May to July 1862
After our return from Linn Creek, we again remained in camp training. We were then ordered to Neosho, a large town about eighty miles distant in a south-westerly direction.1 The men were armed with old style muzzle-loading muskets, totally unfit for the use of cavalry men. Our horse equipments were such old saddles, bridles, &c. as we had been able to bring from home for our own use. Armed and equipped thus, even veterans would have labored under fearful disadvantages in a battle. Raw recruits, like our men, armed and equipped thus, and commanded, as we were, by an officer in whose skill no one had any faith; and who, many believed, was even capable of selling us to the enemy,—raw recruits, I repeat, thus situated were simply doomed to defeat and demoralization, if they met any enemy at all. Our Colonel, however, had just received his commission, and had just donned a pair of straps that had eagles on them. And now, like Don Quixote when he attacked the windmills, our doughty Colonel was burning to win for his own brows the laurels of the conqueror. He said: “The name of my Mountain Rangers will be sufficient to scare Col. Coffee and Gen. Standwaite out of the country.”2 And yet, as I have just shown, his “Mountain Rangers,” as he called his men, were as yet, little more than a mob. No matter how brave they were, they were not in a condition to fight.
In a letter written to my wife on the 6th of June, after our return to Springfield, I briefly described the principal events of this expedition. I will, therefore, give the letter:
My Dear Susie:—Once more at Springfield, I find your kind letters of the 26th ult. and the 1st inst. waiting me. I am very glad to hear that you are doing so well as you are. I approve of all you have done, and I approve of your wish to visit your people. I do not as yet, however, see how you can make that visit. It seems almost useless for you to come back to a country in which men are almost daily shot down at their plows or in their own yards. Refugee families are passing daily on the roads, from the counties below this, and serious alarms occur even here. So soon as I receive any money, I will come to see you, and then we will conclude what to do. Try to bear all your trials like a little philosopher as you really are. I am at Jack McElhany’s now. Himself and family are all well, and all rejoiced to see me again.
On last Monday we marched to Mount Vernon. There we met some other forces, and, with them, marched to Neosho.3 While on our way, I was sent out in command of a scouting party of the men and had some interesting adventures which I will relate when I see you. We took several prisoners, horses, and guns. When we reached Neosho, I found the camp pitched in a very bad place and badly guarded.4 This was on Thursday. On one side of the camp, partially surrounding it in the form of a semi-circle, was a high bluff, so steep that cavalry could not climb it and thickly covered with under-brush. This was on the side toward the enemy; and, as I knew that they could not fail to know all about our numbers, our position, our pickets, &c. I felt sure that, if they attacked us, as I believed they would, the advantage of ground was so entirely in their favor that they would be sure to defeat us. At first I thought that our Colonel had made only a temporary stop upon this ground, and that he surely would not place us at the mercy of the enemy by having us encamp for the night in so extremely unfavorable a position. To my surprise and dismay, however, the men were soon commanded to put up their tents upon this ground—the very ground that the enemy would have selected for us, had the selection been left to them, as it probably was. The Colonel had chosen for his head-quarters a house in the vicinity, and there, with his staff, and with such other officers as felt convivially inclined, he was having a good time over his wine, his oysters, &c. The delightfulness of this convivial scene was greatly heightened, too, by the smiles and the wit of a bevy of rebel women—beautiful and bright, old friends of the Colonel who used to live in this town. Everything went “merry as a marriage bell.” The men in all the companies but my own were fiddling, dancing, singing songs, playing cards, and enjoying themselves generally. In my own company, when night came on, all was silent, the tents dark, the men lying with their clothes on, their guns in their hands, and their cartridge boxes under their heads. They had orders, in case of an alarm, to spring at once into line in front of our row of tents. This was all my work. Captain Burch having been placed in command of the guard, I was, of course, left in command of the company.5 When I lay down in my tent, I could not sleep. Lieutenant Norton, also who lay by my side, appeared restless and uneasy.6 I asked him what he thought of our situation. He said he did not like it. I replied that I did not like it either, and that twenty five resolute rebels could throw our whole command into confusion, and stampede them like so many cattle. I told him that I would get up and go to see Colonel Richardson. He said he would go with me. On our way we met Captain Julian and a few other prudent officers who, like ourselves, did not like the existing state of affairs. These officers went with us. Before this occurred, indeed, just as daylight was fading, the firing of three guns had been heard somewhere on the wooded hill which I have just described. Some of the prisoners that I had taken declared that Standwaite’s whole army was only a few miles away in that direction. A negro had brought us word that an attack upon us was about to be made. A Union woman, also, had sent us word that the college grounds, near her house, and within rifle-range of our camps, were full of men and horses. No guards were placed on that hill, and no one was permitted to ascend it to ascertain what might be there.7 Had that hill been reconnoitered, our Colonel’s old law partner, Rick Johnson, a prominent rebel officer, would have been found there with his command.8 When darkness set in, the dogs still barked upon the hill, and the citizens all around us seemed in confusion. Indeed, after lying down, by placing my ear to the ground, I could hear a low rumbling as of the distant trampling of many horses. It was then that I spoke to Lieutenant Norton, and that we arose to go see the Colonel.
When we reached the Colonel’s head-quarters, he and the other “gay and festive” officers hastily gathered about us to learn our business. I briefly told them what I thought of our situation, and asked permission to go out alone and reconnoiter the dark woods on the hill, and also to learn what was moving upon the roads beyond our pickets. This very proper and very reasonable request was refused, and some insinuations of cowardice were made by some of the principal festive officers in regard to those who exhibited, as I did, some anxiety. Even the Colonel, with a very brave look, said: “It is very natural for some men to be chicken-hearted.” He assured us that these reports were rebel lies fabricated by persons who wished to scare us away. He seemed to think that the enemy was a long way off and that he was very timid and inoffensive. “Why,” said he, “even if Gen. Standwaite and Col. Coffee should conclude to attack me, it would be impossible for them, under a day yet, to hear of my arrival, and then it would take them at least two more days to reach this place. But they’ll never attack me.”9 I returned to my tent grieved. I once thought of going out between the pickets without permission, but this, I knew, was not the way for a soldier to do. I therefore went around and saw that all my men were sleeping with their guns in their arms according to my orders. I found everything all right among them. I expected the attack at the dawning of the day; and, as I afterwards learned, this was the time at first fixed upon by the enemy. This time was changed by them, however, for a later hour,—the hour at which the men, by orders issued on the previous evening, were to lead their horses to water without bridles or saddles. When the enemy were duly notified, as they soon were, of these orders, they knew that the best time of all to make their attack would be while the men were thus watering their horses.
The night passed, the morning dawned, and yet no attack. Breakfast was eaten, and even I had come to the conclusion that no real danger had threatened us at present. Leaving my arms in my tent, I took a short stroll to a little creek that skirted one side of our camping ground. While here, I was met by Captain Julian, Lieutenant Worley, and several other officers who said they had orders to take me with them to break open certain cells in the jail in which rebel ammunition was supposed to be stored. I went on with them, without returning for my arms. At the same time, another party, composed almost entirely of prominent officers, was sent to put up a flag in town.10 This was done at the request of our Col’s. rebel ladies who said that they had not seen a Union flag for so long a time that they would like to see one now. As I have since learned, the flag business was merely a stratagem to get as many of our officers as possible out of our camp, at the time the attack was to be made. Whether our Colonel weakly permitted his fair rebel charmers to make all these plans for him, or whether, for a consideration, he deliberately contracted with the enemy to surrender us into their power, I do not know. Certain it is, however, that all the efficient officers were sent out in these two parties, and that, too, at the very time fixed upon by the enemy for their attack,—the very time at which the men would be leading their horses to water and would be at some distance from their guns and their horse equipments. These were certainly strange coincidences.
While I and my party were busy in the jail, we heard some small boys, who had gathered at the door, exclaiming: “They’re shoot’n! They’re run’n!” Going to the door to learn what they meant, we heard brisk firing in the direction of our camps. Running out, we saw the citizens scampering in all directions,—the soldiers scattered about the town running toward the camps. We joined in the headlong race. The distance was about 300 yards. As we ran, Worley who, like myself, was doubtless thinking of the unfortunate absence at that particular moment of all the efficient officers, exclaimed: “If our men will only stand till we get there!”11 I replied: “I hope they will.” Just then, Burch, who had been visiting his guards on the other side of the town, passed us on horse-back. This was joy to us. He was one of our best officers, and he would soon be with the men. I and Worley were soon among the very foremost in the race. As we came from behind all intervening houses, and were streaking it down an open street, the bullets began to whistle uncomfortably thick and close about our ears. We were running straight toward the enemy who were concealed in the bushes on a hill close to our camps. As we came nearer, the bullets flew thicker about us. One of our men cried out that he was shot. At this, several other men ducked their heads and dived in behind any object that could conceal them. The rest of us kept right on. As we neared the hill, we heard a rebel officer command: “Fire on that squad coming in!” Till now, the firing had been irregular. At this command, however, a hundred guns thundered out at once, and the bullets pattered like hail around us in the dust, or screamed through the air around our heads. How so many of us escaped, I can not understand.12 By this time, the men had bridled and saddled their horses, and, mounting with their long infantry guns, had formed into an irregular line partially protected by the foliage of an open grove.13 We quickly passed behind this line. Then, however, the storm that had broken upon us, burst with double fury upon the whole line. The terrific crash of bullets among the foliage around us seemed sufficient to wither every-thing before it. The roar of the guns, the fearful yelling of the indians and other rebels, the rearing the plunging of our frightened horses made a scene dreadful almost beyond description. My own company was at the farther end of this line. Could I reach them in time, I would dismount them, and, taking shelter behind the low, steep bank of the creek, behind which the whole command might have been sheltered, I would still hold the field. The men were now doing nothing at all except trying to manage their frightened horses. Just then I heard our Colonel command: “Mountain Rangers, charge that hill!” I knew that this was the command of an idiot, a madman, or a traitor. The men could not charge the hill. Only one moved forward. This was Wesley Rice a former student of mine. He darted forward, two or three rods, but finding himself all alone, he turned quietly around and came back to his place in the line.14 I looked but a moment, and knew all was lost. I would not be able to even reach my own company. First a few men at a time turned and fled. Others cursed them for cowards, but quickly turned and followed. The Colonel’s horse now fell dead. The Colonel was down, supposed to be killed. He was held down by one of his legs upon which his horse had fallen.15 In a moment, all the men, like frightened sheep, crowded pell mell, thundered from the ground. I was now about the middle of the line opposite the opening in the corral of wagons that had been thrown around our camps on that side. Converging to this point from all parts of the line, the horses became fearfully jammed in front of this opening. They ran over me, knocked me down, knocked my hat off; bruised my right knee and skimmed my right hand. I tried to rise, but could not. There was no room for me between the closely packed bodies of the horses. My head was jarred by the knees and hoofs of the terrified animals, and I was again knocked down and rolled forward in the dust among their frantically trampling feet. A second attempt to rise resulted in the same way. To keep my hands and arms from being broken, I now drew them under my body, and lay still with my face to the ground till the whole command had passed over me. By a strange kind of instinct, the horses, though they could not see me, all avoided stepping directly upon me. Some of them, however, not lifting their feet quite high enough, bruised the back of my head with the corks of their shoes.
When the whole command had passed over me, I arose, my eyes, nose, mouth, hair and neck filled with dust. Clearing my eyes a little, I thought for a moment of turning and going with the tide, as I saw the others were doing who had come in with me on foot from the town. This thought, however, was only for a moment. The shooting had nearly ceased. The enemy, I suppose, were mostly mounting to chase. My revolvers, my horse were thirty yards nearer the enemy. I sprang forward. Several bullets screamed passed me as I entered my tent. Several more passed through it while I was inside. Snatching up my revolvers, but leaving my saber, I ran to my horse a few yards away. He was tied to a large apple-tree, the low thick top of which greatly sheltered him from the shots of the enemy. He was rearing and trying to break away. He was firmly tied with a strong new rope, and it took me several seconds to untie the knot. When I had succeeded in this, and had bridled him, I found the storm of bullets growing heavier, I being now the only object left to shoot at. The enemy lay to the west of me. To the north, I saw a body of cavalry crossing a cornfield not far away. This, I mistook for a scouting party of our own men that had been sent out a short time before in that direction. I supposed that they had just returned, and that, seeing how our affairs stood, they had turned to follow our routed command. I started toward them at full speed. The dust they raised prevented my seeing their dress, and I discovered my mistake only when I was almost among them. I then perceived that there were too many of them to be any part of our own force. I perceived, too, that they were mostly indians dressed in fantastic hunting shirts.16 They seemed to mistake me for one of their own party. At any rate, no one attempted to molest me in any way. They were standing up in their stirrups, looking straight to the front, and holding their guns ready to shoot. In his fright, my horse was almost unmanageable. Before I could check and turn him, he had carried me almost into the midst of these enemies. When I did get him turned, I struck back toward the camp, intending to take the route my comrades had taken.
I reached the camp. I glanced over it. Many horses and mules were still standing hitched. Many others were galloping about loose. Many others still were scattered around dead or dying. Strange to say, I could see only two dead men.17 This was but a momentary glance. Again the bullets began to scream through and around me, and my horse was slightly wounded in his right shoulder. The enemy’s infantry had come down from the hill and were now just entering the farther side of our camps. A body of cavalry had also come down on the south side of the camp and cut of[f] my intended retreat in that direction. Again I turned toward the field in the direction I had first taken. That field was still full of enemies. I was now surrounded on three sides by enemy and on the fourth side by the two strong and high fences of a door yard around a house. My scalp began to feel loose upon my head. I turned my horse to the first fence. Would he leap it? He did leap it, bounding over like a deer. Turning quickly around the house so as to have it between me and the enemy who were still firing upon me, I charged the other fence. My horse leaped that also in fine style. I now fled at full speed, keeping the house directly behind me until I was beyond gun-shot from that direction. Then, to avoid some high rail fences which no horse could have leaped, I turned to the left and came into contact with the rear of the body of cavalry that had been crossing the field. Not suspecting that an enemy would be thus in their rear on such an occasion, none of them paid any attention to me. All these things occurred in much less time than it takes to describe them.
As soon as the high fences just mentioned would permit, I turned square to the right and saw no more of the enemy. I had been within twenty yards of some of them. The first one of our own men that I saw was Col. Richardson himself, alone, on foot, and wounded. Badly as he had managed, I wished to save him. I tried to reach him to let him have my horse. He reached the brush, however, and disappeared before I could overtake him.18 I saw the brave old Captain Julian also reach the brush on foot at a speed rather remarkable for a man of his age and his weight.19 Next, I found James Brewer, one of my own company, lying with his thighs broken partly in the water of a little creek.20 I could do nothing for him. He was too badly hurt. Leaving him, I soon fell in with an old man, badly wounded, and a sick boy. I staid with them awhile, dismounting and putting the boy on my horse. A loose horse, which I had captured a few days before, now came up, and the old wounded man escaped upon him. I took the sick boy into the woods where I found some ten other men all on foot. One of these, being a friend to the sick boy, took charge of him. Few of these men had any guns. I advised them to scatter and wait till the pursuit was over.21 I went off by myself, but had not gotten out of sight of the others when I fell in with Marion Glaspy and a man by the name of Greene, Captain Burch’s brother-in-law.22 Greene was severely wounded, having twelve buck-shots in him. I dismounted and put him upon my horse. We tried to make our way through the hills to Mount Vernon. The day being cloudy, however, we became bewildered, and, in a few hours, came back to the very spot at which I had taken Greene up. Near this place, we found twelve other footmen, one of whom was also badly wounded. I put him upon my horse behind Greene. We then all proceeded together, but after wandering about a long time, we came in sight of the battleground. Our tents, our wagons, everything was gone.23 We had now traveled at least thirty miles over rough hills and were nearly tired out. It was very discouraging to know that we had not gained any thing at all. Our wounded men were not able to go any further. We must leave them and we must have a guide. We sought the house of a man by the name of Powers.24 He was a rebel, but was an honorable man. We found him at home and took him prisoner. He knew the country, and could guide us to Mount Vernon. We left our wounded men at his house. I feared that they would be murdered by the Indians or by the bush-whackers. I therefore told Mrs. Powers that her husband would be treated just as these were treated. If they were treated kindly, he would be treated in the same way and would be released and permitted to come home. If they were murdered in her house, he would be put to death. I was sure this would save them. With our new guide, we now again proceeded on our way. No guide could have done better. He soon made friends of us all. We suffered a good deal from thirst, but, having found a mining shaft that contained water, we pulled off our boots and drew up water in them to drink. The water was pretty strongly flavored with dead rabbits and with our sweaty boots, but it quenched our thirst all the same. About sun-set, we fell in with Worley and about a dozen more men all on foot. We all kept together. We travelled all night and till noon the next day to reach Mt. Vernon. The report of my death, and that of several others who did not die, had preceded us.
Great alarm prevails among the Union people here. The Secessionists are full of joy. Their women boast to our faces that we will be driven entirely out of South West Missouri in a few weeks. Soon after my arrival at Mt. Vernon, we started back to try it again in company with some Illinois troops under the command of Major Stephenson.25 At Sarcoxie, we were ordered back. Why, I do not know. I was then ordered to this place to give my views in regard to the conduct of Col. Richardson. He is also ordered to this place to be tried for neglect of duty in suffering himself to be surprised and routed in the way he was. In the whole affair, he showed a total want of military judgment, if he did not show something much worse. We lost all our camp equipage, clothing, wagons, teams, &c. worth in all $50,000 or more. I lost some $30 worth of private property including all my books. Most of the other officers lost more than I did, from the fact that they had more to lose. Much excitement prevails. Many returned “good Secessionists,” who had taken the oath of allegiance to our government, hastened to way-lay the roads, as soon as they heard of our defeat, and to gather up our demoralized stragglers and take them back as prisoners to the enemy. In this way, we lost several men. Many of these oath-taking and oath-breaking rebels have already gone to join Coffee. Hell itself, I believe, is too good a place for some of these wretches. I have ceased to send prisoners to these head-quarters. I patronize the brimstone head-quarters. Tilman and Mattie were not in the battle. Bob was. They are all well. Dr. Barrett sends his respects to you.26 I have just been sent for to go to head-quarters. I must close. Be my own dear Susie yet.
Your Johny
(As given here, this letter, in some of its parts, is a considerable enlargement upon the original.)
Col. Richardson was not tried. So soon as he had a talk with the commanding officer at Springfield, the matter was strangely hushed. How much it cost the Colonel to have it hushed, I never knew. It would have been madness, however, for him to again attempt to command his own regiment in the field. He was, therefore, made quarter-master, or something of that kind, at Rolla, where he would be at a safe distance both from the enemy and from his own men.27 Coffee sent us a kind letter thanking us for bringing him so great an abundance of the very supplies he most needed, and for placing them where he could get them without any trouble and without any danger. What could be more galling than such a letter? Thus closed one of the most disgraceful military affairs in which I was ever involved. I took none of the disgrace, however, to myself. Our Colonel alone was to blame for it all.28
For several weeks after this affair we lay in camp at Springfield, training our horses and learning to use guns and sabers and to play cards. Being now properly armed and equipped, we were soon prepared to do efficient service in the field. While our regiment was lying here, I was sent out in command of 125 men to make a scout through the counties of Polk and Dallas. On this scout, I was absent several days and had some fine adventures which, however, I will not stop to describe. We killed several bush-whackers and took some sixty prisoners. Among the bush-whackers killed was Rude Arnold, who had been concerned in the burning of my house. Twenty eight of the prisoners, I carried to Springfield. The balance, I released on parole.29
Upon my return to Springfield, I learned that the battalion to which I belonged had gone to Ozark, where they were expected to remain for some time.30 Ozark is the county town of Christian County, and is about fifteen miles from Springfield in a south-easterly direction. It then contained about 600 inhabitants, most of them disloyal. Immediately upon my arrival, I was put in command as Provost Marshall. I did not like the position at all.31 I desired active service in the field, and from this service I would be debarred while acting as Provost Marshall.32 I chafed, too, under the knowledge that the appointment was made by Major Wilbur for the express purpose of rendering me unable to win any more laurels in the field. I was becoming entirely too popular with the men to suit him. He was regarded as the usurper of my place, and, being a tyrannical man any way, was universally hated by the men. I appealed, but appealed in vain, to the commanding officer at Springfield to be relieved from this appointment. Being compelled to serve in this capacity, I went to work in earnest and was soon the most popular Provost Marshall on the whole frontier. My office was a very dignified court-room in which I presided as judge, jury, attorney, and every thing else that chanced to be necessary. Some of my modes of trial were entirely original. I made most of my own laws, and had them strictly executed. I was just, but I was severe. A few cases were appealed to my superior at Springfield, but he uniformly confirmed my action. Bribes were offered more than once. Men offered me money, and beautiful women offered me something that was much more tempting to me than the money was. I managed, however, to withstand all these temptations.
Toward the latter part of August, I think it was, Major Wilber went out on a scout of several days taking all the men except about 75, most of whom were sick men, nurses, teamsters, cooks, &c. He left Capt. Burch in command of these men.33 At this place, we had a considerable amount of government property which we knew the rebels would like to possess. We knew, too, that the rebel Col. Lawthers, with 400 fine cavalry men, was hovering about the country only one day’s march away.34 We feared that, during Major Wilber’s absence, he would undertake to capture our station. We therefore sent out small parties of well mounted and reliable men to watch his movements. In this way, we soon learned that he was coming sure enough. Our parties of look-outs retired quietly in front of him without being discovered. From time to time, they gave us notice of his progress. At dusk, he stopped to feed only three miles away. He seemed confident of success. He expected to completely surprise us. He did not hurry. Had a Richardson been in command, he would have been all right. But he had now to deal with a Burch and a Kelso. As he soon learned, this made a great difference. Every rod of his further progress was watched by our men. We were encamped on the lower side of a large open wheat field. About midnight, he crept silently out of the forest on the opposite side of this field, and formed his men into line in the dark shade of the tall trees. To our great joy, we learned that he was going to charge our camps on horse-back. We had expected this, hoped for it, and prepared for it. We placed lights in our tents and hung up coats and hats so that they might cast shadows upon the sides of the tents, resembling the shadows of men. We meant for them to charge through our camps and empty their guns upon our coats and hats. We then had hung ropes stretched across the way to throw their horses just as they would be leaving our camp after charging through. Having hidden our horses in a suitable place, still farther back, we concealed ourselves near these ropes. We drew in our guards silently and waited. It was a still clear summer night. Presently the most profound silence was broken by the most terrific yells. A dark mass moved out from the shade of the forest, and swept down upon us with a noise that resembled thunder. Like a tornado, they swept into our camps. They raised still more terrific yells. They poured their harmless shots into our empty tents. On they rushed. Their horses struck our cable ropes and down they tumbled, those behind tumbling upon those in front, pell mell, the men, many of them being thrown, and many losing guns, pistols, hats, blankets, saddlebags, &c., while all rent the air with their yells and their curses. Then was our time. Like young devils let loose, our boys raised their battle cry and lit up the darkness of night with the livid flashings of their fire arms. For a few moments, all was terrible confusion, friends and foes all mingled together, all yelling and shouting,—the horses rearing and plunging, some tumbling into ditches, others shot down and struggling upon the ground; while the hills, reëchoing all these confused sounds, still brightened the terrors of the scene.35
Quick as the storm had come, it passed. The rebels fled in confusion. Most of them dashed into a dense grove of black jacks, through which even in the day time, a man could scarce ride with safety. Soon all was still again. Then we came out and captured a few dismounted stragglers who had become too much confused to escape. We had none killed and only two wounded. We also lost four horses. We could not ascertain the exact loss of the enemy, as several of them died after they left the ground. A dozen would probably cover their entire loss in killed. Their wounded were quite numerous; more of them having been hurt by the low snaggy limbs of the black jacks, among which they dashed, than were hurt by our bullets.36 Considering our advantages, we did poor shooting. The men nearly all over-shot the enemy. This we learned from the marks of our bullets on objects beyond. This is nearly always the fault of new soldiers. We captured a good many horses whose riders had been killed or thrown. We also captured many guns, revolvers, and other articles. Next morning we gathered up nearly a mule load of hats, blankets, guns, &c. in the black jack grove above mentioned. This victory put our men in fine spirits and made them eager for another fight. It also placed Burch and myself still higher in favor with the men and with the loyal people generally. It made us dreaded by the enemy. Most of our men behaved remarkably well. We had, however, a few cowards among us. One ran entirely away and went to Springfield. A few others concealed themselves in some large sycamore gums that happened to be not far away.
After this defeat by one seventh of his own numbers, the redoubtable Col. Lawthers retired to the south side of White River fifty miles away. In a few days, Major Wilber returned with the balance of our forces, and then, after they had rested a little, the men began to clamor to be allowed to return Lawther’s call, under the command of Captain Burch or myself. The result was that an expedition was resolved upon to be commanded by Captain Burch, I cursing the hateful office that prevented me from accompanying him. His force consisted of 100 good men, just a fourth the number of the force he was going to attack. The account of this expedition as given by Captain Burch will be found in the next chapter. I will say, however, that the Captain was better at fighting than at writing. Though good, his description of that truly brilliant affair hardly does himself and his brave men justice. I awaited his return with much impatience. Knowing his skill and his desperate bravery, I expected a good result.
Source: Kelso, “Auto-Biography,” chap. 15, 760–67.
1. Kelso’s Co. H of the 14th MSM Cavalry, “Marched to Neosho,” May 28–29, 1862 (OR, Supplement, 771).
2. Col. John Trousdale Coffee (1816–90) commanded the 6th Missouri Cavalry of the Missouri State Guard (“Soldiers’ Records,” MDH), but he operated independently of Sterling Price’s forces and from the Confederate Army. A lawyer before the war, he had also served in the Missouri Assembly and Senate and was briefly a captain in the U.S. Army. See John N. Edwards, Noted Guerrillas; or, The Warfare on the Border (St. Louis: Bryan, Brand, 1877), 93, 100, 105; Nichols, Guerrilla Warfare in Civil War Missouri, 1:37, 43, 81–82; and Gerteis, Civil War in Missouri, 145–46. See also Emmett MacDonald to Thomas C. Hindman, Sept. 1, 1862 (attempts to recruit Coffee for the Confederacy), Peter Wellington Alexander Papers, Box 2, and Charges Filed against John T. Coffee, c. Oct. 1862 (on his drunkenness and dereliction of duty), Wellington Papers, Box 10, Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Columbia University, New York, MDH. Stand Watie (1806–71) was a leader of the Cherokee Nation and became a colonel of the 1st Regt., Cherokee Mounted Volunteers (CSA), principal chief of the Confederate Cherokees, and then a brigadier general for the Confederacy. See Kenny A. Franks, Stand Watie and the Agony of the Cherokee Nation (Memphis: Memphis State University Press, 1979), and Franks, “Watie, Stand,” ANB.
3. Cos. A, C, E, G, and Kelso’s H, numbering 220 men, marched from Mt. Vernon to Neosho (forty miles), May 28–29, 1862 (OR, Supplement, 771, 785). The force also included one company of the 10th Illinois Cavalry (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 92).
4. “Report of Col. John M. Richardson, Fourteenth Regiment Missouri Militia,” June 11, 1862, OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 91–92: “I was careful in selecting the camp. The ground was first chosen by General [Franz] Sigel, and in this last instance by Captain Wilson, of Company K, Tenth Illinois, and myself, as being the best in the vicinity of Neosho. I saw to placing the pickets [guards] in person.” “Report of Lieut. Col. James K. Mills, Twenty-fourth Missouri Infantry” (investigation after the battle), June 13, 1862, OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 93–94: “Neither were any of the ordinary precautions in the way of guards and scouts omitted, save the unaccountable neglect to post a picket upon the hill to the southwest of the camp, over and down which, under the cover of the brush, the enemy approached. … Whether good judgment was displayed in the selection of the camp ground so near the brush—60 yards—instead of placing it farther to the eastward and out of gun-shot distance, cannot fairly be determined without an inspection of the ground.” “Report of Brig. Gen. Egbert B. Brown, Missouri Militia,” June 17, 1862, OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 90: “From [the reports of Col. J. M. Richardson and Lieut. Col. James K. Mills] I learn that the location of the camp was so that the foe approached it unseen from two directions. A want of proper precaution against surprise and foolhardiness in not taking a defensive position when it was known by the commander that a force of about 600 men was near him, the want of discipline, and doubt of the men in their arms were the causes of Colonel Richardson’s defeat.”
5. Richardson’s report also mentions that Burch was in command of the guard that evening (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 92).
6. Lt. Amos Norton (see chap. 4, note 20, above).
7. Report of Lieutenant Colonel Mills after the battle (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 93): “In the evening of the 30th, after nightfall, a rumor was brought into camp that a force of men were in the college yard (some half a mile from camp), and the woods full of horses. A council of war was held, the rumor traced to its source, and scouts sent out to examine the facts, but the rumor was not verified. The camp guard was doubled.”
8. A Capt. Rick Johnson did command a company of Confederate irregulars in Missouri (“Soldiers’ Records,” MDH) but no ties to Neosho, Richardson, or this battle have been established. Milton Burch, writing from Neosho two years later on Aug. 5, 1864, identified the rebel Col. Rector Johnson as “formerly a citizen of this place” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 41, part 1, 194). A Capt. M. R. Johnson, who operated in southwestern Missouri and was killed by federal troops in 1863 (Nichols, Guerrilla Warfare in Civil War Missouri, 2:280), might have been the M. R. Johnson listed in Neosho in the 1860 census, but, again, no link of either Rector or M. R. to the Neosho skirmish or to Richardson has been established. Confederate Col. Stand Watie’s June 1, 1862, report on the skirmish mentions only officers Col. John T. Coffee, Capt. Robert C. Parks, and Capt. Thomas R. Livingston (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 94–95). None is linked to Neosho or Richardson. Robert C. Parks became a lieutenant colonel in the 1st Regt., Cherokee Mounted Volunteers, CSA (NPS Soldiers’ Database). Livingston had been a miner and brawler before the war (Nichols, Guerrilla Warfare in Civil War Missouri, 1:37).
9. In his report after the battle, Colonel Richardson claimed that on that night, he “called a council of my captains” and furthermore that “they were all of the opinion there was no danger and no necessity of moving camp.” He also said that “at a late hour of the night I went with the officer of the day (Captain Burch) to examine the position of the camp guard, to determine for myself if it was far enough off to warn us in time to be ready in case of an attack” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 92). Wiley Britton, in Civil War on the Border, 1:283–86, follows Richardson’s account.
10. In a supplement to his June 1 report on the Neosho skirmish, Confederate Col. Stand Watie noted that “our boys captured two Federal flags, one being allowed to wave only about a quarter of an hour on the steeple of the court-house at Neosho” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 95). Watie, who had not been at the scene of the battle, said nothing about any coordinated signal from the townspeople or from Richardson.
11. Capt. Abraham Worley, Co. A, 14th MSM Cavalry.
12. Colonel Richardson’s report: “Four of my best officers—Captains Julian and Burch and Lieutenants Worley and Kelso—were unfortunately absent, the three former on duty. They made a desperate effort to get into the action. These gallant officers in their effort to get by my side subjected themselves to the fire of one whole company of rebels. It was a terrible gauntlet to run, but they came through unharmed; too late, however, to aid in saving the day. They proved themselves entirely worthy of my confidence and are entitled to that of the Government” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 91).
13. Colonel Richardson’s report: “I ordered Lieutenant Wilson to take a position with Company A on the south side of the camp, facing the right of the enemy’s center. Lieutenant Norton had formed Company H facing the left of the enemy’s center. Captains Breeden’s, Julian’s, and Hargrove’s companies in good time formed in the center and to the north of the camp” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 91).
14. Colonel Richardson reported that he ordered Lieutenant Wilson’s company on the other end of the line to charge, and that it did so, causing the enemy to fall “back in haste and confusion into the brush” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 91). Sgt. Wesley S. Rice (b. 1834), Co. A, 14th MSM Cavalry (“Soldiers’ Records,” MDH; 1860 U.S. Census, Green Township, Dallas County, Missouri, family no. 167).
15. Col. Richardson’s report: “I was wounded in the right arm, my horse shot, and in falling fell on my left leg, the fall at the same time dislocating my shoulder and spraining my wrist. In this condition I was unable to rise. My troops, supposing their commander killed, and no other field officer being present to take command, became discouraged, confused, and began to leave” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 91). Richardson was initially reported dead or mortally wounded; see OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 90, 409.
16. Col. Stand Watie sent two hundred men of the 1st Regt., Cherokee Cavalry, under the command of Capt. R. C. Parks. They joined Colonel Coffee’s “something more than 200” and Captain Livingston’s group (number unknown). See Watie’s report, OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 94.
17. It was originally reported (June 2, 1862) that Richardson’s command lost ten men killed, wounded, and missing; the next day the casualties were lowered to five (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 409, 412).
18. According to the 1888 History of Newton … Counties, Missouri, when Richardson met a civilian (who was also fleeing) in the bush north of town, the colonel, mistaking the man for one of the enemy, “offered to surrender to him” (312).
19. Captain Julian was forty (1860 U.S. Census, Cass Township, Greene County, Missouri, family no. 606).
20. Pvt. Samuel T. Brewer, Co. H, 14th MSM Cavalry (“Soldiers’ Records,” MDH).
21. Colonel Watie’s report: “Col. Coffee’s cavalry … kept up the pursuit [of the retreating Federals] for miles” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 95).
22. Pvt. Marion Galaspie (also spelled Gillespie) and Corp. William M. Green, Co. H, 14th MSM Cavalry. Green is listed as deserting on Nov. 20, 1863, at Springfield.
23. Colonel Watie’s report: “Fourteen tents, 5 wagons and teams, arms, horses, some commissary stores and ammunition, and, in fact, the enemy’s baggage, fell into the hands of the Confederates” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 95).
24. David Powers (b. 1814 in S.C.) and his wife, Larisa, lived with their seven children on their farm in Neosho (1860 U.S. Census, Neosho Township, Newton County, Missouri, family no. 371).
25. Maj. Marshall L. Stephenson, Cos. F and S, 10th Regt., Illinois Cavalry (NPS Soldiers’ Database).
26. Dr. Beverly A. Barrett. There is no indication here of the hostile encounter between Barrett and Kelso that had occurred three months earlier, according to Barrett’s 1897 recollection (see chap. 6, note 3, above).
27. History of Newton … Counties, Missouri, 311: “Richardson was not allowed to command again.” But in fact he was commanding the post at Cassville by Nov. 1862 and led troops in battle again on Dec. 7, 1862 (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 360; vol. 22, part 1, 86–88).
28. Richardson blamed the defeat on his being shot off his horse and the lack of another field officer to take the command. He reported that four of his best officers were absent from the battle until too late: three of them, he conceded, were doing their duty elsewhere according to his orders, but one of them—Kelso—had not been ordered away. In Kelso’s account, the other officers said that he was included in their orders, and the fact that all the field officers were sent away for one reason or another he took as support for his conspiracy theory. Col. James K. Mills, commander of the army post at Springfield, received special orders to conduct an inquiry on June 4, 1862. He reported that he conducted “the most thorough investigation which the circumstances have permitted me to make” but noted that “there is scarcely a point upon which the testimony is not contradictory.” Mills waved off criticism of the campsite and the guards. He thought Richardson more vulnerable to criticism for ordering or permitting his officers to be away from their companies, but even on this point he thought that a commander needed to be able to exercise his own judgment on such matters. “I am not of the opinion,” Mills concluded, “that charges should be preferred against Colonel Richardson.” He then seemed to shift the blame to the junior officers: “Further investigation, however, is required to show why, upon the fall of Colonel Richardson, the next ranking officer did not assume command; why certain officers were absent from camp at the time of the attack, and why no effort, as it now appears, was made by the officers to rally their men after they first broke.” Brig. Gen. E. B. Brown, commanding the Southwestern Division and also headquartered at Springfield, placed the blame squarely with Richardson (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 90–94).
29. In his official report, dated July 25, 1862, Kelso wrote that he led a detachment of fifty men on the evening of June 19 in the direction of Buffalo. By 10:00 p.m. they had reached Pomme de Terre, seventeen miles north of Springfield. There he divided his command into three groups and sent each to the houses of known rebels in different neighborhoods. The three groups met the next morning eight miles south of Buffalo, having captured a total of thirty-seven prisoners. He released seventeen on parole and had a detachment march the others to Springfield. The remainder of the command rested in Buffalo until the morning of June 23. They captured “a number of prisoners,” paroling all but five. Back at Pomme de Terre, they found a large stash of concealed corn. He sent Sergeant Baxter and a small party after “Capt. Thomas Lofton and his gang.” In the resulting skirmish, Rude Arnold was killed. Four more prisoners were taken, but Isham Case escaped and a horse thief named Greene (probably “Thief Green”), who had previously escaped from prison twice, escaped again but was badly wounded (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 164–66). Jonas Rudisill (“Rude”) Arnold, Jr. (b. 1829, d. July 24, 1862), had lived in Benton Township, Dallas County, Mo., with his wife, Mary, and their year-old baby in 1860. His father, Jonas Rudsill Arnold, Sr., was on the Sept. 1862 list of Dallas County rebels or rebel sympathizers. See 1860 U.S. Census, Benton Township, Dallas County, Missouri, family nos. 46 and 47; MDH Provost Marshal Papers, reel F1588, files 2133, 1236; and www.findagrave.com, nos. 75652033, 37707799.
30. Co. H, 14th MSM Cavalry, marched from Springfield to Ozark (fifteen miles) on July 19, 1862, where they would be stationed until the end of the year (OR, Supplement, 785).
31. On Aug. 4, 1862, Kelso wrote to Maj. James H. Steger, asking to be relieved of his duty as provost marshal and sent back to the field. After eight days he could tell that the sedentary desk job was bad for his health, he wrote. He was eager to serve his country in combat and make a reputation for himself as a soldier. Furthermore, he argued, his captain (Burch) needed a lieutenant (John R. Kelso, Provost Marshal’s Office, Ozark, Mo., to Maj. James H. Steger, Aug. 4, 1862, photocopy, Bradbury Collection).
32. The provost marshal system enforced martial law. “History of the Provost Marshal,” MDH Provost Marshal Papers: “In districts with active fighting, the provost marshal’s primary duty was to limit marauding against citizens, prevent stragglers on long marches, and generally suppress gambling or other vices not conducive to good order and discipline. However, in many districts, the war’s fighting was somewhat removed and the area did not see battles. In these areas, the provost marshal’s duties were more magisterial. The provost marshal had the power to administer and enforce the law when it came to regulating public places; conduct searches, seizures, and arrests; issue passes to citizens for movement in and out of Union lines; and record and investigate citizen complaints. It was not uncommon for the law to be suspended in many cases and for the provost marshal, mostly independent of any real supervision, to dispense with the rules of civil procedure.” On the operation of the provost marshal system in Missouri during the Civil War, see esp. Boman, Lincoln and Citizens’ Rights.
33. According to Burch’s Aug. 5, 1862, report, Major Wilber left him in command of about eighty men on July 23 (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 196).
34. In his report to the Confederate command, filed from Springfield, Mo., Aug. 2, 1862, Col. Robert R. Lawther, Missouri Partisan Rangers, wrote that he marched his men (an effective fighting force of only fifty-five, others being unarmed or not suitably armed) to within two and a half miles of Ozark on July 31 (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 199–200). Lawther (1836–1911) had been a grocer in Jefferson City, Mo., before the war. He enlisted in the State Guard, was elected major of the 3rd Missouri Cavalry, and was promoted to colonel after the Battle of Pea Ridge. See Memorial and Biographical History of Dallas County, Texas (Chicago: Lewis, 1892), 754–65, and NPS Soldiers’ Database.
35. Kelso is probably using a later account from Burch in which Burch drew language from his Aug. 5, 1862, report, for the report too described the enemy coming “like a tornado” and used the phrase “then was our time.” Kelso did not apparently have a full copy of the report itself because he got the date wrong and gave a different estimate of enemy troop strength and casualties. Burch in the report added, “Lieutenants Kelso and [Cleon M.] Etter seemed to really enjoy the scene, and their men partook of their spirit” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 197).
36. Burch estimated that the enemy attacked with 120 men. He reported “that our loss was 2 men wounded, 1 only slightly, and 2 horses killed. The enemy lost 1 man, taken prisoner, and, as we have since learned from Union men who were taken prisoners, they lost 9 wounded, 3 of whom died before reaching Forsyth. They also lost 2 horses, killed on the ground, and several severely wounded, which had to be left behind in their flight. We captured 2 horses, 8 guns, 2 holsters, 2 revolvers, 3 saddles, and other articles, such as saddle bags, blankets, hats, &c.” (OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 197). Lawther described the battle very differently: “On arriving on the sight of their camp I found that they had been advised of our approach, and were prepared to defend themselves, having all of their tents lighted up.” He mentioned nothing about his men firing into empty tents or being unhorsed by the picket ropes. Instead, he wrote that his men attacked the Federals on the streets of Ozark and drove them into the surrounding brush (where Burch and Kelso said they were waiting from the beginning). A second charge drove other Union soldiers to take shelter in houses and stables, in Lawther’s version: “I then drew off my men and formed them in line of battle on the enemy’s camp ground, expecting them to come out of the houses and give us a fair fight; but we soon found that it was impossible to draw them out, and as they had 8 men to our 1 I concluded that it would not be prudent to attempt to drive them out of the houses.” Lawther claimed he had only two men slightly wounded and estimated that the Federals had three to ten killed and ten to twenty wounded. See Lawther’s report, OR, ser. 1, vol. 13, 199–200.