Chapter19: Bloodied

“At ease, men. Close the door!” ordered Captain Taylor.

He had assembled the men of I Company in the Howell County courthouse. There was a feeling of anticipation as the troopers waited for their company commander to speak.

Taylor looked sternly at the men, making sure he had their full attention.

“How many of you men have started a letter home?”

Two-thirds of the men raised their hands.

“Burn them! We are deep in Rebel territory, and we don’t want them figuring out our next movement. If you have a diary, tear out any pages about our operations since we left Salem on the 17th. Understand?”

He waited a moment as the men nodded their heads and began reaching into their pockets for letters and pads.

“I have just had a conference with Major Drake and Colonel Wood. What I am about to tell you is military information of the highest tactical significance. I will personally shoot anyone writing about it or speaking about it within earshot of the Rebels. In the unlikely event you are captured, you know nothing of our plans.”

Taylor paused to let the gravity of what he was about to reveal sink in.

‘This part of Missouri and northern Arkansas is crawling with irregular rebel forces. The Union men and their families have been killed, conscripted, or driven out. There is virtually no one in the local populace who can be trusted.

Claiborn Jackson, the Secesh governor of Missouri, has fled to the southwest part of the state at Neosho. Rebel General Sterling Price is protecting him and his phony Confederate state government. At this moment, General Curtis, with the rest of the 3rd Iowa, is marching into the area to drive them out.”

“What about us, Sir?” someone asked.

“I don’t know when we’ll rejoin Curtis and the rest of the regiment. For now, our mission is to drive as many Rebel Bushwhackers as we can out of this area. We will probably return to Salem to resupply in a week or so. If we’re lucky, we’ll be sent to join Curtis’ army. That may not be until after he fights Price.”

The men seemed satisfied. As Taylor paused, they tore more pages out of their diaries.

“We’ll leave for Texas County tomorrow. Colonel Wood has sent out foraging parties to gather rations and feed. That is all.”

As the meeting broke up, men began burning their letters and diary pages in the fireplace. Then they took care of the horses and replenished their saddlebags with whatever food the foragers could find. The battle at the West Plains courthouse had left them short of ammunition. They would have to conserve what they had left.

At 2 PM, the next day, the combined command was ready to leave West Plains. On the 22nd of February, they entered the town of Houston, where they killed 2 rebels. The intelligence that said Coleman was there with 30 of his men proved to be outdated. Wood made his temporary headquarters there and sent scouting parties out to find Coleman.

Reuben’s party of 15 men located an empty house that had been fortified with logs and a wall of dirt. It had to be a Rebel fort. They burned it to the ground. Another party returned to Houston with 10 prisoners. Low on rations and ammunition, the combined command marched back to their respective bases on the 24th. By then, the 2 companies of the 3rd Iowa had accumulated 100 prisoners.

Two days later, the Iowans and their 6th Missouri Cavalry partners were back in the field in Texas County. They had almost daily encounters with marauding bands of irregular troops and opportunistic Bushwhackers.

By the 12th of March, the long-awaited showdown between Cleman and the combined command of Wood and Drake was imminent. After a brief skirmish, the Yankees had driven the Rebels toward a swamp on the Spring River, near Salem, Arkansas. The area was important because the Rebels mined saltpeter and bat Guano (poop) for making gunpowder there. Coleman had recently been reinforced by a force of Missouri State Guard troops under General James McBride. Their combined force numbered 1,000 men. Other Confederate troops in the area were trying to link up with Coleman. It was up to Col. Wood to keep the linkup from happening. On the morning of the 13th, Wood passed through the abandoned Confederate camp. The Rebels had retreated into the swamp.

“Take your men to the north side of the swamp,” Wood told Drake. “Once you are set, I’ll attack from this side. Be ready when I drive them toward you.”

Drake moved his men quietly into position, using the woods to hide his movement from the enemy.

“Keep your hands off those revolvers!” he commanded the men, not wanting to betray his position.

As they arrived on the other side, Wood opened up with his mountain howitzer. Then the Iowans heard rifle fire as the 6th Missouri charged into the swamp. Drake directed a squad of mounted men, including Reuben, to guard the left flank. He dismounted the rest of the men and deployed them under whatever cover they could find, facing the swamp.

“Get ready,” said Major Drake, sensing that the battle was coming their way. “Don’t waste any ammunition until they get close, real close.”

Lacking rifles, the men would have to make the best of the short-range firepower of their revolvers. The noise and smoke from the retreating Rebels grew closer. Suddenly, they began to emerge from the swamp.

“Fire!”

The Iowans opened up. The Rebels panicked. Most retreated into the cover of the swamp. They left a few dead and wounded behind. One group made a break for it, trying to get around the Iowans. Reuben and the other mounted riders spurred their horses toward them.

“Hold up there, damn you!” he shouted, approaching three of them. They looked around and saw no path of retreat.

“Drop it!” commanded Reuben as he rode between the men and the swamp. Other I Company men soon had them surrounded. The Rebels dropped their weapons and raised their hands. As the Iowans were escorting them to the rear, they saw another Rebel force approaching. About 250 volunteers from Salem were reinforcing the men in the swamp. Slowly, the tide of battle began to shift. Wood’s men were catching the full weight of the Confederate countercharge. The Missourians were suffering heavy casualties, but they held the line. Realizing the Iowans with their pistols were at a disadvantage in firepower, Wood gathered up the carbines of his wounded and dead and sent them around the swamp. The 50 or so long guns made the difference when the Rebels turned their might on the Iowans.

Outnumbered and low on ammunition, Wood finally decided to withdraw after 4 hours of fighting. Coleman’s battered force declined to pursue. Four Union troopers, all from the 6th Missouri, had been killed. One of the Iowans from K Company had been wounded. Wood estimated Confederate casualties at 100. As Wood’s force returned to Missouri, it took with it 25 prisoners and a handful of Union men recovered from Confederate captivity. They seized some “contraband” wagons to carry their 18 wounded men and the 4 dead troopers.  It was a somber moment when they stopped to bury their dead.

At least their families will know what happened to them and where they lie, thought Reuben as he helped push the earth over the bodies. Some of the dead Confederates had been left in the swamp to rot.

The battle had not been decisive, but Coleman would no longer be much of a threat to southern Missouri. Only Southwest Missouri, where General Curtis and the rest of the 3rd Iowa were bound, remained under Rebel control.

The remaining 6 companies under Colonel Bussey were marching with General Curtis’s Army of the Southwest. Curtis was determined to drive the Rebels out of Missouri and push them into northwest Arkansas. Having overextended his supply lines, Curtis stopped at a place called Pea Ridge and waited for the Rebels to attack. Though the battle was a success, the 3rd Iowa paid a high price. Rumors and scattered news reports of the battle at Pea Ridge, Arkansas, began reaching the detached Iowans by mid-March. Though the battle was hyped as a victory in the St. Louis press, the casualty figures were not available. The I and K Company men were worried about their fellow Iowans.

At last, a courier arrived from Col. Bussey. Drake called his officers together to hear the report. An hour later, they emerged from his command post with grim looks on their faces. Captain Taylor persuaded the courier to accompany him to I Company’s bivouac area to talk about the battle.

“What’s the news from Bussey, Sir?” clamored the anxious men.

“The sergeant here will tell you what you need to know,” Taylor said, pointing to the courier.

“Well, the battle was a success. The Rebs have been driven back into Arkansas. Unfortunately, the cost was damn high.”

“How high?”

“We lost 24 killed. Eighteen were wounded. Another 8 are missing, probably captured.”

The news stunned the men. The numbers of dead and wounded compared to other Civil War battles seemed off. Usually, there were more wounded than dead.

“Why more wounded than dead?”

“Good question. On the first day, our 6 companies went up against 2 regiments of Indians.”

“Indians?”

“That’s right, two regiments, about 1,000 of them. Colonel Pike recruited them from the Indian Territory. Some might say the Cherokee and the Chickasaw are civilized Injuns, but they behaved like savages at Pea Ridge. After we attacked, we discovered they far outnumbered us. We had to retreat. They caught up with some of our men as they retreated and gave no quarter. Wounded men were drug off into the woods and scalped.”

The troopers gasped at the news.

“Eventually, our guns drove the Injuns off. They were so tore up and skeered no one ever saw them on the battlefield again.”

“So, how did the battle unfold?”

The Rebels tried to get behind our army. Curtis turned the whole force around to face them faster than the Rebs expected. The rumors that Sterling Price and McCulloch hated each other’s guts were probably true. Old Jeff Davis hisself sent General Van Dorn in to take command. It didn’t seem to help much. The Rebs had every advantage in terms of terrain, strength, and artillery. Curtis still out-generaled them.”

“Is it true McCulloch was killed?”

“As sure as I’m standin’ here today. McCulloch and his deputy commander, General McIntosh, were both kilt. That left half of Van Dorn’s army leaderless on the first day.”

“What happened then?”

“On the second day, the 8th of March, the Rebels got separated from their supply train. They were running out of ammunition and retreated in disorder. The latest intelligence says Van Dorn moved most of his Army of the West across into Mississippi. That leaves Arkansas open for the taking.”

“So, when do we join up with Curtis to take Arkansas?”

Captain Taylor stepped up to interject, “Soon enough. The campaign is already being planned. Apart from a few guerrilla units, like Quantrill’s, all southern Missouri is safe. Curtis needs us to rebuild his cavalry strength.”

“What did Curtis say about the battle?”

“He sent General Halleck a telegram commending the 3rd Iowa and the rest of his force for liberating Missouri and putting Van Dorn on the run. All Van Dorn had to say was, ‘I was not defeated but only failed in my intentions.’”

“And the casualty list?”

“Major Drake is making a copy to post outside his command post.”

The men raced to Drake’s CP. Other troopers were crowded around the bulletin board, reading the list.

“Take it down and read it out loud!”

A man from K Company removed it and turned to face the men. There were gasps as each name was read. They had trained with these men at the Camps of Instruction. In their spare time, they had joined them for card games, baseball, and occasional visits to town. Everyone knew someone on the list.

Recognizing several names, Reuben swore revenge. He couldn’t wait for the Arkansas campaign to begin.

Index- Unbowed: The saga of a Civil War Cavalryman- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies

Chapter 18: The Elephant

Monument to the Civil War Battle of West Plains, MO. February 19, 1862.

   (Excerpt from Chapter 17: But like Midwestern schoolboys anxiously awaiting the arrival of their first circus, they had yet to “see the elephant.”)          

The glass tinkled outward as the butt of Rueben’s revolver crashed through it.

“Stay put!” he hissed to his little brother, Willis. “You are going to get some covering fire in a minute. Then run for it.”

Willis was lying in the street behind a water trough. His dead horse was a few yards away. A bullet from the sharpshooter in the courthouse had pierced the other end of the tank. The more the water ran out, the less protection it provided to the stranded trooper.

Initially, the attack on West Plains had gone well. The south-central Missouri town had been a haven for secessionist views. It was also a recruiting center for the Confederacy. The recruiter was Colonel William O. Coleman. Coleman had a sure-fire way of getting men to join the Southern cause. If they refused to sign up, he’d arrest them. Most were never seen again. A few lucky families found their dead loved ones before the hogs did.

Companies I and K had been detached from the 3rd Iowa to garrison the closest Union-held town of Salem, Missouri. They were under the command of Major William Drake. Drake and Colonel Wood of the 6th Missouri Cavalry (Union) became aware of Coleman’s activities and decided to go looking for him. Their combined force of 252 men, including the 4 DeLay boys, left Salem on February 17, 1862.

The winter march through the Ozarks was cold, snowy, and wet. Their route caused them to miss an encounter with Coleman’s main force. He was headed North on a parallel road. They got solid intelligence that he left a small Rebel force to garrison West Plains, Missouri. This became their objective. They left their last encampment at 1 AM on the morning of February 19th. The town’s garrison was caught off guard when they arrived at 3 PM.

The little town was the county seat of Howell County and had about 200 inhabitants. Coleman had been using the courthouse in the town’s center as his headquarters. It stood in the middle of the town square. The town’s streets were aligned with the center of the building. This gave the defenders a good view of troops approaching from any direction. A few stores, saloons, and houses were located on the streets intersecting the square.

Colonel Wood decided to split his force, surround the little town, then attack from two directions. Major Drake, with his Iowans, attacked from the East side. Wood positioned his mountain howitzer on a hill north of town. It had a clear shot at the courthouse.

The Iowans made a charge on the Rebel pickets at the edge of town. The frightened Rebels mounted their horses and fled, with the Iowans in hot pursuit. Mounted on good horses, Reuben and Willis were at the head of the charge. They emptied their pistols on the retreating Confederates. A couple of them fell from their saddles, wounded.

As the fleeing Rebels raced through the main thoroughfare of the town, it became clear they were headed for the safety of the courthouse. Upon arrival, they dismounted, fired a few shots at their pursuers, and raced into the building. The Iowans stopped at the edge of the square as abandoned rebel horses ran willy-nilly about. More shots rang out from the courthouse. The Iowans turned their mounts and sought cover. As he turned, Reuben noticed a puff of smoke from the window above the door of the courthouse. Then Willis’s horse went down. Reuben pulled out his second revolver and fired a few more shots as Willis scrambled for the water trough. Then he rode behind a nearby store. There he found his cousin John.

“Willis is still out in the street. We need to rescue him fast!”

“Got any ideas?”

“Well, it would be nice if Wood showed up with his howitzer. Barring that, we need to lay some covering fire on the damn courthouse so Willis can get to a safer place. There’s a sharpshooter in that middle window who needs to be suppressed. Let’s get those men behind that building on the other side of the street to help. If we all jump out and fire at the same time, they’ll forget Willis and duck for cover.”

“Sounds good,” said John, already making hand signals to the troopers on the other side of the street.

“Good. I’m going to get into this store and see if I can get a clear shot at that Rebel sharpshooter. When you hear me start shooting, get everyone to blaze away.”

Reuben was calmly reloading his revolvers as he spoke. Then he broke the latch on the back door of the store and entered. Approaching the front window, he could see that he’d have a clear shot at the sharpshooter if he leaned out the window. He’d have to act fast. His brother’s position was getting more precarious by the second.

Kapow, kapow, kapow, his shots rang out. More shots were fired from behind him. He saw the glint of a rifle barrel as the sharpshooter ducked. Willis was up and running. He dived through the open window to safety.

“Thanks,” he said, panting.

“It was nuthin, little brother. Maybe next time Mom sends you some goodies, you could share ‘em.”

BOOM!

Wood had finally fired his howitzer at the Rebels in the courthouse. The Iowans could hear the grapeshot rattling against the building like hail. Awesome as it was, the pellets did little damage to the sturdy structure. The men looked worried. The howitzer was supposed to save them from having to charge the fortified building.

“He’s gotta do better than that. Them Rebs ain’t movin’ an inch.”

A minute later, another boom shook the earth. A cannonball whooshed through the air, hitting the courthouse wall. The men watched as it came out the other side and rolled across the square. A dud!

Dud or not, it had frightened the Rebels inside. They began fleeing the building through every door and window. Several men were shot down as they fled. Others stopped, turned, and raised their arms in surrender.

The two Third Iowa companies had now seen the elephant. It had been both exhilarating and foreboding. All that was left was to secure the town. Then they could enjoy the spoils of victory.

The triumphant Union cavalrymen quickly converged on the courthouse, where they rounded up the surrendering and wounded Rebels. Major Drake grabbed Reuben and a dozen other men to clear the courthouse. Entering cautiously, they found the place a shambles. The cannonball had gone through 3 interior walls and exited on the south side.

“Hey, lookie here!” exclaimed a trooper as he stared at a portrait on an interior wall. “That ball near took off Jeff Davis’s fool head! No wonder they skedaddled so fast.”

 Reuben inspected the window where the Sharpshooter had been perched. There was a trail of blood leading out the door. Perhaps he was one of the wounded outside.

Major Drake found a cache of documents in what appeared to be Coleman’s desk. Did they contain any intelligence? Names of recruits, correspondence with commanders, locations of guerrilla bands? He scooped them up along with some Confederate currency. He’d have to scrutinize them later.

Outside, Colonel Wood was organizing squads of men to search the town. Like Reuben, he was a former Kansas Jayhawker. He knew exactly what to look for. This time, he had Frémont’s declaration of martial law to back him up. He’d seize everything of value to the Confederacy. He’d burn what he couldn’t carry. He ordered his troopers to arrest any men or boys old enough to carry a gun.

The squads went from house to house, searching every barn, chicken coop, or root cellar. They picked up dozens of men along with arms and equipment. They took them back to the courthouse. All told, the prize amounted to 60 prisoners, 40 horses, and 60 guns. Several wagons were confiscated under martial law to take the men and materiel back to Rolla. Six Confederates were killed in the battle, and 10 were wounded. Twenty of the prisoners were subsequently determined to be innocent civilians. They were released. The combined Union force had no casualties.

Not long after the battle at West Plains, complaints from citizens began reaching St Louis. Colonel Wood had gone too far in his determination of contraband materials of military value. People wanted their wagons, animals, and gold watches back. Moreover, Lincoln didn’t want to alienate the citizenry of Southern Missouri. They were still in the Union. To cover himself, Wood issued General Order Number 2,  “Plundering and pilfering by troops in camp or field is a disgrace to our army and command….” He even offered to return some of the booty. Had the old Jayhawker abandoned his thieving ways?

 After the battle, Woods sent a written report to his superiors. He credited the victory to the 6th Missouri Cavalry he led. He barely mentioned the role of Drake’s 3rd Iowa Cavalrymen. An upset Drake responded with a letter to his regimental commander, Colonel Bussey. Drake pointed out that his force was the first to rout the Rebel pickets and enter West Plains. Then he underplayed the role of Wood’s mountain howitzer in taking the courthouse bastion. Despite the friction, the two commands continued to cooperate effectively.

Back in camp, the men kidded Willis DeLay for his last stand at the water trough. The ribbing lasted until the company’s next fight, which came sooner than they expected.

Index- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies

Chapter 17: Benton Barracks

            “There she is!” Cried an excited Willis DeLay as they marched down the trail from the bluff to the river quay.

            “Side-wheeler packet,“ observed Reuben. “Looks like a lot of folks are there to see us off.”

            “Here we are marching off to war with no guns,” mused their cousin, John.

            “Speak for yourself, cuz,” chuckled Reuben as he patted the revolver tucked into his pants. He’d kept the weapon from his days as a Kansas Jayhawker.

            The day was November 4, 1861. The Third Iowa Cavalry was about to embark on its great adventure. The men were excited, but apprehensive. For many, it would be the first time leaving home. A few men would get to see their families at the departure ceremony.

            The 3rd Iowa was bound for Benton Barracks, Missouri. Their horses and tack would follow on another riverboat. Reuben had assisted I Company’s new Quartermaster Sergeant in inspecting the horses to ensure they were ready for the trip.

            Colonel Bussey marched at the head of the column. The men looked sharp in their new uniforms. They were developing the swagger and the cohesion of a well-drilled team. Bussey led their ranks to a position in front of a temporary reviewing stand. They halted, faced right, and stood at attention as the crowd erupted in applause. Captain Rankin and his wife stood on the platform waiting for the applause to die down.

            “The Third Iowa has blessed this state and this community with its dedication to the cause of the Union. We will not soon forget your presence in our midst. In all of Iowa, indeed the nation, it would be difficult to find nobler men. We know that victories in the field will reward your hard work and dedication. As our parting blessing, let me present you with this flag to serve as your guidon in the many contests you will likely face.”

            Mrs. Rankin handed a folded flag to her husband. She had stitched it herself.

            “Would Colonel Bussey please come forward to receive the colors of this great nation?”

            Bussey mounted the stage and began to speak.

            “You have greatly honored this regiment with the presentation of these colors. We cannot and we will not fail you in the trust you have placed in us. This symbol of liberty and unity will be cherished by me and all members of this command. We thank you for bestowing this sacred ensign upon us.”

            Someone shouted, “Three cheers!”

            “Hip, Hip, Hooray! Hip, Hip, Hooray! Hip, Hip, Hooray!”

            Bussey dismissed the men to mingle with the crowd for a few minutes before boarding. Old men shook their hands. Women provided everything from pies to roasted chickens. Then Bussey called the men to attention and had them file onto the steamer.

            After boarding, Reuben made his way up two flights to the Hurricane Deck. It offered a good view of the river and its surroundings. Had it still been Summer, the breeze would have been welcome. All around him, men sprawled on the deck or leaned on the rails to get a look at the preparations for their departure.

            Underneath them, stokers were busy building up a head of steam. Men on shore cast off the lines. The whistle sounded as the paddles reversed. The packet slowly backed into the river and turned south. Dusk was approaching as the boat picked up speed. Lights began to twinkle from the lamps of towns and farmhouses. Men smoked as they watched the lights go by. The moonlight lit the silver wake behind them. It was late in the night before the boat slept.

            Morning came bright and clear, but it was chilly. The men were shivering, but a good hot breakfast soon had them moving about the boat. The fall foliage was brilliant. They had Illinois on their left and Missouri on their right. People waved to the troops from the shore. One little town on the Illinois side saluted them with a cannon.

            Someone remarked, “I hope the Rebel cannons are just as welcoming.”

            The boat pulled in a few times for fuel as the day faded into night. The next stop was St. Louis. Though the city billed itself as the “Gateway to the West’ it also served as the staging area for troops headed south.

            The packet made the port of St. Louis on November 5th.  The docks were a hub of activity as troops and war material poured in. There was no fanfare at docking. The men grabbed their gear and formed up on the street. Bussey led the march on a borrowed horse.

            Wartime St. Louis was bursting at the seams. Unionist refugees had poured in from the small towns being terrorized by Rebel militias and guerrillas. Those who hadn’t fled sent their children to stay with friends and relatives. The city was relatively quiet. General Frémont had placed the city under martial law in August. Those with Confederate sympathies did not express them for fear of losing their life, liberty, or property. Some citizens turned out with welcoming waves while others just glowered at the marching Union troops. There were very few young men in St. Louis. They had left to join the Army. For some, that meant traveling south to join the Rebels. The majority had joined the Union Army. The Union had recruited large numbers of German immigrants from the St Louis area. The Rebels derisively referred to them as “lop-eared Dutchmen.”

            As they marched along, Reuben wondered if the old warrant for horse theft still applied to him. Probably not. Martial law would take precedence, and that Missouri Sheriff might now be a wanted guerrilla subject to Frémont’s order.

            Benton Barracks awed the troops as they marched into its central parade field. It was flanked by five huge, one-story barracks buildings, each measuring over 700 feet long. The cooks were delighted to find cookhouses with brick ovens and piped-in water. The camp included stables and plenty of room for practicing cavalry maneuvers.

            At Benton Barracks, the troopers and their officers learned the latest cavalry tactics.  Their officers carefully studied The Instructions, Formations, and Movements of The Cavalry of the Army and Volunteers of the United States by Col. Philip St. George Cooke. At the outbreak of the war, many of the cavalry’s best officers had joined the Confederacy, taking their expertise with them. The Union cavalry would have to learn some hard lessons as they were confronted by such Rebel cavalry leaders as J.E.B. Stuart and Nathan Bedford Forrest.

The men were taught the many roles performed by the cavalry during the Civil War. They were the eyes and ears of their commander, conducting patrols to probe the enemy’s location and strength. They’d raid behind enemy lines to disrupt communications, supplies, and transportation. In the heat of battle, they could be quickly deployed to guard the Army’s flanks. Sometimes they would execute a rapid charge on an enemy position to throw them off guard. If placed in the battle line, they fought dismounted, with one in four troopers holding their horses.

It was at Benton Barracks that the men finally got their arms. The rifles of the day were mostly muzzle-loaders and unsuited for cavalry operations. Not until the last years of the war would breech-loading and repeating carbines become available for the troopers. At this point in the War, their weapons were limited to revolvers and sabers.

The men were excited to get their revolvers. These were state-of-the-art rapid-firing weapons. Their multiple loads offered the troopers a chance to wreak havoc on a nearby enemy before retreating to safety. Reloading involved pouring the powder into the cylinder and tamping the ball down with a lever. Once all the chambers were loaded, grease was applied to prevent cross-firing. The final step was inserting the percussion caps into the back of each cylinder. Obviously, reloading was not something one did on horseback in the heat of battle. That’s what the cavalryman’s saber was for. Their sabers had 35-inch blades, a brass handle, and a leather grip. They were lethal at close quarters.

When firing practice began, Reuben took his brother Willis under his wing.

“Hold it like this and squeeze the trigger gently. Get used to the kick. Let the muzzle drop back down before firing the next shot. Above all, keep it clean.”

The saber was new to Reuben. He had to learn how to handle it with the others. Horsemanship was another skill that Reuben helped impart to the uninitiated boys. The men and their horses quickly adapted to the movements of the cavalry. They practiced charging imaginary foes. Once, they had a mock battle with another regiment. It was quite a melee as confusion and chaos reigned.

            By February, the Third Iowa Cavalry was ready, trained, and equipped. The troopers felt like they could now take on the Rebels on their own ground. But like Midwestern schoolboys anxiously awaiting the arrival of their first circus, they had yet to “see the elephant.”

Index- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies

Chapter 16: Camp Rankin

“DeLay, I’m promoting you to Quartermaster Sergeant.”

“That’s fine, Sir. What is a Quartermaster Sergeant?”

“You’ll be responsible for all the company supplies and equipment.”

Reuben glanced down the barren street assigned to the company. Some of the men had made half-shelters out of the blankets they had been issued the evening before. The rest were lounging in the shade of the few available trees.

“Sir, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but we don’t seem to have much in the way of supplies and equipment.”

“Don’t worry. Today, the regiment is issuing us our uniforms. You’ll ensure each man signs a receipt for their gear.. Later, we’ll get mess equipment, tents, and grub. You will be responsible for them as well.”

“Sir, we’re supposed to be cavalry. How do we carry all that stuff into battle?”

“You will be assigned one wagon and a Corporal to drive it.”

“Sounds like a lot of paperwork.”

“It is. The Army needs to keep track of everything: beans, bullets, and bandages. We can’t go into battle without them.”

“I guess I can do it. When do I start?”

“Head on up to regiment and tell them we need this,” said Captain Taylor, handing him a list. “Take enough men with you to carry it all.”

Reuben scanned the list. Each of the men would get a pair of blue pantaloons, a cavalry jacket, a cap, cavalry boots, wool socks, a gray shirt, and underwear. It sounded like a mountain of stuff.

Reuben borrowed a wagon from a nearby company and selected 4 men to help load the supplies. Lacking a uniform, it took some convincing that he was a real Sergeant. One of the men insisted on seeing his warrant from Captain Taylor. Satisfied, they reported to the Regimental Quartermaster.

Reuben saluted and gave the Quartermaster the list.

“We don’t have half of this, but I’ll issue you what I can. I expect more uniforms in a few days. We were lucky to have enough blankets on hand yesterday. Everyone needs 500,000 of everything. The units in the field get priority.”

Reuben counted and signed for the clothing. He realized that it would be a challenge to figure out who got what. He asked the Quartermaster for some paper and pencils to keep track of it all. He’d use one sheet per man and have them initial for each item.

The men were excited to get their uniforms, but some were disappointed in the fit and the missing pieces. There was a vigorous trade. Then, the men came back to Reuben asking to make changes to their receipts. It soon got out of hand.

“No more trades!” he exclaimed. “If you signed for something, it is up to you to keep track of it. You will not get a replacement.”

The men grumbled, but the trading slowed down. Within a week, all were issued their full uniforms along with knapsacks and canteens. The men who had sewing kits kept busy altering clothes for themselves and their friends.

The company got its allotment of Sibley tents by the end of the first week. These 18-foot conical structures were set up on the company street with up to 12 men berthed in each one. Captain Taylor got one for his headquarters.

The Regimental Surgeon examined each man individually. They demonstrated their fitness by standing on tiptoe with arms extended as the good Doctor conducted his examination. He rubbed his hands over their shoulders, back, and limbs before finishing with some taps on the chest. No man who could stand and breathe was rejected.

Camp Rankin was a temporary Camp of Instruction. It had no permanent facilities, only sheds and Sibley tents. A sturdy board fence surrounded it. The men were prohibited from leaving the compound unless they had a pass. As Quartermaster Sergeant, Reuben made frequent trips into Keokuk with requisitions for supplies for the company. A civilian Sutler set up a store inside the camp to sell personal items and snacks.

The men began drilling again. Their marching was more precise, and their new uniforms made them proud. The Army purchased horses for $100 per head. Reuben soon learned he was responsible for finding forage and reporting the health problems of the horses to the Veterinarian Officer. Some horses were unbroken. Good riders, like Reuben, sorted out the ranker mounts. They began their mounted drills without arms. Their sabers or revolvers were lost somewhere in the supply pipeline.

The time finally came when the company was ready for inspection by the regimental commander, Colonel Cyrus Bussey. Bussey was a former state Senator and aide to the Governor. As the regiment was forming up, he had become distressed over its lack of arms. He journeyed to St. Louis to plead his case before the Department Commander, General John C. Frémont. The former explorer and presidential candidate was able to supply 50,000 rounds of ammunition but no guns. Undaunted, Bussey returned to Keokuk and intercepted a shipment of 1,000 Springfield rifles bound for another regiment. Some of these were distributed to the various militia companies defending Southeast Iowa and Northeast Missouri.

Before I Company arrived, these weapons had been crucial in the Battle of Athens. Two thousand men of the Rebel Missouri State Guard were advancing toward Keokuk. To lose this vital transportation hub on the Mississippi River would have been a disaster for the Union. The Springfield rifles Bussey sent to the loyal Northeast Missouri Home Guard at Athens made the difference in the outcome. The badly outnumbered defenders made mincemeat out of the poorly armed attackers. They drove the Rebels off, killing several and capturing about 20 prisoners and over 400 horses. During the battle, a rebel cannon shell became the only shot fired into Iowa during the entire Civil War. With the threat over, Colonel Bussey retrieved all of the rifles and sent them on to their original destination.

The inspection went well. It was a proud moment when Bussey placed his stamp of approval on the newly minted company. The men worked even harder learning the cavalry tactics of the day. They learned to ride in columns and form battle lines. They learned to respond to verbal and bugle calls like Boots and Saddles, Right, Left, About, Wheel, Trot, Canter, Charge, Commence Firing, Cease Firing, Retreat, and Rally. Their mounts learned to respond to the touch of their riders.

Midway in the training, sickness began to strike. Measles raged through the camp. Almost everyone caught it. It produced complications like pneumonia. Several men died. Bad sanitation led to dysentery and diarrhea. The Surgeon began vaccinating the men against Smallpox. In all, 43 men of the 3rd died from sickness at Camp Rankin and Benton Barracks during that first winter of the war. Only one of them was from Reuben’s company. Disease would continue to plague the armies, North and South, for the entire war. About half of the total casualties were from illness.

Reuben grew more concerned in his role as Quartermaster Sergeant as the training continued. He didn’t like the detail work that was involved, along with the responsibility for so many expensive items of equipment. The last straw came when the company ventured into the countryside for a simulated skirmish. He had to follow the troopers in the wagon. The mounted charges did not include him. He was supposed to fight only to defend the vital supplies in the company wagon. Reuben chafed at not being able to join his fellow troopers in a fight. Besides, he had promised his parents to watch over his brother, Willis. Finally, he took his concerns to Captain Taylor.

“Sir, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a Quartermaster Sergeant.”

Taylor looked up from his field desk and thought a moment. He’d been in command long enough to have a good feel for the qualities of his men. DeLay was a fighter. He had other men with experience as storekeepers who could do the job of Quartermaster Sergeant well.

“OK, but you’ll have to return to the rank of Private.”

“That’s fine with me. I signed up to fight, not to count beans.”

“I do appreciate your hard work. As soon as I pick a replacement, I’ll have him contact you to sign for the company property. Then you will be relieved.”

“Thank you, Sir!” Reuben saluted and left the command tent.

In early November, the Third Iowa was ready to leave Camp Rankin. They were bound for Benton Barracks, near St. Louis. Though they looked dapper on the parade field, they were a long way from being ready for the battlefield. They still lacked sabers and guns and the training to use them.

Index- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies

Chapter 15: Enlistment

Chapter 15: Enlistment

              “You did what?” fumed Margaret, her eyes flashing angrily.

“I enlisted,” was Reuben’s meek reply.

“Damn you Reuben DeLay! Did you not think of us?”

“I did. This is about protecting you and the kids. If we hit the Secessionists hard from the git-go, they’ll fold like they did in Kansas.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, two weeks ago, they tried to take Keokuk. They had 2000 men and made it to the Des Moines River at Athens. They bombarded the Iowa side of the river. Had it not been for Colonel Bussey and his new cavalry regiment, they would have taken Keokuk and stopped traffic on the Mississippi. That’s the regiment I joined. Our Mounted Riflemen are now Company I, Third Iowa Cavalry.”

“Who else is in on this nonsense?”

“Willis joined up with me.”

“Willis! You let your little brother sign up for war?”

“He’s 18 now, old enough to volunteer.”

“Hrmph. Why didn’t you let one of your cousins go instead?”

“John and Will had already signed up. Nearly everyone in the county enlisted. Both baseball teams, everyone.”

“And who is supposed to defend us?”

“Your Pa joined the Home Guard. I gave him my Sharps. The cavalry only uses pistols and sabers. My Pa signed up. Uncle Jacob, too.”

“Good Lord, we’ve got hay to cut, corn to shuck, and wood to chop. How am I supposed to manage?”

“Don’t worry, the Home Guard is organizing a labor co-op of those who are staying behind.”

“Old men and boys? How is that supposed to work?”

“it will be hard, but if they all work together, it will all work out.”

“So, when are you leaving?”

“We march out from Centerville on the 29th. The town is throwing a shindig for us. There’ll be speeches and vittles. We’ll pass in review at the courthouse. It’s history in the making. The kids will love it.”

“What if it’s the last time they ever see their father?”

“Now, Dear. You know I’m going to be careful. Ain’t no Rebel ball with my name on it.”

“God, I hope not.”

The departure ceremony for the recruits took place as scheduled on Thursday, August 29, 1861. By then, there was increased urgency. Union troops under General Lyon had clashed with a Confederate force under General Price at Wilson’s Creek in Southwest Missouri. Outnumbered, Lyon had staged a bold two-prong early morning attack. Although the Confederate camp was surprised, they managed to rally, defeating the Union force and killing General Lyon. The victorious General Price was presumed to be heading for St Louis. If he captured the city, it might turn the tide of the war and make Missouri a part of the Confederacy. The newly minted cavalrymen of the Third Iowa would be part of the effort to stop him.

On the day of their departure, the men of the company didn’t look much like soldiers. They lacked uniforms, mounts, and the traditional weapons of cavalrymen. They were not lacking in spirit or bravado though.

“We’re gonna lick the Secesh in no time,” one proclaimed.

“Them Rebs better watch out. After we win we’ll try the lot of ‘em for treason.”

Patriotic bunting decorated the streets of Centerville. Speeches were made. Little boys staged mock battles. Mothers, wives, and girlfriends tried to put on a brave face. Fathers were proud of their sons. Old men, veterans of past wars, stood silently with sad faces. Uncle Jacob and the Catholic Priest offered prayers.

Families ate together under the shade of trees and porches. It was hot. Sweat ran down people’s faces. Or was it tears? There were last hugs and handshakes. Lovers slipped off for a final secret kiss. No one wanted the lunch to end. All knew it must.

At last, Captain Taylor called, “ATTENTION!”

Reuben got up and pulled Margaret and baby Boen close.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll come home. I promise.”

The two older children grabbed their father by his legs. For a long moment, the DeLays clutched each other.

“Be careful. I don’t know what I would do without you,” said Margaret, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

Reuben released his hold on her and gently patted the children on their heads. Then he touched Margaret’s growing tummy.

“This child will not grow up without a father.”

As he slowly backed away, a bugle called.

“ATTENTION! Column of twos!”

The men formed up. The community band played patriotic songs. As the men began to march east, the band struck up a march to the tune of The Girl I Left Behind. The men would not see their loved ones again until 1864. Some never would.

As the music faded behind them, Captain Taylor commanded, “Route Step!”

Several citizens and some children followed along for a mile or two. Then Company I disappeared.

The company stopped for the night at Bloomfield. There, they were put up and fed with the best the tiny community had to offer. Before bedding down, the men gathered in small groups to talk and smoke. They were still too excited to be homesick.

The next day’s march took them to Keosauqua. There, they waited for a special train from the Keokuk, Des Moines, and Minnesota Railroad. There was great excitement in the air as the train approached. Half the men had never ridden on a train before. Some had never seen one. One man laid his head on the rail to see if he could hear the rumble of the far-off train.

“It’s coming! You’ll get run over,” another recruit joked.

Eventually, they heard the WOO-Whooo of the whistle. Far down the tracks, they could see the black smoke belching from the stack. Then they heard the rumble of the engine as it clicked along the track. As it pulled into the station they heard the hissing of the steam and the groaning as the Brakeman turned the wheel to apply the brakes. Then the monster came to a stop in front of the awed men.

The men waited patiently as the cars were uncoupled. Then the engine pulled onto a “Y” sidetrack to get turned around. Minutes later, it backed toward the cars. There was a huge metallic clunk that rippled through the cars as the engine and tender hit the coupler. Then all was quiet, except for the gentle hissing of the steam. The engineer climbed down from the cab and waved at the men. Several men came forward to see the iron behemoth. The Conductor put a step down for the men to use in boarding.

Reuben and his companions had been lounging by the station when Captain Taylor called, “ATTENTION!”

Taylor arranged the men into column of twos for boarding. The Conductor hollered, “All aboard,” and they began filing into the first car. When it was full, the remaining men were directed to the next coach. The men took their seats and waited as the Conductor picked up the step.

WhOO-whooo screamed the train’s whistle. There was a loud hiss of steam and a clunk as the engine began to move forward. Each car made aclunk as the slack was taken up in the couplers. A couple of men who had remained standing in Reuben’s car nearly fell over as it lurched forward. They grabbed whatever support they could find as they made their way to their seats. Those uninitiated in railway travel watched in awe as the station began to slip by.

Leaving the edge of town, the train picked up speed. The pistons whooshed faster and faster as it accelerated. Reuben speculated that they must be moving at least 20 miles an hour. The cars rocked as the iron wheels clicked over the end gaps in the rail. The clicks, the clacks, the huffs, and the chuffs merged in a cacophony of noise. Men had to raise their voices to talk. Most sat in silent awe as the houses, farms, and fields sped by their windows.

Two hours later, the train pulled into Keokuk and squealed to a stop in front of the station. The engine made a loud hiss as one last spurt of steam blew out. Captain Taylor followed the Conductor to the platform.

An officer greeted Taylor as a band struck up The Star-Spangled Banner. The officer’s blue uniform and gold braid stood in stark contrast to the motley collection of civilian clothes worn by the men. Taylor once again formed the men in column of twos.

“RIGHT FACE!”

“Forward…. MARCH!”

The men marched up the bluff to Camp Rankin. Their civilian lives were over.

Contents- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies

Damage Assessment:

Have We Been Played?

A few weeks ago, America was negotiating with Iran on curbing its nuclear capabilities. This had been a bone of contention between the two nations since President Trump pulled out of the previous nuclear deal in 2018.

Without notifying us, Israel attacked Iran. They took out missile and air defense systems, but left Iran’s nuclear facilities largely untouched. Israel didn’t have the weapons to attack Iran’s hardened nuclear sites.

It became clear that Israel needed a partner with more powerful weapons to destroy Iran’s nuclear capabilities. They began a concentrated effort to convince the Trump administration that it was somehow in our best interest to aid them in the war they started. The nukes must be destroyed, they argued.

Our intelligence community was adamant in its conviction that Iran was not close to developing a nuclear weapon. The administration ignored this assessment. President Trump claimed he had better information regarding Iran’s nuclear threat. Assuming that this “information” was not fabricated, it must have come from Israel.

Based on his questionable belief that Iran was close to fielding a nuclear weapon, Trump became more bellicose in his social media posts and public statements. He hinted that the US was willing to help Israel with its war by using weapons such as “Bunker Buster” bombs on Iran’s facilities. Tipped off to his intentions by these statements, Iran began moving truckloads of nuclear material and equipment out of the facilities.

Then we attacked Iran with B-2 bombers and cruise missiles. Trump immediately claimed total and complete success. When a damage assessment report showing otherwise was leaked, it was denounced by the Defense Department as inaccurate.  DOD then began an investigation to find the leaker. The investigation added more credibility to the report.

Trump continued to tout the success of the attack. Even Iran conceded that the attack had caused considerable damage to its nuclear facilities. Why wouldn’t they? If there were no longer a nuclear threat, there would be no more excuse for bombing them.

Amid the controversy over damage assessment, Trump declared a ceasefire, apparently without consulting the belligerents. Bombs and missiles continued to rain down for another day before both sides concluded that a ceasefire might be a good idea. They were running out of targets and hardware to throw at each other. (Perhaps Trump should get the Nobel Peace prize for the timing of his pronouncement.)

Shortly after the ceasefire took hold, Trump posted on his social media platform, Truth Social, that, “Bibi Netanyahu’s trial should be CANCELLED, IMMEDIATELY, or a Pardon given to a Great Hero, who has done so much for the State.”  Netanyahu was facing multiple charges of corruption, including fraud and accepting bribes.  Many observers saw the post as meddling in another country’s legal affairs.

The latest chapter in the tale of why we bombed Iran could be the report that Trump’s name will soon adorn the top of a Tel Aviv hotel. How does this help America, you ask?

Sorry, that’s classified.

LDT June 26, ‘25

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Bottom Land

The Wilson Ranch, Phillips County, Montana

Rusty corn planter,

The plow horse,

Long gone.

A home,

Hewn from cottonwoods.

No lights, no water.

Much love.

Empty now,

It’s stories untold.

Of laughing children,

Chasing bugs,

Log cabin,

Two rooms,

Melting into the prairie.

The Wilson Ranch,

Lush grass,

Horses and Herefords,

Branded,

Rocking XA.

A lazy river,

After the flood.

The good years,

 And the bad.

The Depression,

Took it all.

Federal loan,

Roosevelt.

The War,

Better times.

Old and weary,

They left the land.

Retired,

With no pension.

Progress,

Some said.

LDT June 25, ‘25

Main Menu- http://www.azrockdodger.com

Chapter 14: Mounted Riflemen

Chapter 14 Mounted Riflemen

              “Yer out!”

            Cheers erupted from the crowd of spectators. The Country Boys had just defeated the Centerville Nine by a score of 3-2. They had finally learned to work together as a team and make the best of each player’s skills. There were Huzzahs all around and the opposing players rushed to congratulate their foes.

            The celebration was only muted by another contest that had happened a few weeks earlier in far-off Virginia. On July 21, 1861, over 60,000 soldiers clashed in the first major battle of the Civil War near Bull Run Creek in Virginia. The Union was so confident in victory that many residents of Washington, D.C., packed lunches and made their way into Virginia to watch the spectacle.

            The Battle of Bull Run, as it turned out, was nothing like the baseball games that young men were playing all over the North. They played with 50 caliber Minié balls. Catching one could mean losing life or limb. The rifles were lethal to 500 yards or more. Long lines of men faced each other and aimed to kill through the haze of powder smoke. Instead of running for bases, they often ran for cover.

            At first, it appeared Lincoln’s volunteers would get the best of the Rebels. The legion of spectators cheered the troops on. The tide turned when the Confederates brought in reinforcements. The Union line began to break. One by one, units fell back. Then panic set in. Men dropped their weapons and ran. Some ran right past the startled spectators who joined the rout. The fleeing army left everything behind, even their dead and wounded.

            The debacle at Bull Run convinced both sides that this was going to be a long, bloody war. Congress met and authorized Lincoln to enlist 500,000 more volunteers. These would not be 90-day men. The Congress gave Lincoln the power to recruit the men for 3 years. Men rushed to sign up as war fever raged.

            After the victory celebration, one of the players, Thomas J. Taylor, asked the men to stay to discuss preparations for war.

            “Men, you all know Lincoln has called for more volunteers. It will take a while to form all these new regiments. Meanwhile, our state is threatened by the Missouri State Guard of their ex-governor, Sterling Price. He’s said to be heading for Springfield to have a fight  with General Lyon’s Army. Even if he’s defeated, there are other Rebel militia groups not far from here.”

            “Now, a lot of folks in Missouri are pro-Union, and the state hasn’t joined the successionists.”

            “Yet!” someone shouted.

“So far, Missouri is showing a lot of sense. Most Missourians don’t have a horse in this race. The slaves are owned by a handful of big planters. They’ll stay with the Union if Lincoln convinces them their slaves aren’t threatened. It’s the outliers, like Price, who constitute a threat. He can mount his men and raid these parts at will. We need a force to meet him if, or when, he shows up.”

“So what are you proposing?” came a question from the crowd.

“We need to form our own militia unit, mounted men who can assemble and ride on a moment’s notice. We can guard our homes and crops until the new army gets better organized.”

“What about weapons?”

“We’ll have to supply our own for now. I’ll write the Governor and see if we can get some old Army muskets. If you have a musket, a rifle, or a pistol, bring it with you when we muster.”

“Mounted Riflemen? Do we need to have a horse?”

“For now, anyone without a horse can be in the Home Guard. Someone has to defend the town when the rest of us ride out. When we become part of the Army, I want to serve as cavalry. I’m sure Uncle Sam will provide us with decent mounts. For now, we’ll do the best we can with what we have.”

Reuben brooded as he listened to Taylor’s talk. He imagined Captain James Montgomery giving the same speech to the Jayhawkers of Linn County. All over America, North and South, men were rushing to fill the ranks of the armies that would shape America’s destiny. There was no turning back. A divided nation would slug it out until one side prevailed and the other gave up. He’d been there before. In Kansas, he had been forced to choose a side. This time, the stakes were bigger and the cause nobler. It was not about protecting his little place on Sugar Creek. The nation, his nation was in peril.

“Who will stand for the Union?” Taylor thundered.

“I will!” shouted Reuben, having raised his hand at the beginning of the question.

There was a chorus of ‘I wills’ and ‘Hear, hears.’ Men looked around, assuring themselves that they were not alone. There were no dissenters.

“Alright, you men. Go home and get your gear. We’ll meet at this field at 10 AM on Tuesday. Bring your friends if they are young and able. If any older men want to join up, they can serve in the Home Guard.”

“What was that all about?”  Margaret asked as Reuben helped his pregnant wife up to the seat of their wagon.

“We’re forming a company to defend ourselves.”

“Like Kansas?”

“Like Kansas. There is a chance that those old Missouri Ruffians will ride North to make trouble again.”

“Oh Lord. I thought we left all that behind in Kansas.”

“The trouble followed us home and spread to the whole country, or so it seems. We need to be ready for whatever comes our way. Most of the men want enlist in Lincoln’s new 500,000 man army.”

“FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND! Tell me you won’t have anything to do with that!”

I’m just joining a militia company. Chances are, we won’t stray far from Appanoose County. If the war gets much worse, I may have to reconsider.”

“Reuben! For God’s sake, we have 3 little children and another one on the way. You can’t leave us here and go strutting off to war.”

“Like I say, only if I have to. Papa will help around the place if it comes to that.”

“I need my husband at home!”

Reuben tried to change the subject for the rest of the ride home as Margaret sat fuming.

On Tuesday, Reuben saddled up early and rode to Centerville. When he arrived at the field, he found dozens of other men already there. They brought a motley assortment of antiquated firearms with them. Reuben carried his Sharps, his revolver, a blanket, and a change of clothes.

Captain Taylor’s first order of business was to establish a muster roll. Over sixty names were soon added. Then the men were assigned places to stay. The loyal citizens of Centerville offered up any extra rooms they could spare. Men were also billeted in stables and barns. The women of the town served them lunch. Finally, it was time to learn the rudiments of soldiering.

Taylor appointed squad leaders and lined the men up in columns behind them. The men looked around at the admiring faces of the townspeople as they formed up.

“Stand at attention and keep your eyes locked forward!” Taylor barked. “We are going to learn to march. When I say Forward March, step off with your right foot.”

“FORWARD…”

“Did I say march, Private Smythe?”

“Er.. No you didn’t Joe.”

“My name ain’t Joe, you idiot! I’m Captain Taylor. You will address me by my rank or as Sir. Understand?”

“Er.., yep J.., I mean Sir.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to get the men to march in step. It seemed a hopeless task. An old soldier from the Mexican War sat on a stool, laughing at the disorganized gaggle of men. By evening, some of them had learned the soldiery art of marching as Captain Taylor called cadence.

By the second day, Taylor had somehow acquired a copy of a company drill manual from 1835. He showed much more confidence as he began the day’s drill.

“Attention Company!”

The men looked up.

“Fall in!”

The men formed in two ragged rows.

“Count twos!”

The men counted off. “One, two, one two…”

“Right Face!”

Most of the men pivoted to the right.

“Your other right, Smythe!”

“In two ranks, Front!”

“Right, dress!”

The men looked confused.

“Stretch your right arm to touch the shoulder of the man next to you!”

Front!

The men faced forward. The commands were repeated for what seemed like half the morning. Finally, the men began to respond properly and in unison. By afternoon, they had learned Forward March, Column Left, and Column Right. Even the old-timer from the Mexican War was starting to show some appreciation.

The next day, Captain Taylor decided to drill the men with horses. Getting their mounts lined up was a challenge. Giving up, he decided to let the men have some fun demonstrating their martial skills on horseback.

He brought out an armload of laths and distributed the wooden sticks to the horsemen. A couple of men set up a scarecrow at the other end of the field. Each rider was directed to charge the scarecrow and swing his wooden “saber” at it. The scarecrow spooked most of the horses as they approached. The spectators joined the unmounted men with rounds of cheers and jeers as each rider tried his luck. Few of the mounted men successfully struck their prey.

The next task was to shoot a pistol while charging a target. The first rider’s shot went wild, nearly hitting some spectators. Taylor ordered them out of the way. The next rider’s horse threw him as he fired off a shot. Taylor decided to call it a day.

Contents: Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman- Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies

No Damn Parade

There’s no damn parade for me,

  For some emperor wannabe.

I refuse to anoint a damn king,

  Bone spurs no accolades bring.

His whole life has been a charade,

  He ain’t earned no stinkin’ parade.

He dishonored the oath he swore,

  And we, who went off to war.

We’re losers and suckers he said,

  While ignoring our sac-a-red dead.

He stomped on our rights and our laws,

  And took what he could with his claws.

Each day, he’s taking revenge,

   On those who question his ends.

I should tell him where to go,

  Maybe that place down below.

In a land once proud and free,

  There’s no damn parade for me.

LDT June 14, ’25  #NoKings!

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John Brown’s Body

The Execution of Abolitionist John Brown

John Brown’s Body

A lot can happen in a week. At 4:30 AM on April 12, 1861, the guns of the Confederate States of America opened a bombardment on Fort Sumter. The fort had been designed to defend Charleston Harbor from attacks by sea. It’s defenses were pointed the wrong way, and it was still under construction. Fort Sumter was defended by Major Robert Anderson and 127 men of the 1st US Artillery. Attacking Anderson was his former West Point student and protégé P.T. Beauregard. Overly cautious, Anderson took several hours before ordering his guns to return fire. The Union’s response was ineffective. After 34 hours of constant bombardment, Anderson surrendered Fort Sumter. The Civil War had begun.

An alarmed Abraham Lincoln resolved to put down what he saw as an insurrection. He called for 75.000 volunteers to serve 90 days, the maximum allowed under the existing law. Everyone assumed the rebellion would be over by then. Unhampered by U.S. laws, the Confederacy called for 100,000 volunteers. Four more states, including Virginia, seceded.

By Sunday, April 14th, the news of Fort Sumter’s fall had flashed across the telegraph lines to far-off Appanoose County, where it caused great excitement and apprehension. As Reuben and his family arrived at the Methodist-Episcopal Church in Centerville, they found worried parishioners gathered outside to discuss the news. A group of young men began singing a song that seemed written for the occasion.

John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave; moldering in the grave, moldering in the grave….

Reuben had met John Brown in Kansas. Brown had moved his violent anti-slavery operation to Linn County before Reuben left. Luckily, the old man took sick and caused no trouble at first. Reuben and some of the men from the Sugar Creek Militia had once visited Brown at his fort. Despite his past bloodthirsty actions, the abolitionist seemed kindly and soft-spoken. He only got testy when someone suggested that non-violence might be the path to healing the divisions of Bleeding Kansas. Brown’s continued militancy had caused militia leader James Montgomery to keep his distance from him.

Brown made one final raid into Missouri in December of 1858, killing a slave-owner and freeing about a dozen slaves. Then he disappeared for several months as he plotted his next move to end slavery.

Brown’s plot turned out to be a bold one. He would raid the arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, steal its guns, and arm the local slaves for a rebellion.

As the song went,

“He captured Harper’s Ferry, with  his nineteen men so few,
And frightened “Old Virginny” till she trembled through and through….”

Brown had, indeed, captured the arsenal at Harper’s Ferry in October of 1859. The raid was a poorly planned disaster. Brown recruited only 2 local slaves for his rebellion. Eleven of his men, including 2 of his sons, were killed. Brown and 6 others were captured. As the song continued,
“They hung him for a traitor, themselves a traitor crew,

Brown’s raid had thoroughly alarmed the South. The slave states’ greatest fear was a repeat of the slave rebellion led by Nat Turner in 1831. They now had proof that Northern Abolitionists were willing to promote even larger rebellions. Worse yet, the new President, Abraham Lincoln, seemed sympathetic to the Abolitionists. The South didn’t trust in his assurances that he only wanted to contain slavery to the states where it had taken root. His election so alarmed them that 11 slave states eventually seceded from the Union. Brown’s raid, Lincoln’s election, and Fort Sumter had finally ignited America’s most devastating war.

As the couple entered the church, they heard a new verse to the song,

“We’ll hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree, sour apple tree, sour apple tree….”

“Hang Jeff Davis?” Margaret asked as they took their seats. “Will there be a war?”

“I reekin so,” Reuben responded. “Hopefully, a short one.”

Uncle Jacob’s sermon was more militant than ever before. The Union was broken. Men were going to die. He offered a prayer for a quick resolution to the crisis. After the service, the men gathered, as planned, for their baseball game. This time, the Country Boys did a little better. They lost by a score of 5 to 0.

A few days later, Lincoln’s proclamation calling for the mobilization of the 75,000 volunteers appeared in the papers. He pointed out the gravity of the situation, accusing the secessionist states of opposing and obstructing the execution of the nation’s laws. The 75,000 volunteers, he proclaimed, would be used to “suppress said combinations and cause the laws to be duly executed.” Iowa was to provide one regiment to support the effort.

He called on “all loyal citizens to favor, facilitate, and aid this effort to maintain the honor, the integrity, and the existence of the National Union, and the perpetuity of popular government; and to redress wrongs already long enough endured.”

He explained that the first service of the forces would be to recover the forts and property seized by the rebel states. He promised care in avoiding unnecessary harm to peaceful citizens and commanded the Rebels to disperse peaceably. He gave them 20 days to comply.  It was not to be.

By the next Sabbath, thousands of men had answered Lincoln’s call for volunteers. The Iowa quota for a regiment of 1000 men had filled up before anyone in Appanoose County could enlist. Reverend DeLay’s sermon was gloomy. Unless the South folded to Lincoln’s demands, men were going to die. A special offering was taken to purchase personal items for Iowa’s volunteers.

That afternoon, the Country Boys scored their first two runs against the Centerville Nine. They still lost by a score of 4 to 2. The post-game discussion centered on the rebellion.

“I can’t wait to get at them damn Rebels,” said one of the players.

“I’ve a notion to go to Missouri and see if I can join one of their regiments,” said another.

“Calm down,” Reuben responded. “If this turns into a real war, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to die for your country. With luck, the South will back down like they did in Kansas.”

“But first, they need to be taught a lesson. They can’t just go about seizing Federal property,” someone said.

“Like I say, they’ll probably back off. If they don’t, it will be a long, bloody war,” Reuben countered.

“Well have them outgunned and outmanned!’ exclaimed another man.

“Don’t be so sure of that. Remember that our armory at Harper’s Ferry is in Virginia. The Rebel state militias have thousands of surplus US muskets. They can make modern rifles at some of the arsenals they took over. They likely got dozens of spiked guns at the forts they seized. Now, Jeff Davis is asking for more volunteers than Lincoln requested. If there’s a war, it won’t be no cakewalk,” cautioned Reuben.

“We can lick ‘em!| shouted a chorus of men.

“Maybe so, but some of us will die in the process.”

After the post-game discussion broke up, Reuben loaded Margaret and the children into the wagon.

“The boys sure seem to want a war,” he told Margaret.

“God, I hate that. We had enough of that in Kansas. It’s hell not knowing when someone will show up during the night with a torch.”

“Let me remind you that Kansas just got admitted to the Union as a free state. We did that.”

“Was it worth it?” Margaret asked, her voice quaking. “We could have all been killed.”

“The country is better for it. So far, it looks like Missouri will stay in the Union. That makes us safer here on the border with them.”

“I suppose so. But I don’t want my man going off to war again.”

“I’ll only go if I have to.”

Behind them, the remaining players began to sing John Brown’s Body again. Their voices seemed increasingly militant. The lines from the chorus struck Reuben and Margaret as prophetic.

He has gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord,

His soul is marching on.

Glory,  glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah! his soul is marching on!
          A few months later, John Brown’s Body, would be rewritten by Julia Ward Howe. It became The Battle Hymn of the Republic. That song would inspire the young men of the North to “die to make men free.”

Index: Unbowed: The Story of a Civil War cavalryman– Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman-Index – Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies