On the first of August General Lyon marched out on the road to the southwest and in the direction where the enemy was supposed to be; in fact, where it was positively known that he could be found. Most of the wagons were left behind, and among them were those driven by Jack and Harry. Not wishing to miss the chance of seeing a battle, those enterprising youths accompanied the column by permission of their regimental quartermaster, and under promise to return whenever word reached them that they were wanted.

August is a hot month in that part of the country; in fact, it is a hot month, as everybody knows, from one end of the United States to the other. Only a few miles were made on the first day's march from Springfield, but those few miles witnessed the exhaustion of many of the soldiers. The next day the column moved on to a place known as “Dug Spring,” probably to distinguish it from the natural springs which abound through that country. And the heat of that day was something terrific.

Scores of men, overcome by the sultry atmosphere, dropped out of the line of march and fell exhausted by the roadside, where some of them died from the effects of sunstroke. Water was to be found only at long intervals, and when found the springs were soon rendered muddy or were completely exhausted by the crowds that rushed into them.

In southwest Missouri, as in many parts of the southern states, the spring which supplies a residence is covered with a frame building eight or ten feet square, and known as the springhouse. There are very few cellars in that region, and the springhouse is used for preserving milk, meat and other articles requiring the lowest attainable temperature in the absence of ice. The spring that gave the name to the locality in question was of this sort, and a small stream of water flowed from it perpetually, and probably is flowing still. To realize what happened there, let us quote from a letter which Harry wrote that evening to his mother:

“My Dear Mother: I have known what it was to be very thirsty, but until to-day I never knew what it was to suffer—actually suffer—for want of water, though I have often thought I knew. It was one of the hottest days I ever saw in my life; the road was just one long line of dust, as no rain had fallen for some time and the ground was perfectly dry. We had a little skirmishing with the rebels in front of us, but it was very evident that we only met small scouting parties of them, as they fell back very soon after we met them. But so much did the men suffer for want of water that they didn't care for the enemy, and would have risked their lives for a cooling drink from a brook or spring.

“We had left Wilson's Creek and Tyrol's Creek behind us; they are little streams or brooks that ordinarily contain only a few inches of water, but are said to be small rivers in their way when heavy rains fall. We went several miles without water, and at length the head of the column reached a large spring, which they told us was made by digging in the low ground, and for this reason it was called Dug Spring.

“Of course the first men that came to it rushed into the little springhouse to quench their thirst and fill their canteens, which they succeeded in doing. But before they had done so the crowd around the building was so dense that those inside could not get out; everybody was frantically seeking for water, water, water, and so wild were the men that the officers could not control them.

“They lifted the springhouse from its foundations and threw it to one side, but this didn't help matters any. As fast as the men came up and the word was passed that there was a spring there, the ranks were broken and all that the officers could do was not enough to keep the men in place. Officers and men struggled together for water and all distinctions of rank were lost.

“The spring was soon exhausted and so was a trough close by that contained water which had evidently stood there for some days. A pool a little way below the spring, where the hogs had wallowed, was eagerly sought by the struggling crowd and their feet stirred the contents so that it was half mud. Soldiers had a hard struggle to fill their canteens with this stuff, and when they had done so and came out of the crowd they refused to give away a single drop. One of the newspaper correspondents says he saw an officer offer five dollars to a soldier for a canteen full of this liquid, and the soldier refused it, saying he could not get any more and would die himself unless he had something to drink.

“By the time Jack and I got to the spring the water was all gone and we didn't know what to do, as we were ready to drop with thirst. Our tongues were swollen and almost hanging from our mouths, and we felt we could not stand it much longer. I dashed into the crowd at the spring and saw it was no use; then I got into the other crowd at the pool and tore up two handfuls of the moist earth and carried them to one side. Jack did just like me, and we managed to squeeze a few drops of water out of the earth which we had thus secured. We tried it again, others did the same thing, and somehow we managed to get enough to cool our throats just a little.

“We camped this evening on a little creek a few miles further on, and here we are. The men care little for food; all they want just now is to get enough water to drink. The camp is in great confusion and if a well-disciplined enemy should fall on us just now it would have a good chance of whipping us. They say the rebels are only a little way ahead of us, and perhaps we shall have a fight with them to-morrow.”

On the next day there was a skirmish, in which a few men were wounded, and the report was that the rebels had suffered severely; but as usual in such cases, especially at the beginning of the war, the rumors were far above the facts. As an illustration of this tendency we will take one of the battles of 1861 in which there were ten killed on one side and thirteen on the other, and about forty wounded. The Union commander estimated the rebel loss “at not less than from three hundred and fifty to four hundred,” while the Confederate historians said the Union loss was “from one hundred fifty to two hundred killed, and from three hundred to four hundred wounded.” One of the best reports of a skirmish was that of a commander who wrote, “our loss was nothing; the enemy's is not known, but is certainly three times as great as our own.”

Twenty-four miles from Springfield General Lyon decided to fall back to that town, as he learned that the rebels had a force three or four times as great as his own; it turned out that these figures were a good deal exaggerated, but after making the most liberal deductions it is certain that they had fully twice his number. He reached Springfield on the fifth of August, and was more disheartened than ever. No reinforcements had come to him from General Fremont, and from all indications none were likely to be sent in time to do him any good. We had two alternatives: to fight a battle with great odds against him, or to fall back to Rolla, the terminus of the railroad, without a fight.

At a council of his officers it was decided that the moral effect of retreating without a battle would be greater than after one; unless, indeed, the army should be so badly defeated that escape would be impossible. The rebels advanced and camped on Wilson's Creek, ten miles from Springfield. It has become known since that there was a bitter quarrel between General's McCulloch and Price, and in consequence of this quarrel the rebels did not come at once to attack Springfield.

McCulloch was carrying out the policy of the Confederate government, which just then did not favor pushing the war into the border states; while Price wanted to take the offensive against the national government and push the Union forces quite out of the state of Missouri. He was for fighting and pushing on, while McCulloch was opposed to anything of the kind; not on account of cowardice, be it understood, for he was as brave a soldier as the Confederacy produced during the war, but for political reasons, which have just been mentioned. He was only induced to march upon Springfield by General Price giving up the command to him, and furthermore by the threat of the latter that if McCulloch still refused to advance, he (Price) would alone advance with his Missourians and give battle to the Union forces.

On the eighth of August Price learned that Lyon was fearful of an attack, and was making preparations to abandon Springfield. He urged McCulloch to advance at once, but the latter would not do so. On the ninth it was decided that an attack would be made on Springfield the next day, and the troops were ordered to be in readiness to move at nine o'clock that night. But the plan was changed on account of a slight rain which fell towards evening and threatened to continue during the night. Many of the Missourians had no cartridge-boxes and were obliged to carry their ammunition in their pockets; consequently, a rain would have spoiled their cartridges and made these soldiers useless in a fight.

To what slight causes do we often owe the course of events!

The rain which stopped the Confederate advance did not interfere with the plan which General Lyon formed during the day after consultation with his officers. It was to move out on the night of the ninth and be ready to attack by daylight on the tenth. The rebels were camped along Wilson's Creek for a distance altogether of about three miles, and it was not likely that they expected General Lyon would seek to trouble them with his greatly inferior numbers. As they expected to move at daylight, to attack Springfield, they had drawn in their pickets, and consequently were not aware of the Union advance until it was close upon them. General Lyon's plan was to attack both ends of the rebel camp at the same time, and for this purpose he divided his forces, sending General Sigel with his own and Colonel Solomon's regiments of infantry, a battery of six guns and two companies of regular cavalry to attack the right wing of the rebels on the east side of the Fayetteville road. At the same time he proposed, with the remainder of the Union forces, to fall upon the other wing of the enemy's camp. The movements were to be so timed that the attack would be made at daylight, and General Sigel, in case he got first into position, was to wait for the sound of General Lyon's guns.

Original Size

On this plan the two forces marched out of Springfield on the evening of the ninth. To how many men was that the last march, including the brave commander of the Union army of southwest Missouri!

Each column by midnight had reached a point about four miles from the rebel camp, and within sight of some of the rebel camp-fires. There the men bivouacked on the field, and waited anxiously for the coming dawn. Daylight glimmered at length in the east, and, with as much silence as is possible to an advancing army, the march was resumed.