THE WAR IN MISSOURI—_Continued_
I Rejoin the Command—Sleeping in Snow—Ambushed—Battle of Elkhorn
Tavern (Pea Ridge)—Capturing a Battery—Deaths of Generals McCulloch
and McIntosh—Battle Continued—Casualties—Keetsville—Official
Reports—March Southward—Foraging—Lost Artillery—Illness Again.
IN the latter part of February, 1862, I left Rusk in company with Tom
Hogg, John Germany, and perhaps one or two more of our furloughed men,
for our winter quarters on the Arkansas River. We crossed Red River and
took the road running along the line between Arkansas and the Indian
Territory to Fort Smith. After crossing Red River we began meeting
refugees from Missouri and north Arkansas, on their way to Texas, who
told us that our army was moving northward, and a battle was expected
very soon. This caused us to push on more rapidly, as we were due to
return March 1, and were anxious to be in our places with the command.
When we reached Van Buren we learned that our whole army was in motion,
that a battle was imminent and might occur any day. By this time the
weather had grown quite cold, and leaving Van Buren at 9 A. M., we had
to cross Boston Mountain, facing a north wind blowing snow in our faces
all day. Nevertheless, we slept fifty miles from there that night,
camping with some commissary wagons on the road, a few miles from
Fayetteville. Here we learned that the army was camped along the road
between there and Fayetteville. The next morning we started on at a
brisk gait, but before we could pass the infantry they were filing into
the road. We took to the brush and galloped our horses about six miles
and overtook the Third Texas, which was in the advance, now passing out
of the northern suburbs of Fayetteville, and found Company C in the
advance guard on the Bentonville road.
We advanced slowly that day, without coming in contact with the enemy,
and camped that night at Elm Springs, where the snow fell on us all
night. Of course we had no tents, but slept on the ground without
shelter. This seemed pretty tough to a fellow who, except for a few
fine days in December, had not spent a day in camp since September,
during all that time occupying warm, comfortable rooms. Up to this time
I had never learned to sleep with my head covered, but finding it now
necessary, I would first cover my head and face to keep the snow out,
stand that as long as I could, then throw the blanket off, when the
snow would flutter down in my face, chilling me so that I could not
sleep. So between the two unpleasant conditions I was unable to get
any rest at all. Some time before daybreak we saddled up and moved on,
the snow being three or four inches deep, and early in the morning we
passed the burning fires of the Federal pickets. By nine o’clock the
storm had passed, the sun shining brightly, and about ten o’clock we
came in sight of Bentonville, a distance said to be two miles. We could
plainly see the Federal troops moving about the streets, their bright
guns glistening in the sunshine, afterwards ascertained to have been
Sigel’s column of General Curtis’ army. We were drawn up in line and
ordered to prepare for a charge. To illustrate what a magic influence
an order to charge upon the enemy has, how it sends the sluggish blood
rushing through the veins and livens up the new forces, I will say that
while we were standing in line preparing to charge those fellows, I was
so benumbed with cold that I could not cap my pistols. I tried ever
so hard to do so, but had my life depended upon it I could not have
succeeded. We were thrown into columns of fours and ordered to charge,
which we did at a brisk gallop, and before we had gone exceeding
one-half mile I had perfect use of my hands, was comfortably warm, and
did not suffer in the least with cold at any time during the rest of
the day.
We charged into the town, but the enemy had all moved out. I suppose it
was the rear of the command that we had seen moving out. That afternoon
we were ambushed by a strong force, and were fired on in the right
flank from a steep, rough hill. We were ordered to charge, which order
we attempted to obey by wheeling and charging in line up a hill so
steep and rough that only a goat could have made any progress, only to
find our line broken into the utmost confusion and under a murderous
fire of infantry and artillery from an invisible enemy behind rocks
and trees. In the confusion I recognized the order “dismount and fall
into line!” I dismounted, but when I fell into what I supposed was
going to be the line I found Lieutenant J. E. Dillard and J. B. Murphy,
“us three, and no more.” While glancing back I saw the regiment was
charging around on horseback, while the captains of companies were
shouting orders to their men in the vain endeavor to get them into some
kind of shape.
In the meantime the bullets were coming thick around us three
dismounted men, knocking the bark from the hickory trees in our
vicinity into our faces in a lively manner. Finally concluding we could
do no good without support, we returned to our horses, mounted, and
joined the confusion, and soon managed to move out of range of the
enemy’s guns. Brave old Captain Hale, very much chagrined and mortified
by this affair, considered the regiment disgraced, and said as much
in very emphatic, but not very choice, English. I do not remember the
precise language he used, but he was quoted as saying: “This here
regiment are disgraced forever! I’d ’a’ rather died right thar than to
a give airy inch!” I do not know how many men we lost in this affair,
but Vic. Rose says ten killed and twenty wounded. I remember that
Joe Welch was wounded in the thigh, but I do not remember any other
casualty in Company C. This was reckoned as the first day of the three
days’ battle of Elkhorn Tavern, or Pea Ridge.
General Earl Van Dorn had taken command of the entire army on March
2, and conducted the remainder of the campaign to its close. General
Price’s division consisted of the Missouri troops. General McCulloch
was placed in command of the infantry of his old division, consisting
of the Third Louisiana, commanded by Colonel Louis Hebert (pronounced
Hebair), and the Arkansas infantry, and General James Mcintosh, who
had just been promoted to brigadier-general, commanded the cavalry.
Brigadier-General Samuel R. Curtis, who commanded the Federal Army in
our front, was concentrating his forces near Elkhorn Tavern and Pea
Ridge, near the Arkansas and Missouri line.
After the ambush and skirmish alluded to above, General Sigel moved on
northward with his command and we moved on in the same direction, and
near nightfall camped by the roadside. Here, as we had neither food
for man nor forage for beast, I started out to procure a feed of corn
for my horse, if possible, riding west from camp, perhaps five miles,
before I succeeded. For a while at first I searched corncribs, but
finding them all empty I began searching under the beds, and succeeded
in obtaining fifteen or twenty ears. Part of this I fed to my horse,
part of it I ate myself, and carried part of it on for the next night.
We were now near the enemy. Leaving camp about two hours before
daylight, we made a detour to the left, passed the enemy’s right
flank, and were in his rear near Pea Ridge. General Price, accompanied
by General Van Dorn, passed around his left and gained his rear near
Elkhorn Tavern, where General Van Dorn established his headquarters.
About 10.30 A. M. we heard General Price’s guns, as he began the
attack. Our cavalry was moving in a southeasterly direction toward
the position of General Sigel’s command, and near Leetown, in columns
of fours, abreast, the Third Texas on the right, then the Sixth and
Ninth Texas, Brook’s Arkansas battalion, and a battalion of Choctaw
Indians, forming in all, five columns. Passing slowly through an open
field, a Federal light battery, some five hundred or six hundred yards
to our right, supported by the Third Iowa Cavalry, opened fire upon
our flank, killing one or two of our horses with the first shot. The
battery was in plain view, being inside of a yard surrounding a little
log cabin enclosed with a rail fence three or four feet high. Just at
this time one of General McCulloch’s batteries, passing us on its way
to the front, was halted, the Third Texas was moved up in front of it,
and were ordered to remain and protect it. Lieutenant-Colonel Walter
P. Lane rode out to the front, facing the enemy’s battery, and calling
to Charley Watts, he said: “Come here, Charley, and blow the charge
until you are black in the face.” With Watts by his side blowing the
charge with all his might, Lane struck a gallop, when the other four
columns wheeled and followed him, the Texans yelling in the usual style
and the Indians repeating the warwhoop, dashing across the field in
handsome style. The Federal cavalry charged out and met them, when a
brisk fire ensued for a few minutes; but, scarcely checking their gait,
they brushed the cavalry, the Third Iowa, aside as if it was chaff,
charged on in face of the battery, over the little rail fence, and were
in possession of the guns in less time than it takes to tell the story.
In this little affair twenty-five of the Third Iowa Cavalry were killed
and a battery captured, but I do not know how many of the gunners were
killed. The Choctaws, true to their instinct, when they found the dead
on the field, began scalping them, but were soon stopped, as such
savagery could not be tolerated in civilized warfare. Still a great
deal was said by the Federal officers and newspapers about the scalping
of a few of these men, and it was reported that some bodies were
otherwise mutilated. Colonel Cyrus Bussey of the Third Iowa certified
that he found twenty-five of his men dead on the field, and that eight
of these had been scalped.
General McCulloch’s infantry and artillery soon attacked General
Sigel’s command in our front, and the engagement became general all
along the line. The roar of artillery and the rattle of musketry were
terrific all day until dark, with no decisive advantage gained on
either side. The Third Texas was moved up behind Pea Ridge, dismounted,
and placed in line of battle just behind the crest of the ridge, to
support our infantry, a few hundred yards in front of us, with orders
not to abandon the ridge under any circumstances. Here we remained
until late in the afternoon without further orders, in no particular
danger except from the shells from the enemy’s artillery that came over
the ridge and fell around us pretty constantly. Generals McCulloch
and McIntosh had both been killed early in the day, and Colonel Louis
Hebert, who was senior colonel and next in rank, had been captured. All
this was unknown to us, and also unknown to General Van Dorn, who was
with General Price near Elkhorn Tavern, two or three miles east of our
position. Late in the afternoon Colonel Greer sent a courier in search
of General McIntosh or General McCulloch, to ask for instructions, or
orders, and the sad tidings came back that they were both killed; nor
could Colonel Hebert be found.
The firing ceased at night, but we remained on the field, uncertain as
to the proper thing to do, until a courier who had been sent to General
Van Dorn returned about 2 A. M., with orders for all the forces to
move around to General Price’s position. When this was accomplished it
was near daylight, and we had spent the night without sleep, without
rations, and without water. General Curtis, perhaps discovering our
movement, was also concentrating his forces in General Price’s front.
The Confederates made an attack on the enemy early in the morning,
and for an hour or two the firing was brisk and spirited, but as our
men were starved out and their ammunition about exhausted, they were
ordered to cease firing. As the Federals also ceased firing, the forces
were withdrawn quietly and in an orderly manner from the field, and we
moved off to the south, moving east of General Curtis, having passed
entirely around his army.
The number of forces engaged in this battle were not definitely given.
General Van Dorn in his report stated that he had less than 14,000 men,
and estimated the Federal force at from 17,000 to 24,000, computing
our loss at 600 killed and wounded and 200 prisoners, a total of 800.
General Curtis reported that his forces engaged consisted of about
10,500 infantry and cavalry, with 49 pieces of artillery, and his
statement of losses, killed, wounded, and missing adds up a total of
1384. The future historian, the man who is so often spoken of, is going
to have a tough time if he undertakes to record the truths of the war.
When commanding officers will give some facts and then round up their
official reports with fiction, conflicts will arise that, it appears
to me, can never be reconciled. A private soldier or a subordinate
officer who participates in a battle can tell little about it beyond
what comes under his personal observation, which is not a great deal,
but he is apt to remember that little very distinctly.
In reference to the close of the battle, General Curtis among other
things said: “Our guns continued some time after the rebel fire ceased
and the rebels had gone down into the deep caverns through which
they had begun their precipitate flight. Finally our firing ceased.”
Speaking of the pursuit he says: “General Sigel also followed in this
pursuit towards Keetsville.... General Sigel followed some miles north
towards Keetsville, firing on the retreating force that ran that way.”
Then adds: “The main force took the Huntsville road which is directly
south.” This is true. Now, I dare say, there never was a more quiet,
orderly, and uninterrupted retreat from a battlefield. The Third Texas
was ordered to cover the retreat, and in order to do this properly we
took an elevated position on the battlefield, where we had to remain
until our entire army moved off and everybody else was on the march
and out of the way. The army moved out, not precipitately, but in a
leisurely way, not through “deep caverns,” but over high ground in
plain view of the surrounding country. Company C was ordered to take
the position of rear guard, in rear of the regiment. The regiment
finally moved out, Company C waiting until it had gone some distance,
when the company filed into the road and moved off. And then James E.
Dillard and the writer of this remained on the field until the entire
Confederate army was out of sight. During all this time not a Federal
gun was fired, not a Federal soldier came in view. Nor were we molested
during the entire day or night, although we moved in a leisurely way
all day, and at night Company C was on picket duty in the rear until
midnight.
Keetsville is a town in Missouri north of the battlefield. Sigel, it
was stated, “followed some miles north towards Keetsville, firing on
the retreating force that ran that way.” There were about twenty-four
pieces of our artillery that got into the Keetsville road through
mistake; they were without an escort, entirely unprotected. After we
had gone about three days’ march, leaving Huntsville to our left and
Fayetteville to the right, the Third Texas was sent in search of this
artillery, and, after marching all night and until noon next day,
passing through Huntsville, we met them, and escorted them in. They
had not been fired on or molested in the least. The Federal officers,
however, were not chargeable with all the inaccuracies that crept into
official reports.
General Van Dorn in his report of this campaign, says: “On the 6th we
left Elm Springs for Bentonville.... I therefore endeavored to reach
Bentonville, eleven miles distant, by rapid march, but the troops
moved so slowly that it was 11 A. M. before the leading division
(Price’s)—reached the village, and we had the mortification to see
Sigel’s division, 7000 strong, leaving it as we entered.”
Now, as I have already stated, the Third Texas was in advance, and
we saw Sigel leaving Bentonville long before 11 A. M., and Price’s
division never saw them in Bentonville nor anywhere else that day.
General Curtis reported that two of his divisions had just reached his
position, near Pea Ridge, when word came to him that General Sigel, who
had been left behind with a detachment of one regiment, was about to
be surrounded by a “vastly superior force,” when these two divisions
marched rapidly back and with infantry and artillery checked the rebel
advance, losing twenty-five men killed and wounded. So this was the
force that ambushed us, and according to this account, Sigel moved out
of Bentonville in the morning with one regiment, instead of 7000 men.
So the reader of history will never know just how much of fiction he is
getting along with the “history.”
Leaving the battlefield in the manner stated, we moved very slowly all
day. In fact, fatigue, loss of sleep, and hunger had rendered a rapid
movement impossible with the infantry. Our men were so starved that
they would have devoured almost anything. During the day I saw some of
the infantry men shoot down a hog by the side of the road, and, cutting
off pieces of the meat, march on eating the raw bloody pork without
bread or salt. The country through which we were marching was a poor,
mountainous district, almost destitute of anything for the inhabitants
to subsist upon, to say nothing of feeding an army. Stock of any kind
appeared to be remarkably scarce. J. E. Dillard managed to get a small
razor-back pig, that would weigh perhaps twenty-five pounds, strapped
it on behind his saddle and thus carried it all day. When we were
relieved of picket duty and went into camp at midnight, he cut it up
and divided it among the men. I drew a shoulder-blade, with perhaps as
much as four ounces of meat on it. This I broiled and ate without salt
or bread.
We continued the march southward, passing ten or twelve miles east
of Fayetteville. About the fourth day we had been resting, and the
commissary force was out hustling for something to eat, but before
we got any rations the Third Texas was suddenly ordered to mount
immediately and go in search of our missing artillery. This was in the
afternoon, perhaps four o’clock. Moving in a northeasterly direction,
we marched all night on to the headwaters of White River, where that
stream is a mere creek, and I do not think it would be an exaggeration
to say that we crossed it twenty times during the night. About 10 A. M.
we passed through Huntsville, county seat of Madison County, a small
town having the appearance of being destitute of everything. By this
time the matter of food had become a very serious question, and we
appeared to be in much greater danger of dying from starvation in the
mountains of northern Arkansas than by the enemy’s bullets. Our belts
had been tightened until there was no relief in that, and, as if to
enhance my own personal suffering, the tantalizing fact occurred to me
that I was treading my native heath, so to speak, for I am a native
of Madison County, and Huntsville had been my home for years, where
to enjoy three squares a day had been an unbroken habit of years. But
to-day I was literally starving in the town of Huntsville, County of
Madison, aforesaid, and not a friendly face could I see, nor could
a morsel of bread be procured for love or patriotism. Passing onward
two or three miles, and having learned that the guns were coming, we
rested, and privately made details to scour the country and beg for a
little food “for sick and wounded men.” Tom Johnson went out for our
mess, and the sorrowful tales that were told in behalf of the poor
sick and wounded soldiers we were hauling along in ambulances, with
nothing with which to feed them, would have melted a heart of stone.
The ruse was a success, as the details came in at night with divers
small contributions made from scant stores for “the poor sick and
wounded men,” which were ravenously consumed by the well ones. The
artillery shortly afterwards came up and was escorted by us to the
command. Camping that night a few miles from Huntsville, the artillery
had taken the wrong road as it left the battlefield, had gone up into
Missouri, and had had a long circuitous drive through the mountains,
but otherwise they were all right.
After we returned with the guns, the army moved on southward. When we
were again in motion, as there was no further apprehension of being
followed by the enemy, hunger having nearly destroyed my respect
for discipline, I left the column by a byroad leading eastwardly,
determined to find something to eat. This proved a more difficult
errand than I had expected, for the mountaineers were very poor and
apparently almost destitute of supplies. I had traveled twelve or
fifteen miles when I rode down the mountain into a little valley, at
the head of Frog Bayou, coming to a good log house owned and occupied
by a Mr. Jones, formerly of Jackson County, Alabama, and a brother of
Hosea, Allen, William, and Jesse Jones, good and true men, all of whom
I knew. If he had been my uncle I could not have been prouder to find
him. Here I got a good square meal for myself and horse, seasoned with
a good hearty welcome. This good, true old man was afterwards murdered,
as I learned, for his loyalty to the Confederate cause. After enjoying
my dinner and a rest, I proceeded on my way, intending to rejoin the
command that evening; but, missing the road they were on, I met the
regiment at our old winter quarters. Thus about the middle of March
the Third Texas Cavalry was again housed in the huts we had erected on
the bank of the Arkansas River. I do not know the casualties of the
regiment, but as far as I remember Company C had only one man, Jos.
Welsh, wounded, and one man, Orderly Sergeant W. M. Caldwell, captured.
But as the prisoners were exchanged, our captured men soon returned to
us.
Thus ended a short campaign which involved much suffering to me, as
well as others, and was the beginning of trouble which nearly cost
me my life, a trouble which was not fully recovered from until the
following winter. When I was taken with measles in Missouri, the
disease affected my bowels, and they became ulcerated, and all through
the long spell of typhoid fever and the very slow convalescence this
trouble was very hard to control. When I left Rusk to return to the
army I was apparently well, but having been comfortably housed all
winter was not in proper condition to enter such a campaign at this
season of the year. Before leaving winter quarters the men were ordered
to prepare ten days’ rations, and when we overtook the command at
Fayetteville they had been out nearly that length of time, and rations
were already growing scarce. We furloughed men and a number of recruits
who had accompanied us to join the command were not here to draw or
prepare rations, and our only chance for a living was to share rations
with our comrades, who were as liberal and generous as they could be,
but they were not able to do much.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN D. R. GURLEY
Sixth Texas Cavalry, A. A. G. Ross’ Brigade]
From the time I overtook the command until we got back to winter
quarters was about ten days, and the few days we were in winter
quarters were spent in preparing to cross the Mississippi River. For
the first four or five days I managed to procure, on an average, about
one biscuit per day; for the other five days we were fortunate to get
anything at all to eat, and usually got nothing. We were in the snow
for two days and nights, and in a cold, drenching rain one night. On
the 7th it was impossible to get a drink of water, to say nothing of
food and sleep, and from the time the firing began in the morning until
the next morning we could get no water, although we were intensely
thirsty. While at winter quarters I had a chill, and started down grade
in health, a decline in physical condition that continued until I was
apparently nearly dead.
In December parts of our cavalry regiments went with Colonel James
McIntosh into the Indian Territory to suppress Hopothlaohola, an
ex-chief of the Creek nation, who, with a considerable band of
disaffected followers, was making trouble, and part of the Third Texas
went on this expedition. They had a battle with the Indians in the
mountains on the headwaters of Chustenala Creek, defeated and scattered
the warriors, captured their squaws, ponies, and negroes, scattering
them so effectually that we had no further trouble with them.