Chapter 10

Wilson Creek Afforded Us Water

After the forced march from Crane Creek to Moody’s Springs on August 5, the remaining two-mile distance to Wilson Creek must have seemed mercifully short to the men of Ben McCulloch’s Western Army when they took to the road again on August 6. Leaving the spring, they moved north out of the narrow bottom cut by Terrell Creek and onto high ground dominated by stands of scrub oak. After the Southerners marched about half a mile, they passed a road bearing to the left that led to the community of Little York. They continued along the main road, however, and after cresting a ridge they descended into the valley formed by Wilson Creek.¹

Named after James Wilson, who had settled near the creek’s mouth around 1822, Wilson Creek was not unlike any number of other streams that meandered through the Ozarks. Formed by two smaller creeks that converged on the western edge of Springfield, it ran roughly southwest for about five miles, several minor streams adding their waters to the generally shallow, narrow watercourse. Then it turned south, flowing some nine miles before spilling into the James River. About a mile upstream from that point the water of Terrell Creek joined Wilson Creek from the west, while another mile and a half upstream from there, Skegg’s Branch emptied into Wilson Creek, also from the west. Even in this small region the stream underwent numerous changes. For the most part it could be crossed on foot, but steep banks restricted wheeled vehicles to specific fords. In some areas the current moved sluggishly, the water dark and deep. In other locations the creek’s width narrowed and its depth diminished, increasing the current’s speed and the water’s clarity. At a point where conditions permitted harnessing the flow, John Gibson had constructed a mill on the eastern bank. He was one of many settlers attracted to the fertile, well-watered region.²

The terrain on either side of the creek alternated between high hills, ridges, plateaus, and fields of prairie grass. The ground cover was equally varied. There were post, white, and black oaks, together with other hardwoods. Some areas were overgrown by thick underbrush, but waist-high prairie grass constituted the majority of the vegetation. Narrow dirt roads, trails, and footpaths crisscrossed the landscape, linking farms to each other and providing access to both the Wire Road and the Little York Road.³

Many units of the Missouri State Guard had passed through this area before, but for the Confederates and Arkansas State Troops in McCulloch’s composite army this was unfamiliar terrain. As they crossed the high ground that lay between Moody’s Springs and Wilson Creek, their view of the surrounding countryside was initially restricted. On the left, the road skirted the edge of a heavy growth of trees and dense underbrush that ran down to Skegg’s Branch. But to the right, the dense cover gave way to a field of prairie grass, approximately one-half mile wide east to west, running south about a mile to Terrell Creek. Although the land sloped gradually down to Wilson Creek, a broad plateau sat in its center. Across the creek rose a high, steep, wooded ridge that afforded a commanding view of the narrow valley.⁴

Joseph D. Sharp’s farm sat on the plateau. The forty-nine-year-old Sharp was the most prosperous farmer in the region. His wife Mary was fifty-one, and their three children were between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. Tax records from 1858 indicate that Joseph owned three slaves valued at $2,000; they were presumably still with the Sharps in 1861. The family’s 1,272 acres were valued at over $11,000 by the 1860 Agricultural Census. Only a portion of this land was improved. Sharp’s large, white two-story home sat on the southeastern side of the Wire Road. Behind it lay a barn, outbuildings, pens, and a fenced-in area of more than 100 acres. In 1861 most of this was planted in corn. The previous year the family had harvested a combined total of 2,100 bushels of Indian corn, wheat, and oats and produced Irish potatoes, sweet potatoes, butter, cheese, and molasses as well. The Sharps owned 135 animals, including horses, hogs, sheep, and oxen.⁵

Joseph Sharp’s food resources, together with those of his neighbors, explain why McCulloch chose to camp where the Wire Road crossed Wilson Creek. In 1860 ten farms in the immediate vicinity yielded 11,500 bushels of Indian corn, 2,367 bushels of oats, 1,720 bushels of wheat, and 384 bushels of Irish and sweet potatoes. In addition, these farms produced over 1.5 tons of butter, 310 pounds of honey, 170 gallons of molasses, and 26 tons of hay. They also supported 248 hogs, 160 sheep, 97 head of cattle, 35 milk cows, and other livestock.⁶

Just over one hundred people dwelt on or adjacent to what would become the battlefield, but little is known about them. They seem to have been typical of others who settled in the agricultural regions of the upper South. Not surprisingly, most were Southern by birth. Over 80 percent of the adults (thirty-four out of forty-two) had been born in the South, twenty in Tennessee alone. Most of the non-Southerners were natives of New York, New Jersey, or Illinois. Three were from locations unknown and one was from Saxony. Although none of the adults were born in Missouri, fifty-six of the seventy-four children were natives. The other children were born in Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Arkansas, and Iowa. Of the twenty-eight people whose occupations are known, twenty-one were farmers and one was a farm laborer. The remainder included two blacksmiths, two carders, a schoolteacher, and a wagonmaker. Details of their lives, such as their political sympathies or their reaction to the passing Federals and approaching Southerners, are unknown.⁷

Under the assumption that the August 6 order of march remained unchanged from earlier directives, McCulloch’s Brigade led the Western Army as it tramped past the Sharp home toward Wilson Creek. It was followed by Bart Pearce’s and Sterling Price’s foot soldiers and, finally, the combined mounted units. The Wire Road dropped abruptly as it left the plateau flatland around Sharp’s farm. After crossing Skegg’s Branch, the Southerners entered the property of William B. Edwards, where Lyon’s men had camped on their way to Dug Springs. To the left of the road a sizable hill rose gradually to the north and west, cresting at 170 feet. Dominating the surrounding countryside, this heretofore unchristened prominence would earn the name “Bloody Hill.” The hill’s south slope, scarred with ravines opening into Skegg’s Branch, was blanketed primarily in prairie grass. Oaks and thickets of underbrush were scattered across the entire hill, but these were rarely dense. Visible to the east, immediately across Wilson Creek, a 30-foot-high plateau rose abruptly. The natural wall it formed ran for one-fourth mile between the ford across Wilson Creek and the one at Skegg’s Branch.⁸

After the lead units crossed the creek, the road they followed marked the edge of a meadow on the left and started a gradual climb out of the bottom. As it rose, the road skirted a ravine that was flanked on the right by the wall-like plateau and a partially wooded ridge on the left. In 1860 the ridge top had been home to Larkin D. Winn, his wife Sofronia, and their eight children. Winn seems to have rented his land, farming the area below the ridge adjacent to Wilson Creek. His reason for leaving is unknown, but in August 1861 his dwelling stood abandoned. McCulloch made this convenient location his headquarters, stationing the Pulaski Light Battery nearby. This was a fortuitous decision, as the ridge provided a commanding view of much of the surrounding terrain.⁹

Less than a mile from the ford, the road at its highest point bisected the Ray farm, passing not more than fifty feet from the family’s front porch steps. Another prominent area farmer, John A. Ray resided in a three-room sawn lumber home with his wife Roxanna, their eight children, and Julius Short. Because Ray served as postmaster for the Wilson Creek District, his already crowded home doubled as the local post office. It had also served at one time as a stop on Butterfield’s Overland Stage route. Like the Sharps, John and Roxanna were slaveholders, owning a woman named Rhoda and her three daughters. The bondswomen probably slept in a small cabin behind the Ray house, beside which stood another one-room structure, perhaps a detached kitchen. Ray owned approximately 440 acres, including, apparently, the land Winn had farmed. Ray had planted corn on some eighty acres of undulating land located about 300 yards northwest of the house. Portions of the cornfield could be seen from the Ray front porch as well as from Bloody Hill, about one-half mile to the west.¹⁰

Between them, the Sharp, Edwards, and Ray properties marked the main campground of the Southern forces, although some units spilled onto the land adjacent to Gibson’s Mill to the north and the high ground of Caleb B. Manley’s farm, which was due south of the Rays. As the Western Army was not noted for its discipline, some of the Southerners probably visited other civilian homes in the vicinity, including those of Elias B. Short to the north, John Dixon to the south, T. B. Manley to the west, and Mary A. Gwinn to the southwest.

Moving a 12,000-man column all day in the August heat on the Wire Road was time-consuming. According to William Watson of the Third Louisiana, it was not until the next morning, August 7, that “all the forces were up, and the camp was put into some kind of order and position.” Although some tents were erected in neat rows, many units apparently selected positions based on convenience or the happenstance of their arrival rather than any military design. About half the army eventually camped east of the creek. Colonel Louis Hébert’s Third Louisiana pitched its tents across the road from McCulloch’s headquarters and the Pulaski Battery, on the northern spur of the plateau above the creek. Near the Louisianans was another Confederate unit, McRae’s Battalion, as well as the infantry of Pearce’s Brigade of Arkansas State Troops—John Gratiot’s Third Infantry, Jonathan Walker’s Fourth Infantry, and Tom Dockery’s Fifth Infantry. Farther south John Reid’s Fort Smith Battery occupied a strategic position opposite the mouth of Skegg’s Branch. Adjacent to these camps, but stretching slightly southeast to the Caleb Manley farm, were Bledsoe’s Battery (three guns) and four infantry units under Colonels Thomas H. Rosser, John R. Graves, Edgar V. Hurst, and James J. Clarkson. Combined under Colonel Richard H. Weightman, they constituted Weightman’s Brigade of Rains’s Division of the Missouri State Guard.¹¹

The forty-three-year-old Weightman was one of the most colorful figures in the Missouri army. A native of Maryland, he entered West Point but was expelled in 1837 “for cutting a cadet in the face with a knife.” After service in a St. Louis artillery unit during the Mexican War, he settled in New Mexico, edited a newspaper, and was prominent in local politics. Sometime after killing a man in a barroom fight, he returned to Missouri.¹²

The State Guard’s remaining infantry, totaling over 1,600 men, occupied camps west of Wilson Creek. These lay on the Edwards farm, on both sides of the Wire Road, between the fords of Wilson Creek and Skegg’s Branch. The foot soldiers of Slack’s Division—a regiment under Colonel John T. Hughes and a battalion under Major John C. C. Thornton—bivouacked between the road and Wilson Creek. Colonel John Q. Burbridge’s regiment, the sole infantry in Clark’s Division, sat at the base of Bloody Hill. Next to it camped the regiments of Colonels Edmund T. Wingo and John A. Foster, which comprised the infantry of McBride’s Division. The infantrymen of Parsons’s Division, commanded by Colonel Joseph M. Kelly, occupied the ground near the mouth of Skegg’s Branch. Kelly had only 142 men in six companies, but these included his own disciplined and well-equipped Washington Blues and another prewar St. Louis unit, the Washington Grays. Meanwhile, Price established his headquarters in the yard adjoining Edwards’s cabin. About two hundred yards south of the Wilson Creek ford, it was a logical, central location.¹³

The Western Army’s horsemen, numbering over 3,400, bivouacked in separate areas. The majority camped in the corn and stubble fields belonging to Joseph Sharp. Greer’s South Kansas-Texas Cavalry occupied the ground at the northern end of this fenced-in area, while the other commands spread south. Just below Greer’s men were Churchill’s First Arkansas Mounted Rifles and Colonel DeRosey Carroll’s First Arkansas Cavalry. Two Missouri State Guard units, under Colonel Ben Brown and Lieutenant Colonel James P. Major, fixed the extreme southern end of the army’s encampment. The remaining mounted Southerners, around 1,900 strong, were a mixture of Confederates and Missouri State Guardsmen. McIntosh’s Second Arkansas Mounted Rifles camped east of the creek, in a grassy meadow between the water and the ridge occupied by Woodruff’s Pulaski Battery and McCulloch’s headquarters. Their location was logical, as McIntosh also served as McCulloch’s brigade adjutant. Whenever he was absent, Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin T. Embry commanded the unit.¹⁴

Directly across Wilson Creek to the west, Colonel Benjamin A. Rives led the 200-odd cavalrymen of Slack’s Division into camp just south of the military crest of the main ridge of Bloody Hill. Beyond them, in the substantial ravine formed by the main portion of the hill and its northernmost ridge, lay the largest single mounted command in the Southern army, led by Colonel James Cawthorn. Over 1,200-men strong, Cawthorn’s Brigade of Rains’s Division was divided into units commanded by Colonels Robert L. Y. Peyton, James McCowan, and De Witt C. Hunter. The ravine that sheltered these men gradually opened eastward into a wide “V” of prairie grass and scrub that intersected with a line of trees along the creek’s western bank. On the other side of the water sat Gibson’s Mill, where Rains established his headquarters. A small number of Cawthorn’s men rode across the creek and camped near the mill itself.¹⁵

By nightfall on August 6 the Western Army’s tents and makeshift shelters stretched for approximately two miles on either side of Wilson Creek, from Rains’s headquarters at Gibson’s Mill to the cavalry camps at Sharp’s farm. The encampment’s widest point east to west measured about one-half mile across, from Weightman’s camp at Caleb Manley’s farm to Rives’s camp on Bloody Hill. It presented an impressive sight to Private T. Jeff Jobe, of the First Arkansas Mounted Rifles, who noted in his diary on August 6, “The Southern Army being all at this camp, this whole country for a mile or two looks like one solid camp.” Others took a less prosaic, more practical view. Remembering that evening, Watson of the Third Louisiana wrote: “we were rejoiced at the arrival of some waggons with provisions. . . . Rations of flour, fresh beef, salt, and a little coffee and sugar, were served out; and some cooking utensils were obtained, and cooking and eating gone into with great vigor, and we enjoyed a fair night’s rest.”¹⁶

Next to the never-ending problem of logistics, McCulloch’s greatest challenge lay in obtaining accurate information on his foe. On August 7, while his army was still settling into camp, he turned to Captain A. V. Reiff, whose independent company of cavalry, raised in Fayetteville, Arkansas, had been acting as the general’s bodyguard. Reiff recalled:

McCulloch’s attempts to ascertain Lyon’s position and intentions led to further strain with Price and the Missouri State Guard. Four months after the battle, the Texan explained in his report to the War Department:

This was written, however, after McCulloch’s complete break with Price following the battle, at a time when he tended to belittle the State Guard’s contributions to the campaign. Probably as a reaction to this, Price’s adjutant Thomas Snead wrote long after the war that “McCulloch would every day sling his Maynard rifle across his shoulder and reconnoitre towards Springfield, sometimes in force, and sometimes almost alone. But adventurous, daring, and skillful as he was, he could learn nothing positive as to either Lyon’s strength, or as to the defenses of Springfield. He could not even ascertain whether Lyon had fortified his position at all, or not.”¹⁹

Snead was obviously trying to shift the blame back to McCulloch. The Texan never mentioned scouting the area himself, but given his reputation Snead’s tale may be at least partially true. Whatever their contradictions, these accounts suggest that McCulloch was increasingly paralyzed by the responsibilities of command. After all, he need not have relied on either the Missourians or his own observations for information. Though Greer’s recently arrived Texas unit was worn out from its trip, McCulloch could have utilized the Confederate mounted riflemen commanded by McIntosh or Churchill for reconnaissance. It is significant that he did not. The commander of the Western Army had reason to be dismayed by his logistical problems, lack of information about the enemy, and questions concerning the reliability of Price and the Missouri State Guard. But his resources equaled or exceeded those possessed by many other Civil War commanders at crucial moments during campaigns. Ultimately, Old Ben seems to have lacked confidence in himself. He apparently shrank at the prospect of committing Southern fortunes in the Trans-Mississippi to the incalculable risks of battle. McCulloch’s original mission was to protect the Indian Territory for the Confederacy. Although his correspondence demonstrates that he began the joint campaign with Price enthusiastically, the former Texas Ranger was now perhaps the most reluctant participant of all.

Unaware of the strain within the high command, the Southern soldiers undoubtedly enjoyed the respite from campaigning in the August heat. Henry Cheavens of Clark’s Division wrote that during the march to Wilson Creek he had foraged beets, string beans, and corn out of a garden. Once settled in camp he obtained some meat and prepared “a savory mess of pottage with soup, which made our mess enjoy it wonderfully. It was my best meal so far. Here we stayed cleaning our guns [and] getting everything prepared for battle. . . . We sang, talked, went to the springs (fine ones), etc.”²⁰

Perhaps because the approaching battle marked the beginning of such a long struggle, some Southerners later remembered the days before it as idyllic. Peter D. Lane, a soldier in Cawthorn’s Brigade, recalled:

But William Watson, who wrote with such detail on so many subjects, focused in his memoirs on less pleasant aspects:

Although the Western Army rested from August 7 through August 9, military activity did not entirely cease. Bugler A. B. Blocker of Greer’s regiment remembered a large number of men from Missouri and Arkansas arriving at the camp at this time. “Old, gray-headed men came in, armed with their old squirrel rifles, a pouch of bullets, a string of patching already cut out, and a powder horn full of powder, to help the boys whip the yankees when the fight came off.” Although Blocker may have exaggerated their numbers and character in his reminiscences, there is no doubt that some men whose names never appeared on any muster rolls joined the Southern forces just before the battle. At some point, for example, a small group of Cherokee rode in from the Indian Territory. Many sources attest to their presence, but their names and exact number remain a mystery.²³

Responding to a report that a company of Missouri Home Guard militia was located a few miles northwest at Little York, two of Greer’s companies went “on a raid.” Although they captured only a handful of prisoners, the Texans secured an estimated 15,000 pounds of pig lead. As the Federals had previously garrisoned Little York in some force, their failure to protect the lead adequately or move it to Springfield is inexplicable. Greer’s men soon located two wagons with teams, loaded their prize, and headed back for camp with their prisoners. One of the wagons was so overburdened that the wheels broke as soon as they started. Transferring the pigs to their horses, the column struck out again. But either because this proved unsatisfactory or because they feared that the Federals in Springfield might now be aroused and on their trail, they soon hid the lead “in a thicket of hazelnut bushes.” When they finally reported with their prisoners to Greer’s second-in-command, Lieutenant Colonel Walter R Lane, he responded by exclaiming, “Turn them out of the lines and let them go. I would rather fight them than feed them.” As the freed militiamen doubtless got a good look at the Southern camp, one wonders if they reported their experiences to Lyon.²⁴

At least one scouting expedition by McCulloch’s mounted units resulted in a direct encounter with Lyon’s main forces. On the afternoon of August 9, some of Price’s cavalry engaged Captain David S. Stanley’s Company C of the First U.S. Cavalry and Captain Samuel N. Wood’s mounted company of the Second Kansas on Grand Prairie, about five miles west of Springfield. The State Guardsmen were defeated. Two of them suffered wounds and six or eight were captured.²⁵

But mostly the Western Army did nothing. Perhaps because their units were situated at the northeastern edge of camp, nearest Springfield, Captain William Woodruff and Louis Hébert grew apprehensive about the Southerners’ position. On the morning of August 9, they walked over the ground and discussed how and where they might place Woodruff’s Pulaski Light Battery and the Third Louisiana if the camp were attacked. No one else seems to have shared their concern.²⁶

As the lower-ranking officers and common soldiers were not privy to the plans of the commanders, they were left to speculate about the army’s inactivity. In his diary on August 7 surgeon John Wyatt of McBride’s Division lamented: “It is really sickening to think of only 10 miles between us and the enemy and the men all keen to advance and give him battle, and the Commanders holding back in this way. Too bad. Too bad. Ten generals, and all together would not make one good commander. I believe we are afraid to attack.” On the following day his temper could no longer be contained, for he wrote: “Hell and Damnation what do they mean. Suspense is killing us all. If we do not move today something will be done. Hell to such damn one horse commanders. God’s moments are flowing and I fear time has already passed for a successful movement.”²⁷

The doctor did not know it, but Price agreed with him entirely, and August 8 proved, in fact, to be a turning point. That day, two women described by Pearce as “loyal ladies” were allowed, inexplicably, to leave Springfield and enter the Southern lines. Taken to Price’s headquarters, the women reported that Lyon “was greatly perplexed,” “continually expected” the Southerners to attack, and kept his army “under arms at all times.” Furthermore, he was preparing to evacuate Springfield.²⁸

If this was the situation, the Southern army’s failure to obtain precise details about possible defensive works in Springfield hardly mattered. Reporting the news to McCulloch, Price requested that the Texan order an immediate advance. But McCulloch still procrastinated, telling the Missouri general that he would carefully consider the matter and let him know what he had decided that evening. Sometime later McCulloch “rode once more to the front, rifle in hand, accompanied by McIntosh and a considerable force.” On returning to camp late that evening, McCulloch inexplicably failed to appraise Price of his decision.²⁹

Up at daybreak on August 9 and out of patience with McCulloch’s intransigence, Price ordered Colonel Snead to the army commander’s headquarters to find out, if possible, what course of action had been selected. The colonel was soon engaged with McCulloch, but Price, unwilling to wait for Snead’s report, interrupted the briefing. Overcome with impatience, the Missourian “insisted with great vehemence that McCulloch should keep the promise . . . made at Crane Creek, and lead the army out against Lyon.” McCulloch responded by calling for a meeting of all general officers at Price’s headquarters at noon. At this council McCulloch spoke yet again about his unwillingness to attack, but Price could no longer endure McCulloch’s inaction. The Missourian declared emphatically that he would resume command of his troops and attack, regardless of the consequences. Faced with the vigorous support of Generals Clark, McBride, Parsons, Rains, and Slack, McCulloch yielded to the ultimatum by issuing orders for the army to move at 9:00 P.M. in four columns and converge on Lyon’s forces at dawn, August 10.³⁰

However much the soldiers had enjoyed their rest, McCulloch’s orders electrified the camp. Pearce noted the quick response of his Arkansas State Troops. “The scene of preparations, immediately following the orders so long delayed and now so eagerly welcomed by the men, was picturesque and animating in the extreme,” he wrote. As he explained:

The Missouri State Guard paid equal attention to its arms. Infantryman Samuel Mudd wrote: “One hundred rounds of ammunition were distributed. Our Company—B, ‘Jackson Guards’—had muskets; Company A—‘Callaway Guards’—had Mississippi rifles; the other companies had double-barrel shotguns, and all these muskets and shotguns were of the same bore. A few of the men in various companies had squirrel rifles.” Mudd’s remarks are revealing. Other Missouri State Guard units never received even half as much ammunition as Mudd’s fellow soldiers of Burbridge’s Regiment in Clark’s Division; in fact, McCulloch later stated that the army averaged only twenty-five rounds per man. Clearly great disparity existed among the various units in terms of ammunition supply. Perhaps because of their diverse weaponry, neither McCulloch, Pearce, nor Price attempted to even things out, even within their own commands. This was a serious problem and yet circumstances soon grew worse, for that night rain began to fall.³¹

By all accounts the shower was actually slight, but conditions suggested that a major storm might be brewing. A soldier in Greer’s regiment recalled that “the night was very dark and threatening.” According to one Texan, “the elements were not idle; the lightning was flashing, and the thunder was crashing and roaring down the valley of Wilson Creek, and over the hills, on which our army stood, in readiness for the order to ‘Fall in.’” Many men lacked leather cartridge boxes and carried their ammunition in their trouser pockets or cloth bags. McCulloch could not chance getting the powder wet, so after consulting with Price he postponed the advance. To save time the men were ordered to sleep on their arms, ready to go at a moment’s notice. Cavalry horses remained saddled, guns limbered, and mules stood in the traces of the baggage wagons.³²

Although the decision to remain in camp made sense, it had unforeseen consequences. Either different orders reached individual units or they interpreted their orders in different ways. Mudd recalled that his company of the Missouri State Guard was told to be ready to march later that night. S. B. Barron of the South Kansas-Texas Cavalry remembered that the men of his company “‘stood to horse,’ as it were, all night,” awaiting orders that never came. Eventually the men became “weary with standing and waiting, lay down at the feet of their horses, reins in hand, and slept.” Yet A. B. Blocker, also of Greer’s regiment, testified: “After the shower of rain had passed on, an order came for the men to keep their horses saddled up, and get what sleep they could. The camp was soon quiet, and the boys were soon stretched out on the damp ground, asleep.” The confusion that existed in the Third Louisiana was probably typical. As soon as the rain started, Hébert ordered the company tents that had just been struck to be repitched and the men’s equipment placed in them to stay dry. Although the weather soon cleared, no new orders arrived. “Another postponement? The suspense was becoming unbearable,” Watson wrote. “The men sought the driest place they could find to lie down. The weather looked better, and it was supposed that we should march forward at dawn of day.”³³

Most of the men probably thought in some fashion about the prospect of battle. Lieutenant H. C. Dawson of the First Arkansas Mounted Rifles was determined not to be somber, despite the seriousness of the situation. Turning to his friend, Private John Toomer, he called out, “John, get your fiddle and let’s have a little dance and fun; it may be the last time we will ever dance together.” The impromptu stag dance doubtless went a long way to relieve the tension.³⁴

Uncertainties about the timing of the advance meant that many Southerners got little sleep, but the confusion resulted in consequences far more serious than fatigue. Watson’s comrade Tunnard explained, “The picket guards had been recalled so as to be ready to march with their respective commands, and in expectation of momentarily receiving marching orders, the different regimental commanders objected to sending them out again.”³⁵

Having finally been moved to act, McCulloch became uncharacteristically careless. Although poised for instant action, the Western Army, that strangest conglomeration of men, slept unguarded. Meanwhile, Lyon’s Army of the West was beset by its own problems.