The rest of the month of July, 1864, was spent by the Confederates in the rich prairie country below Okolona. About Gunn’s church we found the fields full of green corn, some in the roasting ear and much of it in that state of maturity when it is best to make jaded horses thrifty. Watermelons were cheap and abundant. There was no talk of scant rations. The farmers had been raising corn and hogs for war times. These conditions wonderfully revived the spirits of the men. Cornbread now and no biscuit. Plenty of greasy bacon and some with a streak of lean and a streak of fat. This held on a sharp stick and over the fire, and with the gravy dripping on the bread, was something good to look at. Some managed to always have a little sugar and coffee which they had secured with other captured spoils. As a rule, Confederate soldiers did not tolerate rye or other substitutes for coffee. They wanted the “pure stuff” or nothing. The weather was warm, and sleeping in the open air was refreshing. Company E had not stretched a tent for more than a year. Occasionally quartered in unoccupied houses, the men were generally protected against the elements by rude structures of such materials as was at hand, but mostly by captured rubber cloths, stretched over a pole resting in two forks stuck in the ground. If only one was to be accommodated, a convenient sapling was bent down till it assumed the shape of a bow and its top secured to the ground. Then the rubber cloth was stretched over this so that a soldier could crawl under. In both cases, the shelter was called a “shebang.” A good rest and full stomachs went far towards getting those of us who had been spared ready for the next campaign. We left the goodly land where “if you tickle the soil with a hoe, it will laugh with a harvest.” We went to Oxford to meet our late antagonist, General A. J. Smith, who was moving south with another fine army. Forrest with a greatly reduced force was compelled to meet him. It might be remembered as the wet August, for it rained almost incessantly. It would require every available man now. We stretched out our thin line along Hurricane creek, six miles north of Oxford. The Federals were crossing the Tallahatchie at Abbeville a few miles north of our position. Skirmishing began at once with the advance of the superior force of the Federals. By the 10th of August, 1864, Forrest had all his forces in line except Buford’s division, which was posted at Pontotoc to watch any movement east by the Federals. Before the main body of the Confederates arrived Smith had driven Chalmers’ division to the south side of the Yokona, several miles below Oxford. On the approach of reinforcements the Federals fell back across Hurricane creek to their former position. The heavy rains continued to fall and added greatly to the discomforts of our men. It was impossible to keep even moderately dry under the best “shebangs” that could be constructed, because the ground was saturated. We continued to strengthen our works with such poor material as we could get. At best, they would have given us poor protection in case of attack.

Rucker’s Brigade was now a thing of the past and the Seventh Tennessee was attached to Richardson’s Brigade, commanded by Colonel J. J. Neely. At his instance I had been temporarily detailed to attend to some clerical and other work in the ordnance department. For the time being I stopped at the quarters of Lieutenant-Colonel White, commanding the Fourteenth Tennessee, where we spent most of the time in trying to keep dry. Rations were in plenty, but we could scarcely get dry wood enough to cook them. Much of our ammunition was ruined and in our skirmishes many of the cartridges would not explode. All efforts to induce the Federals to cross to our side of the shallow creek failed, though our men frequently crossed to their side and, having engaged their advance, fell back hurriedly with the design of drawing them into a disadvantageous place. Colonel Neely one day, between showers, concluded to make an effort to lead the Federal cavalry into a well planned ambuscade by offering them superior inducements. The Fourteenth Regiment under White was ordered to cross the creek, dismount and get in a well-chosen place in the thick bushes and parallel with the road. A detachment of Neely’s escort, with which I crossed over, was to ride forward, engage the Federal advance briskly, and retreat in some confusion. The enemy took the bait and came on at a canter. Luckily for them, their flankers struck the right of the dismounted regiment and gave the alarm. However, part of their pursuing force came up to where the escort was posted. The dense growth of timber on this spot so obscured the view that the Federal cavalry soon found themselves face to face with, and in short range of, our reserve, and those who had rallied. It was a most exciting contest for only a minute or two, and chiefly with pistols, on our side, but both parties seemed to have lost the knack of hitting anything, for I saw no dead or wounded, though we quickly drove the enemy upon their reserve and kept up a spirited gunplay until it was our time to fall back. Everybody realized the inability of the Confederates to cope with the greatly superior force of the Federals, and we were liable to be driven from our position by a heavy flank movement at any time. A knowledge of this, of course, was possessed by the rank and file, and the suspense concerning coming results was great. In the midst of our anxiety, Colonel White received orders to prepare rations for an expedition. That something radical was on the tapis was evident. Only picked men and horses were wanted. It got abroad in camp that we were going to Memphis. That looked radical, but pleased us. There was a weeding out of sick men, sore back and lame horses. The camp took on new life. As the duties of my special assignment were about discharged, I could have asked to be relieved and to be returned to my own company, which was not under orders, but I preferred to take part in whatever excitement was in store for us, so I said nothing and went to Memphis with Colonel White. We left camp on the night of the 18th of August, 1864, in a downpour and in darkness so great that we could scarcely see the road. I had hard work that night with the help of a small detachment in having a quantity of cornbread baked by the good women along our way, keeping it dry, and promptly joining the regiment next morning on the road to Panola. At this old town there was a short delay to get the column well up, and to have another culling of disabled men and horses, for the night march had been a severe one on both man and beast. Having crossed the Tallahatchie, we turned our faces toward Memphis. The sun was now shining, and everybody was in jolly, good spirits. Our clothing was drying rapidly by evaporation. Reaching Senatobia, twenty-three miles from Panola, we rested till next morning. In the meantime, a competent detail was building a bridge over the Hickahala, a creek just north of the town, and swollen by the heavy rains. And such a bridge! An old flatboat placed in midstream for a central pontoon, and strengthened by floats made of dry cedar telegraph poles, which were bound together by grapevines, constituted the body of the structure. Other poles were used as beams to piece out the bridge, and over the whole was laid a floor of planks brought by hand from the ginhouses in the neighborhood. Finally, a twisted cable of grapevines was placed on the side down stream, and lashed to trees on either bank. The men dismounted and led their horses over in column of twos. The two pieces of artillery with their caissons were wheeled across by hand. At Coldwater river, seven miles further north, a longer bridge was required. The men assigned to the work of building one were not long in completing it, and the command crossed over as they did over the first bridge. Twice that morning I was reminded of the aphorism that “necessity is the mother of invention.”

At the Coldwater bridge there was a wagon heavily loaded with corn in the shuck, which was thought to be too heavy for the bridge. General Forrest ordered the corn thrown out and the wagon and corn carried over by hand. He was the first man to carry an armful across. There was hardly need of his setting the example for the men, for everybody was for leaving nothing undone that would hasten the expedition to a glorious conclusion. I never saw a command look more like it was out for a holiday. At Hernando we were twenty-five miles from our objective. From there on we had no rain, the road was better, and we moved along at a pace like that of Van Dorn, when on his way to Holly Springs. We were fondly expecting to write ditto under his performance, but in much larger letters, the very next morning. Forrest left Oxford with about fifteen hundred men, and every one of them thought that, if he “sought the bubble reputation at the cannon’s mouth,” he would likely draw a prize package into the bargain. The latter might be in the shape of a pair of boots or a horse, a suit of clothes or a small quantity of “store coffee.” A buttermilk and soda biscuit would not be “turned down,” if we took the town. Hilarity was hilarious and that’s the truth about it.

To water and to rest the horses a little were imperative. Every man carried a small quantity of shelled corn. The utmost quiet was now insisted upon. When within a few miles of the city Forrest had a consultation with his field officers, and these with their company officers, who gave quiet and explicit instructions to the men. The most drastic order was that if any officer or soldier saw one plundering he should shoot him on the spot. The different regiments were assigned to particular duties in certain localities in the city. More information was imparted to subordinate officers and private soldiers than is usual on such occasions. I think that it was intended that every man in the command should, as nearly as possible, understand just what his own regiment was to do in taking the city. Everybody about the head of the Fourteenth Tennessee understood that Captain Bill Forrest and his company would surprise and capture the vidette and outpost. While we believed that General Forrest was acting upon reliable information from spies and scouts as to the situation of affairs in Memphis, we knew that there was always a chance for an enemy to be fully informed. In that case, we did not know but that deadly ambuscades would be set for us. As we moved at a walk, the report of a single gun was heard. It was likely that some poor fellow had gone to his death. Day was breaking, but there was a dense fog. The column, moving by fours, struck a lively pace. The Fourteenth Regiment, turning into Mississippi avenue at Kerr soon plunged into a mudhole, which, in the dim light, looked interminable. Another command ahead of us was struggling to get through it. The men in the rear crowded upon those retarded in front, and the confusion was likely to defeat the whole plan of attack, which was to be executed promptly and rapidly. It added to the excitement that Captain Forrest’s company, pushing on into the city, had encountered a Federal battery near Trigg avenue, and we could hear the firing. The delay was unfortunate, but we soon got upon firmer ground. The men, by this time, had broken into a shout. As the Fourteenth Regiment was one of those designated for that purpose, Colonel White quickly dashed into the large Federal encampment to the right, and in a large grove, a part of which is yet standing. The tents stood in long white rows, but their occupants, recovering somewhat from their surprise, had rallied a little further north, and were delivering a brisk fire in the darkness, caused by the fog, but to very little purpose. In large, bold letters, I could see on the tents inscribed the words “One Hundred and Thirty-seventh Illinois Infantry.” The smoke from the guns of both sides intensified the foggy darkness. As we pushed through the encampment, I espied a man lying in one of the bunks with which the tents were supplied. The poor fellow had been left alone and sick. I advised him to lie still, as I did not care to see a non-resistant increase his chances of death by rising up. A splendid pair of army shoes was sitting on a shelf in front of a tent. Somehow, in the excitement, I reached down for the shoes and tied them to my saddle. I thought of the strict orders given in regard to appropriating anything prematurely, but I was practically barefoot. The shoes were new and a perfect fit. They supplied the place of the boots secured at Union City, and were good shoes at the surrender. I was fully repaid for my part in the raid.

Forrest’s movement on Memphis was now a success or a failure, for we understood that in a surprise orders were to be executed rapidly.

Colonel Neely, with the Fourteenth Tennessee, Second Missouri, and Chalmers’ Battalion, drove the infantry force in his front rapidly back to a position about the State Female College, in and around which there was some stubborn fighting. The Confederate loss here was light.

As we were all anxious to hear what our men in the city had done, I rode to the intersection of Mississippi avenue and McLemore to seek information. This was scant, but to the effect that our men were carrying everything before them; in fact, that Forrest had complete possession of the city, notwithstanding the Federals had an effective force of five thousand men of all arms, including that part of it fighting around the college. The fog had lifted, and we were having a bright day. By 9 o’clock the object of the raid had been fairly accomplished, and the Confederates in the city began to come out in disorganized squads. Two of our men were reported killed on Main street. A son of Dr. J. S. Robinson, of Whiteville, was killed in the fight about the college. As the superior Federal force rapidly recovered from its surprise, it became dangerous for those who had lingered to depart from the city. At one point, Forrest himself, with the Second Missouri, attacked an advancing Federal detachment of cavalry, and with his own hands killed Colonel Starr, a Federal officer. It only remained to secure the spoils which had been gathered up and a large number of horses besides about six hundred prisoners. If, as a result of the raid, a retrograde movement of Smith’s army at Oxford was at hand, it could be written down as a big success, for that was its main purpose. It is true that Forrest had planned to capture the three Federal Generals, who escaped the clutches of the Confederates by the merest chance. In connection with what our men did really accomplish, I have heard some interesting stories, but I have always regarded these as largely fanciful. Many believe to this day that Forrest, booted and spurred, rode into the Gayoso Hotel, but in his lifetime, he never lent encouragement to this belief. However, it is authentically stated that Captain Forrest, with some of his company, did what has been attributed to his brother, the General. I have it from a reliable witness that the Captain did kill a Federal officer, who did not promptly realize that he had fallen into the hands of his enemies. I remark that this account is not intended to be a history of all things that transpired on that memorable morning of August 21, 1864, but rather a reminiscence of those things that fell under my personal observation, or of which I had authentic information on the spot.

We retired at our leisure to Mississippi, where news soon reached us that the Federals had driven Chalmers, with his inferior force, to the south side of the Yokona, and were committing depredations in and around Oxford. They had burnt the courthouse and many other buildings, including the fine residence of Jacob Thompson, with its hundred thousand dollars worth of furnishings. It was said, and it turned out to be true, that Mrs. Thompson was robbed of such valuable articles as she could hastily carry out. In giving his men such license, General Edward Hatch had revealed his true character as a man. He had won renown on the battle-field, and shown himself to be an able commander and skillful tactician, but had disgraced himself in the eyes of all advocates of civilized warfare.

Just as Forrest had anticipated, the Federals began to fall back from Oxford, as soon as their commander heard the news from Memphis. General James R. Chalmers was entitled to great praise for the skillful manner in which he had handled his troops and concealed from the enemy the absence of Forrest. He held a position that required tact, discretion and courage, and met the expectations of his chief. I remember him well, and can recall his character as that of a man who, as occasion required, could move an audience by his eloquence, charm the fastidious with his felicity of diction, and gallantly lead his men in battle. Personally, “Little Bun” was popular with the rank and file, as he was one of the most approachable of men. Scrupulously uniformed and finely mounted, he presented an attractive figure on review. A man of literary taste, he sometimes courted the muses. He was the reputed author of some words I heard sung in war times to the air of Bonnie Doone. These words might well be brought to light again and take their place in popular esteem by the side of “Dixie” and “The Bonnie Blue Flag.” Perhaps some one of those who used to be called “the pretty girls of Bolivar,” but who, alas, are now wearing frosted crowns, could find in her old portfolios the words which might serve to keep green the memory of a gallant Confederate.

To rest in shady groves, to sleep by lulling waters, to hear the songs of birds, the hum of bees, the tinkling bells of lowing kine, bring more pleasing thoughts to mind than those of war and deadly strife. To things like these we turned after the Memphis raid, but not for long. The people praised the deeds of Forrest’s Cavalry, the marvel of horseback fighting, and the worthy rival of trained infantry, but the soldiers’ paeans of victory always had a minor note of sorrow for our desolate land, the tears of widows and orphans, and our increasing casualties in battle. Our poor fellows were falling, and our line becoming shorter, as the living pressed their shoulders together.

We camped on the Yokona, at Oakland and Grenada, and I returned to Company E.