An unplanned ride through enemy lines

As I've mentioned before, by 1863 the fight in Missouri was mostly one between Union soldiers and militia and Confederate bushwhackers. Prominent among these irregular rebel fighters was Major Tom Livingston. He was quite successful for a time and gathered a lot of attention from Union forces.

On May 13, 1863, one Union detachment caught up with him at the Centre Creek lead mines. Livingston had about a hundred well-armed men and were probably in the area to get lead with which to make bullets. Union troops surprised him and attacked.

The official Union report states, "It was a desperate bushwhacking fight; both sides were hand-to-hand in the brush for awhile. Captain Henslee's horse became very much frightened, and charged immediately through the rebel crew; it is supposed fifty guns were fired alone at him in this passage; escaped unhurt. He fired as he went through; killed 1; charged back again in order to save himself and killed another."

If you're going into battle, make sure you can control your horse!

Skirmish at Yellow Creek

Compared with the great Civil War campaigns back East, the struggle west of the Mississippi River had relatively few battles. Most of the fights were skirmishes that are all but forgotten today, yet they had a cumulative effect on the outcome of the war.

One such was the skirmish at Yellow Creek on August 13, 1862. Since August 9, Union forces under Col. Odon Guitar and Brig. Gen. Benjamin Loan had been pursuing pro-Confederate Missouri State Guard forces under Col. James Poindexter through Chariton and Livingston Counties in north-central Missouri.

The chase ran across 250 miles. The Union forces numbered 550 horsemen, while Poindexter's rebel force was much larger but suffering from supply problems. Col. Guitar estimated their number to be 1,500-2,000 but officers on both sides were not averse to exaggerating enemy numbers to inflate a victory or excuse a defeat.

Whatever the numbers involved, it was still a sound Union victory. The running fight cost the rebels horses and men, who were shot or fell by the wayside to be captured. The chase only ended when the rebels destroyed the bridge over the Muscle Fork river, stopping the Union pursuit cold.

Guitar boasted that by that point Poindexter only had about 400 men left, "with few arms and no ammunition. All of the latter I captured at Little Compton, with several hundred guns and horses, all his wagons, a large amount of clothing, and other plunder. In the round I have killed, wounded, and drowned 150 of his men and taken about 100 prisoners. Our loss has been 5 men wounded and some 10 horses shot."

He added, "I was unable to bring away a great part of the horses and plunder captured at Little Compton; besides, the condition of the greater part of them was such as to render them worthless. I have killed and worn down the greater part of my horses."

The Westernmost Battle of the Civil War

As I mentioned in my post on the Civil War in Arizona, the year 1862 saw the westernmost fighting of the war when a group of Texas Confederates made it all the way to the western New Mexico Territory (what's now Arizona) and were pushed out by the Union California Column.

The main "battle" happened on April 15 at Picacho Peak, 50 miles northwest of Tucson at 111° 24' 17'' W longitude, when the advance guard of the column clashed with Confederate pickets. This is often called the westernmost land battle of the Civil War.

Well, it wasn't really a battle but a skirmish with only 23 soldiers involved, and there was a skirmish even further west than that one. On March 30, while the California Column was still headed for Tucson, it came upon a group of ten Confederates at Stanwix Station led by 2nd Lt. Jack Swilling, pictured here in this Wikimedia Commons image. They were burning hay that had been left out on the column's route to supply the horses. Swilling's men were greatly outnumbered and after firing a few shots, one of which wounded Private William Frank Semmelrogge, they wisely withdrew. Semmelrogge later recovered.

But we're not done yet! You see, Stanwix Station was about six miles southwest of Agua Caliente, which is at 113° 19′ 28″ W. Almost a year later on May 20, 1863, there was a shooting at La Paz, Arizona, which is at 114° 25′ 35″ W. Confederate sympathizer William Edwards fired upon a crowd of Union soldiers, killing Privates Ferdinand Behn and Thomas Gainor and wounding a civilian bystander. Edwards fled into the desert, where he later died of thirst. There was no exchange of fire and Edwards wasn't in the Confederate army, so whether you want to call this a skirmish or not is up to you.

In California there was a band of robbers who called themselves Confederate Partisan Rangers. Holding up a stagecoach doesn't count as a skirmish, though. There was also a standoff between Union soldiers and Confederate sympathizers with no shots fired, so let's strike that one out too.

None of these are battles. If you want the westernmost BATTLE of the Civil War, you have to go all the was east to Valverde, New Mexico, where on February 20-21 at longitude 106° 54' 53" W, several thousand men in blue and gray had a real, proper, standup battle.

The Last Casualty of the Civil War

An estimated 700,000 men died in the Civil War. Historians have often asked the question: who was the last?

Generally the answer has been this unfortunate fellow, Private John J. Williams of the 34th Indiana Infantry, who was killed at the Battle of Palmito Ranch in Texas on May 13, 1865.

It was Williams' first battle and a completely unnecessary one. Both sides had heard the news of Lee's surrender and Johnston discussing terms with Sherman. Already there were mass desertions in the Texas units.

Maj.-General Kirby Smith, commander of all Confederate forces in the Trans-Mississippi theater, wanted to fight on. Rebel troops were still active in southeastern Texas, where they headed across the Mexican border to trade for much-needed supplies. There was a Union garrison just off the coast on Brazos Island and the commander sent some troops to take Brownsville, the border town through which the rebel supplies came.

The resulting battle saw the Union pushing back the rebels in the morning until rebel reinforcements arrived. Then the tables were turned and it was the bluecoats' turn to retreat. Casualties were low and only one man was reported killed, Private Williams on the Union side. So Williams got the unfortunate distinction of being the last man killed in the Civil War.

Other historians disagree, and point to the Skirmish at Hobdy's Bridge six days later.  On May 19, a group of men from the First Florida Cavalry (Union) rendezvoused at the bridge just over the border in Alabama to rejoin their unit after being on furlough. Unknown to them, their comrades had already set out after some Confederate bushwhackers.

The bushwhackers, however, were actually hiding near the bridge and opened fire on the latecomers. Three men from the First Florida were wounded and a fourth, Corporal John W. Skinner, was killed. After the war, the three men applied for an extra pension for being wounded in action, but army red tape told them since they were on furlough, they weren't qualified. It took three decades of wrangling before the army ruled they had returned to active duty when they arrived at the bridge as ordered, and therefore got an extra pension. Since the court ruled they were on active duty, Corporal Skinner was the last man to be killed in the Civil War.

Or maybe not. Further research of skirmishes in the waning days of the Civil War would probably uncover more such "last casualties." Dying in war is always tragic, but to die when the war was pretty much over must have been a doubly hard blow for these men's families.

Photo of Private Williams courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

Civil War in Arizona

While the main focus of Civil War history is on the big battles east of the Mississippi, the war raged in the west too. It even reached as far west as Arizona.

Back then Arizona didn't exist; it was part of the New Mexico Territory. Early in the war the Confederacy suffered from a Union naval blockade and decided to send an expedition to take the territory to gain access to its mines and as a route to ports in Mexico and California. In the spring of 1862 an army of Texans under General Sibley marched into New Mexico.

At first all went well, but the army suffered a disastrous defeat at the Battle of Glorieta pass on March 26-28. The rebels were soon fleeing back to Texas. But not all of them. A detachment of 54 Texans had ridden further west, all the way to Tucson, and had claimed it for the Confederacy. As part of the reorganization of Confederate territories they renamed it the Territory of Arizona. They may even have issued an Arizona Confederate currency, a mystery that I'm still trying to clear up with the help of some other researchers.

The Confederate occupation of Arizona was to be short-lived. A column of 2,350 Union cavalry from California headed into the territory and clashed with the Texans at Pichacho Pass about 50 miles northwest of town. After a short firefight that left several men dead on both sides, the rebels retreated. The Battle of Picacho Pass is often called the westernmost battle of the Civil War. I'll be takinng up the question of whether this is true or not later this month.

Photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

Civil War Photo Friday: All Quiet on the Potomac

OK, so it's an engraving and not a photo. Sue me. I like the image, though. It's an illustration from a book of war lyrics, this one illustrating 'All Quiet along the Potomac'. Here we have a sleepy Union soldier nodding off in the moonlight. There hasn't been a peep from the Rebs for days.

But wait, what's that behind him? They say war is long stretches of boredom interrupted by moments of extreme terror. I think this guy is about to experience a sudden shift from one to the other.

Skirmishes probably killed more troops in the Civil War than the big battles. They were a constant fact of life for an army on campaign, and even when in winter quarters an army could expect probes and patrols at the edges of their protected territory that would lead to casualties. As this guy is about to learn, there's no such thing as an insignificant skirmish.

Check the original page of this old book for a grim little poem.

A rough winter for Union troops in Civil War Missouri

Life was tough for Union troops in wintertime Missouri. The winter of 1862/63 was an especially harsh one. Back in January, Union garrisons in the southern part of the state had to scramble after Confederate General Marmaduke's cavalry raiders coming up from Arkansas. They defeated them and sent them on a long freezing retreat back south, during which the rebels lost many horses to exhaustion and men to exposure.

After Marmaduke's raid, Missouri fell into a deceptive calm. Scattered skirmishes kept the Union garrisons on their toes and reminded them that not all rebels had fled. Recruiters still rode around rural areas trying to enlist men to join the Confederate army in Arkansas, and some guerrillas wintered in Missouri rather than Texas like the larger bands. These caused periodic trouble for the Yankees.

One such recruiter was Lieutenant J.D. Brazeau from St. Louis, who was with a small rebel group in Bloomfield, Missouri, recruiting and gathering supplies. On Feb. 28, Major Edward B. Eno led an advance guard of the Eighth Missouri State Militia Cavalry to capture them. They found the bridge across the Castor River destroyed and had to swim their horses across the icy water before dawn.

Arriving in town at the break of dawn, the Union troops completely surprised the rebels. Some fled while others surrendered. Brazeau leaped on his horse, fired at the advancing troops, and tried to gallop away. He was shot from his saddle and killed instantly. The Eighth Missouri captured a large number of horses and equipment.

Eno's report doesn't say what they did for the rest of the day. I suspect they found shelter, dried their clothes, and drank some moonshine beside a roaring fire. That's what I would have done if forced to swim across a freezing river and fight a battle before sunrise!

As the weather began to heat up in late March, the war heated up as well.


Photo courtesy flickr user lcm1863. It's actually of a historic farmhouse in Gettysburg, but Missouri can look like this some winters!

Destroying a Confederate saltpeter works

The Civil War in Missouri and Arkansas was made up of mostly small skirmishes. Researcher Carolyn Bartels counted 1100 fights in Missouri alone, and suspects that estimate is low. Only a couple of dozen of them could rightly be called battles. As I've written before, there's no such thing as an insignificant skirmish. One small action in Arkansas in January of 1863 shows why.

At this time, northern Arkansas was a sort of No-Mans-Land between the two sides. There was little infrastructure in the Ozarks to support a large force, and the rough hills and thick brush made any supply wagons easy targets for ambush. The region was full of deserters and bushwhackers, sandwiched between the Union army to the north and the Confederates to the south.

There was one Confederate outpost, however. Along the Buffalo River in northern Arkansas was a large saltpeter works. Saltpeter, of course, is a key ingredient in gunpowder, something of which the rebels were always in short supply. While they didn't have the manpower to control the Buffalo River, they left a few men to run the saltpeter works in order to supply the beleaguered Arkansas Confederates.

Union troops learned of this operation and decided to put a stop to it. Major J.W. Caldwell of the First Iowa Cavalry took 300 men from Huntsville in northwestern Arkansas and rode out on the morning of January 9. That evening he camped in the general vicinity of the works and sent out scouts to find its exact location. Before dawn the next day, he set out and completely surprised the rebels. Of the 20 workers, only three escaped and the rest were captured.

In his report, Maj. Caldwell says he destroyed 14 buildings, 2 steam engines, 3 boilers, 7 large iron kettles, and half a ton of saltpeter. This was a large enterprise indeed. As a bonus, his men found a second, smaller works four miles downriver and destroyed that too. The workers there managed to escape but the Iowa boys had made a good haul. The expedition also netted 20 bushwhacker prisoners.

While military histories tend to focus on the big battles, these skirmishes had an accumulated effect far beyond any single battle. The works on the Buffalo River weren't the only supply of saltpeter for the rebels in Arkansas, but its loss exacerbated their supply problem and made them that much weaker. Losing all those men to Union prisons didn't help their cause either.


This Wikipedia photo shows a reproduction of Anderson Mill, built in the 1850s as a corn mill and cotton gin. It was converted to a gunpowder mill for the Civil War. After the war it resumed as corn, wheat, and cotton processing. It was bought by Pioneer Mills of San Antonio and idled at the turn of the century. This reproduction was built in 1965 in Anderson Mill, Texas when the original site was flooded by the Lake Travis reservoir. OK, so it isn't a saltpeter works. I couldn't find a good public domain photo of one! Here's one I couldn't use.

Confusing friend and foe in Civil War Missouri

As I've mentioned before on this blog, it took some time on the western fringes of the Civil War for uniforms to settle down to the familiar blue and gray.

The First Kansas Colored Volunteers, a Union regiment, wore gray uniforms. At the Battle of Wilson's Creek, the detachment of the Union army under Col. Franz Sigel confused the advancing 3rd Louisiana for the 3rd (1st!) Iowa, a Union regiment that wore gray. They didn't realize their mistake until they got fired upon. Even the Confederate South Carolina Flying Artillery wore blue at the beginning of the war.

In Missouri, many local militia had no uniforms at all. The Union militia near Lancaster wore white hatbands to show who they were. On October 18, 1862, a large troop of them were hunting some rebel bushwhackers. The rebels decided the militia's "uniform" was easy to imitate and made themselves some white hatbands. The poor militia let most of them escape, even though they greatly outnumbered the rebels. They simply didn't know who was who!

A Missouri bushwhacker meets a bloody end

This rather gruesome image is of Captain William H. Stuart, a Confederate bushwhacker from Missouri. He started bushwhacking early in the war and later joined the band of Bloody Bill Anderson. He helped Bloody Bill on his ride through central Missouri in the autumn of 1864 in support of General Price's Confederate invasion. This is covered in my Civil War novel A Fine Likeness, although Stuart himself is never named. He was probably at the slaughter of the wagon train and the attack on Fayette, for example.

Stuart also spent a fair amount of time riding with his own small band, and this is when he met his end. The November 25, 1864, issue of Columbia Missouri Statesman states:

"Death has overtaken another notorious desperado and robber, in the person of rebel captain Stewart [sic], who, a companion of Anderson and a participator in many of the enterprises of that brigand, has been a curse to this section for many months past.

"Stewart was killed at the house of M'Donald in old Franklin, Howard county, on Friday last, by a cattle drover. Two drovers were at the home of Mr. M'Donald when Stewart and two companions rode up for the purpose of robbing or murdering them. The drovers fastened the doors of the house and Stewart in attempting to break them down was shot by one of the drovers and killed instantly. One shot penetrated his neck, another entered near the mouth, and a third passed fairly into the corner of the forehead. The other two guerrillas escaped.

"Stewart was a man of medium height, spare made, smooth of face, and wore very long hair of a red color. He was on the whole a fine looking man. The drover who killed him was in town on Wednesday and had in his possession a photograph of the desperado taken after death, exhibiting plainly the holes where the fatal bullets entered. Stewart was from the vicinity of Warrensburg, Johnson County, Missouri."

Death photos of bushwhackers and outlaws were common in those days, both as gruesome mementos and as a way for authorities to identify suspects. Bloody Bill also had his death photo taken, as did Jesse James and the Dalton brothers.

This card was sold at auction a couple of years ago by Heritage Auctions, which has all sorts of great stuff to buy if you have more disposable income than I do.

There is some debate of the spelling of Stuart's last name. This genealogical website states that it's actually spelled Stewart.

Firefight in a haystack: just another day hunting bushwhackers in Civil War Missouri

June of 1862 was a tough month for the Union forces occupying Missouri. The bushwhackers seemed to be everywhere, cutting telegraph wire, attacking outposts and patrols, killing mail couriers, and committing depredations on Unionist civilians.

Several major firefights are recorded for this month. The strangest occurred on the 18th, when a group of Union soldiers arrived at Hambright's Station near Independence in order to arrest some suspected guerrillas. As they made the arrest, a black man on the farm (presumably a slave) quietly took the soldiers aside and told them more guerrillas were hiding in a nearby haystack.

A skirmish ensued, in which the guerrillas fired out of the haystack and the soldiers fired into it. Hay doesn't provide much protection against bullets and so one guerrilla was killed and the other two wounded and captured. The soldiers completed their mission by burning Mr Barnes' grocery store, presumably for supporting the rebels.

This was only the beginning. Missouri faced three long years of guerrilla warfare before it would be over.

Photo courtesy U.S. National Archives and Records Administration. It actually shows a haystack on an Indian reservation in 1941, but that's OK, it's a nice picture.

The dangers of delivering the mail in Civil War Missouri

The Official Records has an interesting report from 150 years ago.

Report of Colonel Daniel Huston, Jr., Seventh Missouri Cavalry.

HEADQUARTERS SUB-DISTRICT,
Lexington, Mo., June 15, 1862.

SIR: I have received a report from Lieutenant-Colonel Buel to the following purport

A mail escort, which left Independence for Harrisonville on the morning of the 11th instant, consisting of 23 men and 2 non-commissioned officers of Captain Cochran's company of Missouri State Militia, was fired into 15 miles from Independence, and 2 men of the escort were killed and 2 wounded. A scout sent out by Colonel Buel failed to find the marauders. Colonel Buel also reports that information, believed to be reliable, had been received that Quantrill, with 60 men, was near Pink Hill. He closes his communication by saying:

I shall not for the present have any more of my men shot carrying the mail between Independence and Harrisonville. I am obliged, by orders from District Headquarters, to keep the route open. I shall compel secessionists in this vicinity to carry that mail for a while. I believe this will be the best course I can pursue. On receipt of your dispatch yesterday I prepared one for Major Linder, at Harrisonville, and sent it by a secessionist, who has returned safely. . .

As I explain in my book American Civil War Guerrilla Tactics, while sending secessionists to deliver the mail reduced attacks, it only encouraged the conscripted secessionists to join the bushwhackers. If they were going to be shot at, they reasoned, they might as well be shot at by the other side! Telegraph was the safest way to communicate, but it was impossible to protect the entire line and bushwhackers were constantly cutting them.


Photo of the Army of the Potomac's General Post Office in Brandy Station, Virginia, 1863, courtesy Wikipedia.

Civil War Missouri enters a new phase

In 1861, things looked good for the Confederate cause in Missouri. The victories at Wilson's Creek and Lexington were heralded as a sign of things to come. The optimism didn't last. Soon the Confederate forces were pushed into the southwestern part of the state, where they stayed for the rest of the year. At the battle of Pea Ridge in March, 1862, the rebels were solidly defeated in northwest Arkansas and hopes of conquering Missouri for the South began to fade.

With attention shifted to New Orleans, which had just fallen to the Union, and the slow Union creep up the Mississippi River, those rebels still in Missouri must have felt somewhat forgotten. That didn't stop them from fighting, however. Guerrillas and small units of regular troops skirmished with Union troops regularly.

In the first three weeks of May, there were skirmishes at Bloomfield (twice), French Point (several times), Center Creek (several times), Big Creek, Carthage, Hog Island, Richfield, and Santa Fe Road. And these are only the skirmishes that made it into the Official Records! Several smaller ones were probably not reported, plus the numerous cases of individual violence would not have been reported except in local newspapers.

The war was far from over.

The above drawing is by Alfred Waud and is captioned "On skirmish line Officer turning to look at a dying soldier". This hasty sketch immediately gripped me when I was looking through the Library of Congress collection. It looks like it was drawn from life and is more expressive than many more polished works of art.

Today in the Civil War: hunting for Quantrill in Missouri

By early 1862, William Clarke Quantrill was already making a name for himself as a rebel guerrilla. He had been involved with the border war for several years, serving on both sides before finally throwing in his lot with the South in 1861 when the war started in earnest.

Now he led quick, effective raids against Union outposts and infrastructure. In late March he burned an important bridge between Kansas city and Independence. Colonel Robert B. Mitchell of the Second Kansas Cavalry set out with about 300 men in pursuit. On this day 150 years ago he caught up with Qauntrill's band at Little Santa Fe, Missouri.

In his report in the Official Records, Mitchell says,

"I. . .reached Little Santa Fe about 10 o'clock that night, and sent Major Pomeroy about 3 miles from the town, with instructions to arrest one David Tate, whom I had reason to believe was connected with Quantrill. Major Pomeroy had with him a detachment of Companies D and E. . .When Major Pomeroy reached the house he demanded entrance, and a gun was immediately fired through the door. He then called upon them to surrender, and to send out their women and children if they had any in the house. After waiting some time, while shots were fired from the house, he ordered a volley to be fired into the house. The cries of women were then herd, when he ordered the men to cease firing. The women and children then came out and firing was resumed on both sides."

"Two of the men then came of one the windows and surrendered. They stated to Major Pomeroy that Quantrill was in the house with 26 men. Major Pomeroy then threatened to fire the house, and upon their continued refusal to surrender he ordered the house to be fired, and an attempt was made to fire it, but without success. Major Pomeroy and Private Wills, of Company D, were at this time shot. Major Pomeroy becoming disabled, Captain Moore took command, and sent back to me requesting re-enforcements, so as not to let any of the men escape. Captain Moore the house and they still refusing so to do,[unclear in the original] he ordered the house to be against set on fire, and this time the flames rapidly envolved [sic] the house."

The men in the house who were not wounded then burst out the weatherboarding at the back of the house and ran for the timber immediately in the rear. Two were shot down as they ran - 1 killed instantly and 1 mortally wounded. . .The others escaped, and though the woods were carefully scoured, no traces of them were found. While the firing was taking several men were seen to fall in the house, and the prisoners stated when they were first taken that there were 4 or 5 wounded. Five bodies could be distinctly seen in the flames at the time I reached the spot with that part of the command which was left behind."

"I caused all the horses and horses equipments of the enemy to be gathered together and guarded and remained at the house until 6.30 o'clock in the morning, when I started for the house of one Wyatt. As we nearer the house 6 or 7 men were seen to break from it into the brush immediately adjoining the premises. I immediately dismounted some of my men and sent them into the brush, but succeeded in capturing only 2."

"The command being without provisions, and being satisfied that Quantrill and those of his gang who had been in the locality had undoubtedly fled, I returned to the Tate House and started back to camp, leaving Captain Moore's command, with 1 wounded. We reached camp about 4 o'clock yesterday afternoon."

"Our loss was as follows: Major Pomeroy, severely wounded with a Minie ball in the right thigh near the femoral artery; Private William Wills, of Company D, since died, with a Minie ball in the right arm near the shoulder, and also with buck-shot in the groin and abdomen. We also lost 2 horses in the fight. The jayhawkers' loss was 5 killed or wounded and burned up in the house, 2 killed outside, and 6 prisoners. We took 25 horses, some of which have already been identified as belonging to parties in this State, from whom they were stolen, and about 20 sets of horse equipments."

It's interesting that in this Union report, Quantrill's rebel band is referred to as "jayhawkers". Modern historians generally use this term only for Unionist or supposedly Unionist irregulars. Back then, apparently, the definition wasn't so clear.

Friendly fire in the Civil War, part 2

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, friendly fire became an increasing problem in Civil War Missouri. The happened because bushwhackers and Jayhawkers (as guerrillas were called in those days) dressed as civilians or wore the uniforms of the opposite side.

To fight the rebel bushwhackers, the Union army in Missouri soon developed a series of hand signals to deal with any approaching force. The signals were changed on a regular basis. While this was a good idea in theory, the Union militia included many Confederate sympathizers who only served because they'd been drafted. Often these rebels-in-blue would relay the current signals to local bushwhackers and they'd use them to get the drop on unsuspecting groups of militia. In my Civil War novel, A Fine Likeness, Captain Richard Addison has to deal with just such a situation.

By the end of the war, nobody trusted anybody, and so it came as no surprise that when Jesse James and his bushwhacker buddies tried to surrender on May 15, 1865, to the garrison at Lexington, they were fired upon. Jesse was shot through the chest and nearly killed. He and his friends and supporters thought this shooting to be treachery of the vilest stripe, but in reality he and the other bushwhackers were the victims of their own tactics.

Breaking the rules of war can give you an advantage, but it's a two-edged sword!

Friendly fire in the Civil War

Civil War Missouri was a chaotic place. Combatants often wore no uniforms or the uniforms of the opposing side. Enemies sniped from the thick underbrush or attacked civilians in the dead of night. A sense of paranoia spread throughout the land. One good example of this paranoia is preserved in the pages of Turnbo's Tales of the Ozarks: War and Guerrilla Stories.

In the closing days of the war, four or five veterans of the Federal army were passing through the country, possibly headed home. Some had their wives and children with them. They stopped at an old vacant house near the base of Washington Bald Hill three miles northwest of Lutie, Missouri. Vacant homes were numerous by then as many of the civilians had fled the terrible guerrilla war that had ravaged the state for several years.

On the following morning, just before dawn, they were attacked by fifteen Federal soldiers returning from a scouting expedition. They began shooting through an opening or crack in the house, thinking Confederates were hiding inside. The men in the house fired back, thinking they were being attacked by Confederates.

As Turnbo related, "Directly the soldiers ordered the men in the house to come out and surrender which they refused to do. They not only thought they were Confederates, but the worst type of bushwhackers or guerrillas and they did not propose to surrender to them. . .it was cheaper to fight until they died rather than surrender and be put to death afterward like a lot of fattening hogs."

"The outside men now said, 'We will burn you out if you do not give up your arms.'"

"The inside party replied, 'Burn the house if you want to. We will fight you by the light of the fire.' The inside party continued, 'Who are you fellows?'"

"'We are Federal soldiers,' the spokesman answered."

"'Good! We are all of the same stripe,' said one of the insiders, 'and there is no need of us fighting.'"

"An explanation followed and peace was made between the two parties."

Nobody was killed in this affair. As we'll see tomorrow, these incidents were common and didn't always end so happily.

Book Review With Fire and Sword, Arkansas 1861-1874

With Fire and Sword: Arkansas, 1861-1874 by Thomas A. Deblack

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


When I was researching my book Ride Around Missouri, Shelbys Great Raid 1863, this title served as background reading.

With Fire and Sword: Arkansas 1861-1874 by Thomas A. DeBlack is a detailed account of the period from just before the war to the end of Reconstruction as is second in a four-part series covering the history of Arkansas.

It's nice to see a volume that covers both the war and Reconstruction. DeBlack convincingly argues that they're essentially two phases of the same event. The focus is more on political and social history than a detailed discussion of military strategy (which has been done at length elsewhere) and DeBlack skillfully interweaves primary sources and academic studies to give a clear picture of how Arkansas and Arkansans changed during this tumultuous period. A long annotated bibliography rounds out the work, adding a valuable resource.

I do have a couple of reservations. The book could have used a stricter editorial hand to clear away some overly academic writing, one howler (Missourians will be interested to know that Lexington is west of Kansas City), and a glossing over of some important details. The reduction of Sterling Price's army after the Battle of Lexington, for example, was not so much due to desertion as it was Price ordering many units to go home for lack of provisions.

Also, the book could do with a general map of the state and region. Many history books lack proper maps and I've never understood why some publishers feel the small amount of extra expense and work isn't necessary. I doubt most readers, including Arkansans, will know the locations of all the towns, villages, and rivers DeBlack mentions.

But these are minor quibbles. With Fire and Sword is an excellent overview of an important period in Arkansas history that affected the region as a whole. Highly recommended to students of the region and period.

View all my reviews

Hunting Quantrill in Civil War Missouri

A hundred and fifty years ago this week, Union forces in Missouri were hunting someone who would become a legend. The Seventh Missouri Infantry had moved to Blue Springs in Jackson County, where infamous Confederate bushwhacker William Clarke Quantrill was operating.

A schoolteacher from Ohio, Quantrill made a name for himself during Bleeding Kansas by fighting on whichever side offered the most chance for booty. Once the war started in earnest, he threw in his lot with the South and rampaged across Missouri. Even at this early stage of the war he was robbing stagecoaches, wagon trains, mail carriers, and stealing horses. Many of these actions were hit-and-run attacks on Union forces; others were simple banditry. His followers rode the best horses, either stolen or given to them by Confederate sympathizers, while Union troops, indifferently mounted on government-issued steeds, had a hard time catching him.

From January 29-February 3, the Seventh Missouri tried their best. They managed to kill six of his men and capture much of his booty, including a fine stagecoach and team and seven wagons filled with pork and tobacco. Quantrill got away, however, and would only die in the last days of the war in 1865.

The Official Records include an interesting complaint from a Union officer stating that his men lacked boots and shoes and "the suffering men have filled the hospitals with frostbite." They also hadn't had any sugar for two weeks. The rebels weren't the only ones suffering from supply problems during the Civil War.

Quantrill appears briefly in my Civil War novel A Fine Likeness. Two men who rode with Quantrill for part of the war, Frank James and Bloody Bill Anderson, are supporting characters. One of the reasons I picked Civil War Missouri as a setting for my novel was because there were so many interesting real characters for my fictional ones to meet!

Photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

Book Review: The Civil War on the Lower Kansas-Missouri Border

The Civil War on the Lower Kansas-Missouri Border by Larry E. Wood

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Larry Wood is a familiar name to those who study the Civil War in Missouri. He's written several books on lesser-known aspects of the war in the state.

This book covers the two Westernmost tiers of counties in Missouri, those that border Kansas. They were the hardest hit in the vicious border fighting of Bleeding Kansas and things would only get worse once the war started in earnest.

The Border Wars can boil blood even today, so it's refreshing that Wood covers the subject with an even hand, doling out praise and blame to those who deserve it regardless of what side they were on. The tit-for-tat burnings of Osceola and Humboldt are a perfect example of how both sides inflicted unnecessary suffering on civilians and his chapter on this is especially good.

Another interesting chapter covers the Skirmish at Island Mound, where the First Kansas Colored Volunteers became the first black unit of the American army to see combat. They fought off a much larger force of Confederate irregulars and went a long way to changing public attitudes about the ability of black soldiers.

There are also chapters on Shelby's 1863 raid, Price's retreat after his disastrous 1864 campaign, and the two battles of Newtonia. This last chapter has since been expanded by the author into a full book. It's high on my "to read" list. Additional chapters cover the small skirmishes and deadly personal rivalries that were rife in this part of Missouri.

While narrow in geographic scope, regional studies such as this one are valuable in giving readers a view of what in was really like to live in those days. Wood has been very productive and I hope he continues comes out with more books in the future.

This is a review for the second edition, published in 2003. Wood says it has been completely revised and has two new chapters. Make sure you get the second edition.



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Hazards of the Civil War battlefield (besides the enemy)

In a recent post I pondered the origin of the many so-called "slight" wounds of the Civil War. How could so many soldiers only receive reportedly minor wounds when a direct hit by a musket ball or rifle bullet so often meant death or dismemberment?

My main theory was that the widespread use of buck and ball--a musket ball and three shotgun pellets--meant soldiers were being hit more often by pellets than actual bullets. Some researchers over at the Missouri in the Civil War Message Board pointed out that buck and ball was only used in smoothbores, and these fell out of favor later in the war.

After a holiday lull, the thread has picked up again. Now one very well-read individual has examined ordnance reports listing buck and ball rounds well into 1864 and said many units in fact preferred smoothbores because they had a greater chance to hit. Also, rifles have an arced trajectory and require a great deal of target practice most units on both sides never got. Smoothbores fired at a higher muzzle velocity than contemporary rifles and this gave them a flatter trajectory, further increasing their accuracy over rifles. We'll take up the subject of smoothbore vs. musket again once I've done some more research.

Of course, getting "slightly wounded" doesn't have to come from enemy action. General Lyon got kicked in the stomach by a horse when he was breaking up the rebel Missouri State Guard camp outside St. Louis in 1861. A reenactor in Missouri recently got his groin stepped on by his horse. Not sure how he managed that. Horses aren't always the gentle beasts we like to think they are, especially when shells are bursting nearby and they're getting hit by bullets.

Also, when large groups of men are charging over rough ground, it's quite easy for one or more of them to sprain an ankle and be put hors de combat for some time. I used to be on the cross country team and I remember this risk all too well. When you have an enemy formation shooting volleys at you, chances are you aren't looking where you're stepping! Add to this powder burns in the face or eyes, accidentally jabbing someone or yourself with your bayonet, cavalrymen getting hit by low branches, and any number of other embarrassing pratfalls, and one wonders why the number of "slightly wounded" wasn't higher

Of course, these are rarely reflected in the historical record. What commander wants to put in his official report, "I charged the enemy up a steep slope under heavy fire. We lost three men dead and five seriously wounded by enemy action. Ten more were slightly wounded: three sprained their ankles on the uneven slope, one was knocked out when a panicked horse ran him over, three suffered painful power burns to the face, two of my cavalrymen were thrown by their horses and injured their backs, and one man put out his shoulder due to the recoil of his weapon."


Not very glamorous. War rarely is.


Charge of Weaver's brigade across the Salkehatchie, South Carolina, courtesy Wikimedia Commons. Can you imagine several thousand guys running across this swamp and nobody spraining an ankle?