The morning of the 7th of March broke clear and pleasant over the hills
and valley of Sugar Creek and Cross Timbers. The soldiers were
everywhere, early on the alert, and camp presented a good deal the
appearance of a bee-hive on a sunny morning. Better spirits than had
been for several days seemed to prevail among the boys, and all was
cheerful. There seemed to be no thought that before another morning
should break on Cross Timbers, many who now felt so buoyant and full of
hope would be numbered among the "brave boys slain." Little did they
realize that this bright morning was the harbinger of such a bloody
sun-set as closed this day, over the battle-ground of Pea Ridge.
About seven o'clock orders were received at regimental head-quarters to
strike tents immediately, and move out toward the right. The right, or,
rather, rear of the army, lay at this time across the road leading to
Cassville. The regiment, as soon as the tents and camp equipage could
be loaded in the wagons, moved in a circuitous route, through the
brush, until it struck the Cassville road, one mile north of Sugar
Creek. Here it filed to the right, and halted, about fifty yards east
of the road, apparently to wait further orders. It seemed as though the
plan of the battle was yet undecided. An hour elapsed while in this
position, and then the order came to "fall in." The regiment now
retraced its steps to the road, and again stacked arms. In a short time
thereafter, several horsemen were seen coming down the road from the
right, at break-neck speed. Some had lost their hats, some their coats,
some their guns, and nearly all of them had lost their wits. "The
rebels--the rebels are coming in the rear!" was their war cry, as they
charged along the road toward some place of safety. They received, and
deserved, the jeers of the soldiers, as they passed.
The rebels had made a slight attack on the rear as a feint, and these
cowardly cavalry had fled to save their paltry carcasses from the rebel
balls. Shame on such dastards!
It was now eleven o'clock, and the enemy was attacking our left wing in
earnest. Davis' division now moved forward on the double-quick, through
Leetown, and half a mile beyond, where it formed in line as rapidly and
judiciously as the brushy condition of the position would admit. On the
road leading west from Leetown, and three-quarters of a mile distant,
is an open field of, perhaps, twenty acres, with a cross fence through
its center, and skirted with densely thick underbrush all around it. On
the east side of this field the Fifty-Ninth and Thirty-Seventh Illinois
were placed in line. When first gaining this position, no enemy were in
sight, but very soon a column of men were seen filing through the
timber, to the left of the field, and coming into line in our front. At
first it was supposed to be a column of our own men, as the thickness
of the underbrush prevented from distinguishing the motley uniforms of
the rebels from our own. The mistake was soon discovered by some of the
men, but the order to fire was withheld from our boys until a volley
from the rebel column was poured into them. Then the fact that it was
the enemy became too evident, and the fire was returned with double
interest. The firing now became incessant. Volley after volley, in
quick succession, was sent by our brave boys into the falling ranks of
the enemy. For a long time it seemed as though no impression was being
made upon the column of the enemy, although those who were not engaged
could see men falling from their ranks by scores. They kept their ranks
always full, by marching fresh regiments up to take the place of
decimated ones. Thus one single, unrelieved line, stood and fought five
different regiments, from one o'clock until darkness closed the scene.
The first fire from the enemy killed and wounded several of the men of
both regiments, but it created no panic, no confusion, in either. The
Fifty-Ninth only replied with a more hearty good will. At one time
their ammunition gave out, and they fell back to a safer position,
until it could be replenished. They then advanced to their old
position, and let into the rebels with increased energy.
During the whole afternoon not a man flinched, not an officer wavered.
One or two subordinate officers failed to share the honors of the
battle, by being dilatory about going in, and a very few of the men;
but those that were there did their whole duty, and more than prudence
demanded of them.
Companies K and F suffered more in killed and wounded than any other
two companies, from their being in a more exposed position, on the left
of the regiment. At the first fire several of their men fell. Captain
Snyder, commanding Company K, and Captain Kelly, commanding Company F,
by their coolness and good judgment, soon maneuvered their companies
into such positions as was most destructive against the enemy, and most
protective to themselves. During the whole action these two officers
displayed a bravery and clearness of judgment worthy of all imitation.
Captains Hale, Paine, Winters, Elliott, Veatch and Taylor, alike
deserve honorable mention for their bravery and daring during the
engagement. Each vied with the other in proper conduct and exemplary
bravery. Colonel Frederick and Major Post were ever present where duty
called, fearless of consequences. Although constantly exposed, Colonel
Frederick escaped unharmed; not so with Major Post. About the middle of
the afternoon, a minnie ball struck him on the arm, passing through the
fleshy parts without injury to the bone, and yet making a severe wound.
He retired to have his arm dressed, and then, only by the peremptory
order of the Surgeon, was he prevented from going back into the fight.
The Assistant Surgeon of the regiment, Doctor H. J. Maynard, now acting
Surgeon, in the absence of Doctor Hazlett, established his
head-quarters at Leetown, where the wounded were ordered to be brought
for surgical attention. Very soon after the first volley the wounded
began to arrive, and continued to come, as fast, and sometimes faster,
than they could be attended to, the remainder of the day. Thirty-eight
from the Fifty-Ninth alone were brought in. Doctor Maynard, assisted by
his Hospital Steward, (the writer of these pages,) by his surgical
skill and kindness of treatment, made these men as comfortable as the
nature of their wounds would admit.
The names of those brought from the field wounded are as follows:
From Company K: James Yocum, Corporal Willard W. Sheppard, Corporal
William Burns, John B. Bass, V. S. Hawk, Julius Hiederick, Emuel
Herbert, James Higgins, Sergeant Peter Elliott, Patrick Powers, John J.
Rue, and James Donathy, wounded. Michael D. Sullivan, of this company,
was killed on the field. Thirteen wounded, and one killed.
The wounded of Company F were: John W. Williams, Silas P. Kamer,
Sergeant Samuel J. Spohn, Hiram Snearly, John Chittenden, William
Welker, David Groves, and Davis L. Kelly. James H. Furgueson, of
Company F, was killed on the field. Eight wounded, and one killed.
Company B had two wounded, viz: Richard Ernest, and G. B. Finch, and
one killed on the field--G. W. Evans.
The wounded of Company H were: William H. Smith, John L. Ransom,
William N. McGowan, John W. Hurst. Peter P. Goodman was killed on the
field. Four wounded, and one killed.
Company D lost three killed on the field, to wit: Eugene Cramball,
Henry Spohn, and Isaac Palmer.
Company I lost three killed--Alfred B. Blake, Henry Cramer, and William
H. Cline.
Company C, one wounded--James Murphy.
There were a few whose names the writer has mislaid and forgotten.
Toward evening the fire began to slacken, and by five o'clock had
entirely ceased, both armies being willing to withdraw from the
contest. The Fifty-Ninth fell back to the east of Leetown, a short
distance, and lay on their arms till morning.
On the morning of the 8th, just as the sun began to redden the eastern
horizon, the booming of cannon was heard from the direction of
Cassville. It was very soon ascertained that General Sigel had engaged
with the enemy, on our right. The Fifty-Ninth was soon in motion toward
the scene of action. Arriving on the ground, they were placed in
position, again in front of the enemy, and similar to yesterday, with
an open field between them. They remained in this position but a short
time, when they were ordered to charge across the field, and rout the
enemy from the woods beyond. This was accomplished without the loss of
a man. The enemy were driven from the woods, and the Fifty-Ninth had
played its part of this great tragedy. Their position, before making
the charge, was behind a fence, in range of a rebel battery, and the
shot from this battery was very annoying, although no one was hit by
it. They lay on their stomachs, so that the shot, for the most part,
passed over them. Occasionally one would fall short, and throw the dirt
into their faces, through the cracks in the fence. One, in particular,
struck so near to the head of one of the boys as to fill his eyes
completely. "D--n the thing," said he, and, twisting himself around,
until his other end was directed toward the enemy, he remarked that
"now they might shoot, and be d--d." While making the charge, a
musket-ball passed through the clothing of Captain Kelly, and dropped
into his boot-leg. In the early part of the day, while Colonel
Frederick was riding in front of the regiment, a twelve-pound
cannon-ball passed so close to his head as to knock him from his horse,
insensible. It was several hours before he could be restored to
consciousness, and many days before he entirely recovered from the
concussion.
During the fight of the 7th, very many narrow escapes of the men
occurred. One boy, while loading his gun, had the ram-rod knocked from
his hand, by a musket ball from the enemy. Another one had his
gun-barrel hit, and bent so bad as to be useless. One man had three
bullets to pass through his hat, and many escaped with holes through
different parts of their clothing. The great wonder is, that all were
not killed--their escape can only be accounted for, on the principles
that "God and right was on our side."
An anecdote was told of the regimental hospital nurse, who is a "live
Dutchman in a fight," and when not employed, was always in the front.
Soon after the engagement commenced, he, with his gun, was standing
near Davidson's battery, looking at the scene, when one of the
battery-men discovered a rebel, in the distance, making preparations to
shoot at him. The battery-man warned him of his danger, and pointed to
the rebel; instantly the nurse raised his gun, and both guns cracked at
the same time. The rebel fell, and Ebling was unharmed.
During the night of the 7th, Dr. Maynard, had a sufficient number of
tents pitched, to shelter comfortably all the wounded, and the morning
of the 8th presented a sad, but lively appearance at Leetown. Cooks and
nurses, were active in providing for and administering to the wants of
the unfortunate heroes of the day before. Nothing that would tend to
alleviate their sufferings, was neglected. Long will the wounded of Pea
Ridge, remember Dr. H. J. Maynard.
Sunday, the 9th, was a day of rest to the Fifty-Ninth. The enemy had
disappeared, and all was quiet over the hills of Cross Timbers. The
soldiers had nothing to do, but wander over the battle-field, and talk
of the incidents of the two day's fight. And this was enough for one
day. The dead and wounded were, many of them, still on the field. The
rebel dead were all unburied, and many of their wounded were uncared
for. Detachments from the rebel army were busy, under a flag of truce,
in collecting and carrying their wounded to hospital, and in burying
their dead. Many are hid away in the bushes, who will never have a
burial. Years hence, their bones will be discovered bleaching in the
sun. Such is the case on every battle field. Friend and foe alike, are
left undiscovered. Some, perhaps, mortally wounded, crawl away to the
shelter of a friendly thicket, that they may escape capture by the
enemy, and here remain, until death claims them for his own. Months
hence, they are discovered, and then the cry goes out, that the enemy
is barbarous, because the dead were left unburied.
The scene over this field of carnage, beggars all description. Sights
calculated to chill the blood, and strike the mind with horror, meet
you on every side. Here is a human body, with the mangled remnants of a
head, which a cannon ball has torn to fragments. There lies another
with both legs shot away. Here is one, the top of whose skull is gone,
leaving the brain all exposed to the weather, and see! he is still
alive. After twenty-four hours in this condition, he yet lives. Great
is the tenacity of human life! Look yonder! there is one whose light of
life has gone out, as a lighted lamp in a gentle wind. There is no
disturbance of features, no marks of violence about him. He is sitting
at the roots of a large tree, with his back supported by the trunk; his
gun is resting in the bend of his arm; how natural! while sitting thus,
a minnie ball had pierced his heart, and thus he died. The number on
his cap denotes the regiment to which he belongs, which is now in
another part of the field; thus accounting for his not having yet
received burial. Ah! here comes two men with the same numbers on their
caps that he has on his, and they are in search of him. How fortunate
they are. They are his friends and were his mess-mates. How sad to find
him thus, what news to send his friends at home! His mother! 'Twill
break her heart; so loved was he, so loved by all who knew him. He had
a premonition of his doom the morning of the battle, and told his
friends so, told them he would be killed that day, and gave them all
his letters and his pictures of the dear ones at home. Among them was a
picture of his hearts beloved, his betrothed, an angel in beauty. These
two friends weep, and we pass on.
What is that fellow doing? That fellow in the dress of a Union soldier,
what is he doing? He is rifling the pockets of the dead. Let's see what
he has found in that man's pocket. A small pocket book, and a letter or
two, pen knife and comb. The pocket book has two or three dollars of
confederate script, for the dead man was a rebel, and a locket of hair,
very fine silky hair, evidently clipped from the locks of some very
young person, perhaps an infant daughter. How mean this Union soldier
is, to rob the parent dead of this cherished memento of his lovely
little daughter! Why not bury it with him?
The man those men are lifting so carefully into the ambulance yonder,
was wounded yesterday morning, and has been lying on the cold ground
without any covering, ever since. His wound was not a mortal one, but
now his limbs are all stiffened by the exposure, and his life is the
sacrifice. Had he remained a short time longer in his exposed
condition, he would have added one more to the number of these they are
collecting for burial, over in that pleasant grove. The grave is being
dug, and only seven have yet been found to fill it. It is large enough
to hold at least a dozen. The Union soldier, when buried by his
comrades, is generally buried in a civilized manner; but rebels are
traitors together, while living, and are not separated in the grave,
when dead. Such are a few of the many interesting sights that meet the
eye, in passing over the battle ground of Pea Ridge, on this Sabbath
morning.
Sergeant Silas Carner, and private John Williams, of Company F, died in
the hospital from the effects of their wounds on the 8th, and were
buried with the honors of war. Wm. N. McGowan, of Company H, Samuel J.
Spohn of Company F, and John W. Hurst of Company H, died, the two
former on the 12th, and the latter on the 13th. Wm. N. McGowan was one
of the musicians for the regiment. It was his duty to beat the drum,
not to handle the musket; but when he saw his comrades marching to the
battle, his brave heart spurned the idea of his remaining idle. He
shouldered a musket, fell into ranks with his old company, and manfully
assisted in repelling the foe. He remained on the field doing his duty,
until towards the close of the day's battle, when a minnie ball struck
him, and he was brought off mortally wounded. He lingered, under great
suffering, but with a proud consciousness of the noble sacrifice he was
making for his country, until the morning of the 12th, when he expired
with the resignation of a hero. All honor to the brave! In this brave
boy's pocket, was twenty dollars in money, which was placed in the
hands of Captain ----, to be forwarded to his widowed mother, at
Charleston, Illinois. Several months afterwards, the writer was
informed, by letter received from this poor widow woman, that the money
had never been given to her. Captain ---- resigned his commission soon
after the battle of Pea Ridge, and it is to be hoped he found a resting
place in some parts _unknown_ to anybody. Many a dollar, belonging
to the dead soldier, has been thus appropriated.
After a very stormy night, Monday morning came in clear and pleasant,
and hundreds of idle soldiers were scattered over the battle field, to
the west of Leetown, in search of whatsoever might be found there.
General Davis' Division was lying to the east, and General Sigel's to
the north of town. About eight o'clock, boom went a cannon, from the
direction of Sigel's camp, and a shell went hurling over Leetown, in
the direction of the battle field. Soon another followed, and at the
same time a column of cavalry was seen approaching from the west, which
was supposed to be rebel. "The rebels are coming, the rebels are
coming," was shouted from mouth to mouth, over the field, and each one
broke for his regiment. The attention of all in town, was attracted by
the reports of the guns, and the street was soon lined by the curious,
eager to know what was up. "The rebels are coming," came up the street,
followed closely by scores of fleeing soldiers, some on horseback, but
many more on foot, each vying with the other, as to who should get out
of the way the quickest. "The rebels are coming, stop them!" cries a
horseman, with hat off and hair flying in the wind. "What's up?" asks
one of the boys of this valorous horseman. "The rebels are coming, and
I am trying to stop these fellows--halt there!" and away he goes, more
frightened than the rest. Pretty soon, General Sigel comes riding very
deliberately up the road, by himself, and some one asks him the cause
of the stampede. "Oh, nothing," said he, with a peculiar twinkle of the
eye, "I was only making a few of my leetle arrangements." Discipline
had become too loose to suit his military fancy, and he had arranged
this scare for the purpose of putting the army on the _qui vive_. In
five minutes after the first report, the whole army was under arms,
ready for any emergency. The first shell fired, struck not far from a
forage train that was bringing in corn, and the way they came into camp
was a caution to all mule drivers. No one was hurt, only in feelings.