Chapter 17

Pandemonium Turned Loose

The lull that began following the failure of the first Southern assault on Bloody Hill lasted between thirty and forty-five minutes, until nearly 9:00 A.M. During this time Nathaniel Lyon made only one significant adjustment to his line. He moved Captain Frederick Steele’s battalion of Regulars and Captain Charles Gilbert’s command (Company B, First U.S. Infantry of Captain Joseph Plummer’s battalion) from the vicinity of Du Bois’s Battery to support Totten’s guns. The remainder of Plummer’s battalion, now commanded by Captain Arch Houston as Plummer had been wounded, constituted Lyon’s only significant reserve, as every infantry unit was now in line of battle. Even the 21-man detachment of the Thirteenth Illinois Infantry participated, joining the Iowans at one point and fighting with them as a unit. (The earlier and later battle positions of the Illinois soldiers are unknown.) Altogether, Lyon had approximately 3,500 men and ten pieces of artillery positioned to meet the next attack. Lieutenant Colonel William Merritt’s First Iowa held the left flank, with several companies deployed as skirmishers. Du Bois’s Battery was to their right. A considerable space probably existed between Du Bois’s position and Totten’s Battery, with four guns, which was farther to the front and right. Steele’s and Gilbert’s Regulars guarded Totten’s left. The First Kansas, with Major John Halderman substituting for the wounded Colonel George Deitzler, was just to the right of the guns. Continuing to the right were Lieutenant Colonel George Andrews’s First Missouri, Colonel Robert Mitchell’s Second Kansas, and Major Peter Osterhaus’s Second Missouri. On the far right Lieutenant George Sokalski had two guns that had been detached from Totten’s Battery to operate independently.¹

By this point, the Federals on Bloody Hill had been engaged for a total of four hours. Individual soldiers reacted differently to the experience, of course. Private Charles Harrison of the First Kansas nervously questioned a well-educated comrade about famous battles in history, as “he wanted to know how long a battle could last as severe as this one was proving.”² Perhaps Harrison felt some sort of premonition, as he did not survive the day. Others grew almost calm. Private Eugene Ware of the First Iowa recalled how the Southern long-range artillery fire, so disturbing initially, lost much of its terror:

Ware wrote long after the war. He erred in stating that the Southerners fired canister at long range, but otherwise his memory appears to be accurate. It is confirmed by a contemporary letter from a member of the Second Kansas, who regarding long-range artillery fire noted: “Their batteries didn’t do any good at all. I don’t believe they killed ten men during the whole day with their batteries while ours mowed them down in scores.”⁴ Like many soldiers, the Kansan vastly overestimated the damage his own side did to the enemy. In actuality, both Federal and Southern batteries tended to overshoot their targets at long range.

When the Southern line of battle emerged for a second time from the cover of trees, thick brush, and prairie grass, the Federals opened fire. Combat continued with sporadic intensity for the next hour, until approximately 10:00 A.M. According to Major Samuel Sturgis, the fighting became “almost inconceivably fierce along the entire line.” Some of the Southern units were in formations three or four ranks deep. Once they had closed to within range, the first rank would lie down while the second rank knelt. The third (and sometimes fourth rank) would remain standing, and all ranks would fire together. But disciplined fire usually did not exist beyond the first or second volley. A number of the Southerners opposite Totten’s position were able to advance in the cover provided by a ravine, breaking into the open only thirty or forty yards from the guns. The Federal artillerymen responded valiantly, driving the enemy back by blasts of canister. It was probably at this point that the battery suffered its first casualties. Private Joseph Keyes, a twenty-eight-year-old native of Ireland who was a stonecutter before joining the army in January 1861, fell with a gunshot to his chest and buckshot in his arm. Corporal Lorenzo D. Immell and Privates James Wallace, James H. Crosby, and Cyrus H. Young were soon injured as well, two of them by buckshot. The range of combat was obviously very close.⁵

Totten’s Battery continued to function as others took their places, but the Federal line remained vulnerable. Consequently, Lyon ordered the First Iowa, which was on the far left with only skirmishers engaged, to move right and support the First Kansas and First Missouri. As the “greyhounds” took up a position between the two regiments under the general’s watchful eye, Colonel Andrews took the opportunity to ask Lyon if he had heard anything from Sigel. Lyon simply shook his head.⁶

Early in the fight, Lyon dismounted from his dapple-gray horse and directed the battle on foot. As he walked close to the front line a bullet grazed his right calf. Though not serious, the injury was painful and required treatment to stop the flow of blood. Shortly thereafter Lyon’s mount was shot while he held its reins. The animal sank to its haunches and died. Although the August heat was intense, Lyon kept his worn captain’s frock coat buttoned up to the neck. As he limped along, waving his hat and sword to encourage his troops, he suffered a second wound when a bullet brushed the right side of his head. Blood trickled down his face and matted his hair and beard. Pale and dazed, he moved to the rear, found a relatively safe spot, and sat down. An officer appeared, produced a handkerchief, and tied it around the general’s head. Totten also came over and offered Lyon a swig of brandy, but he declined it. The party was soon joined by the chief of staff, John Schofield. “Major, I am afraid the day is lost,” Lyon said. Schofield replied, “No, General; let us try it again.” Encouraged by Schofield’s enthusiasm, Lyon decided to continue the fight.⁷

Major Samuel Sturgis, who was nearby, directed one of his orderlies to dismount and offer his horse to the general. Although Lyon initially refused it, the horse remained with him and he soon mounted to deal with problems at the Federal center. In the confusion of battle, the First Missouri and the First Iowa had become misaligned, the left flank of the Missourians overlapping the right flank of the Iowans. The Iowans moved forward just as the Kansans fell back in confusion under the pressure of enemy fire. As a result, the lines became entangled and two companies of the First Iowa, the Muscatine Grays and the Mt. Pleasant Grays, became separated from their regiment. Merritt commanded the whole First Iowa to fall back, leaving a gap in the Federal line between his unit and the Missourians. Amid the noise of battle, the Iowa companies that had become detached failed to hear the order. Merritt therefore rode over to them and was guiding them to the rear when a Southern unit approached. With an about-face and a quick volley, the Iowans sent the enemy reeling. Ordering the men to hold their position, Merritt then hastened toward the rest of the regiment, which he had left leaderless. He found it advancing, as Lyon had arrived to deal with the crisis.⁸

Followed by his aide, Lieutenant William M. Wherry, and six to eight orderlies, Lyon rode past the right end of the First Iowa’s line into the recently created gap. After going a short distance, they observed a portion of the enemy’s infantry to the left. A group of horsemen riding in front of this formation included two figures who appeared to be Sterling Price, commander of the Missouri State Guard, and one of his subordinates, Major Emmett McDonald. Given Lyon’s obsession with punishing his enemies, nothing would have been more satisfying than personal combat. Starting toward the horsemen, he ordered his escort to “draw pistols and follow.” Wherry’s cooler head prevailed. He convinced Lyon that the attempt would be too dangerous and suggested instead that some troops be brought forward.⁹

During Lyon’s reconnaissance Sturgis rallied the main portion of the First Iowa in Merritt’s absence. When Lyon returned to his lines, the Iowans called for the general to lead them. Although his aides asked him not to expose himself, Lyon replied, “I am but doing my duty.” He believed that his last opportunity to win the battle was to lead a new assault. When Sweeny came up, Lyon directed him to take charge of the Iowans. He then pulled the Second Kansas out of line, moving the men in column behind the First Missouri and into the gap.¹⁰

Colonel Mitchell was beside Lyon as they advanced. Riding with the reins in his left hand, Lyon turned back to his right. Waving his hat in his right hand, he called out, “Come on my brave boys, I will lead you forward!” At that moment a volley exploded from the thick undergrowth to the front, striking Lyon, Mitchell, and others around them. A large-caliber bullet tore into the left side of Lyon’s chest below the fourth rib, passed through both lungs and the heart, and exited just below the right shoulder blade. He attempted to dismount but began to fall from the saddle. Private Albert Lehmann, the general’s personal aide, was himself able to dismount just in time to catch Lyon as he collapsed. Resting Lyon’s head against his shoulder, the orderly tried to stop the rapid flow of blood. The general gasped for air, then looked at Lehmann and whispered hoarsely, “Lehmann, I am going.” With these words, the first Union general officer to be killed in battle in the Civil War died.¹¹

The musketry that ended Lyon’s personal “punitive crusade” came so unexpectedly that some of the Kansans described it as an ambush. “It seemed as if the entire line, about three hundred yards, was fringed with a perfect blaze of fire and smoke, and the bullets rattled around us, and through out ranks, like hail,” a Leavenworth soldier recalled. The lead company under Captain William Tholen fired one volley, then “broke into confusion,” disordering the ranks behind them. Their panic was short lived, for the Kansans were soon fully deployed into line, standing “firm as rocks” and giving punishment as good as they had received. Captain Samuel J. Crawford, commander of the Kansas Guards from Anderson County and a future governor of the state, remembered, “We fired over Lyon’s body, and three or four of Captain Tholen’s men, as they lay wounded.”¹²

The same volley that had cut down Lyon seriously wounded the commander of the Second Kansas. One musket ball passed through Mitchell’s calf and another through his thigh, yet he remained in the saddle for some time. The combat was so close that at one point he struck a Southerner with his saber. He tried to shoot another with his pistol, but it misfired. Eventually, he was compelled to seek medical attention. After withdrawing to a field hospital behind the crest of Bloody Hill, Mitchell ordered Lieutenant Colonel Charles Blair to “take command and fight the regiment to the best of his ability.” Blair assured him that he would not “disgrace you or the State.” Blair and the regiment’s acting adjutant, Lieutenant Edward Lines, had lost their horses in the initial volley, but they found other mounts. A member of the Emporia Guards recalled how both officers “behaved with cool bravery.” Although “constantly exposed to a raking fire,” they “rode along the line, directing and encouraging the boys.”¹³

The combat continued for some time before the Southerners on this portion of Bloody Hill broke off their attack. Their retreat allowed the two separated companies of the First Iowa to rejoin their regiment. During the lull that followed, Lieutenant Gustavus Schreyer and a detachment of men retrieved the dead and wounded. Corporal Marsh E. Spurlock and Private Andrew Kepler of the Emporia Guards carried Lyon’s body to the rear, accompanied by a weeping Lehmann. Wherry arrived on the scene just as Lyon’s remains were being removed. Fearing that news of the general’s death might affect the men, he decided to conceal the fact for as long as possible. After quieting Lehmann, he had Lyon’s body, with limbs composed and coattail pulled over the face, placed under the shade of a small blackjack oak, in a sheltered spot not far from Du Bois’s guns. Someone had summoned a doctor right after Lyon was hit, but by the time Surgeon Florence M. Cornyn of the First Missouri arrived there was nothing he could do. His examination revealed that the aorta had been struck. No medical procedure could have saved the Connecticut Yankee. Meanwhile, Wherry located Schofield and informed him of Lyon’s death. Schofield realized that command would devolve upon Sturgis, as the senior Regular army officer with the forces on Bloody Hill. He therefore set out in search of Sturgis to appraise him of his new responsibility.¹⁴

The Southern advance that resulted in Lyon’s death cost the Missouri State Guard one of its finest officers, Colonel Richard Weightman. Perhaps because of the need to skirt a thicket, he was leading his men forward in a column rather than a line when they made contact with the Federals. Struck three times, his wounds were mortal, but he took the sound of his men’s cheers as they continued to advance as evidence of Southern victory. “Thank God!” he whispered and died. After carrying Weightman’s body from the field, his men passed their commander’s sword to Colonel John Hughes, who preserved it for Weightman’s family. Such rituals were important assertions that honor had been maintained and that a man’s reputation transcended his death.¹⁵

Weightman had not fought alone, of course. His movement was part of Price’s second attempt to storm Bloody Hill, and to ensure its success “Old Pap” had sent his adjutant, Colonel Thomas Snead, in search of the Southern army’s commander, Ben McCulloch. Snead found McCulloch at approximately 8:45 A.M. at the Sharp farm, where the Southerners were still jubilantly celebrating their decisive victory over the Federal column under Franz Sigel. According to one account, Snead informed McCulloch that the Missouri State Guard was “sorely pressed” and would not be able to hold without immediate assistance. The Texan promptly sent messengers to various subordinates, including Bart Pearce, commander of the Arkansas State Troops, in an effort to focus all available forces against Lyon’s men. He directed Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Hyams’s battalion of the Third Louisiana in person. As the fatigued Louisianans moved into column formation to advance up the Wire Road, “Old Ben” called out words of encouragement. “You have beaten the enemy’s right and left wings, only their centre is left, and with all our forces concentrated upon that we will soon make short work of it,” he declared.¹⁶

The work turned out to be anything but short, as men such as Colonel Elkanah Greer could testify. A message from McCulloch reached the commander of the South Kansas-Texas Cavalry, instructing him to turn the enemy’s right flank. Greer still had only half of the regiment under his command, having never located the troops that had become separated from him during their flight from Sigel’s dawn bombardment. Held in support throughout the morning, the Texans were eager to accomplish something. They were consequently enthusiastic as Greer marched the battalion, which numbered about four hundred, west on a narrow track that ran along the northern side of Skegg’s Branch. As they passed behind Price’s infantry, Bugler A. B. Blocker of the Texas Hunters company noted that the Missourians were firing as fast as possible. In response, the Federals “were pouring volley after volley at them, and it seemed that a perfect sheet of bullets were passing over our heads.” The sixteen-year-old wrote that the “rattle and crash of the musketry” combined with the artillery, which was “bellowing forth along the entire line,” reached a deafening level. It “sounded like pandemonium turned loose.”¹⁷

Before reaching the left end of the Southern line, Greer met Colonel DeRosey Carroll and his 350-man First Arkansas Cavalry. Greer directed Carroll to join him, thereby nearly doubling the size of the striking force. Once they arrived at Skegg’s Spring, the column turned into a large ravine located well beyond the Union right flank. This defile provided excellent cover. After reaching its head, Greer ordered the First Arkansas to swing right and deploy into line, while his Texans continued to probe forward. Looking east, the colonel saw that the struggle on the slopes of Bloody Hill remained a “very fierce and hotly contested.” Believing that the enemy’s flank and rear were vulnerable and that there was not a moment to spare, he ordered an immediate charge. This was a poor decision. Because Greer failed to notify Carroll of his intent, the Arkansas cavalry did not advance simultaneously. Worse still, Greer did not even take time to deploy his force properly or communicate with his captains. As a result, no more than three of the five companies of horsemen actually made the charge.¹⁸

It was a courageous effort, nevertheless. The Texans did not carry sabers, so Greer shouted, “Draw your pistols, men, and charge!” Blocker left a vivid account of what followed: “With a yell, we went toward that line of blue, like the wind. . . . On we went—pouring lead into the blue line that was standing there 50 yards in front of us, with fixed bayonets, prepared to receive cavalry. The next moment that blue line was a mass of running, stampeding soldiers trying to get out of the way of that mass of horses and men that were bearing down on them.”¹⁹

Had Greer made a coordinated attack with 750 men rather than three companies that probably numbered no more than 240 men, his action might have posed a major threat to the Federals. As it turned out, the panic he caused was not extensive. Indeed, it is uncertain which Federal unit fled, as commanders are usually loath to mention precipitous retreats in their reports. Even so, the Federals were not as vulnerable as Greer assumed when he ordered his men forward, for they soon recovered and fought back effectively. Captain Samuel Wood’s Kansas Rangers (the mounted company of the Second Kansas Infantry) and the Home Guard units of Captains Clark W. Wright and T. A. Switzler were in the rear. Some or all of these men immediately positioned themselves to fire on Greer’s right flank as the Texans advanced. More important, shortly before the incident Lyon had ordered Captain James R. McClure’s company of the Second Kansas deployed as skirmishers to protect the far right of the Union position. If McClure’s men were the frightened fugitives Blocker described, they recovered their fortitude in short order. They sent several volleys into the Texans, causing their first losses of the battle. Worse was to come. Du Bois pivoted his entire battery to fire on the Southerners, while Totten spun several of his guns around to face the danger. Together, they drove Greer’s men off “with ease.” In fact, Totten later wrote contemptuously: “This was the only demonstration made by their cavalry, and it was so effete and ineffectual in its force and character as to deserve only appellation of child’s play. Their cavalry is utterly worthless on the battle-field.” The remark is harsh, but in fact Greer bungled the attack. Although the Federal rear was hardly wide open, the Texas commander squandered one of the most significant Southern opportunities of the battle. His men were lucky to suffer no more than two dozen casualties. How many they inflicted in return is unknown.²⁰

Although left on its own by Greer, Carroll’s First Arkansas Cavalry advanced when it saw what the Texans were doing. The cavalrymen’s forward movement coincided with Totten’s repositioning of guns to meet Greer. Carroll misinterpreted this development, believing that his men’s fire had caused the Union artillery to abandon its position. Because the Arkansans possessed on average only eight rounds per man for their short-range weapons, they retreated after a short time. They rejoined Greer and eventually took up a position to support the left flank of the Southern line.²¹

Except for Greer’s movement, the remainder of the second Southern attack was tactically straightforward, marked by courage and tenacity rather than brilliance. Price struggled valiantly to coordinate the assault, moving so close to the front that his soldiers begged him to withdraw to safety. As he was wearing a long white linen duster and a plain white felt hat, the commander of the Missouri State Guard looked more like a farmer than a military man. Several bullets struck his clothing and one finally grazed his side. Turning to an officer near him, the portly general joked calmly, “That isn’t fair; if I were as slim as Lyon that fellow would have missed me entirely.” Although painful the wound was not threatening, and Price did not seek medical attention until the fighting ended.²²

Private Henry Cheavens was not as fortunate as Price. The schoolteacher-turned-soldier was a member of Clark’s Division, but he fell in with McBride’s men after becoming separated from his own company during the confusion created by Lyon’s surprise attack. While on his knees loading his Mississippi rifle, a spent ball struck his canteen, “bending it up.” Then a piece of canister slammed into his right thigh, breaking his femur. Cheavens wrote that he felt no pain but “heard its chug as it buried itself in the flesh, felt it strike the bone, but it deadened the flesh for several inches around.” A short time later his comrades fell back and left him between the lines. As bullets and artillery rounds passed close overhead, he took the strap from his canteen and ramrod from his rifle to make a tourniquet above the wound. He lay in the open for about fifteen minutes, then crawled to the safety and shade of a tree, where he remained until the battle’s end.²³

As had been the case during previous assaults, several factors negated much of the advantage the Missouri State Guard should have enjoyed from superior numbers. Due to the difficult terrain and their minimal training in the basic maneuvers of linear tactics, units rarely advanced simultaneously, despite Price’s heroic attempts to preserve their alignment. Because ammunition was scarce, the Southerners had to close right up to the enemy before opening fire. As a result, this phase of combat, which lasted about an hour, was characterized not so much by a grand assault as by a series of jerky forward movements. The State Guard crept up Bloody Hill with company-sized bodies of men probing forward like tentacles of a wary octopus. Once contact was made, the Southerners almost always fell prone at the enemy’s first fire. Those on the receiving end of the Federal artillery’s shell or canister usually halted for good, allowing the men on their flanks to move ahead without them. One Missouri soldier described the enemy’s close-range artillery fire as particularly unnerving. He wrote that some men, “unused to large reports,” made a particular effort to shoot the Federal gunners, screaming with each shot “damn you, how do you like that?” It was a battle fought mainly on the company level, and few Southern companies actually fired their weapons for as long as twenty consecutive minutes before either retreating or going over to the defensive. Thus when Greer’s flank attack distracted the Federals, Price used the opportunity to withdraw his troops for another reorganization.²⁴

During the Southern assault, the Union forces apparently suffered little from the lack of direction caused by Lyon’s death. It took Schofield about thirty minutes to find Sturgis and inform him of the situation. Sturgis was dismayed and not just because of his affection and respect for his departed commander. “The responsibility which rested upon me was duly felt and appreciated,” he recalled. Fortunately, just about the time Sturgis inherited the top position, Price began withdrawing his troops. This gave the new Union commander some time to assess the situation. Although Federals had been able to drive off two assaults and still held the high ground, they were somewhat “scattered and broken” as a consequence. Moreover, Sturgis believed that the enemy possessed 20,000 men. The weary Federals had not eaten since leaving Springfield approximately fifteen hours earlier. Canteens were dry, and as the morning wore on the August sun burned hotter and hotter. Ammunition was running low, and no one knew the fate or status of Sigel’s column. Consequently, Sturgis concluded that the only remaining chance of success lay in Sigel’s ability to launch a substantial attack on the Confederate right flank and rear. Should this occur, the Federals on Bloody Hill might retake the offensive. Otherwise, the only recourse was retreat.²⁵

Sturgis did not reach these conclusions on his own. The new commander called together as many senior officers as possible for a brief council of war. The consensus was that if Sigel did not appear soon, they must retreat, if possible. The meeting came to an abrupt conclusion when the officers observed a large column of infantry moving down a hill on the eastern side of Wilson Creek. These troops were coming from the same direction as had the cannon fire heard early that morning, believed to have been from Sigel’s attack. In addition, some members of the approaching infantry wore gray uniforms similar to those in Sigel’s column and they appeared to be carrying an American flag. As a consequence, spirits rose, and Sturgis issued orders for the Federals on Bloody Hill to prepare for an advance and to join forces with the approaching column.²⁶

Sturgis also made several adjustments in his line of battle. Osterhaus’s Second Missouri battalion marched from the right end of the line to the left, taking up a position in support of Du Bois’s Battery. The First Missouri shared this assignment, but its commander, Andrews, had finally been forced by his wounds to relinquish his role. Captain Theodore Yates now led the regiment, which had been severely depleted by heavy casualties, including almost half of the officers. By this point in the battle the unit had dropped from its original strength of 775 men to perhaps 550, a testament to both the ferocity of the struggle and the soldiers’ fortitude. Taken together, the two Missouri regiments and the Regular Army gunners under Du Bois formed a firm anchor for the Union left flank. To compensate for the weakness these changes made on the right flank, Sturgis split up the First Kansas. Six companies of the regiment remained in the center, in between Totten’s four guns and the First Iowa. Four companies shifted to the right. Captain Powell Clayton’s Leavenworth Light Infantry formed on the left of the Second Kansas (also strengthened by the return of McClure’s detached company). Captain William Roberts’s Wyandotte Volunteers, Captain Samuel Walker’s Scott’s Guards, and Captain Gustavus Zesch’s Steuben Guards took up a position adjacent to Sokalski’s two guns. They now constituted the far right of the Federal battle line.²⁷

While Sturgis looked to his alignment, Price, at the base of Bloody Hill, prepared for what would be the largest assault yet. The Missouri State Guard commander sent a staff officer, Captain Colton Greene, for reinforcements from Pearce’s heretofore largely inactive Arkansas State Troops. Up to this point Colonel Jonathan Walker’s Fourth Arkansas Infantry and Colonel Tom Dockery’s Fifth Arkansas Infantry had held a position on the eastern side of Wilson Creek, on the plateau that ran opposite the mouth of Skegg’s Branch, overlooking the ford of the Wire Road. These units, bolstered by Captain John Reid’s Fort Smith Battery, guarded the approach on the Southern rear from the southeast. At the plateau’s northern end, Colonel John Gratiot’s Third Arkansas provided support for Captain William Woodruff’s Pulaski Light Battery, which had shifted from its original placement near the Winn farm. The Second Infantry from Weightman’s Brigade of Rains’s Division, led by Major Ezra H. Brashear, also supported the artillery.²⁸

After Sigel’s flanking column was routed, Pearce sent the Fourth Infantry and three companies of the Fifth to occupy the same high ground from which Sigel had opened fire with his artillery at the beginning of the battle. John H. Rivers, a member of the Fifth’s Centerpoint Rifles, described what these soldiers witnessed from this commanding location:

Throughout the morning Pearce remained at his command post adjacent to the Fort Smith Battery. Around 10:00 A.M. Colonel James McIntosh, McCulloch’s adjutant and de facto commander of his Confederate troops, brought word that the Southern line on Bloody Hill was being hard pressed by Lyon’s force and needed reinforcements. Following closely on the colonel’s heels, Captain Greene raced up with a similar report. As the Southern rear was now secure, Pearce directed McIntosh to lead both the battery and the Fifth Arkansas’s seven companies to the Missouri State Guard’s aid. Pearce then rode to the northern end of the plateau, where the Third Arkansas, Brashear’s Second Infantry, and the Pulaski Battery still guarded the Wire Road. No threat had developed in that direction since the fight in John Ray’s cornfield, but he did not want to leave the road unguarded. Leaving Woodruff and Brashear in place, Pearce ordered Gratiot’s regiment to join the column dispatched to help Price.³⁰

Pearce led the reinforcements in person across the ford of Wilson Creek. This was the column that Sturgis and his officers had observed during their meeting and mistook for elements of Sigel’s command. At a distance the Stars and Bars on the Confederate national flags carried by the Arkansas State Troops were easily mistaken for the Stars and Stripes. An eerie lull following the cessation of the second Southern assault pervaded the field as Pearce led his men toward Bloody Hill. When they approached the base, Price rode up. The Missourian welcomed their arrival. As Gratiot had served under him in the Mexican War, he asked the Third Arkansas to form on the crucial far left to extend the flank of Colonel Edmond Wingo’s Infantry from McBride’s Division. While leading them into place, Price offered words of encouragement. “You will soon be in a pretty tight place,” he said, “but I will be near you, and I will take care of you; keep as cool as the inside of a cucumber and give them thunder.” Then the general turned to Gratiot and added: “That is your position, colonel; take it and hold it whatever you do. I will see that you are not too hard-pressed. Don’t yield an inch.”³¹

Prior to the arrival of Pearce’s soldiers, McCulloch and Price had made several adjustments to the Southern lines. As the separate battalions of the Third Louisiana were now reunited, McCulloch instructed Colonel Louis Hébert to move beyond Price’s left flank, advance up Bloody Hill, turn the Federal right, and take Totten’s guns. In response to a false report that enemy cavalry located beyond the Ray farm were preparing to attack down the Wire Road, the Texan had the Second Arkansas Mounted Rifles take up a position guarding the Wilson Creek ford. Since fighting in Ray’s cornfield earlier that morning, the Arkansans had fallen in beside Colonel J. A. Foster’s Infantry of McBride’s Division. The dismounted troopers left the struggle on Bloody Hill and spent the remainder of the battle waiting for an attack that never came.³²

Meanwhile, Price had strengthened his position by shifting to the center both the Missouri Light Artillery (Lieutenant William Barlow substituting for the missing Henry Guibor) and the infantry of Parsons’s Division that had been supporting it. They took up a position between Slack’s and Clark’s Divisions. Once in place, Barlow found himself within musket range of an unidentified Federal unit. Fearing for the battery’s safety, he trained his guns on this force and prepared to open fire, but halted when fellow officers informed him that the troops to his front were Southerners. While Barlow held his fire, the State Guard infantry of both Clark’s and Slack’s Divisions began to advance. Within moments the Federal batteries on the crest opened up. Now certain that he was facing the enemy, Barlow added the weight of his four guns to the battle. The lull was over.³³

To Barlow’s left, the Third Arkansas initially advanced in column of fours, but Gratiot soon deployed them into line. Their movement ceased abruptly when they encountered enemy infantry both to their front and on their left flank. They also came under enfilade fire from artillery to their left. “So terrible was this fire,” Gratiot reported, “that my regiment was obliged to lie down, and then commenced firing from that position.” This fire stopped the assault. In about thirty minutes the unit suffered no casualties out of 571 effectives. Some of the losses came from the indiscriminate fire of Price’s Missourians located to the Arkansans’ rear.³⁴

The unit that the Arkansans could not at first identify was the Governor’s Guards of the First Kansas, which had been placed in advance of the regiment. When their commander, Captain Bernard P. Chenoweth, observed the Southerners’ approach, he sent word to Totten, requesting support. In response, Totten temporarily repositioned Sokalski’s section of guns to provide assistance. The young Polish American’s conduct had already won Totten’s admiration, who later wrote, “No officer ever behaved better under as trying circumstances as he found himself surrounded by at times during the day.”³⁵

Shortly after Gratiot had started his advance, McIntosh placed the seven companies of the Fifth Arkansas into line on the right of the Third, while Reid’s Fort Smith Battery moved into position on the left of Barlow’s Missouri Light Artillery. Overall, the Arkansas State Troops brought about one thousand fresh men into the struggle. As Gratiot’s regiment advanced, the much-fatigued Missourians of the State Guard and the Confederate soldiers in Churchill’s First Arkansas Mounted Rifles began to cheer. The officers moved along their lines shouting encouragement to their men, and in a few minutes the entire Southern line began to advance. Up to three thousand Arkansas and Missouri soldiers surged toward the Federal line in a front about one thousand yards long. It was approximately 10:30 A.M.³⁶

On the Union left Du Bois’s Battery delivered counterbattery fire at the Missouri Light Artillery. After only a short time, the State Guard battery fell silent due to a shortage of ammunition. Barlow withdrew to replenish his ammunition chests. The Fort Smith Battery then took up the duel, but it traded rounds with the Union guns for only five minutes. McIntosh ordered the gunners to stand down, probably to protect advancing infantry from friendly fire. Yet the Southern artillery was far from discouraged. Once resupplied, the Missouri Light Artillery joined the Fourth Arkansas and the three companies of the Fifth Arkansas that had occupied the ridge where Sigel’s guns first went into action. As rumors of enemy activity in that direction were inaccurate, they took no further part in the battle. Back on Bloody Hill, the reduction in fire from the Southern artillery allowed Du Bois to concentrate on the enemy infantry to his front. The lethal combination of his guns and those of the Federal infantry defeated the attack on that section of the line.³⁷

The center of the Union line bore the brunt of the Southern assault. A Kansas soldier recalled that while waiting for the Southerners to renew their attack, the enlisted men “were lying flat on their faces, the line officers sitting on the ground a few paces in the rear.” This was a sensible precaution. Indeed, lying prone for protection during lulls in battle was a standard procedure long before the American Civil War. Soldiers almost always fought standing up, however, because their weapons could be loaded rapidly only in that position. As ranges were relatively short and the smoke produced by black powder gave away the shooter’s position, safety lay in reloading and firing as quickly as possible rather than taking cover. Though manuals such as Hardee’s Rifle and Light Infantry Tactics included detailed instructions for loading and firing lying down, soldiers’ diaries, letters, and memoirs indicate that such techniques were neither commonly taught nor frequently employed early in the Civil War. This is confirmed by Eugene Ware’s memoirs. The Iowan recalled that his Burlington Zoauves was the only company that, while drilling in camp, routinely practiced how to load and fire in a prone position.³⁸

At the Battle of Wilson’s Creek, the waist-high prairie grass, the soldiers’ relative inexperience, and, above all, the scarcity of ammunition, slowed the pace of combat. Under these conditions, a large number of men eventually ended up firing and reloading while either kneeling or lying down, despite their lack of practice in such techniques and the extra time it took them to do so. This was true for both sides throughout the battle, particularly during the fighting that broke out as the Southerners made their third assault on Bloody Hill.

As the Southerners approached, Major John Halderman of the First Kansas ordered his men “to lie down and fire from that position.” A soldier in the Second Kansas recalled that they were “ordered to drop to our knees and keep close to the ground.” Captain Gordon Granger of Lyon’s staff moved from unit to unit across the hillcrest, instructing the soldiers to remain concealed in the grass and expose themselves only to shoot. Most obeyed. “Lying flat on their faces our men poured in their fire with telling effect,” newspaperman Franc Wilkie reported. According to one Union officer, “Our men as a whole would rise enough to discharge their weapons and then lie down while loading up.” One of Lyon’s Regulars contrasted the reality of combat to his expectations from peacetime. He wrote: “The splendid motions we had been taught at drill and parade in anticipation of this bloody day were not practiced here. Each man assumed a position to his liking—most of them on their knees and leaning well forward.” The advantages of crouching or lying down were obvious, for once the combatants came within range, the effects of their fire could be devastating even if it was not prolonged. “The bullets whistled, rattled, banged, [and] whirred over our heads,” remembered one Kansan on the receiving end of a Missouri State Guard volley. “If our men had stood up, hardly a man would have been left,” he concluded. Testimony on the Southern side was similar. As Private Ras Stirman of the Third Arkansas Infantry later described his encounter with the Federals: “They were lying down in the brush and grass until we were within one hundred yards of them, then they opened up on us bringing us down like Sheep but we never wavered. We did not wait for orders to fire but all of us cut loose at them like wild men, then we dropped to our knees and loaded and shot as fast as we could. We had to shoot by guess as they were upon the hill lying in the grass.” Because the men kept so low to the ground, a disproportionate number of those killed or wounded were struck in the head.³⁹

Artillery continued to provide essential support. As Sokalski’s section was still on the right, Totten had only four guns in place at the Federal center. Although the captain’s confidence in his own artillerymen increased as the fighting progressed, he felt considerable anxiety for the Federal foot soldiers. His fears were justified, for as the Southern infantry surged forward, a line of Regular Service Recruits who had been deployed as skirmishers suddenly buckled. The men streamed back up hill, eventually rejoining Steele’s battalion. As Southern infantry neared the crest and the fighting reached a fever pitch, Sturgis sent the left wing of the First Iowa to Totten’s support. Still the Southerners advanced, some closing to within twenty feet of the artillery. Finally, the rounds of canister and musket volleys took such a terrible toll that the Southern units retreated. The Union center was safe.⁴⁰

The firing was so intense during the Southern assault that huge clouds of gunsmoke blanketed entire sections of the Bloody Hill’s southern slope. The noise reminded William Allen, a private in the Second Kansas, of “hundreds of bunches of firecrackers going off,” only much louder. But after about forty-five minutes of combat all along the line, Price realized that once again his attack had failed. For a third time the Southern infantry broke off and fell back to regroup. One of the wounded left behind was Sergeant William Watson, of the Third Louisiana, who recalled, “We were pressing up the hill to get to closer quarters, when a ball took me in the pit of the stomach, and for a few minutes I remembered no more.” After a short time he recovered and found himself lying downhill with his left hand, injured earlier in the Ray cornfield fight, behind his back. The only pain the sergeant experienced was from that wound, and as he moved his hand he felt a warm liquid. His first thought was that the bullet had passed through his body and out his back. Believing that he was dying, he looked at his hand but saw only a small amount of blood. Encouraged, he rose to his feet and discovered that his heavy brass belt plate, bearing the distinctive pelican emblem worn by each member of Baton Rouge’s Pelican Rifles, had deflected a bullet. He then reached for his canteen to take a drink and found a bullet hole through it. His canteen had ended up behind his back, the warm water trickling out onto his hand. Overjoyed at his narrow escape, he made his way back to the regiment.⁴¹

Just before the Southerners withdrew, Sturgis learned from Blair that the Second Kansas was almost out of ammunition. When another lull developed, Sturgis decided that it was time to abandon the fight. The next challenge was to disengage in the face of an enemy believed to have overwhelmingly superior numbers. It was about 11:30 A.M. and there was still no word from Sigel. The Union commander therefore ordered Blair to pull back first. The Second Kansas withdrew in good order, bringing off many of its wounded. As the regiment moved onto the northern spur of Bloody Hill, Du Bois’s Battery and the Second Missouri joined it. This initial withdrawal left the Union right flank exposed. When a Southern unit, probably the Third Louisiana, began moving toward this unmanned portion of the line, Sturgis shifted Steele’s infantry to the right. After “a sharp engagement” the Regulars drove the enemy back. When this action took place, Totten replaced his disabled horses, limbered up his guns, and fell back. The First Iowa, the First Kansas, the Home Guard units, and the detachment of the Thirteenth Illinois departed at the same time.⁴²

As the Federals withdrew, the lead pair of horses drawing one of the caissons in Totten’s Battery was killed. The crew abandoned it, lodged against a sapling. Although he was already wounded in the shoulder, Corporal Lorenzo Immell raced back on foot to rescue the valuable equipment. As bullets flew, he cut the dead horses from the traces and used an axe to chop down the sapling. While he worked a spent ball struck him painfully on the left shin, and he called to the rear guard of the First Iowa for assistance. Private Nicholas Bouquet of the Burlington Rifles helped Immell seize a horse (or possibly a mule) and harness it to the others. Riding the new animal, Immell pulled the caisson to safety while Bouquet returned to his company. For their heroic actions both soldiers later received the Congressional Medal of Honor.⁴³

Steele’s battalion remained on Bloody Hill to cover the column’s retreat. Granger soon joined it. Observing the enemy advancing in numbers, he raced to the rear and in a matter of minutes returned with companies from the First Iowa, First Kansas, and First Missouri. Moving up on Steele’s left, Granger placed his ad hoc force to enfilade the right flank of the advancing enemy. A single, devastating volley sent the Southerners reeling down the hill. This Union rear guard held its position until the ambulances had retrieved as many wounded as possible and were safely on their way. Du Bois’s Battery covered Steele’s withdrawal from the spur of the northern ridge. Once the infantry had passed, Du Bois limbered up his guns and fell into column. The artillery proceeded only a short distance before one of the twelve-pound howitzers broke down. Osterhaus’s Missourians stood guard while the necessary repairs were made, and the two units then rejoined the main column.⁴⁴

After falling back about two miles Sturgis halted at Ross’s Spring, allowing the exhausted soldiers to rest, drink the refreshing water, fill their canteens, and eat whatever food they had. Luckily, several wagons loaded with bread had arrived from Springfield. The soldiers “devoured” the loaves “with a relish which extreme hunger alone can give.” Even after resuming the march Sturgis contemplated selecting a defensive position and awaiting news of Sigel’s column. The question of the Prussian’s fate was soon answered when a noncommissioned officer from the Second Brigade galloped up on a sweat-soaked horse. He reported that Sigel’s column had been routed and its artillery captured; Sigel himself either had been killed or taken prisoner. There was now no reason not to return to Springfield. Just as they reached the Little York Road, Lieutenant Charles Farrand rode up with Company D, Second U.S. Dragoons, and a few fast-marching fugitives from Colonel Charles E. Salomon’s Fifth Missouri Infantry. They had with them the single artillery piece that they had recovered during the retreat. The two groups continued their march together, reaching Springfield around 5:00 P.M., approximately twenty-four hours after they had first marched out to attack the Southern army.⁴⁵

The Southerners crowded along the slopes of Bloody Hill were surprisingly slow to learn of the Union withdrawal. As a result of fatigue, acute ammunition shortages, and the inevitable breakdown in command and control caused by casualties, the Western Army was nearly “fought out.” When the first units crept cautiously to the crest of the hill, their reports that the enemy had fled seemed too good to be true. After a while, McCulloch, Price, and Pearce gathered with their staff officers atop the position for which they had struggled to gain for more than five hours. In the distance to the north, they could see the Federals retreating. Woodruff’s Pulaski Light Battery clattered up, unlimbered, and fired a few long-range shots that fell harmlessly. Years later Pearce recalled that at this climactic moment they felt emotional release rather than elation. “We watched the retreating enemy through our field-glasses,” he wrote, “and were glad to see him go.”⁴⁶