When hundreds of our men had crossed the creek and conditions had become a little more quiet, they began to realize that they were very tired and very hungry. No time was lost in helping themselves to the subsistence in the abandoned wagons where there was an abundance for both man and horse.
A reflection or two. General Forrest, in fighting this battle at his own discretion, had shown that he very well knew just when a commander, acting on the defensive-active, should fall upon an invading army. He had, not for the first time, particularly emphasized the fact that Southern cavalrymen, dismounted and well handled, could cope with trained infantry, and even put them to rout when fighting at odds of two to one against themselves. On thiseventful day he had put into practice his favorite tactics, which had uniformly brought him success, that of launching his entire command, as soon as he could get it into action, against his adversary. Forrest’s Cavalry never looked around for reserves, but confidently expected to do the work themselves and to do it quickly. Hence, at Brice’s Cross Roads they fought with the intrepidity of veteran infantry and exhibited the dash of the best type of Southern cavalry. In other words, they fought when Forrest said so, and every charge was like the first one in which they expected to break the lines of the enemy. The man behind the gun was in evidence at Tishomingo, and it was a glorious victory. May his tribe increase.
A consideration of the comparative forces is interesting. According to information, which is fairly authentic, Forrest had 3,200 men, including two four-gun batteries. Federal official report gives them 3,300 cavalry and 5,400 infantry, or 8,700 men. In addition, they had, according to the best information, 24 pieces of artillery and men to man them. Notice the respective losses. Forrest lost about 140 officers and men killed, and about 500 wounded and none taken prisoners. Sturgis lost, according to official report, 23 officers and 594 men killed and 52 officers and 1,571 men captured, or a total of 2,240 men.Forrest says he captured 1,571 men and 52 officers, an ordnance train with a large supply of fixed ammunition, ten days’ rations for the whole Federal army, over two hundred wagons and parts of their teams, and large quantities of supplies, thirty ambulances and twenty-one caissons. Clearly then, we fought them at an odds of nearly three to one in their favor.
Now, a few incidents of the battle. When riding to the battle-field that morning, and at a place where we were passing over a rough causeway on which many a horse cast a shoe, Isaac H. Pipkin (Doc.), riding by my side, remarked that if he should be killed that day, all he asked was to be put away decently. He was in the first charge, through the muddy cornfield. Imagine my feelings, when driven back in one of the repulses, I came upon his body still in death. Doc was a typical rustic, a good fellow in camp, a true soldier in action, a man you might lean on. The people of Bolivar have long ago graven his name in marble. Tom Boucher was a plain and unassuming citizen of the Whiteville neighborhood, who was always at his post, took life easy and never fretted. He died on the field.
In the first charge, I noticed William C. Hardy, of Bolivar, handling his gun as if something was thematter with the lock. I never saw him again, for he never got to the second fence. Billy was a pupil of mine, a fiery young fellow and a perfectly reliable soldier.
Another schoolboy of mine who fell in this first charge was Charles R. Neely of Bolivar. He was a boy of gentle birth and noble instincts. He was a loving friend, a soldier tried and true, who poured out his young life’s blood upon the field. Could higher eulogy be spoken?
In connection with young Neely’s death I mention the faithful conduct of James F. Dunlap, his mess mate and true friend. As soon as practicable Dunlap placed the corpse of his young friend in their small mess wagon and carrying it through the country delivered it to his mother in Bolivar, Tenn. This was an exhibition of fidelity hard to surpass.
Suffering from an old wound, Captain Tate, early in the action turned over the command of the company to Lieutenant J. P. Satler, with whom I had already agreed to remain through whatever might come to us that day. Thank heaven, we both came through unscathed.
Do you remember where I left off the main narrative? It was at Tishomingo creek where we had halted to partake of the bountiful refreshments,which the Federals had rather unwillingly left in our hands. When the horse-holders brought forward our mounts, my little black seemed as glad to see me as I was to see him. I stripped him for a rubbing and a rest and gorged him on Federal forage.
Instead of an undisturbed night of repose, as we had fondly hoped for, the Seventh Tennessee was aroused from its slumbers at 2 o’clock in the morning with the information that Forrest himself was to lead it in pursuit of the enemy. With Company E in front I, happening to be in the front file, could very well see everything that was likely to come up on this memorable advance. Much of our way was lighted up by wagons and other abandoned property burning. In one place the forewheel of a gun carriage had been locked by a tree and this and several other handsome brass pieces in its rear had been abandoned. Many Federal soldiers, now thoroughly exhausted, were sleeping by the roadside, while others, armed and unarmed, willingly surrendered. They were invariably told to go to the rear. Further along, I counted ninety-five wagons laden with supplies strung along the narrow road. The wheels of some had been locked by trees and evidently abandoned in hot haste by those who had ridden the teams away. I saw much of General Forrest that night, whowas in great good humor in regard to the results of the previous day’s battle. When approaching Ripley, early in the day, which town is about twenty miles from the battle-field, we were relieved by other troops going forward to press the enemy, who were making a stand just north of the town. Buford and Bell were there, and we knew what that meant.
We rode leisurely through the town and to the outskirts. A battle was going on, but the enemy was believed to be retreating. The command to form fours and prepare to charge was given. Company E, in front was soon going at a lively pace and it soon became a question of speed as to who should reach the enemy first. My little black horse responded in fine style. At a flying gallop we went straight up the road and, though hearing guns on every hand, could see no enemy to charge. Instantly we saw in the woods to our left a whole regiment of Federal cavalry aiming to reach the road at an angle and speed that would throw them into it just ahead of us. Over the hill they went as fast as their horses would carry them. Tom Nelson of Company L, coming up, he and I found ourselves in uncomfortable proximity to the enemy, for as we too went over the hill, there they were with their rear huddled together in the valley, with something apparently blocking their front.Nelson and I had not intended to fight a whole regiment, but we shot out everything we had at them. Pressing towards the front and turning in their saddles, as they went up the hill, they gave us a few shots from their carbines which, I remember well, they held in one hand. At a cooler moment, I inquired with some interest how it was that such a thing as I have related could happen. No one attempted an explanation. Nelson and I were present in the flesh and had occasion to remember well all that took place, though events were passing with lightning celerity. Perhaps, perchance and maybe, it was a case of horseflesh. It was the Third Iowa Cavalry we were charging. Colonel C. A. Stanton, not so very long ago a citizen of Memphis, was an officer in this regiment and has a clear recollection of the incident. I was somewhat surprised a few years ago when Billy Elkins, a member of Company E, reminded me of the occasion and rehearsed what took place about as I remember it myself.
The regiment came up in much less time than it has taken me to tell it, and advanced to the top of the hill where there was firing by some Federals posted in an old house and a plum orchard. At this moment, Captain William J. Tate of Company E, who, sick and suffering was forced to go to the rear theprevious day, came up with the company in pursuit. Standing for a moment in a protected position, I reminded Tate that if he forced his horse to mount an embankment by the roadside, he would be a fair target for bullets, they flying thick about us. He disregarded my admonition, mounted the embankment and rode forward for a better view. I quickly changed my position, as many others had come forward. Very soon I saw Tate supported by two men who were taking him to a less exposed place. He was asking some one to catch his horse, which was moving off towards the enemy. At this moment Tommy Elcan, of Company B, standing by my side, was struck in the head by a minie ball and fell from his horse dead. The gallant Lieutenant-Colonel A. H. Chalmers came riding forward and asked about the position of the enemy. He advanced down the hill at the head of his battalion, but soon returned afoot. His fine brown mare had been killed. A word more concerning Captain Tate. It appears that smarting under an absence enforced by a threatened attack of erysipelas in an old wound, this gallant gentleman had concluded that he could not forego the pleasure of seeing the Federal army in full retreat and his own regiment participating in the pursuit. Mounting Billy Hardy’s white horse herode to the front at a gallop. Joining the regiment in time for the charge, he had his horse almost instantly shot under him. Determined to go forward he mounted James E. Wood’s horse, which was kindly offered, and appeared on the firing line, as I have related. He was a young man of gentle demeanor from the mountains of North Carolina, who shortly before the war had engaged in farming near Bolivar. He affected few of the refinements of cultivated society, but was a young countryman of courage, who made friends and kept them. When we were organizing a company, he attended the meetings and showed an aptitude for learning and teaching the cavalry drill. Never did a man more effectually advance himself in the confidence of a company than he did by perfectly fair dealing and sheer force of character. Serving as fourth sergeant the first year, he developed rapidly as a drill master and officer. Physically, Captain Tate was a man of medium weight and erect and well knit frame. He was a pronounced blonde with clear blue eyes and very light hair. Active on foot and tireless when there was stress of work, he always seemed most at home on horseback. The manner of his death was, perhaps, such as he would have desired it to be, had he known it was to come so soon. When I heardthat he had succumbed to his wounds, I hastened to give him decent burial in the cemetery at Ripley, Miss. He sleeps among the people in whose defense he died.
Forty-four years have come and gone since the scenes of which I write passed before the vision, but they were so indelibly impressed upon the tablet of the memory that it is easy to recall them. The slightest incident often recalls the fiercest battle scene, and for the moment I live in the past. I am recording events while there are yet living witnesses to bear me out. As such I mention with pleasure the names of Lieutenant-Colonel W. F. Taylor, who always bore himself proudly on the field; A. H. D. Perkins, whom I have seen flaunt the colors of the regiment in the faces of the enemy, and Captain H. A. Tyler, who with his squadron of two small companies gallantly bore the brunt of battle on the extreme left at Tishomingo, and was ready with his Kentuckians to join in the pursuit of the broken battalions of the enemy.
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 armythat 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 flankersthat 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. Theirimprovised 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 ofChalmers’ 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 ofcourage, 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 assaultat 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 spotoccupied 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 dearthe 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:
Man’s inhumanity to manMakes countless thousands mourn.
Man’s inhumanity to manMakes countless thousands mourn.
Man’s inhumanity to manMakes countless thousands mourn.
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 hatin 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.”
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 weregenerally 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 wequickly 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 ofcornbread 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 withtheir 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 writedittounder 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 wouldlikely 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 informationfrom 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, SecondMissouri, 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 Federalofficer. 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 noteof 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.
An entire reorganization of Forrest’s Cavalry Corps was effected just after the Memphis raid, by which a new brigade, composed exclusively of Tennesseeans, was formed for Colonel Rucker, who was absent on account of a wound received at Harrisburg. The regiments in this were the Seventh, Twelfth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth and Forrest’s old regiment, commanded respectively by Duckworth, Green, Neely, Stewart and Kelly. The other brigade of Chalmers’ division was that of McCulloch, composed of men from Missouri, Texas and Mississippi. Rumors were rife, as usual, that we were on the eve of some important move, but those only in whose hands the duty of projecting campaigns had been placed knew what that move would be. Uncertainty brought no suspense to the minds of the men, as we had become accustomed to go with alacrity to the discharge of any duty assigned. To one who has studied closely the military situation at the time, it is plain that the affairs of the Confederacy had reached the desperate stage, though Forrest had subvertedthe plans of the Federals on the Memphis lines. The humblest of us could reflect that the territory to which we had been assigned was only a small part of the country, and that our movements on the military chessboard were scarcely noticed, except when Forrest had gained another brilliant victory. Think of it. The Confederacy had been cut in twain for more than a year by the opening of the Mississippi river; Sherman had driven Joe Johnston from Dalton to Atlanta, and a hundred days of fighting had not barred the way of the Federals toward the sea. The first trial of arms between Lee and Grant had been made at the Wilderness, and Lee had failed, even by grand tactics, to permanently stay the flank movement of the overwhelming legions of Grant at Spottsylvania, who was now moving steadily on the bloody road to Richmond. In the light which a knowledge of these conditions afforded, our immediate part of the war appeared comparatively insignificant. The reader well might ask how Forrest, or any other commander, could, under given conditions, keep up the fighting spirits of his men. We well know that he did this as long as he had occasion to lead his men in battle, but how he did it, or whence this power, I leave to the consideration of those philosophers who revel in the discussion of abstract questionsof metaphysics. And I give them a thousand years to settle it.
During the first days of September we were taking a long ride over to the Mobile & Ohio Railroad.Cui bono?We reasoned, of course, that as we had gotten rid of our immediate enemies, who had so long been troubling us, we should probably be sent to other fields of action. It finally came to light that affairs at Mobile were thought to be in such critical condition that Chalmers’ division must be sent to that city at once. McCulloch’s brigade was actually sent forward, while Rucker’s was at West Point, ready to take the cars. Before this information reached the men, the order was countermanded. So we did not go to Mobile, but our enterprising General was not idle. It was soon openly talked that he was projecting a raid into Middle Tennessee, where he proposed to so damage the railroad between Nashville and Stephenson as to cut off Sherman’s army at Atlanta from its base of supplies, Rucker had not yet assumed command of his new brigade, but it was thought he would do so before we started on the projected expedition. The four Colonels of the brigade and the officer temporarily in command of Forrest’s old regiment, evidently considering it a reflection on them for an outsider, and only a Colonel, to take precedenceover them, flatly refused to consent to the new arrangement. There was a great stir in camp at Sook-a-toncha bridge, near West Point. For a whole day nothing else was discussed and little else thought of. As might be supposed, there were two factions in the contest as to who should command the brigade. The humblest private was in evidence, and had something to say in the spirited, though friendly, discussion. General Chalmers, with his staff, rode out to the camp and made an earnest address to officers and soldiers as to the necessity of obeying orders and disregarding personal ambition. The character and efficiency of the officers involved were favorably alluded to, but not an offensive word spoken. While speaking in rather a persuasive tone, he did not hesitate to make an earnest and honest declaration of his sentiments. The address made a good impression, and, so far as I could see, the excitement was much less intense the following day, and, by the time the movement began, the rank and file looked upon the whole thing as a closed incident. The officers refusing to recognize the assignment of Rucker were placed in arrest upon the charge of insubordination, and sent to a distant post to await orders. I never heard of any action being taken by a court-martial in these cases, but I do know that they saw little more of thewar, as they returned to the command only a few days before the surrender. The whole affair was unpleasant to me because of my friendly attitude toward two of them—Colonel Duckworth, formerly a Lieutenant in the Haywood Rangers (Company D), and Colonel Neely, the first Captain of Company E. I knew the others by their reputations as true men and efficient commanders. The whole trouble might have been avoided, or at least deferred, for as it turned out, Colonel Rucker, still suffering with his wound, did not go on the raid at all, and Lieutenant-Colonel Kelly, the senior officer present, took charge of the brigade. It could not have fallen into better hands. No aspersion was cast on the character of Rucker as a man, or adverse criticism made of his capability as a commander. A man of great physical force and a fine horseman, he impressed men with his prowess in battle. Recklessly brave, he did not mind riding down an enemy, or engaging him in single combat. He helped to make the reputation of his old brigade as a body of fast and furious fighters.
With Lieutenant-Colonel W. F. Taylor in command, the Seventh Tennessee moved up to Verona, and then to Tupelo. Here final preparations were made. And here General Forrest, from a platform made for the purpose, delivered a lively address toour brigade, a part of which was a scathing criticism of the action of the officers whom he had recently placed in arrest. He was full of his subject, and had language at hand to express his thoughts.
September 16th, 1864. On this day 3,542 men reported for duty, to which number Roddys’ division was to be added, making in all a force of about 4,500 cavalry, artillery and dismounted men. The cavalry was to traverse the hypotenuse of a right triangle, reaching from Tupelo, Miss., to Cherokee, Ala., while General Forrest, his escort, dismounted men and everything on wheels, were to traverse the other two sides by way of Corinth and over railroads, which had been recently repaired. I never saw men in better spirits as the several commands took their places in line. I had good reason to feel glad in anticipation, as will be shown further along. When the Fourteenth Regiment, passing the Seventh in line, was moving to its place in column, Colonel Raleigh White, seeing me lined up in my company, insisted that I go with him on the raid, just as I had on the Memphis raid. Knowing that I could discharge my full duty, and that White would grant me any reasonable request when we reached North Alabama, I joined him as soon as the matter was arranged. As there was no necessity for rushing, we moved leisurelyto Cherokee. There was need that the command should be in good trim when it should reach the north side of the Tennessee river. Seeing from the orders that the command was likely to remain at rest for a day or two, I determined to reach Florence, if possible, at least one day in advance. But I could not cross the river without a pass from General Forrest. Nothing daunted, I went straight to his headquarters, as soon as I could get my plans mentally arranged, which, I now remember, was done with some degree of fear and trembling. He was absent. It might be fortunate, thought I, for I would lay my case before Major Strange, and get his opinion as to the merits of my plea. My desire to see my child must have touched a tender chord in his heart, as he said that the General would return by a certain hour, and that, if I would call again, I would likely get the pass. I was promptly on hand. Again the General was absent. My feelings were now intense, for it was growing late in the day. Seeing this, Major Strange graciously and kindly said that he would furnish me with a document that would take me across the river and through all picket lines. I mounted my horse and made for the river, which I hoped to reach before night. It was seven miles away, and I had no information as to where I might find a means of crossing.Somewhere in a long lane I happily met an old school fellow—Charlie Trimble of Tuscumbia—who could give me the necessary information. When I finished the last mile, it was growing so dark that the soldiers in charge would not venture to go on the river in the rickety old boat. The prospect was now so good that I made myself content. At daylight next morning Little Black and I were on the bosom of the Tennessee, and nearing the northern shore. Poor fellow, he could go over with a dry skin now, but within a few days he must swim the same stream over a hundred miles below, where it was much larger and at floodtide. Now for the nearest road to Florence. At Dr. McAlexander’s, just as the family were sitting down to breakfast. Good coffee and hot biscuits. Lucky hit, thought I. A thousand thoughts of happy days come trooping in. For the nonce, I have forgotten the war and scenes of peace pass in review.