Here is a description of the battlefield of the tenth of August, 1861, by a gentleman who was there on that occasion, and afterward visited the spot when he could do so without danger from shells and bullets.

As you go south from Springfield there is a comparatively level country for several miles, but in approaching the creek which gives the name to the battlefield you find a more broken region. The valley of the creek is bordered by low hills, and at the time of the fight these hills were covered with scrub-oaks, which were generally known to the natives as “black-jacks.” These trees are so thickly scattered in many places that it is impossible to see for any distance, and on the day of the battle they masked the movements of the opposing armies from each other and led to several surprises.

The Fayetteville road going south crosses the creek at a ford and then runs almost parallel to the course of the stream for nearly a mile. On this part of the road and along the creek the main body of the Confederates was encamped, and the camp extended up a tributary of Wilson's Creek known as Skegg's Branch. Between Skegg's Branch and its junction with Wilson's Creek is a steep hill, perhaps a hundred feet high, its sides seamed with ravines and its top broken with rocks in many places, so that wagons and artillery cannot be freely moved about.

This was known as Oak Hill at the time of the battle, and has since been called Bloody Hill by the Confederates in memory of the slaughter that took place there. It was the scene of the principal fighting of the day and of the death of General Lyon.

During the war it often happened that engagements were called by different names by the opposing forces. Thus the battle now known as that of Shiloh was originally called the battle of Pittsburg Landing by the Northern side and Shiloh by the South. The battle of Pea Ridge was so named by the Northerners, but it was known as Elkhorn Tavern by the South. In the same way the battle of Wilson's Creek, as the North knew it, was the battle of Oak Hill to the South. In fact, it had three names, as General Price in his official report called it the battle of Springfield.

Oak Hill, or Bloody Hill, was covered with low bushes in addition to the scrub-oaks already mentioned, but the underbrush was not thick, and did not particularly interfere with movements of troops or individuals, though it caused the lines of the soldiers to be considerably broken, and furnished a complete screen to men lying down. The rebels were camped at the foot of the hill, and its summit afforded a good view of the greater part of the Confederate position.

General Lyon reached the farther slope of the hill before his approach was discovered. His advance was first made known to the Missourians, who were camped in that vicinity, and whose commander had sent out a picket about daylight. The first encounter was between Captain Plummer's battalion of regulars and Colonel Hunter's Missouri regiment, the latter falling back as their commander saw the strength of the forces opposed to him. General Lyon advanced as rapidly as possible, and soon had possession of the crest of the hill.

The whole force of General Lyon which he had on the field on that terrible morning was about five thousand five hundred men, of whom one thousand two hundred were with General Sigel and three thousand three hundred under his own personal direction. General Sigel's forces have been enumerated. Those of General Lyon were Captain Plummer's regulars, the batteries of Captains Totten and Dubois—ten guns in all, Steel's battalion of three hundred regulars, Osterhaus's battalion of volunteer infantry, and the volunteer regiments of the First Missouri, First Iowa and First and Second Kansas. According to their own figures the Confederates were ten thousand one hundred seventy-five strong, about half of them belonging to the Missouri state guard and the other half to the forces that had been sent from Arkansas and Louisiana to aid the Missourians in recapturing the state from the national government.

Let us turn for a moment to General Sigel. His part of the plan of attack was perfectly carried out. He arrived before daylight in the position assigned to him and had his guns in position and his troops drawn up ready to begin the attack as soon as he heard the sound of Lyon's guns. From the point where he stood he could look down upon the rebel camp and see the cooks busy with their preparations for breakfast, and he so arranged his skirmishers that they captured every man who straggled out of camp, and thus prevented any warning of the presence of an enemy. Anxiously did he wait for the signal to begin the attack. He and his officers around him saw that they would make a complete surprise of the part of the camp they were to attack, and already felt sure that the battle would be in their favor.

It was a few minutes past five when the first of the rebels were encountered by Lyon's advance, and by five-thirty the battle had begun. Captain Totten planted his artillery in a good position and threw a 12-pound shell into the enemy's camp. Shell after shell followed from his batteries and Dubois's, and then the sounds of Sigel's cannon were heard answering from the other end of the line.

A rebel officer afterward told the writer of this story that he was asleep in his tent when an orderly came to tell him to get his regiment under arms, as the Yankees were coming.

“Is that official?” queried the officer, as he languidly raised his head.

Before the orderly could answer the sound of a cannon was heard, and a shell tore through the tent and narrowly missed its occupant.

No explanation was needed. “Well, that's official, anyhow,” exclaimed the officer as he sprang from his blankets and went through whatever toilet he had to make with the greatest celerity.

Sigel's shot fell among the Arkansas and Louisiana troops, while those of Lyon were delivered at the Missourians. Very quickly the rebel forces were under arms; their tents fell as though by magic, and from a peaceful camp the spot was changed into a scene of war as by the wand of a magician.

The scrub-oaks and underbrush masked the movements of the rebels and enabled them to form their line quite near that of Lyon's forces without being seen. They waited for Lyon's advance, which was not long delayed, and as the Union troops came advancing through the bushes they were met by a withering fire from the rifles of the Missourians at close range. This was on the slope of Bloody Hill, and on this hill for five hours the battle raged between the opposing forces.

Neither side attempted a bayonet charge, as the ground was quite unsuited to it on account of the density of the brush and the uncertainties that might be behind it. Most of the Missourians were armed with ordinary shotguns and hunting-rifles; consequently they could not have attempted a bayonet charge, even though other circumstances had permitted one.

The opposing lines advanced, retired, advanced again, and often were not more than fifty yards apart. Sometimes the ground was held and contested for several minutes, and at others only for a very brief period. Now and then came a lull, when for half an hour or so hardly a shot would be fired, the antagonists each waiting for the next move of their opponents. The stillness at these times was almost painful and in marked contrast to the roar and rattle of the small-arms and the deep diapason of the artillery whenever the battle was renewed.

The ground was strewn with dead and wounded. Here lay a body stiff and still in the embrace of death, and close beside it another writhing in the agonies of flesh torn by bullets or by splinters of shell. Rebel and Union lay side by side as the line of battle changed its position, and beneath more than one of the dwarfed oaks that spread over the now-memorable field the blue and gray together sought shelter from the August sun and from the leaden rain that fell pattering among the leaves. Down by the base of the hill flowed the creek, apparently undisturbed as ever. The waters invited the thirsty to partake, but whoever descended to drink from the rippling stream, or to fill a canteen for the wounded, who piteously begged for relief, did so at the risk of his life. The creek was commanded by the rifles of the Missourians concealed in a wheatfield on the opposite side, and not till the end of the battle was their position changed.

The attack of General Sigel upon the rebel camp on his side of the line was as successful as it was sudden. The camp was abandoned, and his soldiers marched through it without opposition to form along the Fayetteville road and be ready to cut off the retreat of the rebels whenever they should be put to flight by General Lyon.

After the first shock of the battle was over, General McCulloch carefully reconnoitered the position of General Sigel, and in consequence of the protection afforded by the oaks and underbrush he was enabled to do so without being seen. Ascertaining their position with great exactness, he brought up two batteries and placed them within point-blank range of Sigel's line, and at the same time advanced the Third Louisiana. All this was accomplished while Sigel still supposed the entire Confederate force was engaged with Lyon; the complete screen of the trees and bushes rendering the concealment possible.

The Third Louisiana was uniformed in gray exactly like the uniform of the First Iowa. When it approached it was mistaken by Sigel's men for the latter regiment, and the word passed along the line that friends were coming.

As the gray-coated rebels came up the fire of Sigel's men was withheld and flags were waved in welcome. The advancing enemies reserved their fire and moved steadily forward, and before they were near enough to be recognized the two rebel batteries opened with full force upon Sigel and his astonished soldiers.

The latter were thrown into consternation, which was increased when the gray-coated men, still supposed to be friends, charged straight upon them and in a few moments had taken possession of five out of the six guns. Until it was too late, the Germans under Sigel believed that the regiment approaching them was the First Iowa, and withheld their fire, with consequences easy to foresee.

Their rout was complete. Many were killed or wounded and many more captured. About four hundred of Sigel's men answered at the next roll-call; some escaped and joined the retreating column the next day, and a portion of the column took the road through Little York and reached Springfield without further encounter with the enemy.

This happened about nine o'clock in the forenoon, and from that time on the rebels could concentrate their attentions upon General Lyon, Sigel being no longer in their way. They did so concentrate, and by ten o'clock Lyon was very hotly pressed. Fresh troops were poured in by the rebels, but Lyon's whole force had now been engaged, and was steadily melting away. The rebels were assembling for a fresh attack, and the peril of the Union force was imminent. Unless they could break the rebel line before it was ready to advance, the day was in great danger of being lost.