That the great victory at Brice’s Cross Roads had revived the spirits and brightened the hopes of Forrest’s men there could be no doubt. Flushed with victory, they believed that what had been done on the 10th of June could be done again. In a word, they concluded that Forrest now knew better how to defeat a superior force than ever before. Their confidence was so implicit that, even if conditions should not improve in other parts of the Confederacy, Forrest would continue to defeat superior forces whenever he went against them. It is well to make a note of this sentiment, for it served somewhat to explain the seemingly reckless bravery of the men in the next battle.

When we settled down to camp life at Aberdeen and Verona, I could but notice the smallness of the companies, and when on the march the regiment did not string out as it formerly did. This was significant. Here again was food for thought. Though one man could not do the work of two, preparations for another battle went forward. We were stirred by the reports brought in as to the strength of the next army that would meet us. It was said to be at Ripley and coming toward Pontotoc. Their objective point was Okolona and points further south, if practicable. Stephen D. Lee and Forrest occupied a strong natural position south of Pontotoc, and set about strengthening it. It was thought that General A. J. Smith, confident of his ability to envelope the Confederates, would assail the position in force. He had acquired a reputation as a tactician and fighter on other fields. Finding that the road to Okolona was blocked he withdrew from the Confederate front, and moving by the left flank took the road to Tupelo. A tactician thoroughly acquainted with the topography of the country could not have made a more judicious move, or taken more proper steps to select his own position for battle, and thus have his adversary assail him on his own ground, or not at all, while he was so posted. The quick eye of Forrest having detected, in a personal reconnoissance, the movement made, he made such disposition of his own forces that he could attack the enemy in the rear and on their right flank.

General Smith and General Forrest had approximately and respectively 14,000 and 10,000 men of all arms. Smith kept his army in such compact column movement and so well protected by guards and flankers that Forrest had strenuous work in trying to break into it. The Federals were always ready. This manner of fighting was kept up for about fourteen miles and under a July sun. Men and horses suffered greatly for want of water. Each side lost heavily. The Confederates confidently expected that victory would come to them much as it did in their last great contest. Therefore they fought desperately. The Federals adhering strictly to the tactics laid down by their General declined a general engagement till they could reach a strong natural position. In this respect, Smith acted just as if he knew exactly where he would find an advantageous position in which to deliver battle. And this he found at Harrisburg, a deserted village, which had been absorbed by Tupelo, when the railroad was built. They literally tore up the town by tearing down the houses and using the lumber for breast-works. They brought into requisition every conceivable solid object they could find and, in many places, threw on dirt. They had ample time during the night to make proper dispositions of their troops, so as to be ready for an assault. The Federal line was about a mile and a half in length, and much in the form of a semi-circle. Their twenty-four pieces of artillery were advantageously placed and there was a cavalry brigade on each flank. Their improvised works were garnished with a heavy line of infantry. Certainly the morale of the whole army must have been perfect because of its skillful handling and its success in repulsing the Confederates several times the previous day.

But what of the Southern soldiers, who were to be sent against this formidable array on this memorable morning of the 14th of July, 1864? Having bivouacked in the vicinity they were in line at 7 o’clock. General Forrest, at great risk and with a single individual, that gallant gentleman, Sam Donelson of his staff, having made a careful reconnoissance during the night, was advising with General Lee, who was now in chief command. That these two parties, distinguished in war, capable in command and trusted by their country, felt a heavy weight of responsibility is unquestionable. No element of selfishness was involved in this conference of two men who held in their hands the fate of thousands. They expected to share that day the dangers on the firing line, as was their habit, and therefore might very soon be in the presence of their Maker. Lee generously offered to waive his rank and tender the command for the day to Forrest. This the latter declined, giving as his chief reason the condition of his health. Neither was a man to shirk a responsibility. Lee said that they would move on the enemy’s lines at once. That Forrest did not acquiesce in this determination of Lee, though consenting to lead the right wing in the fight, I am prepared to believe from an incident that occurred the following day and of which I will write further along. Lee urged in support of his position the threatening attitude of the Federals at Mobile, Vicksburg and in North Alabama. Forrest knew that, after deducting horse-holders and other details incident to a battle, the effective fighting force of the Confederates did not exceed seven thousand five hundred men, the casualties of battle and the large number of men rendered unfit for duty by the excessive heat the previous day being considered in the estimate. The Confederates must move to the assault on the right and center through an open space of two hundred yards or more and on their left for fully a mile through an open old field. In the formation, Roddy’s Alabamians, led by Forrest, held the right; Buford’s Kentuckians and Tennesseeans, the center, and Mabry’s Mississippians the left, with the four batteries of artillery properly placed. From the moment the signal gun was heard the fighting was fast and furious, the officers and men struggling to reach the works notwithstanding the withering fire from the protected Federals. Rucker’s Brigade of Chalmers’ division, which had been held in reserve only for a short while, was ordered to the support of Mabry’s Brigade, which, though fighting to the death, was sorely pressed. This movement was on foot, through the open field and facing a broiling sun. This proud little brigade, composed of the Seventh Tennessee, Duff’s Regiment and A. H. Chalmers’ Battalion, rushed to its work with the rebel yell, and was soon intermingled with Mabry’s men near the Federal works. Rucker’s men, as did others, unmindful of their already depleted ranks and seemingly regardless of the issues of life and death, fought as if they expected some supreme moment was near when they would repeat the work of Brice’s Cross Roads. Rucker himself, when within fifty yards of the works, was wounded twice and carried from the field. Captain Statler, of Company E and three of his men were killed here and others wounded. The ground at this point was covered with the dead and wounded while the living were famished because of the intense heat and the lack of water. Human endurance had reached a limit. The Confederates, leaving their dead and wounded on the field, retreated with no attention to order. To save individual life was now all that could be expected of the living.

The battle had been lost, but not for the lack of courage, devotion to duty or gallant leadership. Both sides can’t win, but it is interesting, even at this distant day, especially to old soldiers, to consider the reasons of our defeat. A careful review of the campaign is fairly convincing that Forrest with the whole army, perhaps with less, could have defeated Smith on the hills just south of Pontotoc and, may be, would have turned the defeat into the usual Federal disaster. A like result might have been brought about anywhere on the road to Harrisburg, if Smith had turned upon Forrest for a pitched battle in the open field. But Smith, as I have heretofore shown, declined all offers of battle except such little engagements as were essential to protect his rear and right flank. He moved rapidly and in close order till he reached a choice natural position.

The great disparity of forces in actual battle, the fortified position of the enemy, the intense heat in a rapid charge and the long distance through an open field were all elements in the defeat of the Confederates. If, as some writers assert, our army was fought too much in detail, of which I know nothing, that of itself would have contributed to our defeat. Judging Forrest by his former and subsequent performances, it is safe to say that, if he had been in chief command and had concluded to make an assault at all, which is doubtful, he would have had every available man in the charge and made the work short, sharp and decisive.

But why assault at all? Here was an army in a strong position for defense, it is true, but in the best possible position to be held by an opposing force till starvation threatened. It was over a hundred miles from Memphis and in an enemy’s country, which had been devastated by two other raids. It was reasonable to suppose that this army, so far from its base, was running short of rations. It had expected to live off the rich country just below, which it never reached. Nothing demoralizes an army more than a prospect of impending hunger. Then why not wait one day or two days or a little longer, even in the face of threatening movements of the Federals at Mobile and other points? It is in the histories that they did not make any such move just then. Again, our commissary at Okolona, twenty miles distant, was furnishing us with supplies by wagon train. Within two days our army would have been in fine condition to pursue a hungry army in retreat. It is shown in General Smith’s official report that he had only one day’s rations when he left Tupelo, just as might have been reasonably expected. He abandoned his position fifteen hours after the repulse of the Confederates. He moved on the retreat much as he had on the march from Pontotoc to Harrisburg. Lee and Forrest having gathered up their shattered remnants attacked him at Old Town creek, where he made a stubborn resistance but only till his troops and trains could get well on the road. Clearly our men were in no condition to make anything more than a spiritless pursuit.

It is hardly worth while to speculate as to what would have been the result, if Smith had pressed his advantage, when he had driven the Confederates from his front. Undoubtedly it would have resulted disastrously to the Confederates. If he made a tactical error in the whole campaign, it was in this regard. True, he did not reach his objective, but neither did Sooy Smith and Sturgis. He saved his army intact, all of his artillery, and most of his wagons. The comparison is easily drawn. Having experienced the soothing influences of forty-four years, we can be just, liberal and fair. Then, A. J. Smith was a capable commander, and in the Harrisburg campaign did not lessen the prestige acquired on other fields.

As soon as the Federals abandoned their position and it had been occupied by the Confederates, I took advantage of the movement and hastened to the spot occupied by Company E, the previous day. The ground was literally strewn with the bodies of our precious slain, which had been lying where they fell for twenty-four hours. It was impossible to identify them except by their clothing and other articles. Captain J. P. Statler, William Wood, Jehu Field and David McKinney, another schoolboy of mine, must have been killed about the same time, as their bodies lay close together. First Wood, then Statler a few feet in advance and a still shorter space forward Field and McKinney at the foot of a post-oak that did not protect them from the enfilading fire of the enemy. In this group was Colonel Isham Harrison of the Sixth Mississippi with many of his own dead men about him. It was a most sorrowful sight to see Statler and his men wrapped in their blankets and buried where they fell. They appropriately sleep on the field of honor. The earth lay fresh on the grave of Captain Tate when Captain Statler was killed. Besides the four named, Robert D. Durrett of Bolivar, and Sam Gibson were mortally wounded earlier in the action and carried to the rear. Company E could ill afford to lose the men who fell at Harrisburg. Statler had shown himself to be a worthy successor to Tate. He was a faithful friend, a dashing gallant soldier and a fine horseman. I yet hold dear the friendship knitted closely by our association at Brice’s Cross Roads and on other fields.

In riding over the field at the time of which I write I heard of the deaths of others whom I knew. Among these was that of that fine young soldier, Tom Nelson of Company L, of whom I have had occasion to speak in connection with an incident at Ripley. Killed on the 13th at Barrow’s shop.

I found the breastworks of the Federals all that I have heretofore described. That part in front of which Company E fought was built like a Virginia worm fence, but with heavy house logs and other weighty objects. Thus their fire was enfilading upon all points of their front. The few trees standing there afforded little protection to our men. A grape shot and twenty-one minie balls struck the tree at the foot of which Field and McKinney lay dead.

I passed over to where the Kentuckians had fought under Crossland. Oh, the ghastly dead, and so many of them! Lieutenant-Colonel Sherrill of the Seventh Kentucky, killed near the works, was among them. The officer in charge of the burial squad quoted the lines:

I agreed with him. This was near the old Harrisburg church. I rode down the slope with others and stopped by the roadside. Along came General Forrest, wounded and riding in an open buggy. Just from the battle-field and suffering with a wound, he was somewhat excited. I remember well the sentiment he uttered. It was that expressed by the words: “Boys, this is not my fight, and I take no responsibility for it,” or words tantamount to these. I knew what he meant.

Now, I had known General Forrest for thirteen years. Why, the first creosote I ever saw he put into an aching tooth of mine, when on one of his trading expeditions he was camping in front of my father’s house on the road from Grenada to Greensboro. He was a man to impress even a stripling, as I was then. I should have carried his image in my mind to this day even if there had never been a war. A stalwart, who habitually went in his shirt sleeves. A man of commanding, but pleasing personality, with grayish-blue eyes who spoke kindly to children. A broad felt hat, turned up at the sides and surmounting a shock of black hair about completes the picture. I contrast this with this same figure, clothed in the resplendent uniform of a major-general, mounted on King Philip, at the head of his escort and with hat in hand in recognition of the plaudits extended, with hearty good will, by the people of Florence, Ala.

I insert here two extracts from the utterances of Lieutenant-Colonel David C. Kelley, at once the “Fighting Parson” and the Marshal Ney of Forrest’s Cavalry, but in peace the eminent citizen and eloquent divine: “Every individual private was trained to an unbounded belief in Forrest’s power to succeed.”

“The practical suggestions of the natural warrior were the safeguard of Hood’s army.”

Forrest’s last words: “I trust not in what I have done, but in the Captain of my salvation.”