack was greatly disturbed and feared that he would be accused of
the man's death, and thought of leaving home. I told him not to do
that. He was entirely innocent and the soldiers knew the man had been
killed in the skirmish. We helped him carry the body into his yard and
started for camp. I knew the news of the fight would soon stir up all
the Federals in the community, and, though I missed seeing the young
lady, I was glad I learned of the trouble in time to get back to camp.
By noon the roads everywhere west of us were full of soldiers. We got
glimpses of them now and then from the hill on which we were camped.
We prepared our small camp equipment for traveling, saddled our horses
and crossed to the east side of the Platte. Here we selected a good
place to be attacked and waited two or three hours. Either they could
not find us or did not want to find us, for they did not appear.
Late in the afternoon we resumed our journey to the south, and passed
out of Platte and through Clay County without difficulty. The Missouri
River was again the great obstacle, as there were a number of us on
this trip. Richfield, the point where we had previously crossed, was
passed by, and we reached the river bottom some miles below that
place, just at night. We cooked and ate supper, and about eight
o'clock started for the river, not knowing how we would get across.
As we passed through a paw-paw thicket an amusing incident occurred.
A man called "halt." As our horses were making a great deal of noise
we did not hear either his first or second call. He called again in a
loud voice, "Halt, third and last time!" We stopped at once. He said,
"Who are you?" Our lieutenant answered, "Shelby's men. Who are you?"
"I am a bushwhacker, by G--." He then asked if any man in our company
lived near this place. Our lieutenant answered that a man with us by
the name of Hill lived at Richmond. "Tell him to come forward and meet
me half way." Then the bushwhacker began calling to his men to fall in
line. Hill went forward and met an old acquaintance. Hill asked how
many men he had. He said he had none; that he was alone, and was just
running a bluff on us. When Hill and the bushwhacker came back to us
we all had a jolly laugh.
We learned from him that Bill Anderson, with whom he belonged, was
crossing the river with his band of bushwhackers about a mile below,
and had sent him out as a picket. He went down with us and assured
Anderson that we were his friends. The night was very dark. Anderson
had forty-five men and one small skiff. Two men besides the oarsman
got into the boat, each holding the bridle of his horse. The horses
were then forced in, one on each side, and the skiff put off. It was a
long swim for the horses and a long wait for the skiff's return, but
it was better than drifting on cottonwood logs, as we had expected to
do. With the boat we could all land at the same place. Anderson's men
had been crossing since early in the evening and by midnight all were
over and the skiff delivered to us. The last of our company reached
the southern shore just at sun up, and our long journey seemed almost
over with the river behind us.
Anderson, after crossing, learned that a Federal regiment was in camp
at Sibley. He took his forty-five men and surprised them. They charged
through the whole regiment, yelling and shooting, and killed, wounded
and ran over about twenty of them without losing a man. Not satisfied
with this they charged back, and by that time, the soldiers had
collected their senses and their guns. Anderson was killed and three
of his men wounded. I have always believed that Anderson and most of
his men were half drunk that morning. The wounded men were placed in a
tent in the thick willows and left to the care of sympathizing women.
Anderson's death left his men without a leader. Forty-one remained
able to go forward and they joined with our thirty. This made a pretty
strong squad and we traveled the public roads in day light.
After two days our provisions gave out and we separated into little
companies of from four to six in order to get provisions and horse
feed from the residents of the country along the road, arranging in
advance to unite at a given place. I recall an incident of this trip
which afforded us great amusement. It happened near the north bank
of the Osage River. Our straggling parties had united in order to be
together at the fording of the river, and as we passed down toward
the river we met a squad of about ten militia. Neither party appeared
to be suspicious of the other, and the militia really thought we were
a part of their own forces. We rode directly up to them and spoke
very politely. Asked them where they were going and they told us
they were going home. Said they had been after Price and had driven
the d----d old Rebel out of Missouri once more and were just getting
home. We then told them we were a part of Price's forces that had not
been driven out, and drew our navies on them. It was pitiful to see
the expressions of terror that came over their faces. We made them
dismount and disarm themselves. They did so with the greatest apparent
willingness. We destroyed their arms as we had no use for them, and
made them swear a dreadful oath and promise they would never molest
Price or any of his men again. When they did this they were ordered
to move on, and seemed greatly rejoiced that their lives had been
spared. The many bitter experiences I had during the war led me to
doubt seriously whether we would have been as well treated had we been
caught by our enemies at as great a disadvantage as we had them. And
some of our men had long been with Bill Anderson, about whom the most
dreadful stories of cruelty have been written--by men I presume who
never dared to come out of hiding and who wrote the terrors of their
own cowardly souls rather than anything real or true.
It must be understood that I am not attempting a defense of Anderson
or his men further than to relate what their conduct was while I was
with them. It was by chance only, in the manner I have related, that I
was thrown with these men on this trip southward, and though we met a
number of returning squads of militia in the same way and always had
the advantage of them, not a man of them was mistreated other than to
be disarmed, if that may be called mistreatment. The situation may and
probably was different when these men were attacked or when the enemy
was campaigning against them. I have heard it said that, under such
circumstances, men who encountered Anderson's men had to fight, run or
die.
With more or less difficulty and with many hardships, but without any
incident worth mentioning, we made our way to the Arkansas River about
twenty miles below Fort Smith. The river was running pretty full and
there was no hope of finding a ferry without encountering Federal
troops, so we constructed a rude raft of cottonwood logs, got on it
and swam our horses alongside. This occasioned considerable delay,
but we got safely over and made our way to Red River, where we had
much the same experience. We reached Price at Clarksville, Texas, and
remained with him there until January.
At this time Price's army was all cavalry--just as it came off of the
raid into Missouri--and consisted of about five thousand men. Early in
January he moved down on Red River about fifty miles distant in order
to get feed for his horses. Horse feed was scarce about Clarksville,
but in Red River bottom the cane was abundant and the move was made
that the horses might be grazed upon the cane. Price remained there
until spring and was still there when Lee surrendered. Price and his
staff prepared to go to Mexico and seven of us--Buchanan and Platte
County neighbor boys--saddled our horses, bade him goodby and started
for home.