"Painful, but not fatal. O, it was a glorious fight!"
It was a glorious fight. Wilson Creek is doubly historic ground. There first a thousand of our men poured out their blood like water, and the brave Lyon laid down his life "for our dear country's sake." Two months later, the same stream witnessed the charge of the Body Guard, which, in those dark days, when the Cause looked gloomy, thrilled every loyal heart in the nation. It will shine down the historic page, and be immortal in song and story.
Major Frank J. White, of our army, was with the Rebels as a prisoner of war during the charge. Just before they were routed, fourteen men, under a South Carolina captain, started with him for General Price's camp. At a house where they spent the night, the farmer boldly avowed himself a Union man. He supposed White to be one of the Rebel officers; but, finding a moment's opportunity, the major whispered to him:
"I am a Union prisoner. Send word to Springfield at once, and my men will come and rescue me."
The Rebels, leaving one man on picket outside, went to bed in the same room with their prisoner. Then the farmer sent his little boy of twelve years, on horseback, fourteen miles to Springfield. At three o'clock in the morning, twenty-six Home Guards surrounded the house, and captured the entire party. Major White at once took command, and posted his guards over the crestfallen Confederates.
While they sat around the fire in the evening, waiting for supper, the Rebel captain had remarked:
"Major, we have a little leisure, and I believe I will amuse myself by looking over your papers." Whereupon he spent an hour in examining the letters which he found in White's possession. In the morning, when the party, again sitting by the fire, waited for breakfast, the major said, quietly:
"Captain, we have a little leisure, and I think I will amuse myself by looking over your papers." So the Rebel documents were scrutinized in turn. White returned in triumph to Springfield, bringing his late captors as prisoners. A friendship sprang up between him and the South Carolina captain, who remained on parole in our camp for several days, and they messed and slept together.
Welcome from Union Residents.
When our troops entered Springfield, the people greeted them with uncontrollable joy; for they were intensely loyal, and had been under Rebel rule more than eleven weeks. Scores and scores of National flags now suddenly emerged from mysterious hiding-places; wandering exiles came pouring back, and we were welcomed by hundreds of glad faces, waving handkerchiefs, swinging hats, and vociferous huzzas.