An excerpt from Wagon Boss and Mule Mechanic By Robert Morris Peck

Published in the National Tribune, 1901

Transcribed by Curtis Payne

About the 1st of July, '63 Maj. Gen. James G. Blunt, commanding all the Union troops in our part of the country, called the Army of the Frontier, came to Fort Gibson from Fort Smith, bringing several regiments of white soldiers and a couple of regiments of negroes.

From the fact of his gathering men and material at Fort Gibson it was evident that he was contemplating a move against the rebels somewhere, and as the enemy's forces under Generals Cooper and Stand Watie at Honey Springs 22 miles south were the only considerable collection of rebels in our vicinity, it didn't take a down east Yankee to guess which way we would move.

I was still busy hauling hay from the prairie near the Mosely place into Fort Gibson when, on the 15th of July, I received orders to rig up half my train for field service, leaving the other half under my assistant, hauling hay, and report at Captain Thomas's office on the morning of the 16th, which I did. Everything was as quiet as usual at our camp, just outside the town of Fort Gibson, and any observer would not have suspected that an important expedition was about to begin, but Blunt, or Colonel Tom Moonlight, Blunt's Chief of Staff, rather, had been quietly making all necessary preparations for some days, and there was no rush or uproar about it.

It was generally well understood by the old members of the army of the Frontier, that Colonel Moonlight, Blunt's Chief of Staff-whom I had known when he was a First Sergeant in the 4th U. S. art. Regular Army, before the war, furnished the brains for the Army of the Frontier. Tom Moonlight was a gallant, brave and efficient officer, a little too fond of liquor (in which respect Blunt himself set the pace at his headquarters), but nevertheless a good soldier; and Blunt's successes and fame were undoubtedly attributable to Moonlight's management. Blunt was one of those political appointees whose only qualification for the position of a Commanding General was his political pull, backed by a bulldog pertinacity that would fight a buzz-saw. He had no military talents, to begin with, and never seemed to acquire such qualities during the four years of war. Before the war he was a country doctor, living on his claim on Pottawatomie Creek in Kansas, and through Senator Jim Lane's influence got an appointment as a Brigadier-General in the early part of the war, and for his success in dropping in just in the nick of time at the battle of Prairie Grove, Ark., and saving General Herron from a probable defeat, Blunt was advanced to the rank of Major-General thought it has been claimed by some military critics that Blunt blundered into that fight and blundered through it, and the fact of the rebel General Hindman taking a scare and withdrawing in the night, after a drawn battle, eventuated in Blunt's being left in possession of the field.

The material that my teams were loaded with-hospital stores and ammunition-gave a hint of the service before us; but not a word was given out from any source of authority as to when or where we were to go. A lot of ambulances were assembled and placed under my charge also. After loading and getting everything ready for a trip somewhere I had the mules unhitched, watered, and tied back to the feed troughs, with the harness on, and fed grain, and thus we stood nearly all day awaiting orders.

About the middle of the afternoon I was ordered to take a detail of Indians and drop down the ferryboat-an open flatboat, pulled back and forth by a rope stretched across the river, to the mouth of Grand River, and stretch the rope across the Arkansas just below the mouth of Grand. This was certainly a pointer. Blunt had waited till nearly night to begin the movement, so that any possible rebel spies on the neighboring hills, beyond the Arkansas, would not see what we were doing.

If I had known what a variety of services I was going to be called on to do, I would have brought some extra hands along to act as assistants, but as it was, I borrowed Hugh Poland, Assistant Wagon Master of the 2d Indian train, to look after the six-mule teams and ambulances, while I took general charge giving my particular attention to the ferrying. By sundown I had everything ready and the little army began crossing the river. The Arkansas just above the mouth of Grand River was just barely fordable, but below, where the ferry was it was too deep. It was found that a narrow and difficult ford on Grand River just above the mouth could be used by the cavalry and some teams, and then an easy ford of the Arkansas above the mouth of Grand would expedite the crossing of both troops and teams.

While crossing at the Grand River ford a team belonging to the 1st Kansas (colored) was washed away down into deep water, and the six mules, with wagon, driver and two colored soldiers, who had crept into the wagon, were drowned. The black teamster never left his saddle-mule, and as he sunk out of sight was still jerking the lead-line to try to steer his team to the shore. The two men in the wagon were caught like rats in a trap-the cover being tied down all round-and drowned before they found out where they were at.

At the ferry I had been carrying over both soldiers and teams as they came, out as the capacity of the boat was only about one company of men or one six-mule team at a trip, it was slow work. After the accident at the ford the balance of the teams were ordered to cross by the ferry, and as it was found practicable for the infantry to ford the rivers on the route where the team had been washed away, it was ordered that they should wade it at that place, so that the boat could be used for the teams.

With all the expedition I could use at the ferry, and being given a fresh detail of men from each regiment, it was slow work crossing the batteries and mule teams. the boat was an open flat with no railing around it, and some perverse mule would now and then get frightened at the water or something else, and go to backing away form the gunwale on one side and probably crowd some other mule or himself over the opposite gunwale into the water. When a mule once gets his ears full of water he loses heart and will easily drown unless his head is held above water by someone. I and several of the ferrymen were in the water up to our necks frequently during the night saving the contrary brutes, and I will here take occasion to remark that holding the head of a frightened, plunging mule above water in the dark is no fun.

At first we built fires on the banks to make light to see how to work, but as the light seemed to blind both us and the mules, we put the fires out and found it was not so dark but what we could see what we were doing. We usually took the precaution to unhook the traces of the swing and lead mules as soon as the team came onto the boat, and if one fell overboard some man would get hold of his bridle and hold his head above water at the gunsale till we reached the shore, but occasionally one would get overboard before we got his traces unhooked, and then we would have a time unhooking him or stripping the harness off in the water to keep him from dragging another mule over.

This work we kept up all night long-ferrying mule and battery horse teams. The batteries were not so much trouble; having a trained driver to each span of horses, they went along all right, but it all took time and much labor. I had crossed my train of six-mule teams and four-mule ambulances early in the evening, and sent them on ahead in charge of Hugh Poland. The regiments and batteries, with their wagons, pulled out on the road south as fast as they crossed.

Daylight was just beginning to appear in the east as I mounted my mule and rode onto the boat with the last team, tired, hungry and wet, but anxious to get to the head of the column, or at least to my train, for my outfit had been shoved ahead so that I knew it would be near the advance of all the teams. Leaving a guard to take care of the ferryboat, I struck out as fast as I could travel along the road, which was incumbered with straggling reams and their attendants, and by sunrise had reached the prairie outside the river bottom about four miles from the river.

By 10 o'clock I had overtaken my train, just in rear of the main column, which was now moving slowly, halting occasionally to give the rear a chance to close up. Shortly after this time we heard a few scattering shots some distance ahead, which proved to be an exchange of compliments with the enemy's pickets as they were driven back to their command. About noon, July 17, 63' we had reached a point some two miles from Honey "Springs, where the rebels had been permanently camped for some time, but yet there was very little sign to indicate the near presence of an enemy, as the strip of timber along the creek (where, as we afterward found, they were drawn up in line of battle waiting for us) completely hid them from our view. Up to this time we had been in hilly prairie, and the rebels had probably not seen much of our force. Before exposing his command to their view General Blunt-or Colonel Tom Moonlight, rather, decided to pull up behind some hills, previous to coming out into the last stretch of open prairie-and wait for a final closing up of our rear.

Taking advantage of the halt, I ordered my teamsters to unrein their teams and let the mules nip a little grass without unhitching; and also to get out any available grub they could, and eat a snack, as I saw that the soldiers just in front of us were doing the same. We were all as hungry as wolves, and hardtack, raw bacon and branch water tasted fine. As the rear came up the troops who had been guarding the flanks and rear of the trains moved to the front, and were all massed in a body behind the hills that screened us from the observation of the rebs who were supposed to be waiting for us over behind the timber. So cool and unconcerned did Blunt and his officers take it, and as there was no sign yet of the enemy except an occasional mounted man who would ride out of the timber onto some elevated ground and seem to be taking a look in our direction with a field glass, and then ride back out of sight, I began to doubt that there was any rebel force of consequence in front of us at all, but I suppose Blunt knew they were there.

About 1 O'clock p. m., without any bugle calls, orders were quietly passed around by staff officers and orderlies to everybody to prepare to move out again. The cavalry and artillery mounted, the infantry shook themselves together, and in close column the little army of about 7,000 fighting men moved out by the road through a gap between the hills, that brought them out into an open plain of about a mile and a half across, through which they had to advance in face of the enemy, who was yet invisible in the strip of timber along the creek.

As soon as our column began to debauch onto the plain it was adroitly deployed to the right and left into line of battle. So quiet had everything been on the enemy's side up to this time that I felt sure there could be only a small force before us, if any remained probable only a rear guard left to cover their retreat, I thought, for we knew they had been established here in camp for some time.

I had received no orders to the contrary, and as the troops marched out I rolled out with my train, following them closely into the open prairie, but had not advanced far when an excited staff officer came galloping back to me and demanded, Where the devil are you going with those teams? Trying to keep up with the command, I replied. Why, confound it, don't you know that the battle is about to begin? Wasn't you ordered to stay behind the hills were you were till further orders? Hell'll be turned loose here directly! Head'em about and get back behind them hills as quick as you can send'em! First thing you know the rebs'll be throwin' shells into your outfit an' you'll all be blowed into the middle of next week. Without stopping to answer him, I quickly turned my teams and hurried them back to a safe place behind the hills again, where I found the regimental trains had remained. Then cautioning the skinners to stay close to their teams, and be ready to move at a moment's notice, Hugh and I struck out into the open ground following the advancing line of battle, determined to see the fight.

I knew that our teams were still in range of the enemy's artillery, but thought it was a safe guess that our line of battle would occupy their attention too closely to allow them time to throw away any shells at random trying to find our trains. About the middle of the plain that lay between the hills where our command had halted and eaten our snack and the timber, stood a farm house, the only one in sight. After our line had passed this house some distance it was halted, as the rebs had not opened fire on us yet, and our artillery which was distributed a battery here and there along our line from right to left, came into battery within less than a half mile of the timber, and began shelling the woods, to draw their fire and find the rebel position.

When our men halted I had looked for a good location where I could get a clear view of the fight, and found a knoll just in rear of the left center of our line, from the top of which we could overlook most of the field. Riding up to the top of this little hill, Hugh and I sat there on our mules looking on, and although the rebel balls knocked up the dust around us occasionally, the sight was too attractive and exciting to let such little things interfere with so grand an entertainment.

The prairie from where our line stood to the edge of the timber was covered here and there with patches of small sumac bushes from waist to shoulder height, which afforded our infantry some shelter. When our batteries opened, the rebels made their presence and location known by

responding in like manner.

It was a very hot day, and our soldiers had stripped themselves of everything in the way of clothing and equipment's that could be dispensed with, piling the surplus stuff in heaps in rear of their line. I noticed that the men of a battery near me (sic Hopkin's 2d Kans.) had stripped to their undershirts and pants, and the 1st Kansas, (colored- Coo. Williams's), about the center of the line, had even taken off their shirts, and their black skins glistened in the sun.

On the extreme left of our line, just over a rise and out of sight from us, was our Indian Brigade, and as usual they kept up an incessant gobbling and warhooping at the enemy, who returned the compliment with like noise.

The battery near me (Hopkins's) chanced to be placed in line opposite a rebel battery in the edge of the timber, and a very animated fight took place between the two, each seeming determined to annihilate the other. Hopkin's battery seemed to be getting the worst of the duel, when some mounted troops (I think these were a part of the 2d Colo. Cav.) made a charge on the rebel battery and captured it, along with their colors.

This flag, which I saw at Blunt's headquarters after the battle, was of three stripes-red at top, white in the middle, red at bottom, with a blue corner covering the ends of the first two stripes, red and white, and containing 11 stars. This was the style of colors adopted by the rebels at the beginning of the war, but, as they found that at a distance they could scarcely tell their colors from our Stars and Stripes and often mistook one for the other, they adopted the later style, a square red field with blue stripes running diagonally across from upper to lower corner, like a letter X. The blue stripes were edged with a narrow white border and contained the 11 white stars.

When the fight ended, wounded and dead men and horses, disabled guns and caissons were scattered over the ground. After the artillery practice had developed the enemy's position, our line began crawling up slowly onto the rebels in the edge of the woods. I could not see clearly what was going on at our extreme right, on account of the powder smoke in that direction, but noticed a general advance all along the line. Our extreme left (the Indian brigade) also was out of sight just over a hill but I could locate them by their gobbling and musketry.

The 1st Kansas (colored) and one other regiment of negroes being near my stand, I was very much interested in watching their part of the fight. This was the first time I had seen any negro soldiers in action, and as I had often heard the white soldiers declare that they did not believe the niggers would fight when brought up against the real thing, I was anxious to note how they would behave.

Just after the last advance of our line began, Colonel Williams, of the 1st Colored, was struck by a musket ball and fell, but knowing that if he left the field it would have a depressing effect on his men, although he could not sit on his horse or stand up, he had some of his men to prop him up on a pile of knapsacks in rear of their position, and from this seat directed their movements.

Although the rebels had all the advantage of position, and made it hot work, I could see that our men were slowly crawling up on the enemy's position, and it soon became evident that the rebels were falling back in some parts of their line; but-for fear of being drawn into an ambush in the timber, no rush was made by our men-only a gradual creeping up.

I was pleased to notice that the " niggers," as they were commonly called, stood up to the work as manfully as any troops in our line; and they had a hard fight to make, too, for directly opposite to them, in the rebel line, was a regiment of Texans (27th Texas, Colonel Bass), who, as soon as they discovered that their antagonists were " niggers," did their level best to wipe that black spot off the field.

The rebels were all well sheltered, this Texas regiment being placed partly in timber and part in a field of tall corn; and so intently were these latter ones engaged in killing negroes that when their Colonel, with the first battalion of their regiment, who were in the timber, withdrew, the other battalion in the corn field did not notice that a retreat had begun; and before they found it out some of our men had got in their rear and cut them off.

Seeing that they were corralled, and as a great many of them had been killed or wounded, the Texans hoisted a white flag in token of surrender; but when Colonel Williams's negroes arose out of the sumac bushes with a shout of triumph and started forward to take the rebs in, the Texans could not bear the idea of surrendering to "niggers," and accordingly doused their white flag, shouting defiantly. Go back, you ! and giving the rebel yell resumed their former occupation of killing negroes, while the black boys dropped into the bushes again and kept picking off the Texans.

Again the men in gray raised the white flag, again the negroes arose to advance and receive the surrender, again the rebels dropped their flag-of-truce, and yelling defiance turned loose on the darkies. The white flag appeared for the third time, but the negroes, warned by previous experience, still laid low, although in obedience to their officers they ceased firing, just then the bearer of the white flag climbed up on the fence and called out, if you'll send white men to take us we'll surrender, but never to a nigger!

General Blunt having been informed of the desperate fight going on between the negroes and Texans, had ridden up to that part of the field, and ordering a cessation of hostilities, sent a white regiment to receive the surrender of the game Southerners, and was astonished to find only 60 men of the Texas battalion left standing, and no commissioned officer they were surrendered by their Sergeant Major-every officer being down, either killed or wounded. The corn rows were strung full of killed and wounded Texans.

Most of the particulars about this fight between the negroes and Texans I learned after the battle from the men engaged on either side. Before the surrender, when the rebels began giving way, Hugh Poland and I hurried back to our train, where, leaving Hugh to bring up the six-mule teams and establish camp near the farm buildings, where ther was a little creek,. I rushed up to the ambulances to go to gathering the wounded and hauling them to the hospital.

At the commencement of the battle General Blunt had taken possession of the farm house for a hospital. I don't know what became of the family, but as very little ceremony was used in such matters in war times, I suppose they were given short notice to get out, and got.

We soon had the ambulances scampering over the field, picking up the wounded and bringing them in. The attendants were ordered to bring in the wounded only-leaving the dead to be gathered up and buried after-ward-our own men first, and the rebel wounded after.

I took one ambulance myself and hurried to the ground that had been occupied by Hopkins's battery, anxious to find what had been the fate of a gallant Sergeant whom I had seen fall while bravely holding the battery's colors in a perfect shower of shot, as it had seemed to me. From my stand it appeared that one or two other color-bearers had been shot down while holding that flag, for the colors had gone down several times during the melee. I was glad to find the Sergeant still alive, but with a broken leg, and lifting him and several other wounded men into the ambulance, I hurried them off to the hospital, where we unloaded our freight of suffering men and started the ambulance off for more.

At the hospital I found the other ambulances had already delivered several loads of wounded-many of whom were negroes who were laid in rows, some inside the house, and some outside, wherever shade could be found. In the operating room a long table was standing in the middle of the floor. Several Surgeons with sleeves rolled up and bloody hands were busy cutting off legs and arms, which they unceremoniously tossed out in a heap in front of the door.

The most seriously wounded were picked out and attended to first. Where a limb was to be amputated, a wounded man would be brought in and laid on the table, the Chief Surgeon examined the wound and gave orders for the operation, one would hold a handkerchief saturated with chloroform to the victim's nose with one hand, until insensibility was produced, while the other was feeling the pulse, two more would bare the limb, apply a ligature above the wound, to check the flow of blood, and while one held it the other would make the forked incisions down to the bone all around the member, an attendant with a sponge wrung out of water stood by to mop away the blood so that the operator could see what he was doing, then the one holding the limb would, with both hands, pull back and hold them, while the operator sawed the bone, the operating Surgeon then got out a fine steel hook, with which he picked up and drew out the ends of the arteries, which another tied with silk thread to stop the bleeding all the while the man with the sponge was busy mopping away the blood, so that the operator could see to find the ends of arteries, which he detects by the little stream of blood spurting from each. The flaps were then brought together over the end of the sawed-off bone and sawed to each other, the stump mopped off, bandaged up, the chloroform shut off, and the victim is carried away and laid in a row on the floor with others who have been operated upon. I stood by and saw several of these amputations performed, and although it is many years since, those scenes were so vividly impressed on my memory that my recollection of them seems quite fresh.

There were quite a number of amputations performed, and I heard it said afterward that nearly every man who had a limb taken off died soon after, from the effects of the operation. This bad result was charitably attributed to the extremely hot weather at the time.

It is lamentable, but every one who witnessed the care or want of it, rather, that was often bestowed on our wounded soldiers after a battle, must be satisfied that thousands of lives of brave men were wantonly and uselessly sacrificed for want of proper attention. I fully realize the uselessness of crying over spilt milk, but I am writing my experience and impressions of the war, and these are of them.

Some of the subjects of amputation did not seem to revive readily from the effects of the chloroform, and probably some never regained consciousness, as, in the rush of surgical work, doctors and assistants had but little time to devote to resuscitating the patients. they were simply carried away from the table after the chloroform was removed from the nose and laid in a row with others and left to revive or not, according to the vitality of the man. Some, however, recovered their sensibilities almost as soon as the handkerchief was removed from their noses. this was especially the case with the battery sergeant, whom I had been so much interested in. After his leg was taken off, the stump done up and the chloroform taken away, he soon opened his eyes and remarked to one of the Surgeons. See here, Doc. if you're goin to take that leg off, you'd better be about it, I'm comin to. When told that his leg was already off and the stump done up in a rag, he raised himself a little on his elbows to look and see if such was really the case, remarking. Is that so? I didn't know a thing about it. And then asked, How goes the battle?

On being told that the rebels battery and their flag had been captured, and that the enemy was whipped and retreating he shouted, Glory to God! and fell back and was carried away by the attendants.

Growing tired of looking on at this butchery, I mounted my mule and rode out over the field, first making for the ground fought over by the negroes and Texans. I saw several bodies of the blacks lying among the sumac bushes as I rode to the cornfield where the Texans had stood, but our wounded had about all been taken in from that part of the field, and as the bushes obscured the view, the dead could only be found by searching among the sumac. Having finished gathering in our own wounded, the ambulances were now hauling in the wounded rebels.

When I think of them now, there were many unpleasant scenes on that little battlefield-some sad and pathetic, some horrible; but we got so used to such sights those days, that we became callused and indifferent oftern taking but slight notice of very serious affairs.

In the cornfield the men in gray lay pretty thick, although the fence must have been some protection to them. The corn was mostly cut down by bullets or trampled down by the Texans. An ambulance was loading up some wounded rebels, the dead being left where they lay to be gathered together and buried afterward the ambulance men merely examining them sufficiently to ascertain that they were past the surgeon's help.

For convenience in letter-writing soldiers in those times would frequently carry a small pocket memorandum, with a few envelopes and a pencil inserted. The leaves of the memorandum would just slip into the envelopes. Indenting his letter on the pages of the little book, when finished, the soldier tore the leaves out, slipped them into an envelope and addressed it with pencil. As it was often an impossibility for the soldier to get postage stamps, both our Government and the rebels passed laws-authorizing the Adjutants of regiments (who performed the duties of postmasters) to forward all letters from soldiers free, in place of a stamp merely writing the words soldier's letter.

In looking over the dead rebels as they lay in the corn rows, I noticed one of those little memorandum books, with a piece of lead pencil in it, sticking out of a pocket of one, and the manner in which it was placed, half-way in the dead man's pocket, looked as though he had been writing up his diary, or a letter, and some interruption had caused him to close the book with piece of pencil in the place where he had left off writing, to be resumed later on.

Withdrawing the little book from his pocket, I opened it at the pencil and found that the man had been writing a letter to his mother and sister, back in Texas, which the beginning of the battle had interrupted, never to be finished. Accustomed as I was to the rough scenes of war and their cruel results, the reading of that sad, unfinished last message of a son and brother to his loved mother and sister at home, brought tears into my eyes; and, ashamed to let the near-by soldiers, who were picking up the wounded, see my weakness, I put the book in my pocket, and mounting my mule rode off into the timber, where I could finish reading it unobserved.

I cannot remember the exact wording of this letter, but it was very sad, pathetic in the extreme, and foreboding. The writer seemed to have a presentiment that this would be his last fight. He was not afraid to die, as he said, in a good cause; his greatest anxiety being, who will care for mother and sister when I am gone; and saying that in case of the unfortunate result to himself, which he anticipated, he could only commend his loved ones to the care of that Greatest Friend of the widow and orphan, who never fails to heed their cry of distress. As for himself, if he was taken away, he would meet his fate like a soldier, saying with becoming resignation, thy will be done. This was evidently, although wearing the uniform of a private soldier, a man of some intelligence, and far above the average of Southern soldiers in the ranks. He quoted scripture to prove that their cause was right, and must prevail; but those Southerners were always glib with scriptural quotations to sustain them.

Still, the fact of their always trying to justify themselves in making war against the North was strong evidence to me that they were not so dead sure that they were right after all.

The last paragraph of this man's letter read about like this. The Yankees have opened on us with their big guns. Their shot and shells are crashing through the tops of the trees, but doing us little or no harm, as they pass over our heads. We are ordered forward to see what they are doing, I suppose, and at the next halt I will try to finish this letter. But he never finished it.

As there was no name in the book, I concluded to take it to the Texas prisoners and try if any of them could recognize the book and writing, or, by such description as I was able to give of him, could tell who he was, and would take charge of the message and try to sand it to that mother and sister, who would be waiting and watching with aching hearts for a word from that loved one who was never to come hove to them, and the resting place of whose bones, even, they would never know.

Just then I noticed a dense smoke rising up on the higher ground where the rebel camp had been, and I galloped across the creek and up the hill to the fire. The rebels had set fire to some buildings containing stores that they had to abandon on retreating. Our soldiers had got ther in time to save some of the stuff, but most of it burned. A lot of their tents were still standing, and clothing and other property scattered about showed that they had left in quite a hurry. No pursuit was made beyond this point, and the enemy was undisturbed in their retreat to North Fork Town, on the Canadian River.

Why was it that military leaders, on both sides during the war so seldom availed themselves of an opportunity to improve a victory by following up the defeated and disheartened foe in retreat, and inflicting further punishment on him? I know that it is generally said in such cases that the victors were not able to follow and fight, being too badly punished themselves. But it does not seem possible that a victorious army is always so badly used up as not to be able to muster still a sufficient force of men who are able to follow and pound the demoralized foe, harassing their rear at least and capturing more prisoners and property, if a strenuous effort was made to do so. I think this could easily have been done at Honey Springs.

In returning to our camp near the hospital I rode through the timber off toward what had been the right of our line. Here, also, were plenty of the familiar signs of the battle-dead men, dead mules, dead horses; scattered clothing, arms and equipment's; in several places I saw piles of rolled blankets (the way that soldiers roll and tie them to carry slung around the body on the march), also haversacks, knapsacks, canteens and clothing, where some of the rebel regiments had lightened themselves to go into action, piling their surplus stuff on the ground, and had then probably been moved off to another part of the field, from which they had begun their retreat without having an opportunity to return and recover their baggage. Some of our soldiers were ransacking this baggage and appropriating such as they desired.

On returning to my camp I went again to the hospital, near which the rebel prisoners were being guarded, to inquire among them concerning the identity of the writer of the letter I had found; and was gratified to find some men who said they recognized the little book and writing, and that they knew the man's mother and sister and would send the message to them together with an account of his death.

I here witnessed some more tearful and heartwringing scenes among the wounded and dying Texans, who were laid out under the shade of some large trees, where some of their sound comrades were doing what they could to console them and relieve their sufferings.

Some of our soldiers-even the " niggers" forgetting the fierce hatred with which they had met and fought these men a short time ago, were now cheerfully assisting in alleviating the sufferings of the wounded Texans so far as it was in their power to do so. It is a redeeming feature of the war to see the magnanimity with which the true American soldier treats his fallen foe. (I don't include the Indians and rebel bushwhackers in this statement.) As long as the enemy is up in arms each one does his level best to kill the other, but when one has fallen and cries enough, then the sympathy of the true soldier asserts itself, and the victor, laying aside his recent animosity, extends a helping hand to his prostrate foe, and is ready to divide his hardtack and blankets with him.

But this spirit of generosity seems utterly wanting among the Indians (either rebel or Union), or the rebel bushwhackers. The Indian and Missouri bushwhacker is about on a par in fiendish brutality to helpless prisoners. My personal experience among both classes confirms me in this opinion. Only for the restraint of their white officers, our Indians would have spared none that fell into their hands, and often, like the rebel bushwhackers, did kill the Prisoners they took, when their white officers were not present to prevent it. They were almost as cruel and relentless as the wild Indians on the frontier.

Among the severely wounded rebels I noticed a palefaced boy of about 20, who was evidently nearing the end. An elderly man knelt by him whom the young man called Uncle, and between gasps he was giving to the uncle some verbal messages to deliver to the home folks, whom he would never see again in life. As he seemed to realize that his remaining moments were few, he asked his uncle to pray for him; and as the old man poured forth a homely but fervent appeal for mercy and for- giveness for the soul that was about to ascend to its maker, the lips of the youth moved as if repeating the words of the uncle; but before the end of the prayer the expression of suffering on the boy's face relaxed into a peaceful calmness, the spirit had passed out. As the old uncle pronounced his Amen one of our soldiers who was standing by uttered solemnly the words Mustered out mustered in! And then added with what seemed an assumed air of levity as he turned away, I'll bet four dollars and a half that rebel slipped into Heaven! As though he was surprised to think that one of them might possibly get there, but there was a sympathetic tear in his eye that gave the lie to his doubting expression.

Among the other rebel wounded some were praying, some were dictating last messages to loved ones at home, while others who were too far gone to more than groan were being prayed for by comrades who knelt beside them. As I walked away from this sad scene to hide the tears I could not keep back, the words of a song that was often sung by the soldiers, called the Soldier of the Legion, came freshly to mind.

A soldier of the Legion Lay dying in Algiers

There was want of woman's nursing,

There was dearth of woman's tears;

But a comrade knelt beside him,

While his life blood ebbed away,

And bent with pitying glances

To hear what he might say

The dying soldier faltered

As his comrade took his hand,

Saying Alas! I never more shall see

My own dear, native land;

Bear a message and a token

To some distant friends of mine;

For I was born in Bingen

Calm Bingen on the Rhine.

Going back into the operation room of the hospital, I found the Surgeons were now busy amputating limbs for the rebel wounded. One Capt. Maloy, of the 27th Texas a fine-looking young Irishman, was on the table to have his leg taken off. He begged the doctors to spare the limb and let him die a whole man, for he said he knew he would die anyway: but they insisted that taking the leg off might save his life, and off it came.

This rebel, Captain Maloy, seemed to take his misfortune hard, and after he was carried from the table and laid on the floor, I walked over and stood by him. He had drawn a tintype from his breast pocket and was contemplating it earnestly, while his eyes filled with tears. Noticing my sympathetic looks he reached the picture to me, saying impulsively. Look at her. Ain't she a beauty? The blamedest best girl in Texas! But she's lost to me now. And that Bass, my Colonel. I mean, is the cause of it. him! You see, he and I were both courtin' her, an' ther was no show for him while I was on the string, so I think he concluded today in the fight that now was a good time to get rid of me; and so he left us in the cornfield when he retreated with the rest of the regiment, without sayin' a word about retreatin' at all, knowin', as he must, that we would be killed or captured. Well, he's succeeded only too well in puttin' me out of his way; for even if I should live to get well, the girl would hardly choose a one-legged cripple in preference to a whole man.

I tried to console him by remarking, I wouldn't be discouraged, If she loved you she'll surely not go back on you on account of your misfortune. I don't know about that, he replied doubtfully. Bass is a blamed fine looking fellow himself. Can ride like a Camanche; dead shot with a pistol or rifle; can rope an' throw a steer with any cowboy' an' with a nice uniform on, such a fellow'd be a devil to capture the women's heart, at least Texas women. I'm afraid I'd stan' a poor show a one-legged cripple hobblin' about on crutches ag'in (sic against) a whole man, and fine-lookin' fellow like Bass ______ _______ him! I don't think it'd be worth me while to go back, if I get over this, for it'd kill me dead entirely to be refused by that girl, an' see the other fellow walk away with her.

He was truly a fine-looking young fellow, and in appearance well calculated to win and hold the affections of any girl. I tried to cheer him up by assuring him that if his girl truly loved him she would stick to him even without a leg at all, but he did not seem to feel hopeful. Possibly he had well founded doubts of his hold on the girl's affections. He expressed deep gratitude for the kind treatment and sympathy that he and his comrades had received from our men since their surrender, and shook hands with me at parting. I never saw him again, but was told a few days later on inquiry that he died in the hospital at Fort Gibson shortly after being removed to that place, from the effects of the amputation. He was at least saved the humiliation of being refused by that girl, an' seein' the other fellow walk away with her. At the end of the day's work for the surgeons there was quite a little mound of legs and arms in front of the hospital door where they had been tossed out as they were taken off, which I caused to be hauled away and buried the next day.

The rebel wounded, as they were somewhat scattered in the timber and brush, and difficult to find, were not all gathered in when night put a stop to the work; and no doubt many a poor fellow moaned out his life all alone before morning for want of medical assistance. Considering that the rebels had so much the advantage of us in being familiar with the locality, choosing their own ground to fight on, being sheltered by the timber, and having a fair pick at our men as they advanced over open ground and also having a force about equal to ours, taking all these advantages, which they possessed, into consideration, they made a poor fight. They ought to have been able to whip us, and probably would if they had been well handled; but their Generals, Cooper and Stand Waitie, were never successful in a pitched battle, their best hold being raiding and guerrilla war, and seemed to have made up their minds that they were going to get whipped before our men came in sight, probably greatly magnifying our numbers, and prepared to fall back on North Fork Town accordingly.

A message was received here this day (July 17, 1863), by General Blunt, forwarded from Gibson, announcing the glorious victories of our armies, after three days of desperate fighting at Gettysburg, Pa., and also the surrender of Vicksburg, Miss., where Grant took General Pemberton and 35,000 rebels, after a siege and bombardment of several months' duration, both of which important events had been brought to a close on the glorious 4th of July, '63.

It had taken 13 days for the news to reach us. Such cheering as our men did on receipt of the glad tidings might have been heard a long way down in Dixie.

It was confidently predicted that these crushing defeats of the rebels would certainly bring the war to a close in a few months-that the backbone of the rebellion was surely broken this time, and the Southern Confederacy was dead, but in spite of these prophecies that defunct institution with the disjointed spinal column managed to worry along, and made it mighty interesting for us for nearly two years longer.

After the battle of Honey Springs the contemptuous epithet of ______ niggers, that had previously been used so freely in speaking of the colored troops, was adopted by them as a title that they seemed rather proud of. It was common to hear the black fellows speak of their regiment as the 1st Kansas damned niggers. The conclusion I arrived at in reference to the fighting qualities of the colored soldiers is that they will probably do as good service as the white troops if officered and led by brave and efficient white officers. The negro having always been accustomed to look up to the whites as a superior race naturally consider them their masters, and give them prompt obedience. But I noticed that where men of their own color are appointed as officers over them they don't have the same confidence in these as in the white officers.

I deduce the rule that a brave and efficient white officer will make out of the average freedman a good soldier, and vice versa. The negro soldier is perfectly willing to let his white officer do his (the soldier's) thinking' but, lacking that self reliance that the superior intelligence of the white soldier gives him, is more liable to a panic than the white.

The white soldier on the contrary in spite of the oftrepeated assertion of his superiors. You have no right to think-your officers are paid to do your thinking which is dinned (sic drilled) into him from his enlistment will persist in running a thinkery of his own, and where thrown upon his own resources is by no means helpless, as the darky generally is.

The next day after the battle we spent in burying the dead-our own first and then the rebel dead-and on the day following (the 10th) we moved back to Gibson.

On the return trip we found that both the Arkansas and Grand Rivers had fallen sufficiently so that we could easily ford them and dispense with the ferryboat which, with a detail of soldiers, I towed back up to its old place in Grand River at Fort Gibson.

As I crossed the river with my train at the ford where the team of the negro regiment had been drowned, the wagon and dead mules were visible above water, and some of the black soldiers swam out to it, and fished out the bodies of the driver (one of whose feet was found to be fast in the stirrups), and the two darky soldiers who had drowned in the wagon. These were drawn ashore by ropes. The swimmers then attached one end of a stout rope to the team, carried the other end ashore, and a party of men soon pulled the team of dead mules and wagon to the edge of the water where the carcasses were stripped of the harness and allowed to float down the river, and the wagon was pulled up onto dry ground, another set of mules put into the harness and the wagon taken away, carrying the bodies of the drowned negroes.

Taking my teams out to the hayfield, I again resumed the hay-hauling. Blunt's little army was again dispersed, some remaining at Fort Gibson, some going to Fort Smith, and other points, the General with an escort flying himself to Kansas presumably to enjoy the felicitations and congratulations of his fellow citizens on his recent victory.