KIRKSVILLE
No sooner had the affrighted cries of the guerrillas died away, than
Lawrence, calling back his men, said: "We must now be up and away. By
morning the guerrillas will be over their fright, and we will be
surrounded. Let the dead and wounded lie, though make the wounded as
comfortable as possible. It will not be long before some of their
comrades will be creeping back to care for them."
To Lawrence's delight, he found that not a single one of his men had
been harmed. In the highest of spirits, the men mounted their horses and
rode away.
All night they rode and, when morning came, they halted by a field of
corn, and once more gave their horses a fine feed, while the men made
coffee and feasted on roasting ears.
"Boys, which shall it be--Mexico or Paris?" asked Lawrence. "From what
we learned from Duncan, it is the intention of Porter to unite all his
force near Paris, and then move north. Guitar must be in Mexico by this
time, but there will be no fighting there. No doubt he will keep on to
Paris."
"To Paris!" shouted the men. "Let's go where the fighting will be. Our
horses are quite fresh. We can be there by night."
"What if we run into Porter and his whole gang?" asked Lawrence,
smiling.
"Lick the whole gang!" they yelled.
"You're all right, boys, but I hardly think you can do that; at least,
we won't try as long as I'm leader," laughed Lawrence.
The day was hot and the roads dusty, and Lawrence favored the horses all
possible, but they made good progress. Taken for guerrillas by the
inhabitants, they fared well, and much information was given them.
Much to Lawrence's surprise, he learned that Porter had taken and sacked
Paris the day before, and that McNeil had moved down from Palmyra and
driven him out. More serious still was the news that Porter had been
reinforced, and had attacked and expected to recapture the place.
This was news, indeed. If true, Porter was squarely between them and
Paris. A consultation was held, and it was the unanimous opinion that
they should keep on and join McNeil, if they could.
As they neared Paris, they heard firing, and became aware a slight
skirmish was in progress. They halted, and while debating what best to
do, a couple of guerrillas came riding towards them.
"Who be yo' un?" they asked of Lawrence, as they rode up.
"We 'uns are from Galloway County, on our way to join Porter," answered
Lawrence. "I heah fightin'. What is it?"
"Oh, a few of us are only amusing the Yanks while Porter gits away,"
said the men.
"Then Porter is not heah?"
"No; he an' most of his men air miles north by this time. He left about
a hundred of us here to make believe we 'uns ware goin' to attack Paris,
so to give him time to git away. Thar, yo' uns don't hear any shooting
now. The boys have amused the Yanks as long as they wanted to, and now
air on their way to jine Porter, and bet your life the Yanks don't catch
them."
"What are you doing here, away from your command?" asked Lawrence,
sternly.
The guerrillas started at the change in the speech and manner of
Lawrence. "We 'uns," they stammered, "we 'uns live about five miles
back, and we 'uns was goin' to see the folks. We 'uns can easily
overtake the boys by riding all night."
A sign from Lawrence, and, to the amazement of the guerrillas, they were
looking into the muzzles of revolvers.
"It's all up with you, fellows," said Lawrence. "We are Yanks. Boys,
disarm them."
The guerrillas' faces were as white as chalk, and they began to beg for
their lives. They had only just joined Porter, they declared, and they
were sick of it already. They had never molested a Union man. In fact,
they had told a lie--they were deserting, instead of going to visit
their families, as they said.
"If that is the case," said Lawrence, "you will readily give us all the
information you can. No doubt Colonel McNeil will be pleased to see you;
so come along."
It was as the prisoners had said--the guerrillas had gone, and Lawrence
had no trouble in riding into Paris, where he was gladly welcomed by
McNeil, who had been in fear he was being attacked by an overwhelming
force. It was welcome news that Lawrence brought, that Colonel Guitar
was in Mexico by this time, with five hundred good men; but that Porter
was retreating north, was a big surprise to McNeil.
"He must have at least a thousand men," said McNeil. "I thought he would
stay and fight this time, sure. I see we will have to chase the fox."
During the night the advance of Colonel Guitar's column came in. Guitar
had been taken sick at Mexico, but had sent forward five hundred men
under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Shaffer.
McNeil, his force now augmented by Shaffer's, resolved to push Porter to
the limit, and if possible bring him to battle.
A pursuit now commenced which lasted a week--a pursuit that every
soldier that was present will always remember. Men grew haggard for want
of sleep; horses staggered under the weight of their riders, and then
fell dying by the side of the road. Across prairies and streams, through
woods and tangled thickets, over rocky hills, almost inaccessible, the
pursuit led. By every art known to the wily Porter did he try to mislead
his pursuers; but they hung on to his trail like grim death.
More than once would the pursuers have been at fault had it not been for
Lawrence and his little band of scouts. Hanging on to the flank and at
times almost ahead of Porter, they were enabled to keep McNeil well
posted as to the movements of his foes.
More than once did the faithful Bruno keep the scouts from falling into
ambuscades, and more than once shots were fired at him by the vengeful
guerrillas. But Bruno had become as cunning and wary as a fox in keeping
out of danger. It was but a glimpse the guerrillas could get at him as
he stole through the woods.
"What now, Bruno? What's the matter?" asked Lawrence one day, as the dog
came rushing back in the greatest excitement. The scouts were in
advance, and had been following the trail through a rough and broken
country.
The dog gave a short bark, and looked to the front, as if to say, "Look
out--trouble ahead."
Lawrence gave the order to halt, and told Harry and another of the
company to dismount and steal carefully through the woods, and see what
they could discover. They did so, and soon came to a stream. The bridge
that spanned it had, to Harry's astonishment, been only partially
destroyed; it could easily be crossed. This looked suspicious. The other
bank of the stream was covered by a thick growth of bushes. Their leaves
rustled gently as they were touched by the breeze, and that was all.
There was no sign of life. Bruno, as he looked across the stream, gave a
low, menacing growl, and his eyes shone like two coals of fire. The
road, after crossing the bridge, was narrow, and ran between two hills,
both thickly wooded.
"There's something over there in the bushes," whispered Harry. "We'd
better go back and report to the Captain."
They did so.
"We'll wait until some of the command come up," said Lawrence.
They had not long to wait. A company of Merrill Horse that was leading
the advance came in sight. To the Captain in command Lawrence explained
his fear of an ambuscade in front. The company was halted, the men
dismounted, and a skirmish line formed. The men were instructed to work
their way carefully to the bank of the stream, but not to show
themselves.
"I see nothing alarming over there," said the Captain of the company, as
he swept the other side of the stream with his glass.
"There is something," said Lawrence. "I have just seen a bush tremble
more than if stirred by the wind. That half-destroyed bridge is but a
trap."
By this time more of the troop had come up, and had been halted. With
them were a couple of pieces of artillery.
"We are losing valuable time," grumbled the Captain. "We'd better ride
on, before McNeil gives us thunder."
"Not if I can prevent it," said Lawrence. "Bring up that artillery."
The two pieces were brought as close to the river as they could without
being seen. The horses were then unhitched, and the pieces run forward
by hand, so that a few yards more would bring them into view, and in a
position where they could sweep the bushes on both sides of the road
across the stream.
"Load with canister," ordered Lawrence. "When all is ready, I will order
a volley fired across the river into the bushes. Wait for the returning
volley, for I am sure it will come; then run up your pieces and sweep
both sides of the road."
The skirmishers crept carefully forward, and at the word poured a volley
into the bushes across the stream. The effect was electrical. The bushes
seemed to burst into smoke and flame, and then came a crashing volley in
return. Quick as thought, the two cannon were run forward and a storm of
canister swept the bushes. There were howls of rage, curses and groans,
and the guerrillas were in wild flight.
With cheers the men ran back, mounted their horses and started in
pursuit, thinking the time had come for them to annihilate Porter and
his gang.
Porter had planned well. A short distance from the bridge the road
passed through a narrow, rocky defile, and this was so obstructed that
it took two hours to remove the obstructions so the command could pass
through. Porter had left his horses on the other side of the
obstruction, so when his men broke all they had to do was to make their
way to their horses.
Porter did not try any more ambuscades. His only thought was to elude
his pursuers and get away. He came nearly doing it, and for a day McNeil
was in doubt as to which way he had gone--to the northwest or the north.
It was Lawrence and his scouts who brought the news. His report was:
"Porter crossed the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad last night at
Shelbina. He is said to be making for Kirksville, where he expects to be
joined by the guerrilla bands of northwestern Missouri. His force is
estimated at two thousand, which, I think, is an overestimate, but as he
goes north, it is hourly increasing."
"I don't care whether he has two thousand or five thousand; I am going
to catch him and make him fight," said McNeil, grimly. The pursuit was
once more taken up, the column headed for Kirksville.
There is only one county in Missouri north of the county in which
Kirksville is situated. It was as far north as Porter could hope to go
without being surrounded by enemies. Full of hope that he would be
forced to give battle at Kirksville, McNeil pressed on.
So rapid was the pursuit that McNeil, as he neared Kirksville, could not
bring over five hundred men into action. His trains and his men with
broken-down horses had been left behind. All along the route Porter's
force had been reported as fully three thousand, but three thousand did
not alarm McNeil, who had faith in his little army.
As the Federals approached Kirksville, Lawrence, who had been scouting,
reported that Kirksville had been occupied by Porter, and that he had
expelled the entire inhabitants of the place. His horses he had
concealed in the brush west of the town.
"These facts," said Lawrence, "I have learned from the three prisoners I
have here."
McNeil questioned the prisoners, but they were surly and would say
nothing. The facts that Lawrence had learned were told him when they
believed him to be one of their number. When undeceived and told to
surrender, their surprise was only equalled by their chagrin.
In bringing them back, Lawrence noticed one of the prisoners stealthily
throw away some papers. They were secured and found to be a parole and
an oath of allegiance to the National Government.
"I'm sorry," said Lawrence, "but this fact must be reported to Colonel
McNeil."[3]
[Footnote 3: This prisoner and fifteen others were afterwards executed
by McNeil for the breaking of their paroles.]
It was a beautiful August morning when McNeil's little army reached the
outskirts of the village of Kirksville. To all appearances, they gazed
upon a deserted town. If the angel of death had passed over the place
and had smitten every man, woman and child, it could not have been more
silent, death-like. The hot sun beat down upon the streets and houses,
but awoke no life. The stillness was unearthly, appalling. What did it
mean?
"Can it be that Porter has slipped away without our knowing it?" asked
McNeil.
"Impossible," answered Lawrence. "The whole guerrilla force is concealed
in the stores and houses. They are hoping we will think the place
unoccupied; then as we ride through the streets they can open fire and
slaughter us without mercy."
"How can we find out where they are?" asked McNeil, rather anxiously.
Lawrence thought a moment, and then said: "Colonel, give me a few men
and I will make a dash down the main street, and around the square. If
they are hidden, we will surely draw their fire, and thus reveal their
position."
McNeil looked at Lawrence in amazement. "Do you mean it?" he asked.
"I certainly do."
"Why, it would mean almost certain death--suicide."
"I am willing to try."
McNeil thought a moment and then said: "Captain, you must not do it. If
you were one of my officers, I might consent; but with you it is
different. You are on special duty from General Schofield. It is true
you have acted as one of my aids, and as leader of my scouts, for which
I am grateful. But for you to lead such a forlorn hope, I cannot--will
not--permit such a sacrifice on your part."
Colonel Shaffer, of the Merrill Horse, who had been present during the
conversation, now said: "Colonel, you are right. To permit Captain
Middleton to do what he proposes would be a reflection on our command;
especially would I consider it so on the Merrill Horse. I will make a
detail, and lead the forlorn hope myself."
"No, you will not," cried three or four officers of his regiment, who
had come up in time to hear his proposal. "Our Colonel leading as
desperate an undertaking as that, and we looking on! Why, every mother's
son of us should be shot for cowardice. Detail one of us."
Shaffer looked upon his officers with pride. "It is just what I might
have expected," he exclaimed, his voice trembling. "Lieutenant Coudrey,
you spoke first. You may go if you wish; but mind, I don't order you."
Coudrey saluted and said: "Colonel, I thank you. I need no order."
"How many men will you need, Lieutenant?" asked Shaffer.
"Eight, I think, will be enough. I do not wish to expose more than
necessary."
Lieutenant Coudrey returned to his company, explained to them what was
to be done, and added: "Not one that comes with me may ever come back. I
want eight volunteers."
He looked up and down the line. For a moment there was not a sound. The
men gazed into each others' faces blankly; and then, as if by common
impulse, the whole company rode forward.
"God bless you, my men, my brave boys! I might have known it, but I
cannot take you all. The first eight will do. That will save me choosing
man by man."
History tells of great charges. Pickett's charge at Gettysburg, and
Hood's at Franklin, will live as long as American history is written;
but history tells nothing of these small affairs. Yet who will say that
Lieutenant Coudrey and his eight men did not perform a braver deed than
do men who, in the heat of battle, rush up to the mouth of the cannon?
It is the individual bravery, the scout and the skirmish, which make the
romance of war.
All was ready, and as they started a thousand eyes followed them, and
with bated breath their comrades watched them as they rode. Each carried
a heavy revolver, that they might return the fire they would receive.
Down the street they rode at full speed, but not a shot was fired; the
town lay still as dead. They reached the square. "Is it possible----"
exclaimed McNeil, but his speech was cut short. As the little squad
turned to ride around the square, flashes of fire and little clouds of
smoke burst from doors and windows of stores and houses. The village had
suddenly come to life.
[Illustration: Down the street they rode at full speed.]
From their revolvers Coudrey and his men returned the fire as they rode.
A horse goes down, then another. A man throws up his arms and tumbles
headlong, but those that live dash on. The circuit is made, the hell of
fire passed through, and the enemy is located.
Coudrey, his face blackened with smoke, and his eyes blazing with the
light of battle, came riding back. His hand was grasped by both McNeil
and Shaffer. Neither could speak for a moment, and then they could only
gasp: "Thank God!"
Strange as it may seem, Lieutenant Coudrey had passed through the fiery
ordeal unscathed; but of the eight men who rode with him, two were
killed, three more wounded, and five of the eight horses lay dead.
The position of the enemy uncovered, McNeil dismounted his force, and
the battle was opened. From house to house the men forced their way, and
at the end of two hours the enemy were in full flight. The artillery of
the Federals played an important part in the action, and did much
towards turning the victory. Porter had at least three or four men to
one in this action, but his force was poorly disciplined, and stood
little show against the seasoned veterans of McNeil.[4]
[Footnote 4: Colonel McNeil reports his loss in this action as
twenty-eight killed and sixty wounded. He estimates the loss of the
guerrillas as one hundred and fifty killed, three hundred wounded and
forty-seven prisoners. Horses captured, one hundred and fifty.]
The routed guerrillas took refuge in the timber which skirted the
Chariton, but early the next morning the Merrill Horse was after them.
The next day Porter was caught at Stockton and completely routed, losing
nearly a hundred men. Porter himself barely escaped, but with a few
followers he made his way back to his old haunts, and a couple of months
later was the cause of one of the most lamentable tragedies enacted in
Missouri during the war.