|We expected to pick up one or two of the wounded men into my wagon
on our way back,” said Harry, “but found we did n't have to. The other
wagons had followed close behind us, and gathered up all who could n't
walk or take care of themselves. Some of the country people were out
looking after them, too, and by this time everybody ought to be cared
for in some way. But, of course, there 'll be a great deal of suffering
under the best of circumstances, as there is a great number of wounded
men on both sides.” And Harry was right; there was a great number of
wounded in proportion to the number of men engaged. It has been said by
students of warfare that down to that time there had never been in the
United States a battle in which the proportion of casualties was
as great as at Wilson's Creek, and without stopping to examine the
histories of all previous battles this is a safe assertion. Let us look
at the figures:
The total of the Union forces was not far from five thousand four
hundred, including officers and men. They lost in the battle two hundred
and fifty-eight killed, eight hundred and seventy-three wounded, and one
hundred eighty-six missing, a total of casualties of one thousand three
hundred and seventeen; or, deducting the missing, we have of killed and
wounded on the field of Wilson's Creek, one thousand one hundred and
thirty-one, or more than one in five of all who were present; and it is
generally considered by military men that where the killed and wounded
are one-tenth of the total on the field the battle is a severe one.
The rebel reports place their effective force on the tenth of August
at ten thousand one hundred and seventy-five, of which two hundred and
seventy-nine were killed and nine hundred and fifty-one wounded, a total
of one thousand two hundred and thirty, or about one man in nine of the
whole force. Even this was a heavy loss, but much smaller in proportion
when compared with that of General Lyon's army.
Colonel Blair's regiment, the First Missouri, had seven hundred and
twenty-six men under arms when it went into battle. Its loss was
three hundred and thirteen, or almost one-half its entire number.
Seventy-seven of its men were killed, ninety-three dangerously wounded,
one hundred and twenty-six otherwise wounded, two were captured and
fifteen were missing at the next roll-call. The First Kansas lost two
hundred and ninety-six men out of seven hundred and eighty-five; the
Second Kansas, the First Iowa, and in fact all the other regiments on
the field lost severely, but not as heavily in proportion as did the
First Missouri and the First Kansas.
Another notable circumstance of the battle was the large number of those
engaged in it under Lyon who afterward rose to high rank. From that
little army eight officers rose to be major-generals before the end
of the war, and thirteen to be brigadier-generals. Many of the men
who fought in the ranks became captains, majors and colonels. In 1863
thirty-two commissioned officers were in the service from one company of
the First Iowa, and twenty-eight from one company of the First Missouri.
And through all the noble records they made during the war for the
preservation of the Union, one of their proudest boasts was, “I was at
Wilson's Creek with Lyon.”
Among those who rose to be major-generals were Schofield, Stanley,
Steele, Granger, Sturgis, Herron, Sigel and Osterhaus; while of the
brigadier-generals were Carr, Plummer, Halderman, Mitchell, Dietzler,
Sweeney, Totten, Clayton and Gilbert. Some of these officers covered
themselves with glory in subsequent campaigns, and their names are
familiar to the veterans of the war and will live in the history of the
country.
All this, time we have left Jack and Harry talking about the battle, and
particularly about the experience of the latter in accompanying the flag
of truce.
Their conversation was cut short by an order to be in readiness to
move at any moment. Evidently this meant that the army was to abandon
Springfield, which it could hardly hope to hold for any length of time
after the result of the day's fighting.
“If they 'll allow us,” said Jack, “we'll keep our wagons close together
and help each other all we can.”
“Of course we will,” was the prompt reply. “We shall probably follow our
regiment, unless the train gets mixed up on the road and the wagons are
scattered.”
“I don't know much about it,” said Jack, “but it seems to me that the
rebs could make it very lively for us if they wanted to. Here we've got
a long train of wagons, we're a hundred and thirty miles from the end
of the railway, and there's a river to cross on the way, besides lots
of small streams and miles of woods, where they could drop on us at any
time before we knew they were there.”
“Anyway, we 'll hope for the best,” responded Harry, “and see how things
turn out. Wonder who's to command the army now that General Lyon's
dead?”
“I don't know. We'll find that out, though, pretty soon.”
Before the march began they ascertained that the retreat was to be
conducted by General Sigel. Major Sturgis, who had assumed command
immediately after Lyon's death, refused to hold it longer, on the ground
that General Sigel's commission in the volunteer service was superior
to his own as a major in the regular army. Accordingly General Sigel
assumed command with the assent of all the regular officers, and ordered
a retreat to Rolla.
Had the rebels chosen to give trouble they could have given a great
deal. The road to Rolla was none of the best. It was crowded with
the wagons of Union men who were fleeing in terror at the threatened
approach of the rebels, and the army had a train of wagons nearly five
miles long to encumber its movements. If the rebels had attacked it on
the road, they would have had a great advantage over the soldiers who
had been defeated at Wilson's Creek. Brave as these men were, a defeated
army is never as good at fighting as one that has not suffered in that
way.
But the retreating army was not molested, and in five days it had
crossed the Gasconade river and was in a place of safety. As soon as it
had passed the Gasconade Major Sturgis discovered that he was really the
ranking officer, owing to the expiration of Sigel's commission, or some
technicality concerning it, and therefore he demanded the command.
Sigel was disinclined to yield it then, but rather than have trouble he
did so, though had he foreseen the result it is quite probable that he
would have refused. The commanding officer was entitled to write the
report of the battle, and accordingly the report was written by Major
Sturgis. At that time there was a great deal of ill-feeling on the part
of many of the regular officers toward the volunteers. They looked with
contempt, often undisguised, upon the soldiers who had come from civil
pursuits or had not made military matters the occupation of their
lives. This feeling gradually wore away, though it was never entirely
obliterated, but in the early part of the war there was much more of it
than was good for the service.
General Lyon had none of this feeling, but this was far from being
the case with the regular officers under him. And their contempt for
volunteers was especially strong toward the Germans. They had few good
words for the Teutons who wore the blue, especially when those Teutons
were commissioned officers.
General Sigel, having brought the column from its perilous position at
Springfield to a point where it was out of danger, certainly deserved
to have something to say about the official report, especially when that
report placed upon him the responsibility for the defeat of the Union
forces and the victory of the rebels. It should be remarked that the
official reports do not show any loss in killed and wounded on the part
of the two companies of regular cavalry that accompanied Sigel in the
battle of Wilson's Creek, though four men are reported missing from one
of those companies. With the exception of these four missing men all
the loss of Sigel's column was borne by his infantry and artillery, all
volunteers and nearly all Germans.
At daybreak on the morning of the eleventh of August the head of the
retreating army marched out of Springfield in the direction of Rolla and
the rising sun. Five miles from Springfield there is a road coming in
from the direction of Wilson's Creek, and it was feared that the rebels
might have pushed on a force during the night to contest the passage of
the fugitives beyond this point. Had they done so, the great wagon-train
would certainly have been in peril.
But no enemy appeared, and there was an agreeable disappointment on the
part of many of those in retreat. To none was this more the case than to
Harry and Jack, who did not relish the idea of losing their wagons and
the property in their charge. Somehow the horses and mules seemed to
catch the spirit of retreat and to feel that they were in danger. One
of the drivers declared that he had never known them to pull half as
earnestly as they did on the first day out of Springfield. He was sure
they were solid for the Union and did n't want to fall into Johnny Reb's
hands.
[Illustration: 117]
All along the road there was the wildest alarm among the inhabitants
who had espoused the Union cause. They felt that their lives would be
in peril as soon as the army had passed, and many of them had already
packed their wagons and were fleeing toward Rolla with whatever
household goods they could carry away. They abandoned homes and farms,
everything that they were unable to carry, and the spectacle presented
by these fleeing refugees was a pathetic one. They filled the road both
in front of and behind the army, and for weeks and weeks afterward a
steady stream of them poured into the Union lines. We shall have more to
say about these unfortunates by and by.
At last, after many trials and tribulations, the disheartened and weary
army was encamped at Rolla, where the welcome whistle of the locomotive
resounded through the air. The campaign of the southwest was ended,
and the footsore warriors had an opportunity to gain the rest they so
greatly needed.
Jack and Harry parked their wagons with the rest of the train, and
wondered what would happen next.
“We've had a lively time of it, Jack,” said Harry; “but I'm not sorry we
came.”
“Nor I either,” was the reply; “and I'm in no hurry to go home. Let's
wait here awhile and see what's going to turn up.”
This was agreed to, and they sat down to wait.