|On the first of August General Lyon marched out on the road to the
southwest and in the direction where the enemy was supposed to be; in
fact, where it was positively known that he could be found. Most of the
wagons were left behind, and among them were those driven by Jack
and Harry. Not wishing to miss the chance of seeing a battle, those
enterprising youths accompanied the column by permission of their
regimental quartermaster, and under promise to return whenever word
reached them that they were wanted.
August is a hot month in that part of the country; in fact, it is a
hot month, as everybody knows, from one end of the United States to
the other. Only a few miles were made on the first day's march from
Springfield, but those few miles witnessed the exhaustion of many of
the soldiers. The next day the column moved on to a place known as
“Dug Spring,” probably to distinguish it from the natural springs which
abound through that country. And the heat of that day was something
terrific.
Scores of men, overcome by the sultry atmosphere, dropped out of the
line of march and fell exhausted by the roadside, where some of them
died from the effects of sunstroke. Water was to be found only at long
intervals, and when found the springs were soon rendered muddy or were
completely exhausted by the crowds that rushed into them.
In southwest Missouri, as in many parts of the southern states, the
spring which supplies a residence is covered with a frame building eight
or ten feet square, and known as the springhouse. There are very few
cellars in that region, and the springhouse is used for preserving milk,
meat and other articles requiring the lowest attainable temperature in
the absence of ice. The spring that gave the name to the locality in
question was of this sort, and a small stream of water flowed from it
perpetually, and probably is flowing still. To realize what happened
there, let us quote from a letter which Harry wrote that evening to his
mother:
“My Dear Mother: I have known what it was to be very thirsty, but until
to-day I never knew what it was to suffer--actually suffer--for want
of water, though I have often thought I knew. It was one of the hottest
days I ever saw in my life; the road was just one long line of dust, as
no rain had fallen for some time and the ground was perfectly dry. We
had a little skirmishing with the rebels in front of us, but it was very
evident that we only met small scouting parties of them, as they fell
back very soon after we met them. But so much did the men suffer for
want of water that they didn't care for the enemy, and would have risked
their lives for a cooling drink from a brook or spring.
“We had left Wilson's Creek and Tyrol's Creek behind us; they are little
streams or brooks that ordinarily contain only a few inches of water,
but are said to be small rivers in their way when heavy rains fall. We
went several miles without water, and at length the head of the column
reached a large spring, which they told us was made by digging in the
low ground, and for this reason it was called Dug Spring.
“Of course the first men that came to it rushed into the little
springhouse to quench their thirst and fill their canteens, which they
succeeded in doing. But before they had done so the crowd around the
building was so dense that those inside could not get out; everybody was
frantically seeking for water, water, water, and so wild were the men
that the officers could not control them.
“They lifted the springhouse from its foundations and threw it to one
side, but this didn't help matters any. As fast as the men came up and
the word was passed that there was a spring there, the ranks were broken
and all that the officers could do was not enough to keep the men
in place. Officers and men struggled together for water and all
distinctions of rank were lost.
“The spring was soon exhausted and so was a trough close by that
contained water which had evidently stood there for some days. A pool
a little way below the spring, where the hogs had wallowed, was eagerly
sought by the struggling crowd and their feet stirred the contents
so that it was half mud. Soldiers had a hard struggle to fill their
canteens with this stuff, and when they had done so and came out of
the crowd they refused to give away a single drop. One of the newspaper
correspondents says he saw an officer offer five dollars to a soldier
for a canteen full of this liquid, and the soldier refused it, saying he
could not get any more and would die himself unless he had something to
drink.
“By the time Jack and I got to the spring the water was all gone and
we didn't know what to do, as we were ready to drop with thirst. Our
tongues were swollen and almost hanging from our mouths, and we felt we
could not stand it much longer. I dashed into the crowd at the spring
and saw it was no use; then I got into the other crowd at the pool and
tore up two handfuls of the moist earth and carried them to one side.
Jack did just like me, and we managed to squeeze a few drops of water
out of the earth which we had thus secured. We tried it again, others
did the same thing, and somehow we managed to get enough to cool our
throats just a little.
“We camped this evening on a little creek a few miles further on, and
here we are. The men care little for food; all they want just now is
to get enough water to drink. The camp is in great confusion and if a
well-disciplined enemy should fall on us just now it would have a good
chance of whipping us. They say the rebels are only a little way ahead
of us, and perhaps we shall have a fight with them to-morrow.”
On the next day there was a skirmish, in which a few men were wounded,
and the report was that the rebels had suffered severely; but as usual
in such cases, especially at the beginning of the war, the rumors were
far above the facts. As an illustration of this tendency we will take
one of the battles of 1861 in which there were ten killed on one side
and thirteen on the other, and about forty wounded. The Union commander
estimated the rebel loss “at not less than from three hundred and fifty
to four hundred,” while the Confederate historians said the Union
loss was “from one hundred fifty to two hundred killed, and from three
hundred to four hundred wounded.” One of the best reports of a skirmish
was that of a commander who wrote, “our loss was nothing; the enemy's is
not known, but is certainly three times as great as our own.”
Twenty-four miles from Springfield General Lyon decided to fall back to
that town, as he learned that the rebels had a force three or four times
as great as his own; it turned out that these figures were a good deal
exaggerated, but after making the most liberal deductions it is certain
that they had fully twice his number. He reached Springfield on the
fifth of August, and was more disheartened than ever. No reinforcements
had come to him from General Fremont, and from all indications none were
likely to be sent in time to do him any good. We had two alternatives:
to fight a battle with great odds against him, or to fall back to Rolla,
the terminus of the railroad, without a fight.
At a council of his officers it was decided that the moral effect of
retreating without a battle would be greater than after one; unless,
indeed, the army should be so badly defeated that escape would be
impossible. The rebels advanced and camped on Wilson's Creek, ten miles
from Springfield. It has become known since that there was a bitter
quarrel between General's McCulloch and Price, and in consequence of
this quarrel the rebels did not come at once to attack Springfield.
McCulloch was carrying out the policy of the Confederate government,
which just then did not favor pushing the war into the border states;
while Price wanted to take the offensive against the national government
and push the Union forces quite out of the state of Missouri. He was for
fighting and pushing on, while McCulloch was opposed to anything of the
kind; not on account of cowardice, be it understood, for he was as brave
a soldier as the Confederacy produced during the war, but for political
reasons, which have just been mentioned. He was only induced to march
upon Springfield by General Price giving up the command to him, and
furthermore by the threat of the latter that if McCulloch still refused
to advance, he (Price) would alone advance with his Missourians and give
battle to the Union forces.
On the eighth of August Price learned that Lyon was fearful of an
attack, and was making preparations to abandon Springfield. He urged
McCulloch to advance at once, but the latter would not do so. On the
ninth it was decided that an attack would be made on Springfield the
next day, and the troops were ordered to be in readiness to move at nine
o'clock that night. But the plan was changed on account of a slight rain
which fell towards evening and threatened to continue during the night.
Many of the Missourians had no cartridge-boxes and were obliged to
carry their ammunition in their pockets; consequently, a rain would have
spoiled their cartridges and made these soldiers useless in a fight.
To what slight causes do we often owe the course of events!
The rain which stopped the Confederate advance did not interfere with
the plan which General Lyon formed during the day after consultation
with his officers. It was to move out on the night of the ninth and be
ready to attack by daylight on the tenth. The rebels were camped along
Wilson's Creek for a distance altogether of about three miles, and it
was not likely that they expected General Lyon would seek to trouble
them with his greatly inferior numbers. As they expected to move at
daylight, to attack Springfield, they had drawn in their pickets, and
consequently were not aware of the Union advance until it was close upon
them. General Lyon's plan was to attack both ends of the rebel camp
at the same time, and for this purpose he divided his forces, sending
General Sigel with his own and Colonel Solomon's regiments of infantry,
a battery of six guns and two companies of regular cavalry to attack the
right wing of the rebels on the east side of the Fayetteville road. At
the same time he proposed, with the remainder of the Union forces, to
fall upon the other wing of the enemy's camp. The movements were to be
so timed that the attack would be made at daylight, and General Sigel,
in case he got first into position, was to wait for the sound of General
Lyon's guns.
[Illustration: 091]
On this plan the two forces marched out of Springfield on the evening of
the ninth. To how many men was that the last march, including the brave
commander of the Union army of southwest Missouri!
Each column by midnight had reached a point about four miles from the
rebel camp, and within sight of some of the rebel camp-fires. There the
men bivouacked on the field, and waited anxiously for the coming dawn.
Daylight glimmered at length in the east, and, with as much silence as
is possible to an advancing army, the march was resumed.