Letter No. 10.
Dear Doctor:-
Sometime along in the latter happenings recorded in our last letter, or soon
thereafter, in the month of August, 1862, perhaps the last of August, we were very busy
trying to get our work done up to be ready to be called into active service, which we were
sure would soon come. It was one Saturday morning,-the Baptist people were to have
church that day. About 9 o’clock A. M., one of our neighbors,-Bill Greenwood, came
almost out of breath, to report “Rebels at Hammock’s,-about twelve or fourteen of them!
They are all dirty and ragged and are armed with old long rifles and shot guns!” Father
said to the writer, “Henry, take your shot gun and get to Powers across the fields as
quickly as you can get there and report to him.” Away we went on a two mile run and
found Capt. Powers busily engaged erecting a piazza to his house. The “meeting folks”
were already assembling. On hearing our report, the captain said,- “You take the main
Fredericktown road and proceed until you reach Hammock’s, or until you find out about
them, and at once report to me what you discover.” Hammocks lived about 3 1/2 miles
above Capt. Powers’ on this road. So away we went, but had proceeded only a bit over a
mile, just above the junction of the Fredericktown and Greenville road and the Coldwater
and Marble Hill road, when we saw two tolerably well dressed men with linen dusters on
and about a hundred yards behind them were the supposed gang of rebs of 12 men. We
fetched our shot gun to a “Ready” and the two men put up their hands and said, “O, we
are all right. We are recruiting officers getting up volunteers for the Union Army!” We
said, “All right, sir! You go on down to Capt. Powers’ and you’ll find plenty of such
men!” We then let them go by and we continued up the road and after passing the
supposed rebs, they began cheering us. Soon, we met father, two brothers and the three
Greenwood boys and Henry Pugh, all armed to the teeth. Father was sure angry because
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the captain had ordered us to go all alone to encounter- he did not know who, or how
many. These men had come to Hammock’s from towards Fredericktown and there they
found Bill Greenwood at Hammock’s, hunting horses. They at once began asking Mrs.
Hammock such questions as a gang of rebels would, who were making their way south.
Young Greenwood said to Mrs. Hammock that he would go down the road to see if he
could fine (?) his horses,-so he rode slowly until out of sight, then he tried his horse’s
bottom for all that was in him until he reached home a mile and a quarter below,-then to
our house.
Well, it was found that this was Capt. Jennings of Arkansas. His papers showed
that he belonged to the scout service for Uncle Samuel. Mrs. Hammock’s sympathies
were not with “Father Abraham” No. 2, so as soon as young Greenwood was out of sight,
she tried to persuade the supposed rebs to return back up the road and make southeast for
Bear Creek through the woods, for she said, “That young man will report you to them
black Republicans down thah,- about a hundred of them and they will git you!” She
further said, “If I had time, I’d make you some good “Linkum” coffee, but I’m afraid the
black Republicans will be up on you before I could git it made.” Capt. Jennings failed to
abide by her counsel. Not many days hence father was ailing and remained at home to
rest, and one Ellis Kemp, and old Tennessee acquaintance, who then lived a few miles up
in Madison County, on the St. Francois River, came and spent several hours with father,-
putting in his best pleadings to borrow one of our guns. Finally father said, “Well, Ellis,
we bought these guns and revolvers for our own defense, and if occasion requires it, we
will surely use them.” That settled it, so far as the gun borrowing went. Kemp soon left
and went in the direction of his home, but he never saw his home again. He had been an
active rebel in the zenith of Col. Lowe’s glory and two of his boys had served six months
in Lowe’s Regt. of rebel militia. Kemp himself had run off south after it got too hot for
rebel soldiers in Wayne or Madison Counties, and took his negro man. Things were too
gloomy for him down south and he came back and the “Haw Eaters” had taken him
where he could “take(?) the oath of allegiance”. The next day after Kemp was at our
house, we were all at work in the tobacco field nearly a mile and a half from home, and in
the afternoon our little sister (the only female then in our family) came running to us and
told us that “Capt. Jennings called for you, Pa, and said that he wanted to see you badly
and right quick!” Then we got our orders in these words, “Henry, you go down by
Belcher’s as quickly as you can get there (1 1/2 miles) and come across the fields home
(nearly a mile) and report what you see and learn!” Away we went and found Mr.
Belcher walking the entry, as pale as death. He was a slave owner and a southern man.
We asked, “Soldiers Here?” “Yes” he said, “the dining room in full of them!” We took a
look and saw that the long dining table was full of “Feds”,twelve of them!” We cut
actors the fields home, passing their horses and a guard over them in the horse lot, eating
their feed. Reaching home, we reported, “All right!” The ragged, supposed rebs had
already gone up to Hammock’s to get their “good Linkum” coffee. They got it and no
mistake. Capt. Jennings ate his dinner at the Greenwoods, where he knew he was
welcome.
Now it developed (to the right ears of course,) that on his way down, Capt.
Jennings met up with old man, “Dan” Morris, on the head of Twelve Mile Creek, who
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thought as did Mrs. Hammock, that Capt. Jennings and his men were genuine rebs,
slipping through our lines south. Morris told Capt. Jennings that his business was to pilot
men going south, down Twelve Mile Creek, to one Mr. Sanders, and he piloted them to
Ellis Kemp on the St. Francois River, and he to their regular line south, down Black and
Currant River, then south. He also told Capt. Jennings that Ellis Kemp was the head
commander-in-chief of the “:Knights of the Golden Circle” and that Mr. Sanders was
second in command. Furthermore, we learned that they had already planned to visit
Cedar Creek,- “Black Republican Hole”- under the guise of a friendly visit, as many to
each Union man’s house as was supposed to easily manage him, then by force, disarm
him and kill the worst ones and take our arms to arm men going south. Ah! That
explained Ellis Kemp’s visit to our house the day before. Thinking, no doubt, that we
might be hard to handle, he could borrow one of our guns and so weaken our fighting
power, or at least, succeed in getting one of our guns anyhow! Well, it is needless to tell
everything now, but there is one thing sure, some of the “rag-a-muffins” two of them,
found Sanders’ house that night after dark and plead that they were southern men, trying
to find their way south and they wanted to see Mr. Sanders. Mrs. Sanders (poor woman,
we now shed tears of actual sorrow for her) sent out and called Mr. Sanders and he went
out with these two men, but soon found himself surrounded with a ring of “blue coats’.
Capt. Jennings then pressed (?) into service one Mr. Conway, a concrete house builder, as
a pilot. They took Sanders with them and rode for Ellis Kemp’s place. They left Sanders
about a mile and a half east of Kemp’s with one more hole in his head than was good for
his well being in this life. Kemp had not yet reached his home, but they took his son Jeff
a prisoner (Jennings said he caught Jeff in,- not the truth) and rode back along the road
passing by the cold body of poor Sanders. As they were making their way up Twelve
Mile Creek, two boys in advance inquired at a house if they knew anything of Ellis
Kemp’s whereabouts. The woman pointed to a house over the creek a quarter of a mile
away and off the road, and said, “Mr. Kemp is over yonder to Mr. Ferguson’s, as Mr.
Ferguson is sick.” They wheeled their horses and put spur and soon had Kemp in
custody. A neighbor woman (Mrs. Rebecca Bess) was present when the woman told of
Kemp’s whereabouts and she said, “Now you’ve done it!” “What?” asked the woman.
“Why” said Mrs. Bess, “They’ll kill that man!” “Law me!” was all the poor woman
could say as she wept. Kemp was carried up Twelve Mile Creek until Dan Morris was in
custody and when they had returned a short distance down the creek, Capt. Jennings was
talking to Kemp, but he was dumb to all questions. Then Capt. Jennings dropped back
among the soldiers (detachment of the 13th Ill. Cav.) and said, “One of you boys ride up
there and shoot that man!” His order was at once obeyed. Kemp was shot in the side of
his neck, then he rode along apparently unconcerned, for some 8 or 10 steps, then fell off
of his horse, a dead man! The latter part of this story was related to the writer over 12
months afterwards by one of Capt. Jennings men,- George Harris, whom he met in
another Regiment. Well, it is needless to only add that this affair forever ended the
operations of the “K. G. C.“ in our vicinity. Jeff Kemp and Dan Morris went to prison.
Gen Sherman never told a stronger truth than when he said “War is Hell!”
The above story has never before been on paper, or but little sketches of it, and we
don’t suppose that there is a living person who ever knew all of the links as the writer
now knows and remembers them. While rather tedious to read, perhaps, it shows what
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some of the attending evils were, in our great strife for our country and the flag. It now
looks hard to think that such things were done then, - but a war, such as ours was, it not
all battle field glory. Capt. Jenning’s name should go down in history in honor, because
he saved many lives by his vigilance.
As the autumn of 1862 wore along, Greenville and Patterson were alive with
“blue coats”, - Patterson in particular. Quite an army was gathering at Patterson and a
fort was built on the high knob of a hill south of the town, at the base of which is the
town of Patterson. The remains of this old earthwork is still to be seen. The O. S.
Presbyterian Church house was used as a commissary store house and was surrounded
with a high palisade of heavy timbers and block houses built on the east and on the west
sides of the palisades. The army that gathered there reached perhaps 15,000 to 20,000
men. The old 25th Mo. Inft. Vols. repaired the road from Pilot Knob to Patterson,
completing their task in December of that year. Sometime in September, perhaps, Col.
Thos. C. Fletcher organized the 31st Mo. Inft. Vols., Capt. Jas. S. McMurtry enlisted and
organized Company H of that regiment with Henry V. Mabrey as his 1st Lieutenant, and
John A. McKinnis was his orderly sergeant. A great many of Capt. McMurtry’s men
were from Wayne County. Some few are yet living. Lieut. Ike Davidson assisted in
enlisting another company for the 31st Mo. Several of his men were Wayne Countyans
also. Some complaints were laid against Lieut. Davidson’s methods of enlisting
volunteers (?). The complaint mainly was, that he took men prisoners and threatened
them with lead if they did not enlist. Some of this kind of volunteers, after drawing their
clothes, blankets, haversacks and canteens, took “French leave of absence” and never
went back. One of the canteens of one of Lieut. Davidson’s volunteers is now in
possession of the writer, now often doing service to carry water and especially “good
Linkum coffee” to the woods,- not now to hide out from the rebs, but to survey lands.
Patterson was a secondary base now. Gen. Thos. Benton moved southwest. Then
later on, the command broke camps at Patterson and moved to the front, - many of them,
including the 31st Mo. Inft. Vols. went to Sherman at Vicksburg, Miss., where these
regiments were cut up badly in the charge at Chickasaw Bayou in front of Vicksburg, on
Dec. 29th, 1862. Capt. McMurtry and Col. Fletcher were made prisoners and sent to
Libby Prison in Richmond, Va., but were exchanged for in time to be in it at the seige
and capture of Vicksburg, on July 4th, 1863. Then soon after, the 31st and 32nd were
consolidated and the surplus officers, Com. and non-com. were discharged, or that was
our information.- But back to Southeast Missouri. Company K, 68th E. M. M., or details
thereof, were doing scout duty, often picking up straggling rebel soldiers and the “lay
out” fellows who were evading enrollment in the E. M. M.
It was on Friday night, Oct. 17th, 1862, there came a snow about 5 inches deep.
There had been no frosts as yet, to kill the green vegetation, and it was a singularly
beautiful sight to go out in the woods and see the golden rod and other late fall blooms,
and the green grass protruding above the beautiful white snow. The green trees hung
loaded with snow also. (We once thought that this snow fell the night of Oct. 24th, 1862,
but yield to better testimony.) After daylight, the writer and his oldest brother went on a
deer hunt and in a half, or three quarters, of a mile of town, the writer saw two deer
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laying down and as he carried a shot gun and his brother a rifle, he failed to show the deer
until they sprang up and ran. Taking the trail, we followed them around, then recrossed
the woods road and found that there were two horsemen following our trail in the snow.
They had returned in the direction of our home. So we “cut snow” in a hurry for home.
It was our Comrade John B. Graham and another comrade hunting us, as Capt. Powers
had concluded to go at once on a “still man hunt”. His usual signal to call together his
men was the firing of three “anvil guns”. This time we wanted no such advertisement of
our moves. Father was then 2nd Lieut. of Company K, 68th E., M. M. and our oldest
brother, E. A. Wilkinson, was orderly sergeant. So they at once reported for duty, but the
writer still belonged to the infantry division of Company K, and so had to remain at
home, and he and the other brother went to bed and slept soundly, while the green
tobacco hanging in the barn was growing as black as an old woolen hat. Singular to
relate, but after throwing away a large quantity of this ruined tobacco, but saving the
better part to go in the “lug hogshead” which, when “prised” and shipped and sold in the
St. Louis market, about 1500 lbs. in that “lug Hogshead” the spring following, it brought
us 29 cents per pound! We had often heard it said, “The bigger the fool, the better the
luck.” But this time we thought that laziness came in for “luck” once in a while, just as
well.
This sudden unseasonable and unexpected snow drove in the “lay out” fellows, as
well as many rebel soldiers then laying out around their homes, - some ex-rebel soldiers
also. Capt. Powers knew every man far and near and his politics, and he correctly
concluded that this was his last time to make a “still-drive man hunt”. He divided his
men into two or three, or perhaps more parties and sent them in different direction,- going
in person in command of one of these parties. Some of them went up as far east as Castor
River and on East Big Creek and Shetley’s Creek. Others went up on the St. Francois
River. They were out all day Saturday, the 18th of Oct. Saturday night and until dark
Sunday night, Their game filled the house of Wm. E. Miller of Cedar Creek, full as it
would hold. Quite a number of these men were rebel soldiers and ex-rebel soldiers and a
large number were of the “lay out” men. The writer was detailed as one of the guards for
the night. The next day, the 20th, we took our game to Patterson, pausing by the farm of
Mr. Hugh Fulton, a mile and a quarter north of Patterson. As Patterson was the a “Camp
of instruction”, we saw Capt. McMurtry’s drilling Company H, 31st Mo. in Mr. Fulton’s
field near the house. Along the road to Patterson, we saw a large number of soldiers
engaged in the “skirmish drill”. We turned over our game to Col. Boyd, then in
command of the post of Patterson, or so the writer then understood. Quite a number of
our prisoners at once enrolled in Capt. Jas. E. Davis’ Company of the 68th E. M. M. and
were permitted to return to their homes. The other fellows were left squatted around a
log heap fire with a cordon of bayonets around them for good (?) company. We then
returned to our home.
Later on, in fact, it was in time of sharp frosty morning up in November, 1862,
there was a detail of 16 men under Lieut. J. M. Wilkinson, all of Company K, 68th
E. M. M., to make a night scout on Castor River in the west edge of Bollinger and
southeast corner of Madison County, as far as about where Marquand now stands. We
remember the names of some of those boys yet,- Sergts. Jas. A. Greenwood and Jas. P.
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Ellis, Corps. J. R. Sullivan and H. C. Wilkinson, Privates Thos. A. Miller, M. L. Butts,
Ab. Whitener, John Sullivan, Fred Patrick Sherry, (our Distint rilative) and Wash Sitze.
It was dark on Saturday night when we left Coldwater. Our officers knew that we were
going to hunt some of Gen. Jeffries’ men who were on a visit to their homes on Castor
River. Gen. Jeffries then held Bloomfield in Stoddard County. We raided the home of
Fred Whitener and other houses on our way up Castor River in the early night, but found
no game, except some pie of the corn shucking dinner of the day before. We rested a few
hours at Eli Sitze’s,- Comrade Wash Sitze’s home, where we were welcome. At about
four o’clock Sunday morning, we mounted and made up Castor River for Rock Point,-
then raided the house of Richards and found the nest of the birds we were hunting in a
nearby thicket, but no birds. On reaching the main road again, our picket there told us
they heard dogs barking at Frank Sitze’s house, west of us, across Castor River, and they
were sure they recognized Fred Whitener’s voice. “Eight men remain here and eight of
you follow me!” was Lieut. Wilkinson’s order. We remember we broke line to be one of
the “going eight”. “Game at hand!” It was a still frosty morning. “Trot up!” Came back
to us as we rode away. About a half mile, and we were in front of Frank Sitze’s, who
with his family were absent. Sergt. Greenwood and the writer rode so as to see back of
the house, “Hello!” No answer. Then we saw a man in blue step out on the back piazza
and dart back into the house. (The front doors were closed) Next we heard Lieut.
Wilkinson’s navy speak “in tones of thunder”. And we rolled off our horses and over the
fence as the pistols and guns began to crack in quick succession. On we dashed through
the yard and “Yonder they go.” Bang! Bang! Bang! Across a little field back of the
house were two men running for dear life. As we sprang over the fence into the woods,
we found Fred Whitener with a bullet hole all the way through the palm of his left hand,
breaking no bones. After the affair was over, he said to Lieut. Wilkinson, “You hit me as
I turned the corner of the smoke house.” We left him in charge of Comrade Sherry, and
as there was more game ahead, we ran on down the bottom in the woods and the
revolvers of Sergts. Greenwood and Ellis were speaking ahead of us. Soon we passed
Sergt. Greenwood all shot out. Then soon we overtook Sergt. Ellis as he snapped his last
cap at his man. He was fagged out. He said, “Yonder he goes!” We saw the man just
disappearing through the tall frost woods. We dashed across the slough, loosing our spur
and over the fence into the woods on the trail but soon we burst out of the tall weeds into
a level stubble field and “Yes, yonder he goes about thirty yards ahead.” A large, square,
portly man, he was, but he was so fagged out that he could only trot. We being of the
“lean hound” build, were just getting warmed up for a good run. We stopped and drew a
bead at about what we thought was the cross of his galluses and were pressing the trigger
of our Colt’s. Then the thought (happy Thought) flashed through our mind, - “First man
we ever fairly beaded! Shall we kill Him? No! One more chance.” “Halt!” He threw
up his hands, as he turned to face us. “Oh, yes, I’ll give up!” He said. This was Eph
Richards. On returning to the house, we found that Comrade Sherry and Ab Whitener
had taken a peep down in the cellar and behold,- a shoe with a foot in it up there between
the sleepers. “Crawl out of there!” and he crawled out. True to his practice then, his
name was Underwood. With a blue coat on, he was under the wood of that house.
Three! Eph Whitener, Eph Richards and --- Underwood. “Yes, we are Gen. Jeffries’
men,” they said, but now they were OUR men! They went to Patterson and we heard that
Richards on account of his boldness, never left there. Whitener died in prison. We never
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learned what of Underwood. Now, having fired our first shot (at Whitener) we felt as
large as a soldier. This was about the last scout of Company K before it was ordered into
active service.
Yours truly,
H. C. Wilkinson
Damon, Mo.