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.

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.