Letter No. 18.
THE GREAT – LITTLE BATLE OF PILOT KNOB.
Dear Doctor:-
In our story of the war of the Sixties, we have now come to the great pivotal event
of Southeast Missouri. With those who were engaged in this great-little battle, it was a
fearful ordeal,- a trial in which men’s souls were “tried by fire!” And without the guiding
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hand of an All-wise God, who cares for the right,- how was it possible for us to
successfully pass through this fearful ordeal?
We here give it a name,- Great-Little Battle of Pilot Knob, Missouri, fought Sept.
27th, 1864. We say “great” because, in the words of Col. Thos. C. Fletcher, “ It was an
affair so remarkable in many respects and of such momentous results. ---The fight at Pilot
Knob delayed Price’s entire force for three days, giving Rosecrans time to make such
disposition of his force as to not only make sure of the defense of St. Louis, but to meet
him at every important point,” and to shatter his forces and drive him from the state, a
mass of demoralization.
We say “little” because of the comparative insignificance of the numbers engaged
on the side of the United States,- 1063 men,- as opposed to the very least figures, 20,000
men led by able and experienced officers. “Official Confederate reports show that
Price’s army consisted of three divisions of ten brigades, made up from thirty-three
regiments, nine battalions and six batteries,” so it is seen that 20,000 men with Price in
his raid is a very low estimate. It is not reasonable to suppose that Gen. Price would
undertake such a task as the capture of St. Louis and Jefferson City unless he felt himself
surrounded with a sufficient force of men and guns to accomplish his purpose.
Waving all fear of being accused of egotism, I will tell my humble story as is
becoming an officer, although I was only an orderly sergeant. I will dare to use the
pronoun, I, in speaking of myself, as a participant in this great-little battle, so as to be
more clearly understood. I shall deal with nothing whatever but FACTS as I knew them
and now remember them, and with the help of my comrades and also, the help of, now,
my friends,- the ex-confederate soldiers, with who I have often consulted, who were
engaged in this great-little battle, and in particular, in their desperate but unsuccessful
assault on Fort Davidson. There is no need whatever to exaggerate or to paint in glowing
colors the story of this great-little battle, to give it prominence, for when the FACTS are
all in, it will read like fiction almost. There is no one human being who was then in or
about Fort Davidson during that desperate encounter who can, unaided by others, give
anything like a good word picture of what transpired upon that 27th of September, 1864;
because there is no human being who can see on all sides of himself at the same instant.
It was not a line battle, but it was a “round battle”. It was on all sides at the same instant.
It was yet dark when I awoke on the morning of Sept. 27th, 1864, to find my
blanket somewhat damp from the light shower that had fallen sometime in the latter part
of the night, and it was then cloudy and misting rain a little with a slight breeze bearing
from the north. Then I, at once, discovered that nearly all of Company H’s left wing,
with Lieut. Tate, were missing! This, the Captain explained, as related in Letter No. 17;
but I felt rather slighted at not being awakened to attend to the detail of the 35 men,
which was my duty as orderly sergeant of the company. Had I been consulted, I would
have nervously objected to Company H furnishing the entire detail of the 35 men, when
the call was on the whole 47th. They were to go where, and for what purpose, they knew
not. But good soldiers must obey orders,- asking no question.
Then, just as it was light enough to discern the outlines of a man’s body at a
hundred yards distance, the echoes of the beautiful valleys of Pilot Knob, Ironton and the
whole Arcadia Valley, and the surrounding mountains were awakened by the keen, sharp
crack of a single Dresden rifled musket down on Stout’s Creek, just east of Ironton. The
crack of the first shot fired that morning reminded me of the keen savage crack of the
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large bored target or hunting rifle of my bygone boyhood days. Then, instantly following
this first shot, another and another, then in quick succession, another, and then came the
fearful roll of muskets, carbines, Colt’s revolving rifles and revolvers of our boys, all
soon mingling with the roll of the enemies’ guns of different kinds,- rifles, shotguns,
muskets and revolvers. Thus opened the great-little battle of Pilot Knob! It seems
unreasonable to relate, but nevertheless it is true that, the first shot followed in quick
succession by others and the roll of musketry was heard where Piedmont now stands,- a
distance by railway of 39 miles! Often has my present companion told us of it. She had
just started to milk the cows when she heard the first shots, followed by roll of musketry,
and not then being in full sympathy with the “Yanks” she said she ran back into the
house, exclaiming “Pap! The Yankees are getting it now!” Soon, everything was astir in
and around Ft. Davidson and the town of Pilot Knob. How was it going down there with
the grand old 14th Iowa and the M. S. M., Company E of the 47th Mo. And Capt.
Montgomery’s two guns? (which had not as yet so much as said, “Good Morning, Johnny
Rebs!”)
We will now yield while Comrade Jas. F. Johnson answers our anxious inquiries
as to matters down at the front. Continuing his story, he says: “As daylight grew so as to
distinguish the outlines of a man’s body at about a hundred yards, we saw the rebels in
line in force immediately in our front, on the south side of Stout’s Creek, and along the
Fredericktown and Ironton Roads. Their line appeared to extend east to probably as far
as Russellville, and westward into Ironton across the Delano yards. Firing began at
once,- a single musket shot, followed in quick succession by another then another until it
was continuous roll of musketry. That part of the valley across which we lay, east and
west, is a rolling flat about a half, to three quarters of a mile wide, and our line far too
short to extend across it at this point, but it narrows very fast as it extends northward to
the east of the position of Maj. Wilson and the M. S. M. Cav. and far to the west of our
right wing. We began at once to retire northward towards the gap between Pilot Knob
and Shepherd’s Mountains, which is much less than a quarter of a mile wide, firing at
their rapidly advancing line as we fell back. As we approached this gap, Company E lay
on the west side along the base of Shepherd’s Mountain. The grand old 14th Iowa held
the flat in the gap along that prong of Stout’s Creek and Maj. Wilson with the M. S. M.
Cav. and Capt. Montgomery’s two guns held the base of Pilot Knob and the road from
Pilot Knob to Ironton, which sweeps around the western base of Pilot Knob Mt., where
the Iron Co.’s log houses stood. We lost no men in killed and wounded that I heard of up
to that hour, save a slight wound received in the head by Maj. Wilson the evening
before,- and the poor fellow who was killed by “Red Shirt”.
“Yes! Yonder they come, boys!” were the anxious words that ran along our line
as we stood in the rifle pit, ready for our part of the approaching struggle. As our boys
approached the gap, the firing slowed down as the rebels checked their advance, least
they should come into range of our guns in the fort. Company E was hidden from our
view by the timber and bushes along the base of Shepherd’s Mountain. The old 14th Iowa
halted in line in the flat about 80 yads north of the ford of the creek, but in plain view of
the fort and south rifle pit. Maj. Wilson could be plainly seen along the base of Pilot
Knob on the left of the narrowest part of the gap, as he directed the boys of the M. S. M.
Cav., and being somewhat elevated in their position, they could see down the upper end
of Ironton and the open space that extended northward to the old Brewery called the
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“Half way House,” which stood against the base of Shepherd’s Mt., or at a little below
the narrowest part of the gap. We could plainly see the M. S. M. boys as they were firing
on every rebel who dared to show himself in the open space north of Ironton. The
M. S. M. were slowly retiring as they fired, as the enemy began to crowd up his lines.
Then there were Montgomery’ two guns in the road retiring also, but hadn’t yet fired a
shot. Now they all halt near the southern end of the Iron Co.’s log houses along the road
at the base of Pilot Knob, but continued to fire at the enemy if he dared to expose himself.
Then, since daylight, we could see the person of Joseph A. Hughes, holding our
signal flag, silhouetted against the clouds as he stood on the top of that large ironstone
rock: that surmounted the bald, rugged peak of Pilot Knob. Every part of his body could
be plainly seen as he stood up there against the clouds in full view of the rebel host that
surged at his very feet and extended southward to Arcadia and eastward and westward
across the valley between the southern bases of Pilot Knob and Shepherd’s Mt., and all
through the town of Ironton.
Not belonging to the United States Signal Cops, I could not read his “Wiggles”
But supposed there was a man in Ft. Davidson who did understand them. For a time, he
and his flag were hid from us by a cloud of fog that rose up over Pilot Knob, which soon
cleared away, and but for the smoke thenceforward, we had a clear day. But the
breakfast bell had not yet rung! Something was wrong with our cooks, seems like. Ah,
yes! Yonder they come,- Ab. K. Whitener and Uncle Mike Butts, bearing camp kettles
full of good “Linkum” coffee and mess pans full of fried bacon and pickled pork and
plenty of hard tack. Then, as we stood at arms in line, we ate our much relished
breakfast, not then knowing how many “Minnie” holes might be in our stomachs by
dinner time, which really came, finding our stomachs yet whole, but empty, and no time
to fill them. The weather,- or something else there, in and around old Ft. Davidson was
getting rather too warm to eat with comfort, even if we had had pie and pound cake for
dinner.
Now, as we, at the south rifle pit, stood eating our breakfast, we saw the sutlers’
wagon drawn by two horses with two men standing in it, loaded with rations, leave the
Post Commissary over near the depot, in a fast trot, on their way to feed the hungry boys
yet in line below us, who had eaten nothing since dinner the day before. Now, they halt
in front of the old 14th Iowa boys, and hastily hurl out boxes of hard tack and joints of
raw bacon, but no hot coffee,- then on the sutlers’ wagon sped to relieve the hungry boys
of Company E. One 50 pound box of hard tack and a shoulder of raw bacon was poor
Company E’s breakfast. Now, they dart back across the narrow valley to feed the
M. S. M. boys with the two guns,- now away goes the wagon in a great hurry to get out of
the way of something else! How is it over there inside of old Ft. Davidson? Well, just
ask that busiest man in there and his busy assistant, Adjutant David Murphy and Lieut.
John Fessler, as they hurry hither and thither, getting things ready to “Open the ball” in
dead earnest. Adjt. Murphy was fort commander and Lieut. John Fessler was second in
command of the guns. They were “clearing deck for action” as the navy boys say. Then,
here comes a large stout man, bearing a gun scoop to draw the damp load from the big
southeast thirty-two, which had remained in the gun over night. Now he mounts the
south parapet and inserts his gun scoop and draws the shot, then the damp cartridge of
powder. Then they fire a primer, to open and dry the “touch hole” vent at the breach of
the gun. Then since soon after daylight, here and yonder rode small groups of cavalry
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and officers and their aides,- Gen. Ewing, Col. Maupin and other as they viewed the
ground and watched for the approaching enemy. Some rode into the gap by the furnace
along the Farmington Road, others up the railway to the stone culvert, others still,
scoured the wider open space that extended westward, between the bases of Shepherd’s
and Cedar Mountains. One time, as Gen. Ewing was passing near Company H, some one
called out, “Three cheers for Gen. Ewing!” Company H heartily gave them, as Company
G on our right and Company F on our left joined in. The General at once halted and
lifted his hat and made up a short, rousing speech. How I wish I could pen every word
then uttered by our noble, brave commander. One thing I still remember that he said, was
this,- “General Price and his rebel hordes shall not have one of you!” We just swallowed
every word that he then uttered; and but for the loss of poor Bill Jackson on the retreat to
Leasburg, Company H found that his prophecy came true. How highly honored we felt
by our General’s speech!
As the morning wore along, I began to wonder when the preliminaries would ever
end, but we were not kept waiting much longer. I think it was about 9:30 o’clock when
Gen. Ewing rode into the fort over the drawbridge and dismounted and he and Adjt.
Murphy (wish he’d hurry and get his much deserved commission so we could say
“Colonel Murphy”) came over to the south parapet and stood near each other on the south
parapet, to the right of the big thirty-two that looked down the gap toward Ironton, where
the enemy were then no doubt hastily forming their lines for the storm. Then Company
E, the 14th Iowa and the M. S.M. Cav. were called into the fort and Montgomery’s two
guns were ordered to a position on the north side of the fort near the north rifle pit, out of
our sight. In the meantime, Lieut. Fessler and his men were swabbing and loading the
big southeast Thirty-two. Gen. Ewing then adjusted his long spy glass and took a long
look down in the gap toward the Brewery and gave his first command to the artillery that
morning. It was, “Aim at the top of that sycamore tree, Captain!” Then as Adjt. Murphy
shouted, “Ready!” Fessler mounted the revolving beams upon which the gun carriage
rested, and with guide sight in hand, which he set in position on the ponderous breech of
the big gun, aimed as he adjusted the set screw beneath the breech of the gun, as his men
with hand spikes shoved the revolving beams to the right or left as the Lieutenant taps the
gun first on one side and then on the other, until she is within range,- the primer inserted
into the touch hole and the lanyard hooked into the twisted brass wire that passes through
the percussion in the inserted primer. Now, the man stands to the right of the gun,
holding the lanyard in his hand, waiting the word. Now we see Adjt. Murphy raise on
tip-toe to lessen the concussion as he gave the word,- listen! Fire! The lanyard is quickly
jerked by the man holding it and the earth beneath us shook as that big gun hurled the
first cannon shot fired that morning! As our eyes followed the direction of that first shot,
we saw it go crashing through the roof of one of the many ( and as we thought)
abandoned soldier’s shanties that stood scattered over the low flat below the fort, built for
soldiers’ winter quarters. As the roof fell in, to our surprise, two women ran out of this
shanty. Never in life will I forget the picture of those poor frightened women as they ran
with uplifted, outstretched arms across Stout’s Creek, as though it was not there?
Towards the old mule stockade-corral that stood at the bottom or mouth of the ravine at
the base of Shepherd’s Mt. A month later, after we had returned to Pilot Knob, some of
the boys of company H told me that up in this steep, rugged ravine behind the old corral,
there was a heap of sixteen dead rebels covered with brush and that there were two dead
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women among them! This first cannon shot did not pause or look back after the fleeing
women, but it plunged on its course, striking the ground down near the ford of Stout’s
Creek and exploded. It was a big thirty-two shell. Then followed another from the same
gun, which exploded some three or four feet above the ground at, or near the ford of the
creek. Then Adjt. Murphy and Lieut. Fessler at once began to hurry from gun to gun,
directing the several gunners as to the proper gauge, marked on the guide sight as the
proper range is obtained, until the whole of the nine guns mounted in the fort were in full
play. It was an awfully grand sight to see the high shells and shots as they went rushing
through the air on their mission of death! We could plainly see them as they seemed to
hang for an instant as a black spot against the sky. Then, after the shells would at once
disappear and in their stead, a large irregular, round cloud of smoke from the bursting
shell, then the “boom” like a clap of thunder without the roll.
Soon after the guns were in full play, Adjt. Murphy stood on the south parapet
and prepared for a grand volley of his artillery. I can yet see him as he stood there,
calling them by number,- “No. 1, Ready!” “No. 2, Ready!” “No. 3, Ready!” Looking
toward each gun as he called, until all were ready,- then, he raised on tip-toe and shouted
“Fire!” and as nine lanyards were suddenly jerked, the very earth seemed that it would
burst open under us and our heads burst with it! Lieut. Col. Maupin, our rifle pit
commander, was then sitting near me on the side of our rifle pit, and he said,- “Sergeant,
how do you like artillery practice?” I replied, “Finely, sir, but for the fearful sensation in
my ears.” Then we had quite a pleasant little talk as he related his past experience along
with the old 29th MO. (if I remember rightly.) Not far from this time, we noticed quite a
little stir among the guns looking west. They saw something over there in the “old
coalin’”. Soon Murphy and Fessler had their western guns in full play in that direction.
The shells began to burst over there near the northwest base of Shepherd’s Mt., to the
satisfaction of an old collier, who was assisting the gunners. As he watched the smoke
rise from the bursting shells, he shouted, “Now d—n ye, get out o’ our coalin’!” Then, as
Company A was sent out by Col. Thos. C. Fletcher, as he had command of the north rifle
pit, which was manned by company A, and perhaps Company I, 47th Mo. And Company
F 50th Mo., under Capt. Robt. Lindsay. We saw Company A as they marched under
Capt. Jas. S. McMurtry towards the base of Shepherd’s Mt., and heard Adjt. Murphy call
out,- “There they go! Three cheers!: And we gave them. They were going southwest
from the fort to inspect the northwest slope of Shepherd’s Mt., but they soon returned and
we supposed, as we heard no musketry in that direction, that they had struck no “game”
over there. It was about ten o’clock and our man Hughes still stood at his post on the
high, bald peak of Old Pilot Knob, “wiggling” messages, as to how our shots were
striking down about Ironton. As a shot was fired, he would churn his flag up and down,
then right, then left, then round and round in a circle above his head, then forward and
backward,- but I couldn’t read him. Then Capt. Powers ordered us to lay fence rail
across our rifle pit at the right of company H and to place our blankets across the rail, so
as to protect ourselves from flank shots that might soon be coming from Shepherd’s Mt.
And find our flank on that side exposed to the enemy’s fire. This we did, leaving a
middle pass, as for Company G, which they surely used in a hurry before night.
A bit after ten o’clock, we looked for Hughes again, but he was no more to be
seem up there on the peak of Pilot Knob. What’s the matter with him? O yes! Yonder
comes the enemy in a thin line, rushing down the western and northwestern slopes of
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Pilot Knob. Their right wing extending to the furnace! They are coming for us! Yes, we
now began to have a little musket practice to mix in with the now very active guns. The
more advanced part of their line rushed into the road at the base of Pilot Knob, among the
Iron Co.’s row of log houses, but we were soon too hot for them. They couldn’t endure
the shells and canister that Murphy and Fessler were hurling into their line together with
the “ping” of our “minnies”. They began to disappear at once, and much faster than they
had appeared. Then, at this moment, someone cried out; “They are robbing the Knob
store! They are robbing the Knob store!” This store stood not far west of the furnace,
and in plain view of the fort and both rifle pits. Then it was that Lieut. Feeler sprang to
the twenty-four Howitzer that stood south of and next to the gateway of the fort, and as
he did so, he ordered, “Canister!” All being ready, he shouted “FIRE!” Then as the
Howitzer belched forth its great load of iron shot, we saw a fine lot of round black spots
suddenly appear on the white walls of the Knob store and its nearby white-washed
warehouses! One of these old warehouses was still standing the last time I saw Pilot
Knob, a few years ago, all spotted with the canister shot holes. The “grapes” that Lieut.
Fessler handed out to them were not of the kind out of which we make grape jelly!
Then immediately our attention was called by Capt. Powers to a man on a white
horse down there at the base of Pilot Knob, close by the east side of the road about
opposite the ford of the creek. The captain said, “Mark that man down there on the white
horse!” Evidently he was an officer trying to get a good view of our position and
disposition. We at once opened fire on him with the caution of “Good bead, boys! Steady
aim!” We soon made him “skedaddle” out of our sight into the thick leafy bushes. Then
instantly, another saucy fellow appeared near the same place on a prancing sorrel horse.
He looked like a Texas Ranger, and before he got to a shelter, that gun of Montgomery’s
battery mounted in the southeast corner of the fort, got range of him and sent a percussion
shell at him, killing his horse and we supposed the rider also. In the spring of 1866, I
found the adjustable butt of a percussion shell among the bones of the sorrel horse.
After this little racket was ended, Company E was divided and a part was sent
under the command of Capt. Dinger to a position east of the Iron Furnace, and on the
north side of the Farmington Road. The other part was sent under the command of Lieut.
Geo. T. Tetley, up a bit above the base of Pilot Knob, southwest of the Iron Furnace.
Then Maj. Wilson was sent to a point not far from the Iron Furnace between Dinger and
Tetley. Comrade John L. Bennett of Company G, 47th, was gate guard at the fort all that
day, and he recently told me that he saw Maj. Wilson ride away from the fort gate on his
last mission in obedience to his own superior officers. Comrade Bennett said that the
sides of Maj. Wilson’s face and coat were all covered with dried blood from slight
wounds, (as he thought) that he received in the prelude of Monday evening down in
Ironton. Comrade Bennett said that the Maj. had only a very few men with him and he
then supposed that Maj. Wilson had been relieved on account of his wound and that he
was then starting to make his way to Gen. A. J. Smith, at De Soto. Then, not far from
that time, a rebel battery opened fire, somewhere near the upper end of Ironton. They
dare not push too far east so as to expose themselves to our view, but kept pretty well
behind the protruding nose of Shepherd’s Mt. Their shells flew harmlessly between us
and the old Pilot Knob depot. We could hear them screeching as they flew by, but not a
shell burst that we saw or heard. One of their gunners, Luther Glaves, told me sometime
after the war, that they got their shells wet while crossing Spring River in Arkansas, as
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