Although we have already given very full accounts of this
bloody and desperate battle from several Western papers, we find so many
interesting items not before published, in the New York World, Tribune and
Herald, worth reprinting, that we have concluded to give a part of them, not
withstanding our limited space:
IOWA BATTERY CAPTURED
AND RETAKEN
Meantime the fight was raging furiously in the extreme right
on both sides of the Fayetteville road.
The First and Second Iowa Batteries, planted on an eminence overlooking
the declivity in the road, were kept busy plying shrapnel and canister into the
ranks of the enemy, who appeared in immense numbers on all sides, as if to
surround the right of our line, and thus completely environ us. In order to defeat this object a severe
struggle took place for the occupancy of a rising knoll on the east side of the
road. The enemy gained upon us, and it
was not until our men were half stricken down that they yielded the point. Word had been passed back to General Curtis
that the enemy was pressing hardly on the right flank, and that our batteries
had been left on the hill, and the enemy were now turning it upon us. Colonel Carr, fearing that no reinforcements
would arrive, collected his strength and mustered his entire force for a last
desperate charge, resolved to retake to position or perish in the attempt. A heavy firing on our centre and a cheer from
the advancing division of General Davis favored the effort, and our troops
marched up to the battery amid a storm of shot from their own guns, and after a
desperate hand-to-hand struggle, finally drove the enemy down the ravine in
hopeless confusion. Col. Carr received a
wound in the arm, but remained on the field.
The great leader of the rebels – the ubiquitous Ben
McCulloch – was among the slain. He who
had contemptuously spoke of the Southerners as the “natural masters” of the
Northern men, lay a victim to his presumption, his life fast ebbing by the hands
of those whom he styled a nation of “craven hearted cowards.” The loss on both sides of this conflict was
severe. Our loss in killed and wounded
could not have been less than three hundred; that of the enemy must have been
double. Lieut. David, who commanded the
battery, was the last to leave his pieces and among the first to regain
them. He bears a wound in the arm, and
several marks of the hostile bullets.
Many of our officers were wounded, but, fortunately, none seriously. Lieut. Col. Herron, of the Ninth Iowa, was
wounded in the foot, and while in the hands of the Surgeons, was taken prisoner
by the advancing enemy. Col. Herron
fought with great spirit and was the most conspicuous figure in the
repulse. The command then devolved upon
Major Coyle, who gallantly led the regiment on the advance receiving a severe
wound in the shoulder.
DEVOTION OF AN
ARTILLERYMAN.
One of the most signal instances of superhuman bravery is
connected with the loss of these guns.
One of the cannoneers, who has been long noted for his wonderful pluck, remained
hat his posted to the last. Placing
himself in front of the piece, he disdained to save himself, but with navy
revolver, stood calmly awaiting the hooting crowds of rebels. He emptied every barrel of his pistol, and
then, with his short sword, defended his piece until he was struck down by the
blows of the rebels. His body was
afterwards found near the piece, with seventeen balls and his head cloven open
with a tomahawk.
A BOWIE-KNIFE
CONFLICT.
While the fight was raging about Miser’s farm house on the
ridge, on Friday morning a soldier belonging to the 25th Missouri and a member
of a Mississippi company became separated from their commands, and found each
other climbing the same fence. The rebel
had one of those long knives made of a file, which the South has so extensively
paraded, but so rarely used, and the Missourian had one also, having picked it
up on the field.
The rebel challenged his enemy to a fair, open combat with
the knife, intending to bully him, no doubt, and the challenge was promptly
accepted. The two removed their coats,
rolled up their sleeves, and began. The
Mississippian had more skill, but his opponent more strength, and consequently
the latter could not strike his enemy, while he received several cuts on the
head and breast. The blood began
trickling rapidly down the Unionist’s face, and running into his eyes, almost
blinded him. The Union man became
desperate, for he saw the Secessionist was unhurt. He made a feint; the rebel leaned forward to
arrest the blow, but employing too much energy, he could not recover himself at
once. – The Missourian perceived his advantage, and knew he could not lose
it. In five seconds more it would be too
late. His enemy glared at him like a
wild beast; was on the eve of striking again.
Another feint; another dodge on the rebel’s part, and then the heavy
blade of the Missourian hurled through the air, and fell with tremendous force
upon the Mississippian’s neck. The blood
spurted from the throat, and the head fell over, almost entirely severed from
the body. Ghastly sight, too ghastly
even for the doer of the deed! He
fainted at the spectacle, weakened by the loss of his own blood, and was soon
after butchered by a Seminole who saw him sink to the earth.
ZOUAVE TACTICS
SUCCESSFUL.
One of the Texan soldiers was advancing with his bayonet
upon a Lieutenant of the 9th Iowa, whose sword had been broken. The officer saw his intention, avoided the
thrust, fell down at his foeman’s feet, caught hold of his legs, threw him
heavily to the ground, and before he could rise drew a long knife from his
adversary’s belt and buried it in his bosom.
The Texan, with dying grasp, seized the Lieutenant by the hair,
and sank down lifeless, bathing the brown leaves with his blood. So firm was the hold of the nerveless hand
that it was necessary to cut the hair from the head of the officer before he
could be freed from the corpse of his foe.
NATURE OF THE
CONTEST.
It only remains for me to notice the character of the
struggle out of which we have just come with victory. Probably there never was such a motley
assemblage of warriors collected together under one head as met under this
traitor Van Dorn. The represented the
scum of the whole Southwest, from the filibusters of New Orleans to the rude
savages of the Indian Nation. Texan
Rangers, whose boast it has been that they would rather fight than eat, and
whose life has been one lone predatory warfare of plunder and cruelty. Uncouth and brutal Arkansans, who have grown
up amid murders and homicides. Ignorant
and infatuated Missourians, led on by designing and intriguing
politicians. These were the men which
formed the staple of the Southern army, and these are the men who prate of high
toned chivalry, who talk contemptuously of the Northern mudsils. Men who are crying like blind maniacs for
their “rights.” Take the whole rebel
army as we saw it and it was one vast congregation of reckless, vicious,
ignorant and embruted devils.
Opposed to them were the gallant sons of Iowa, descended
mainly from Puritan fathers. Immortal
Iowa! What a page in the volume of American history is reserved for thee! Long, long will a nation remember how her
champions of freedom, like their sires of the Revolution, ragged and
barefooted, remained after the expiration of their term of service to lay their
lives a sacrifice upon the altar of their country and Wilson’s Creek; how they
left their mark upon the foe at Belmont; how they scaled the hights [sic] of
Donelson; and last, but not least, how they crushed, with the might of
Spartans, the advancing hordes at Sugar Creek, in the wilds of Arkansas. There, too, stood the patient, courageous
sons of Germany, face to face with an insolent and unprincipled foe, contending
for those principles of liberty and justice for which they have until now
striven in vain. Honor to these men and
their great leader for the part they sustained in this momentous day. Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio were represented
there, and nobly will they bear the wreaths of triumph. For the first time the loyal Missourians have
given an unequivocal and decided test of their ability to cope with the braggart
rebels and traitors under the banner of General Price. They have deserved well of their country.
A GALLANT UNION
COLONEL.
Lieut. Col. Herron, of the 9th Iowa, was surrounded by ten
or twelve of the enemy, and ordered to surrender. He indignantly refused, and, with his
revolver in one hand, and his sword in the other, kept his enemies at bay, by
placing his back against a tree. He
killed and wounded four of the Rebels, when, having been twice wounded himself,
his sword was knocked from his grasp,
and his arms seized from behind. He
would have been killed, had not a Southern Captain, from admiration of his
courage, ordered his life to be spared.
Even while the Colonel was a captive, a Creek Indian stole up, and was
about to plunge a knife into his side, when the Captain drew a revolver, and
blew out the treacherous creature’s brains.
Lieut. Col. Herron is still a prisoner, but it is supposed
he will be kindly treated and cared for until he is exchanged, which, it is to
be hoped, will be at an early day, as our country requires the services of such
brave and patriotic men has he has proved himself to be on this trying and
important occasion.
AN ADVENTUROUS SCOUT.
A very interesting story is told of a well-known Missouri
scout who was [employed] to discover the whereabouts of the enemy during the
night. He was furnished with a horse,
citizen’s saddle, a complete suit of butternut clothing, taken from some of their
prisoners, and a dispatch purporting to be written by General Van Dorn to Gen.
McCulloch, and was started out on the Fayetteville road and made a circuit
round to the Bentonville road. He
relates that when near Bentonville he descried a courier dashing along on
horseback, when he reined up to the side of the road, and cried out, “Halt! Who
comes there?” The usual reply of “a
friend” was given, when the courier advanced and whispered the countersign “Lexington.”
“All right,” said the scout, and was
soon on his way with the magical word which was to pass him through the camp of
McCulloch. He rode along the entire
line, being asked several questions, all of which he answered as best he could,
and in the gray of the morning he returned to our camp with the accurate
information of the position and strength of the enemy. McCulloch, McIntosh and Pike it appears were
along the Keetsville road, with Price on the left resting on Sugar Creek. Van Dorn was at Price’s headquarters.
BATTLEFIELD HORRORS.
The appearance of the hill and woods shelled by Gen. Sigel’s
Division attests the terrific shower of missiles that fell upon them. Walking over the ground immediately after the
flight of the enemy and the pursuit by our forces, I found it thickly strewn
with dead and wounded, most of them having fallen by the deadly artillery
projectiles. Tree after tree was
shattered or perforated by shot and shell, and many were filled with grape and
canister balls. One tree was pierced through
and through by a solid shot, its top shivered by a shell, and the base of its
trunk scarred by 17 canister and rifle balls.
In one place lay the fragments of a battery wagon wherein a shell had
exploded, utterly destroying the wagon and killing two mules which had been its
motive power.
A ruined caisson and five cannon wheels were lying near
it. Two dead artillery men were
stretched on the earth, each killed by a grape shot, and by their side was a
third, gasping his last, with his side laid open by a fragment of a shell. On the hill, where the cannonade had been
severe, trees, rocks and earth bore witness to its fierceness. Fifteen wounded Rebels lay in one group, and
were piteously imploring each passer-by for water and relief for their
wounds. A few rods from them was
another, whose arm had been torn off by a cannon shot, leaving the severed
member on the ground a few feet distant.
Near him was the dead body of a rebel whose legs and one arm had been
shattered by a single shot.
Behind a tree, a few yards distant, was stretched a corpse,
with two-thirds of its head blown away by the explosion of a shell, and near it
a musket, broken into three pieces.
Still further along was the dead body of a rebel soldier, who had been
killed by a grape shot through the breast.
A letter had fallen from his pocket, which on examination, proved to be
a long and well written love epistle from his betrothed in East Tennessee. It was addressed to Pleasant J. Williams,
Churchill’s regiment, Fayetteville, Arkansas.
Around him in all directions were his dead and dying comrades, some
stretched at full length on the turf, and others contorted as if in extreme
agony. The earth was thickly strewn with
shot and fragments of shell.
THE WOODS ON FIRE.
The bursting of the shells had set fire to the dry leaves on
the ground, and the woods were burning in every direction. Efforts were made to remove the wounded
before the flames should reach them, and nearly all were taken to places of
safety. Several were afterward found in
secluded spots, some of them still alive, but horrifically burned and blackened
by the conflagration.
STRIPPING THE DEAD.
The Rebels, in nearly every instance, removed the shoes from
the dead and mortally wounded, both of their own army and ours. Of all the corpses I saw, I do not think one-twentieth
had been left with their shoes untouched.
In some cases pantaloons were taken, and occasionally an overcoat or
blouse was missing. A large number of
the killed among the rebels were shot through the head, while the majority of
our dead were shot through the breast. The
rebels wherever it was possible, fired from cover; and as often as [a] head
appeared from behind a tree or bush, it became a mark for our men. The union troops generally stood in ranks,
and except when skirmishing made no use of objects of protection.
SORTIE ON THE LEFT.
Col. Osterhaus was sent with his brigade in the morning
along the high land, in the direction of Leestown, for the purpose of
intercepting the reinforcements of the enemy, and to discern his strength along
the line of Sugar Creek. This was one of
the most spirited and successful attacks of the battle and resulted in a
complete diversion of the enemy from the overpowered forces of Col. Carr, on
the Fayetteville road.
Our cavalry penetrated along the main ridge beyond the road
by which the enemy had come and were on the point of seizing some of the enemy’s
wagons when a brigade of rebel cavalry and infantry attacked them. Then followed one of the most sanguinary
contests that has ever been seen between cavalry. Most of the fighting was done at close
quarters. Pistols and carbines having
been exhausted, our sabers were brought into requisition. The rattle of steel against steel, our sabers
against their muskets and cutlasses, was terrific. Nothing like it has been heard before. The rebels were Texan Rangers, and fought
like demons. The slaughter was awful,
our Missouri cavalry cleaving right and left, leaving in front of their horses
winnows of dead and wounded. The enemy
fell back in dismay and our forces pursued them along the road for about a mile
when they opened a battery upon the mass of friend and foe plowing through them
with solid shot and shell. Colonel
Osterhaus had succeeded in his attempt and retired, bringing off his dead and
wounded in safety.
THE SCALPING SAVAGES
AGAIN.
Of the statement that the Rebels gave the Indians large
quantities of whiskey in which gunpowder was dissolved, previous to leading
them into battle, there is now another version.
The enemy say the savages did not receive any liquor from them, but that
the Indians discovered several barrels of whisky and appropriated it to their
own use. Of course they drank hugely;
and while their stipulative stimulus contributed largely to their fighting
propensity, it exercised no very favorable influence upon their discrimination.
They were less timid and more bloodthirsty after their
intoxication; but it so enlarged their ideas of nationality and restored to
recollection their wrongs from the white race that they determined to make no
narrow distinctions in regard to geographical lines. Consequently they butchered and scalped
Arkansan or Louisianian with as much self-complacency as an Indianian or and
Illinoisian – doubtless a very pleasant and commendable proceeding on their
party, but which the Southerners from
some mental obliquity fail to appreciate.
THEIR FAILURE AS
WARRIORS.
The Indians during the battle, displayed very little, if
any, courage, and beyond the drunken fray displayed at the expense of those who
had induced them to take part in the war, they did nothing commendable. Their fighting was a failure. They had little relish for it, and they
therefore confined themselves to robbing the dead, killing the wounded and
scalping alike their friends and foes.
The experiment of enlisting the Indians in the Rebel service
will hardly be tried again, I think. The
enemy evidently deem it a hazardous business, and one that, on the whole,
admits of little compensation. Some of
the prisoners are greatly incensed against the savages and talk of hunting them
to death.
An Arkansan, who had been wounded and partially scalped by
one of the Cherokees, is so enraged against them as to be in danger of apoplexy
when their name is mentioned. Speaking
on the subject this morning, he remarked that it was a pretty idea to coax a
set of red devils into the army to give them an opportunity of scalping you;
and, as for himself, he intended to kill every Indian he could find hereafter,
no matter where and under what circumstances.
THE MANNER OF M’CULLOCH’S
DEATH.
Concerning the death of McCulloch and McIntosh there seems
to be but one opinion. Both of them were
mortally wounded on Friday, during the heavy fighting by Gen. Jeff. C. Davis
against the center column of the enemy.
It will be remembered the Rebels gave way, and the two Southern
chieftains made the most determined efforts to rally them in vain.
McCulloch was struck with a minié rifle ball in the left breast – as I am assured by
one who says he saw him fall, and after he was taken from the ground – while waving
his sword and encouraging his men to stand firm. He died of his wounds about 11 o’clock the
same night, though he insisted that he would recover; repeatedly saying with
great oaths that he was not born to be killed by a Yankee.
A few minutes before he expired his physician assured him he
had but a very brief time to live. At
this Ben, looked up incredulously, and saying, “Oh, Hell!” turned away his
head, and never spoke after.
I presume if Ben be really dead, the Southern papers will
put some very fine sentiment into his mouth in his closing moments; but the
last words I have mentioned are declared to be correct by a prisoner. They are not very elegant nor dramatic, but
quite expressive, and in McCulloch’s case decidedly appropriate.
HOW M’INTOSH DIED.
It is reported that McIntosh was stuck near the right hip
with a grapeshot, while giving an order to one of his aids, and hurled from his
horse. The wound was a ghastly one, and
tho’ it must have been very painful, McIntosh uttered no groan, but calmly gave
directions for his treatment. A few
minutes after he fell into a comatose state, from which he never recovered –
passing through Death’s dark portal while his attendants supposed he still lay
beside the golden gates of Sleep.
REBEL HATERED OF
SIGEL.
The Secessionists, so far as I can learn from the prisoners
here, are very bitter against Sigel, on account of his nativity no less than of
his ability. They attribute their defeat
mainly to him, and say they would not have cared if they had been repulsed by
an American, but to be overcome by a “d----d Dutchman” is more than they can
endure with patience.
EXTRACTS FROM
CONFEDERATE LETTERS.
A number of rebel letters have been found upon the
battle-field and in the deserted camps of the enemy, and as they show the
feelings and confidence of the confederates, I will make brief extracts from
two of them, written evidently by officers of intelligence. The two epistles must have been completed before
the battle, and not being mailed to the parties addressed, were dropped in the
confusion of a precipitate retreat.
The first letter is from a Texas captain to his wife, and
reads thus:
“NEW FAYETTEVILLE, Ark,
March 5, 1862.
“Thank God, dear Mary, we’ve got the Yankees in a trap at
last. They cannot escape us now. We have more than twice as many men as they
and we have a plan to cut them off, and annihilate them. Before a week has past, you will hear of a
terrible defeat of the Lincolnites, such as one will offset to some extent our
mortifying surrender at Donelson. We are
certain of success, and I hope I will be able to bring five or six Yankee
prisoners to Galveston next summer.
“The northern men will not fight when they can avoid it, but
we intend to make them this time, or cut their throats.
“The coming battle will free Arkansas and Missouri from the
invaders, and we will then march on to St. Louis, and take that Abolition city,
and give the oppressed Southerners there an opportunity to be free once
more. We here that we would be welcomed
in St. Louis by at least 50,000 people who have long suffered from the tyranny
of the mercenary Dutch.”
The second letter from a Louisiana Major to his sister, a
resident of New Orleans, and bearing date, “Little Rock, February 27,” is quite
different in tone, as will be seen from this quotation:
DEAR SISTER CARRIE: You asked me in
your last letter what I thought of the prospect of our dearly beloved
cause. To be candid, I have little hope
for its success now, though last December I felt confident we would be
recognized before the coming June. I don’t
like the Yankees a bit. I have been
educated to hate them, and I do hate them heartily; but I must acknowledge the
South has been sadly mistaken in their character. We have always believed that the Yankees
would not fight for anything like a principle; that they had no chivalry, no
poetry in their nature. Perhaps they
have not; but that they are brave, determined, persevering, they have proved beyond
question. * * *
The trouble with them is that they never get tired of
anything. They lost all the battles at
first, and after Manassas we despised them.
This year has inaugurated a new order of affairs. – We are beaten at all
points. We do nothing but surrender and
evacuate; and while I hate the Licolnites more than ever, I respect them – I can’t
help it – for their dogged obstinacy and the slow but steady manner in which
they carry out their plans.
I have lost heart in our cause. There is something wrong – somewhere. Jeff. Davis and our political leaders are
either knaves or fools. They drew us
into our present difficulties, and now have now way of showing us out of them.
If the South had known what would have been the result of
Secession, no State, unless South Carolina, would have gone out of the Union. –
We all thought we could go out in peace; I know I did, and I laughed at the
idea of the North attempting to keep us in the union by force of arms. It was not possible, we said. We had too many friends in the Free
States. Such a step would be followed by
a revolution in the North, and the turning of old Lincoln and all the
Abolitionists out of office. * * *
Oh, well, it cant be helped, Carrie. We are in for it. It is too late to retreat. We must fight the thing out. *
* I cannot help believing we will
be overpowered. We are growing weaker
every day, and the North stronger. I
fear to look at our future. We can’t be
subjugated, we all say. I hope not; but
if we do not fly the country, I fear we will experience something like
subjugation * * *
May be I’m gloomy to-day; I reckon I am. – Who wouldn’t
be? I intend to fight as hard as I can
but I can’t see any way out. * *
* Tear up this letter. Don’t let mother or father or any of our
relatives see it. I have expressed my
heart to you because you are my dear sister, and I always tell you what I believe.
I have selected freely from the above letter because it
seems to me to be the most sensible and truthful one I have seen during all the
time I have been in the army. No doubt
there are hundreds of Southerners who feel, think, and believe as the Louisiana
Major does, but who have either too much pride to speak out, or too little
moral courage to be candid. They must
see they have placed themselves in a position from which they cannot retire and
from which they have not the power to extricate themselves.
SATURDAY’S DECISIVE
ACTION.
The masterly arrangement of our six batteries on the last
day of the fight, and the ordering forward of all the infantry so as to bear
upon the enemy at a short range with their death-dealing musketry, was the
movement which gave us our triumph.
Rebels could not avoid the dreadful cross-fires of the artillery, and
the continuous volleys of musketry.
Their officers besought them to stand firm; to remember the
sacredness of their cause, and the deadly wrongs of the South; to recall the
valorous deeds of their ancestors on other fields, the honor of Secessia, the
reputation of Slave-ownia for valor and chivalry, and a great many other things
that would have required the aid of a system of Mnemonics. But the dull fellows would not remember; or,
if they did, they received no benefit from the recollection beyond certain
excellent performances on foot; and in that short exercise they actively and
promptly indulged.
Running is generally advantageous to [hygiene] and there is
little question it proved so on Saturday to the fugacious Southerners. – They would
have found that remaining much longer behind must have seriously disagreed with
their physical well being.
STERLING PRICE RAVING
MAD.
Sterling Price is said to have blasphemed and raved like a
drunken sailor and a madman after his retreat from the field on Saturday;
swearing his troops and those from Arkansas were all cowards to allow themselves
to be driven off like kicked curs by one-half their number. He became so personally offensive in his
remarks that some of his officers threatened to resign and others to shoot him;
whereupon he altered his tone, and asked to be pardoned for hastiness of speech
and loss of temper, resulting from mortification over so terrible a defeat.
For several months past, Price has been excessively
irritable and abusive, and as he has recently augmented his potations in a
geometrical ratio, many of his own men believe him insane, and think him a
fitter candidate for the lunatic asylum than promotion in the army. – He appears
to have grown extremely morose and violent of speech, and every new repulse
increases his frailty. He denounces
everybody and everything; is as inflammatory as gunpowder on the Yankees, and
sometimes indulges in the amiable wish that the entire country was consigned to
that mythical subterranean region chiefly remarkably for its lakes of
sulphurous fire.
Price is hardly the man to become insane; he has too much of
the animal in his nature; but I have no doubt he is madder than the raving gods
in the Vida; and it must be confessed the events of the past few months have
not been such as to improve the natural infirmities of his temper.
Perhaps Sterling had better imitate the philosophic German
in the popular story, who declared he would not “pine away for Katy’s sake,”
but in the event of a certain sentimental crisis in his life he would “bite
himself mit a shnake.”
HEADQUARTERS FIRST AND
SECOND DIVISIONS,
CAMP PEA RIDGE, ARK.,
March 15.
To the Officers and Soldiers
of the First and Second Divisions:
After so many hardships and sufferings of this war in the
West, a great and decisive victory has, for the time, been attained, and the
army of the enemy overwhelmed and perfectly routed. The rebellious flag of the Confederate States
lies in the dust, and the same men who had organized armed rebellion at Camp
Jackson, Maysville and Fayetteville; who have fought against us at Boonville,
Carthage and Wilson’s Creek at Lexington and Milford, have paid the penalty of
their seditious work with their lives, or are seeking refuge behind the Boston
Mountains and the shores of the Arkansas river.
The last days were hard, but triumphant. Surrounded and pressed upon all sides by an
enterprising, desperate and greedy enemy – by the Missouri and Arkansas
mountaineer, the Texas Ranger, the finest regiment of Louisiana troops, and
even the savage Indian – almost without food, sleep or camp-fires, you remained
firm and unabashed, awaiting the moment when you could drive back your
assailants or break through the iron circle by which the enemy thought to crush
or capture us all, and plant the rebellious flag on the rocky summit of Pea
Ridge.
You have defeated all their schemes. When at McKissicks’ farm, west of
Bentonville, you extricated yourselves from their grasp by a night’s march, and
secured a train of two hundred wagons before the enemy became aware of the
direction you had taken, instead of being cut off, weakened and driven to the
necessity of giving battle under the most unfavorable circumstances, you joined
your friends and comrades at Sugar Creek, and thereby saved yourselves and the
whole army from being separated and beaten in detail.
On the retreat from Bentonville to Sugar Creek – a distance
of ten miles – you cut your way through an enemy at least five times stronger
than yourselves. The activity,
self-possession and courage of the little band of six hundred will ever be
memorable in the history of this war.
When, on the next day, the great battle began, under the
command of Gen. Asboth, you assisted the Fourth Division with all the
cheerfulness and alacrity of good and faithful soldiers – that division on that
day holding the most important position – whilst Col. Osterhaus, co-operating
with the Third Division, battered down the host of McCulloch on our left, and
Major Paten guarded our rear.
On the 8th, you came at the right time to the right
place. It was the first opportunity you
had of showing your full strength and power.
In less than three hours you formed in line of battle, advanced and
co-operated with our friends on the right, and routed the enemy so completely
that he fled like dust before a hurricane.
And so it will always be when traitors, seduced by selfish leaders and
persecuted by the pangs of an evil conscience, are fighting against soldiers
who defend a good cause, are well drilled and disciplined, obey promptly the
orders of their officers, and do not shrink from dangerous assault when, at the
proper and decisive moment it is necessary.
You may look with pride on the few days just passed, during
which you have so gloriously defended the flag of the Union. From two o’clock on the morning of the 6th,
when you arrived from Keetsville in the common encampment, you marched fifty
miles, fought three battles, took not only a battery and a flag from the enemy,
but more than a hundred and fifty prisoners – among them Acting Brigadier
General Herbert, the commander of the Louisiana forces and his major; Col.
Mitchell, of the Fourteenth Arkansas; Colonel Stone, Adjutant General of Price’s
forces, and Lieut. Col. John H. Price, whose life was twice spared, and who has
now for the second time violated his parole, and was arrested with arms in his
hands.
You have done your duty, and you can justly claim your share
in the common glory of this victory. But
let us not be partial, unjust or haughty.
Let us not forget that alone
we were too weak to perform the great work before us. Let us acknowledge the great service done by
all the brave soldiers of the Third and Fourth Divisions, and always keep in
mind that “united we stand, divided we fall.”
Let us hold out and push the work through – not by mere words and great
clamor, but by good marches, by hardships and fatigues, by strict discipline
and effective battles.
Columbus has fallen – Memphis will follow, and if you do in
future as you have done in these past days of trial, the time will soon come
when you will pitch your tents on the beautiful shores of the Arkansas river,
and there meet our iron-clad propellers at Little Rock and Fort Smith. Therefore, keep alert, my friends, and look
forward with confidence.
F. SIGEL,
Brig. Gen. Com’nding
First and Second Divs.
– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye,
Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, March 29, 1862, p. 1
