"To Outride the Early Night's Alarm"
W.A.M. Vaughan rode with a company of Confederate cavalry on a raid into northern Missouri during the autumn of 1864. The following excerpt highlights the unknowns of moving into enemy territory, relying on civilian advice and guides, and evading pickets and patrols.
September 18: The ride continued to the northwest, and after a few hours in the saddle the command came to a cabin by the roadside, at which it had been learned such information as was desirable might be obtained, and possibly a guide procured. On approaching the place one of the detail recognized former acquaintances, which soon brought them in accord and sympathy with the wishes of the command. Two girls, rosy with health and as if inured to and careless of danger, gave the information that a company of "whackers" were then watching this command. Continuing, one said: "By them you are suspected with being 'Milish.' I am mighty glad that you are not; don't like those dances where pistols furnish the music."
"Won't you mount behind me and take me to your friends?" asked one of the men.
"No, sir; that would be risky and dangerous," said she, adding: "Lend us your horse, and we will bring them in in short order."
Mounting them, very soon they returned with twenty of the "whackers," under command of one Capt. Yates. After a short consultation, two of his men volunteered to act as guides for the day. On resuming the march one of them said: "You have before you a ride of forty miles today without food for man or beast; this will take you to the Gasconade River; there you will strike a Union settlement, and from there to the Osage River you will find a enemy in every man that you see." A long, hard ride verified the statements, for with night came trouble.
On reaching the settlement, a community of farmers, stowed away in the narrow valleys and broken hills were found attending their flocks and fields, as if a peace unbroken was the passport here. A halt was called and the order given to dismount and feed. Two of the advance, as yet unobserved, cautiously approached the nearest house, and, finding there a man, arrested him. He was told that his services as a guide would on the morrow be required, and that his detention was to insure his presence when wanted. Protesting that he had neither horse nor saddle, but with the cool cunning of a diplomat he said that he might get a mount from his neighbor living close by. When taken to him, under the pretense of getting a saddle the two men were permitted to enter the house, when at an unguarded moment, both dashed through an open rear doorway into the night and into a piece of chaparral close by, heedless of pistol shots or the call to halt. This was belling the cat. A signal horn was blown; its sound echoed throughout the hills in wild alarm, and was caught up and answered in kind until all the region round about wailed and shrieked with clamorous horns, as if the woods were filled with hunters returning from the chase. An hour had not passed since the halt was made, yet every man tightened his belt an stood at his stirrup, with the feeling that it was no place for him.
"Mount me!" was the order quietly given; and "forward!" Where?
Satisfied that the night would furnish no pursuit, the command feared no ambush nor surprise so long as the shadows continued with them.
A race for life had now begun. Over rugged hills, across deep-seamed gulches, and down rock-ribbed terraces an indistinct roadway led to a blind ford or crossing of the river, where the light from a cabin the woods led to the procuring of a guide. He was told that he had nothing to fear if he would be faithful to the imposed trust given him; otherwise, for treachery, the penalty would be death. Fording the river, the column moved steadily forward until morning.
September 19: The "wire road" between Springfield and Lebanon, now at hand and to be crossed at this point, was four miles west of the latter place, where a force of eight hundred soldiers were encamped. To outride the early night's alarm and make the crossing before scouts would patrol the great highway had kept the men in their saddles during the whole night. "Scatter your tracks," passed from man to man; and, the crossing made, all knew that the hounds had slept when the game was moving.
A cross-country ride took the command to Big Creek, where a halt was made and one hour given to feed. The hour had not more than passed when an old lady came from a house close by and, seemingly much agitated in tone and manner, said: "Men, for God's sake and your own good, get away from here! You don't know the danger that you are in."
Gut a moment sufficed to put the command in the saddle and into the woods. Deep in the afternoon the march was checked for a moment at a house to gain, if possible, some information, when suddenly a well-mounted Federal soldier rode into the ranks, wholly unconscious of his surroundings until told that he was a prisoner. He gave up his arms and kindly traded horses, but gave no information respecting himself or his command. Danger now seemed anywhere, everywhere. "Close up, boys!" the order came, and passed down the line. The march continued through an open forest giving no evidence of habitation, save at long intervals, when a clearing, meager in its appointments, would be discovered shut up in the hills. Such a place, only a little more pretentious, developed a melon patch which seemed to invite invasion, when several of the men, yielding to temptation and the calls of hunger, raided the patch, each securing a melon, remounted, and, with it in his arms, rode on. But suddenly their visions of a feast took wings, when, with an impressive distinctiveness, the sullen roar of a "sharp's" rifle, hailing from the rear, caused a sudden drop in melons and put the men with the column and into line of battle. The sound and tumult of the enemy's charge seemed to electrify every nerve into steel and every man into a magazine on fire. The fight had become fast and furious when a counter charge, executed with vigor and reenforced by the "Rebel yell," sent the enemy from the field, and the fight had ended.
The command had one man, Lieut. Connor, killed, and one, Lieut. Fleming, mortally wounded, who died a few hours after at a farm-house, where he was left with nurses. It had also three horses killed and captured one. The enemy had two men and three horses killed; other casualties unknown. The dismounted men remounted behind and rode with comrades until a remount for them could be procured.
The situation, which had been perilous, was now intensified, and wrought every man up and into a live galvanic battery. Telegraph lines would shiver, pregnant with news of a bushwhacker invasion; troops would patrol the highways by day, though sleep in their camps at night; post commanders doubled the guard around their respective camps, and the great war-drums beat. Deep in the night a halt was called, guards posted, horses fed, and two hours given for sleep. On resuming the mount Capt. Hodge and fifteen others break rank and go in the direction of Jefferson City to cross near that point.
Source:
W.A.M. Vaught, "Boots and Saddles: A Reminiscence", Confederate Veteran Magazine, Volume 5, (1897).
