Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday, March 11, 1862

A warm bright day. Dined at the hospital with our excellent assistant surgeon, Dr. McCurdy. Sent Company E to Raleigh. The last of the Twenty-third quartered in Fayette is gone. Camp Hayes, Raleigh, headquarters henceforth.

Heard of the evacuation of Manassas by the Rebels. If so, it is evidence of a breaking away that almost decides the contest. But how did they do it undisturbed? What was McClellan doing? A great victory over the combined forces of Van Doren, Price, McCulloch, and McIntosh reported to have occurred in Arkansas.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 205

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: October 15, 1862

RICHMOND. – Yesterday morning my sister M., J. W., and myself, drove up from W. to the depot, seven miles, in a wagon, with four mules. It was a charming morning, and we had a delightful ride; took the accommodation cars at twelve and arrived here at two. We drove to the Exchange, and were delighted to find there our dear J. McI. and her little Bessie, on her way to W. to spend the winter. Poor thing, her lot is a sad one! She was excited by seeing us, and was more cheerful than I expected to see her; though she spoke constantly of her husband, and dwelt on her last days with him. She was in Memphis; her little Jemmie was excessively ill; she telegraphed for her husband in Arkansas. He came at once, and determined that it would be better to take the little boy to the house of his aunt in Louisiana, that J. might be with her sister. They took the boat, and after a few hours arrived at Mr. K's house. The child grew gradually worse, and was dying, when a telegram came to General Mcintosh from General Price, “Come at once — a battle is imminent.” He did not hesitate; the next steamer bore him from his dying child and sorrowing wife to the field of battle, Pea Ridge. He wrote to her, immediately on his arrival at camp, the most beautifully resigned letter, full of sorrow for her and for his child, but expressing the most noble, Christian sentiments. Oh, how she treasures it! The lovely boy died the day after his father left him! The mother said, “For a week H. and myself did nothing but decorate my little grave, and I took a melancholy pleasure in it; but darker days came, and I could not go even to that spot.” She dreamed, a few nights after little Jemmie's death, of being at Fort Smith, her home before the war; standing on the balcony of her husband's quarters, her attention was arrested by a procession — an officer's funeral. As it passed under the balcony she called to a passer-by: “Whose funeral is that?” “General McIntosh's, madam.” She was at once aroused, and ran to her sister's room in agony. She did what she could to comfort her, but the dream haunted her imagination. A few days afterwards she saw a servant ride into the yard, with a note for Mrs. K. Though no circumstance was more common, she at once exclaimed, “It is about my husband.” She did not know that the battle had taken place; but it was the fatal telegram. The soldiers carried his body to Fort Smith, and buried it there. To-morrow she returns, with her aunt, to W. She wishes to get to her mother's home in Kentucky, but it is impossible for her to run the blockade with her baby, and there is no other way open to her.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 166-8

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: October 6, 1862

W., Hanover County. — We left the University on the 4th, and finding J. B. N. on the cars, on “sick-leave,” I determined to stop with him here to spend a few days with my sisters, while Mr. —— went on to Richmond and Ashland. I do nothing but listen — for my life during the last three months has been quiet, compared with that of others. J. gives most interesting accounts of all he has seen, from the time he came up the Peninsula with the army in May, until he was broken down, and had to leave it, in Maryland, after the battle of Sharpsburg. As a surgeon, his personal danger has not been so great as that of others, but he has passed through scenes the most trying and the most glorious. My sisters and M. give graphic descriptions of troubles while in the enemy's lines, but, with the exception of loss of property, our whole family has passed through the summer unscathed. Many friends have fallen, and one noble young relative, E. B., of Richmond County; and I often ask myself, in deep humility of soul, why we have been thus blessed, for since our dear W. P. and General Mcintosh fell, the one in December, the other in March, we have been singularly blessed. Can this last, when we have so many exposed to danger? O, God, spare our sons! Our friend, Dr. T., of this neighbourhood, lost two sons at Sharpsburg! Poor old gentleman! it is so sad to see his deeply-furrowed, resigned face.

McClellan's troops were very well-behaved while in this neighbourhood; they took nothing but what they considered contraband, such as grain, horses, cattle, sheep, etc., and induced the servants to go off. Many have gone — it is only wonderful that more did not go, considering the inducements that were offered. No houses were burned, and not much fencing. The ladies' rooms were not entered except when a house was searched, which always occurred to unoccupied houses; but I do not think that much was stolen from them. Of course, silver, jewelry, watches, etc., were not put in their way. Our man Nat, and some others who went off, have returned — the reason they assign is, that the Yankees made them work too hard! It is so hard to find both families without carriage horses, and with only some mules which happened to be in Richmond when the place was surrounded. A wagon, drawn by mules, was sent to the depot for us. So many of us are now together that we feel more like quiet enjoyment than we have done for months.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 164-5

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: March 13, 1862

Our hearts are overwhelmed to-day with our private grief. Our connection, Gen. James Mcintosh, has fallen in battle. It was at Pea Ridge, Arkansas, on the 7th, while making a dashing cavalry charge. He had made one in which he was entirely successful, but seeing the enemy reforming, he exclaimed, “We must charge again. My men, who will follow me?” He then dashed off, followed by his whole brigade. The charge succeeded, but the leader fell, shot through the heart. The soldiers returned, bearing his body! My dear J. and her little Bessie are in Louisiana. I groan in heart when I think of her. Oh that I were near her, or that she could come to us! These are the things which are so unbearable in this war. That noble young man, educated at West Point, was Captain in the army, and resigned when his native Georgia seceded. He soon rose to the rank of Brigadier, but has fallen amid the flush of victory, honoured, admired and beloved by men and officers. He has been buried at Fort Smith. The Lord have mercy upon his wife and child! I am thankful that he had no mother to add to the heart-broken mothers of this land. The gallant Texas Ranger, General Ben McCulloch, fell on the same day; he will be sadly missed by the country. In my selfishness I had almost forgotten him, though he doubtless has many to weep in heart-sickness for their loved and lost.

Bishop Meade is desperately ill to-day — his life despaired of.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 100-1

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: January 20, 1862

Westwood, Hanover County. — I pass over the sad leave-taking of our kind friends in Clarke and Winchester. It was very sad, because we knew not when and under what circumstances we might meet again. We left Winchester, in the stage, for Strasburg at ten o'clock at night, on the 24th of December. The weather was bitter cold, and we congratulated ourselves that the stage was not crowded. Mr. –––– and the girls were on the back seat, a Methodist clergyman, a soldier, and myself on the middle, and two soldiers and our maid Betsey on the front seat. We went off by starlight, with every prospect of a pleasant drive of eighteen miles. As we were leaving the suburbs of the town, the driver drew up before a small house, from which issued two women with a baby, two baskets, several bundles, and a box. The passengers began to shout out, “Go on, driver; what do you mean? there's no room for another; go on.” The driver made no answer, but the women came to the stage-door, and began to put in their bundles; the gentlemen protested that they could not get in—there was no room. The woman with the baby said she would get in; she was “agwine to Strasburg to spend Christmas with her relations, whar she was born and raised, and whar she had not been for ten year, and nobody had a better right to the stage than she had, and she was agwine, and Kitty Grim was agwine too — she's my sister-law; and so is baby, 'cause baby never did see her relations in Strasburg in her life. So, Uncle Ben!” she exclaimed to the driver, “take my bag, basket, and box by yon, and me and Kitty and baby, and the bundles and the little basket, will go inside.” All this was said amidst violent protestations from the men within: “You can't get in; driver, go on.” But suiting the action to the word, she opened the door, calling, “Come, Kitty,” got on the step, and thrust her head in, saying: “If these gentlemen is gentlemen, and has got any politeness, they will git out and set with Uncle Ben, and let ladies come inside.” A pause ensued. At last a subdued tone from the soldier on the middle seat was heard to say: “Madam, if you will get off the step, I will get out.” “Very well, sir; and why didn't you do that at first? And now,” said she, looking at a man on the front seat, "there's another seat by Uncle Ben; sposen you git out and let Kitty Grim have your seat; she's bound to go.” The poor man quietly got out, without saying a word, but the very expression of his back, as he got out of the stage, was subdued. “Now, Kitty, git in, and bring the little basket and them two bundles; they won't pester the lady much." The door was closed, and then, the scene being over, the passengers shouted with laughter.

Our heroine remained perfectly passive until we got to the picket-post, a mile from town. The driver stopped; a soldier came up for passports. She was thunder-struck. "Passes! Passes for white folks! I never heard of such a thing. I ain't got no pass; nuther is Kitty Grim.” I suggested to her to keep quiet, as the best policy. Just at that time a Tennessee soldier had to confess that he had forgotten to get a passport. “You can't go on,” said the official; and the soldier got out. Presently the woman's turn came. “Madam, your passport, if you please.” “I ain't got none; nuther is Kitty Grim (that's my sister-inlaw); we ain't agwine to git out nuther, 'cause we's gwine to Strasburg to spend Christmas with my relations, and I ain't been thar for ten year, and I never heard of white folks having passes.” “But, madam,” began the official “You needn't to ‘but, madam,’ me, ‘cause I ain't agwine to git out, and I'd like to see the man what would put me out. This is a free country, and I'se agwine to Strasburg this night; so you might as well take your lantern out of my face.” “But, madam, my orders,” began the picket. “Don't tell me nothing 'bout orders; I don't care nothing 'bout orders; and you needn't think, 'cause the Tennessee man got out, that I'se agwine to git out — 'cause I ain't. Ain't I got three sons in the army, great sight bigger than you is? and they fit at Manassas, and they ain't no cowards, nuther is their mother; and I ain't agwine to git out of this stage this night, but I'm gwine to Strasburg, whar I was born and raised.”

The poor man looked non-plussed, but yet another effort; he began, “My dear madam.” “I ain't none of your dear madam; I'se just a free white woman, and so is Kitty Grim, and we ain't no niggers to git passes, and I'se gwine 'long this pike to Strasburg. Now I'se done talking.” With this she settled herself on the seat, and leant back with a most determined air; and the discomfited man shut the door amid peals of laughter from within and from without. In a few minutes we were quiet again, and all began to settle themselves for sleep, when the silence was broken by our heroine: “Kitty, is you sick?” “No,” said Kitty. “Well, it is a wonder. Gentlemen, can't one of you take Kitty's seat, and give her yourn? she gits monstrous sick when she is ariding with her back to the horses." There was a deathlike silence, and my cariosity was aroused to know how she would manage that point. After a few moments she began again. “Kitty, is you sick?” “No,” says Kitty, “not yit.” “Well, I do wish one of you gentlemen would give Kitty his seat.” Still no reply. All was becoming quiet again, when she raised her voice: “Kitty Grim, is you sick?” “Yes,” said Kitty, “just a little.” “I knowed it; I knowed she was sick; and when Kitty Grim gits sick, she most in gineral flings up!” The effect was electric. “My dear madam,” exclaimed both gentlemen at once, “take my seat; by all means take my seat.” The Methodist clergyman being nearest, gave up his seat and took hers. The change was soon effected amidst the most uproarious laughter, all feeling that they were fairly out-generalled the third time. From that time until we reached Strasburg, at two o'clock, she kept up a stream of talk, addressed to the baby, never interrupted except once, when the quiet-looking soldier on the front seat ventured to say, “Madam, do you never sleep?” “Never when I'm a-travelling,” was the curt reply; and she talked on to the baby: “Look at all them mules — what a sight of fodder they must eat! The Yankees come down to fight us, 'cause we'se got niggers and they ain't got none. I wish there warn't no niggers. I hate Yankees, and I hate niggers too,” etc., until we got to Strasburg. She then called out to “Uncle Ben” not to carry her to the depot — she was “agwine to her uncle's.” “Whar's that?” cried Uncle Ben. “I don't know, but monstrous nigh a tailor's.” One of the passengers suggested that we might be left by the cars, and had better go on to the depot. But she objected, and we had become a singularly non-resisting company, and allowed her to take — what we knew she would have — her own way.

In the mean time the cars arrived, crowded with soldiers. It was very dark and cold; the confusion and noise were excessive — shouting, hallooing, hurrahing. We passed through the dense crowd, and into the cars, with some difficulty. Mr. —— returned to look for the baggage. At last all seemed ready, and off we went; but what was our horror to find that Mr. —— was not in the cars! All the stories that we had ever heard of persons being thrown from the train as they attempted to get on, arose to our imagination. The darkness and crowd were great. Might he not have been thrown from the platform? We became more and more uneasy. The conductor came by; I questioned him, thinking he might be in another car. He replied, “No, madam, there is no such gentleman on the train.” At this moment the Methodist minister, who had been in the stage, introduced himself as the Rev. Mr. Jones; he knew Mr. ——; he offered me his purse and his protection. I can never forget his kindness. He thought Mr. —— had not attempted to get on the train; there was so much baggage from the stage that there was some difficulty in arranging it ; he would telegraph from Manassas when we stopped to change cars, and the answer would meet us at Culpeper Court-House. All this was a great relief to us. At Manassas he attended to our baggage; one piece was wanting — a box, which Mr. J. had seen in Mr. ——'s hands,  just before the train set off; he seemed convinced that Mr. —— was detained by an ineffectual effort to get that box on the car. At Culpeper Court-House we found J. waiting for us at the depot. Our kind and Rev. friend did not give up his supervision of us until he saw us under J's care. We immediately applied at the office for our expected telegram; but it was not there. As it was Christmas-day, the office was closed at a very early hour, which seemed to me a strange arrangement, considering the state of the country. J. felt no uneasiness about his father, but was greatly disappointed, as he had expected to pass that day with him. I had heard in Winchester that my nephew, W. B. Phelps, had been wounded in the unfortunate fight at Dranesville, and felt great uneasiness about him; but J. had seen persons directly from Centreville, who reported him slightly wounded. This relieved my mind, but it was most unfortunate; for, had I known the truth, I should have gone on the return train to Manassas, and thence to Centreville, for the purpose of nursing him. We spent Christmas-day at the hotel, and dined with a number of soldiers. In the afternoon we were very much gratified to meet with the family of our neighbour, Captain J. The Captain is stationed here, and the ladies have made themselves very comfortable. We took tea with them, and talked over our mutual troubles: our lost homes — our scattered families and friends. The next morning the train came at the usual hour, bringing Mr. –––. Some difficulty in putting a small box of books on the car had caused a slight detention, and as he was almost in the act of stepping on board, the train moved off, and there he was, left in the dead of a winter's night, without shelter, (for, strange to say, there is no stationhouse at Strasburg,) without light, and with no one to whom he could apply for assistance. He walked back to the village, and there, to use his own expression, he “verily thought he should have to spend the freezing night in the street.” At a number of houses he knocked loud and long, but not a door was opened to him. At last a young man in an office, after giving scrutinizing glances through the window, opened his door and gave him a chair by his fire, assigning as a reason for the difficulty in getting accommodations, that the number of disorderly soldiers passing through the village made it dangerous to open the houses during the night. At daybreak he got on a freight train, hoping to find at Manassas the means of getting to Culpeper Court-House that night. In this he was disappointed, and had a most unpleasant trip on the train, which did not reach Manassas until sunset. There he found no place to sleep, and nothing to eat, until a colonel, whose name he unfortunately has forgotten, invited him to his quarters in the country. He accepted the invitation most gladly, and as it was very dark, he took a servant as a guide, who proved to know no more about the way than he did; so that both blundered and stumbled along a muddy lane, over fences, through a corn-field, over the stalks and corn-beds, until, by what seemed a mere accident, they came upon the longed-for house and found rest for the night. Next morning we joined him on the train, delighted to see him safe and sound, feeling that “all's well that ends well;” we proceeded pleasantly on our journey. J. accompanied us as far as Gordonsville, that he might have two hours with his father. That evening we reached this place after dark, and found a house full of friends and relatives — the house at S. H. also full — so that it was a real family gathering, as in days of yore; and to add to our pleasure, our dear W. B. N. was at home on furlough. Here we see nothing of war, except the uniform of the furloughed soldiers and the retrenchment in the style of living. Desserts and wine are abolished; all superfluities must go to the soldiers. In some respects we are beginning to feel the blockade; groceries are becoming scarce and high in price, but the ladies are becoming wonderfully ingenious — coffee is so judiciously blended with parched corn, wheat or rye, that you scarcely detect the adulteration. The dressy Southern girls are giving up their handsome bonnets, wrappings, and silk dresses; they are perfectly willing to give up what once they considered absolutely necessary to their wardrobes. They say they do not enjoy such things now; they are, however, bright and cheerful; they sing patriotic songs to their furloughed friends, and listen with undying interest to anecdotes of the battle-field, with tears for the fallen, sympathy for the wounded, and the most enthusiastic admiration for deeds of daring, or for the patient endurance of the soldier. It is delightful to see the unanimity of feeling, the oneness of heart, which pervades Virginia at this time; and we believe it is so throughout the South.

We were, however, soon saddened by a letter from Centreville, from a comrade of our dear Willie Phelps to my brother, saying that the wound was more severe than it was at first supposed. He immediately set out for Centreville, but none of us dreamed of real danger. The reports came from him less and less favourable; I wanted to go to him, but the letters were discouraging to me— “There was no room for me; ladies would be in the way in so small a hospital;” and some strange hallucination and blindness to danger led us to abandon the idea of going to him. We knew that he had lost his arm, but did not dream of danger to his life. His mother, at her home in Covington, Kentucky, saw his name among the wounded, and notwithstanding the cold and ice, set off alone — came through Pittsburg and to Baltimore without difficulty, thence to Washington; but there no passport could be obtained to come to Virginia. Her son was but twenty miles off, certainly wounded; she knew no more. She applied in person to the proper authorities: “Is your son in the rebel camp?” was asked. “Then no passport can be given you to visit him.” She remembered that General McClellan (who had been a friend in the old army of her son-in-law, General Mcintosh) was in the city. She drove to his house. Mrs. McClellan expressed great sympathy for her, and for “your son, the interesting young man I met with in Cincinnati,” but regretted that General McClellan was too ill to be spoken to on any subject; he was under the influence of anodynes, etc, etc. She then drove to the house of Mr. Chase, who had been for many years at the bar with her husband, and on most friendly terms. The servant replied pompously that Mr. Chase never saw company at that hour. She then sent for Miss C. The daughter very politely regretted that her father could not be seen until the next day at ten. She could do nothing but return to the hotel for another night of suspense. Next morning, in passing through the parlours, she encountered a lady from her own State, who greeted her pleasantly; she was preparing to entertain her friends — it was New Year's day. “Won't you be with us, Mrs. P.? You may meet some old friends.” An apology for declining the invitation was given, by a simple statement of her object in coming to Washington. “Where is your son?” “In the Southern army." “Oh,” she exclaimed, “not in the rebel camp! Not a rebel!” and she curled her loyal lip in scorn. “Yes,” was the quiet reply, “he is what you call a rebel; but it is the honoured name which Washington bore;” and with a spirit not soothed by her countrywoman, she passed on to the street, got into a carriage, and proceeded to the house of Mr. Chase. It was ten o'clock — surely there could be no obstacle now. He soon entered — she introduced herself and her subject. Mr. C. was polite, but professed to be able to do nothing for her: “I am not the proper person to whom such an application should be made.” “I know that; but to whom shall I apply?” He said, “He did not know how to advise her; the case was a difficult one; your son is in the rebel camp; I think that you cannot get a passport.” She then, in a state of despair, exclaimed, “Oh, Mr. Chase, he is the son of your old acquaintance, Mr. ——!” He was at once touched. “Are you his widow?” “Yes.” “But how came your son to join the rebels?” “Because his father and myself were both Virginians; he was educated in Virginia, and his whole heart is in the Southern cause.” He immediately wrote a note to Mr. Seward, which he advised her to deliver in person; it would probably produce the desired effect. To Mr. Seward's she drove. The servant invited her in, but supposed that the Secretary could not attend to business, as it was New Year's day. The note was sent up; an attache soon came down to say that the Secretary could not be seen, but that a passport would be given her, to go at least as far as Fortress Monroe — no passport could be given to go immediately to Centreville. She was thankful for this permission; but it seemed too hard that she should be obliged to go around hundreds of miles, when the object could be accomplished by going twenty.

She took the evening train to Baltimore, thence, next morning, to Fortress Monroe; she reached it in safety that evening. The boat was visited by a provost-marshal as soon as it touched the wharf, who, after examining passports, took hers, and some others, to General Wool. An answer from this high officer was long delayed, but at last it was brought. She could not land, but must return in the boat to Baltimore; it would leave for Baltimore next morning. She poured out her griefs to the officer, who, sympathizing with her story, said he would again apply to General Wool. He soon returned to say that she might land, and her case would be examined into next morning. Next day she was requested to walk into General Wool's office. He asked why she wanted to go to Virginia. The story was soon told. Then the stereotyped question: “Is your son in the rebel army?” with the usual answer. “Then,” he replied, “you cannot go.” Despair took possession of her soul. She forgot her own situation, and, with the eloquence of a mother, almost frantic with anxiety, she pleaded her cause. Even the obdurate heart of General Wool was moved. He asked her what she knew of the army at Washington She replied, that she knew nothing; she had only seen the soldiers who passed her on the street. “What have you seen of our army here?” “Nothing, for I have been too unhappy to think of it, and only left my room when summoned by you.” “Then,” said he, “you may take the first boat to Norfolk.” The hour for the departure of the boat came, her trunk was duly searched, and she came off to the dearly-loved Confederacy. She reached Norfolk too late for the cars, and had to wait until next day. On reaching Richmond, she heard that her son had been brought to this place, and was doing well. The next evening she arrived here in a carriage, and was shocked and disappointed to find that she had been misinformed. Heavy tidings reached us that night: he was not improving, as we had hoped, but decidedly worse. At two o'clock in the morning I accompanied her to the depot, eight miles off, and we went on to Manassas; reached the junction after night, and were met by our brother and W. B. N. They knew that we would be in the cars, and came to meet us. As they approached us, I saw, by the dim light of the carlamp, that their countenances were sad. My heart sunk within me. What could it be? Why had they both left him? She had not seen them, and said to me, “Come, we must get an ambulance and go to Centreville to-night.” But in another moment the whole was told. Her child had died that morning, just ten hours before. Who can describe that night of horrors? We spent it in a small house near the depot. Friends and near kindred were full of sympathy, and the people in whose house we were, were kind and considerate. The captain of his company, a noble young friend from her own home, Covington, came to see her, and to condole with her; but her first-born was not — the darling of her heart had passed away! At daylight we were in the cars again, on our melancholy return. On the third day his dear remains were brought to us, and the mother saw her heroic son, in his plain soldier's coffin, but beautiful in death, committed to God's own earth, having fallen in a glorious cause, in the faith of the Gospel, and with a bright hope of a blessed immortality. The young Kentucky friend who accompanied his remains told her his last words, which were a wonderful consolation to her: “Tell my mother that I die in the faith of Christ; her early instructions have been greatly blessed to me; and my last word is, Mother." This was said in extreme weakness. He soon slept, and never awoke in this world. One young soldier said to me that night, at Manassas: “He was one of the bravest men I ever saw, and met death like a soldier.” Another said: “He died like a Christian.” Scarcely had we buried him, when news was brought us that her younger, now her only son, was desperately ill on the steamer “Jamestown,” on James River — he belongs to our navy. She hurried to Richmond, and thence down the river to the steamer, but found him better. He was soon well enough to accompany her to this place. She had left her home suddenly, and must return to it; so, after a few days with her boy, who is now decidedly convalescent, she has left him in our care, and has set off on her weary way home. She will probably meet with no difficulties on her return, from officials, as she has passports through our lines; but she has a lonely, dreary way before her, and a sorrowful story for her young daughter at home. God be with her!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 75-87

From The Arkansas Rebels --- They Extend Their Retreat --- Pike’s Indians Absquatulated --- The Rebel Force And Prospect

ROLLA, MO., March 29. Reliable persons just from our army in the southwest, say that the rebels numbering some 35,000 under Van Dorn and Price, have retreated entirely across the Boston Mountains, and are now at Van Buren and Fort Smith receiving supplies from Memphis and little Rock, via the Arkansas river, which is high.

The Texas troops are much disheartened at the death of McCulloch, and the Arkansas troops feel the loss of McIntosh very severely.  The rebels are badly off for clothing and shoes.

Pike’s Indians have mostly returned to the Indian nation.  They were not formidable in battle, being panic stricken at the effect of our artillery.

Price receved his Major General’s commission in the confederate service on the 16th.

One regiment of Texas troops reached Van Buren on the 15th to reinforce Van Dorn, and more were expected from Louisiana.  The whole rebel reinforcements will not exceed 5,000 in the next six weeks.

They were badly frightened and retreated very rapidly, and for the first three days of their flight had nothing to eat.  Their cannon and baggage train might have been easily captured.

Gen. Curtis’ army fell back to Keitsville to secure forage, Arkansas north of Fayetteville being entirely out.

Our forces are now camped at the head of Cross Timber Hollow, were water and forage are plenty.  Our pickets extend into Arkansas and the rebel pickets come north to the top of Boston Mountains.

Fayetteville is unoccupied.  Very little union sentiment has been developed in Arkansas.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 5, 1862, p. 4

The Late Battle Of Pea Ridge

Lieutenant Colonel Herron, of the Ninth Iowa volunteers, one of the regiments which bore so gallant a part in the actions at Leetown and Elkhorn, in Arkansas, (known officially as the battle of Pea Ridge,) recently arrived in this city, and is occupying a room at the Planters House.  He is in care of Dr. Charles A. Pope, and has promise of as speedy recovery from his wound as possible.  During one of the fiercest contests of the battle, and in which the Ninth had to struggle against a superior force of the enemy, a cannon ball passed entirely through Lieutenant Colonel Herron’s horse, and striking the rider’s right ankle, produced both a fracture and a dislocation.  While thus prostrated on the field, he fell into the hands of the enemy, and on the retreat of their army to Van Buren he was carried thither a prisoner, and exchanged, after two weeks’ detention, for Col. Hebert, of Louisiana, who was among the captives taken by the Union forces.  He was as well treated while in possession of the rebels as their limited means for hospitality and the courtesies of warfare would allow, and met among them several St. Louisans with whom he was acquainted before the breaking out of the war.  He saw or heard of them at the town of Van Buren, on the Arkansas river, four miles from Fort Smith. – It was on Van Buren that the enemy directed their retreat after the fortunes of the contest at Pea Ridge went against them, the columns of the deceased Generals McCulloch and McIntosh, taking the route via Huntsville, and Van Dorn and Price, the road through Bentonville.  They made capital time to Van Buren, and there effected a re-concentration of their defeated and dispirited followers.

Col. Herron Frequently saw and conversed with Gen. Price, and believes him to be rather the best and most sensible of the rebel magnates.  Price was shot through the left arm with a Minie ball.  It entered a few inches below the elbow and cut the bone without causing a complete fracture.  The arm was painful and much swollen, and Dr. France, Price’s Surgeon, had great difficulty in reducing the inflammation.

Gen. Slack received a mortal wound in the battle, and was found on the field by Federal soldiers, and carried to a hospital used temporarily for the treatment of the rebel wounded. – He lived only four hours.

Gens. McCulloch and McIntosh were buried at the same time, at Fort Smith.  An escort of cavalry accompanied their remains to the grave.

Gen. Rains after getting to Van Buren, became insubordinate, under the influence of copious drinks of bad whiskey.  He met. Maj. Gen. Van Dorn on the street, denounced him, and damned him for a coward – laying the loss of the battle wholly to Van Dorn’s account.  The opinion generally expressed by the rebel officers was that Van Dorn had courage enough, but lacked judgment.  He arrived at the confederate camps only the day before the battle, and was received with a grand artillery salute, the thunder of which was heard in the Federal lines.  Learning from the subordinate generals that their combined forces amounted to 40,000 men, he ordered them to move forward early next morning and surround the Federal troops.  The day before Col. Heron was released, Price received a commission from Richmond as Major-General.  This still left Price subordinate to Van Dorn, but he thinks the latter has retired or resigned leaving Price in chief command.

Two thirds of the rebel soldiers were armed with muskets, many of them of the Springfield and Enfield pattern, and having sabre bayonets.  The balance had shot guns and country rifles with usual variety.  A brigade of three regiments of Louisiana troops had good uniforms of gray cloth, but with the remainder of the army uniforms were few except with the officers.  They had forty-five pieces of artillery, many of the guns being superior to those in the Union army, who counted, all told, but forty two pieces.  The mules and wagons comprising the commissary train were better than our own, but in medical stores and hospital appliances they were very deficient.

The rebels generally were much dispirited. – Their officers studiously deceived them as to the extent of the late reverses.  They admitted that Fort Donelson had been lost to them with a garrison of two or three thousand men but they denied that Columbus had been evacuated, or that the Federal troops occupied Nashville.  The news of the naval engagement in Hampton Roads was bulletined throughout their camps on sheets of paper, printed in large type.  They represented that six Government vessels were then destroyed – on of them with the entire crew of five hundred men. –{St. Louis Rep.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 5, 1862, p. 2

See Also:

• Iowa Colonels and Regiments: Major General Francis J. Herron

The Great Battle of Pea Ridge

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

The Pea Ridge Battle

Further Details of the Fight.

(Correspondence of the Missouri Democrat.)

PEA RIDGE, Near Sugar Creek, Ark.,

March 9, 1862

During the past three days we have had some terrible fighting against fearful odds.

On Wednesday, Gen. Curtis, commander-in-chief, whose head-quarters was at Camp Halleck, received reliable information that the rebels, under Van Dorn, McIntosh, McCulloch, Price and Pike, were marching on us with a large force of Confederate Rebels and Confederate Indians.  All prisoners taken give the rebel forces from 35,000 to 40,000.  Gen. Curtis then ordered Carr’s division to move from Cross Hollows to Sugar Creek to take a strong position he had previously selected in case of attack.  Col. Carr marched in the night and joined Col. Davis, who had previously taken position before break of day, in good order.

Gen. Sigel, at Bentonville, was also ordered to rejoin Gen. Curtis at the same point.  Gen. Sigel’s rear cut their way through the enemy at the latter place, and kept up the fight for six miles.

The rebels on Friday morning having made a detour from Bentonville, got a heavy force directly on our rear and right, occupying the heights and brush on both sides of the Fayetteville road.  Colonel Carr’s division was sent to dislodge them.  The battle commenced at half-past 10 a. m., and raged eight hours, until darkness put an end to the contest.  They played on us from masked batteries.  At night we occupied a position considerably nearer our camp.  The carnage was dreadful on both sides.

Simultaneously with the action on our right fighting tool place opposite our front near Leetown, between Gen. Davis and another large body of the enemy.  The latter were forced from the field and hastened to form a junction with the rebels on our right.  The numerous instances of gallantry and heroic devotion which occurred, cannot be mentioned in this communication.  The move of the enemy caused a change of our line.  The battle was resumed next morning, (Saturday) about half past six o’clock, our guns opened on the enemy.  Gen. Carr formed in the center, with Davis on the right and Sigel on the left.  The line of battle was a magnificent sight.  The enemy occupied an open wood directly in front, a perfect hive of them.  They also covered a high bluff more to the left where a battery was planted.  They had another battery playing on us from a more central position, and also a battery of twelve rifled pieces on the Fayetteville road.  We opened upon them with five batteries planted at different points along our whole line, the cross fire produced such a tremendous effect as caused the enemy to falter.

Soon after 10 a. m. Gen. Curtis gave the order to advance, and the infantry becoming engaged, poured in such a murderous fire of musketry that the enemy fled from the field in all directions.  The victory was decisive. – Under the eye of Gen. Curtis, Commander-in-Chief, Gen. Sigel followed the flying enemy for several miles.  Col. Bussy with a cavalry force, is in pursuit toward Boston Mountains, after the main body.  We captured five cannon.  It is impossible to give our loss at this time, or any reliable estimate of the enemy’s loss.  We have taken prisoners, Acting Brig. Gen. Herbet, the commander at Cross Hollows; also Colonel Mitchell, adj. Gen. Stone, Col. Price and majors and captains in abundance.

The loss of valuable officers on our side is deeply deplored.  We have four general hospitals established for the relief of the wounded.

The rebel McIntosh is reported dead, and also McCulloch, who was known to be mortally wounded.

Price was wounded in the hand.

Van Dorn got away safe.

Col. Reeves of the rebel Second Missouri, is mortally wounded.

Albert Pike Commands the Indians.

Many of our wounded have been tomahawked and scalped by the Indians, with savage ferocity unbecoming civilized warfare.

I give a list of our casualties in killed and wounded.

Col. Hendricks, 22d Indiana, was killed by Indians.

Liet. Col. Herron was wounded in the foot and taken prisoner.

Maj. Black of the 37th Illinois, wounded in the arm.

Lieut. Col. Fredricks, 59th (late 6th Missouri,) reported mortally wounded.

Gen. Asboth, wounded in arm.

Lieut. Colonel Trimble was wounded in the mouth.

Lieut. Col. Crittenden, Co. K, 3d Iowa cavalry, was severely wounded.

Major Coyle of the 9th Iowa in shoulder.

Lieut. Porcher, Co. H, 4th Iowa, severely wounded in thigh.

Color Sergeant Teal, 4th Iowa, shot in the arm.

Captain Burger, Co. H, 4th Iowa, wounded in head.

Add Pea Ridge to the list of battlegrounds.

All our letters including my dispatches, have been detained several days here – cut off by the enemy.

STILL LATER FROM THE BATTLE-FIELD

(By Dispatch from Rolla.)

ROLLA, Missouri, March 16. – The remains of Colonel Hendricks, of the 29th Indiana, who was killed at the battle of Pea Ridge, Arkansas, arrived here yesterday, accompanied by his brother and two or three other gentlemen, who left the battle-ground on Monday following the battle.

They represent the contest as having been a terrible one.  The rebels fought desperately, using stones in their cannon, when their shot gave out.  Their force is stated at 35,000 including 2,200 Indians under Albert Pike.

As near as can be ascertained, our loss is six hundred killed and 800 to 1,000 wounded.  The rebel surgeons, who came into our lines to dress the wounds of their soldiers, acknowledge the loss of 1,100 killed and from 2,500 to 3,000 wounded.

We took 1,600 prisoners and thirteen pieces of artillery, ten of which were captured by Gen. Sigel’s command and three by Col. Patterson’s brigade.

Two of our cannon, belonging to Davidson’s battery, were taken by the rebels, but were recaptured by our troops.

The rebels were completely whipped, one division under Price fleeing in one direction and the other, under Van Dorn, taking another. – Maj. Hebart of one of the secession regiments, who was taken prisoner, says that Gen. Erost of Camp Jackson notoriety was killed.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, March 22, 1862, p. 4