DEFENCE OF LEXINGTON, MISSOURI.
September 12–20, 1861.
One of the most exciting events of the war in the West was the defence of Lexington, Missouri, by Federal troops, commanded by Colonel James B. Mulligan, consisting of the Chicago Irish Brigade, eight hundred strong, four hundred Home Guards, and a part of the Missouri Eighth, under Colonel White; the Missouri Thirteenth, six hundred and fifty men, Colonel Peabody; Illinois First Cavalry, four hundred men, Colonel Marshall. In addition to these, Captain Graham, Lieutenant-Colonel White, Lieutenant-Colonel Given, and Major Wright had also small commands—in all, 2,780 men.
Lexington is the capital of Lafayette county, and contains a population of about five thousand. It is on the right bank of the Missouri river, one hundred and twenty miles west of Jefferson City, and three hundred miles from St. Louis. The heights on which the town is built command the river, and to a considerable extent the back country. Old Lexington, an earlier settlement, is situated east of the new town, back of the river, on the hills, where the main body of Price’s army was posted, while the attack was made from different points. Colonel Mulligan’s fortifications were between the two towns, and consisted of heavy earthworks, ten feet in height, with a ditch eight feet in width.
On the 1st of September, Colonel Mulligan, whose regiment was then encamped at Jefferson City, received orders to march to the relief of Lexington, then threatened by the enemy, and in six hours the regiment was on its way, and in nine days after entered the town, which they found occupied by Colonel Marshall’s cavalry, and a body of Home Guards. On the 10th a letter was received from Colonel Peabody, saying that he was retreating from Warrensburg, twenty-five miles distant, and that Price was pursuing him with ten thousand men. A few hours after, Colonel Peabody, with the Thirteenth Missouri, entered Lexington.
On the 12th, as the enemy drew near the city, two companies of the Thirteenth Missouri were ordered out as skirmishers, who recognized General Price (by the aid of glasses), leading on the advance guard of his men. Company I of the Irish Brigade held them in check until Captain Dillon’s company of the Thirteenth Missouri drove them back. Subsequently six companies of the Missouri Thirteenth and two companies of the Illinois cavalry were dispatched in search of the retreating enemy.
They engaged them in a cornfield, fought with them gallantly, and harassed them to such an extent as to delay their progress, in order to give time for constructing intrenchments around the camp on College Hill. This had the desired effect, and the Federals succeeded in throwing up earthworks three or four feet in height. This consumed the night, and was continued during the next day, the outposts still opposing the enemy, and keeping them back as far as possible. At three o’clock in the afternoon of the 14th the engagement opened with artillery. A volley of grapeshot was thrown among the officers, who stood in front of the breastworks. The guns within the entrenchments immediately replied with a vigor which converted the scene into one of the wildest excitement. At seven o’clock the enemy withdrew and the engagement ceased for the night.
Next morning General Parsons sent in a flag of truce, asking permission to bury his dead. The request was cheerfully granted, and the Federal troops willingly assisted in burying the fallen foe. On Tuesday the work of throwing up intrenchments went on. It rained all day, and the men stood knee-deep in the mud, building them. Troops were sent out to forage on the three succeeding days, and returned with large quantities of provisions and fodder.
All this time the pickets were constantly engaged with the enemy, well aware that ten thousand men were threatening them, and knowing that the struggle was to be a desperate one. Earthworks had been reared breast-high, enclosing an area of fifteen to eighteen acres, and surrounded by a ditch. Outside of this was a circle of twenty-one mines, and still further down were pits to embarrass the progress of the enemy. During the night of the 17th they were getting ready for the defence, and heard the sounds of preparation in the camp of the enemy for the attack on the morrow. At nine o’clock on the morning of the 18th, the drums beat to arms, and the terrible struggle commenced. The enemy’s force had increased to twenty thousand men and thirteen pieces of artillery. They came as one dark moving mass of armed men, as far as the eye could reach. Two batteries were planted by them in front, one on the left, one on the right, and one in the rear, and opened with a terrible fire, which was answered with the utmost bravery and determination. The batteries opened at nine o’clock, and never ceased to pour deadly shot upon the garrison. About noon the hospital was taken. It was situated on the left, outside of the intrenchments. They besieged it, took it, and from the balcony and roof their sharpshooters poured a deadly fire upon the Federal troops. The hospital contained the chaplain and one hundred and twenty wounded men. But it could not be allowed to remain the possession of the enemy. The Montgomery Guard, Captain Gleason, of the Irish Brigade, was brought out, and the word to “charge” given. They stormed up the slope to the hospital, took it, and drove the enemy in wild confusion down the hill. The fire of the rebels was for the time lessened, only to be increased towards evening, and word was sent that if the Federal troops did not surrender before the next morning, the black flag would be hoisted and no quarter given.
The next morning the fire was resumed and continued all day. A fierce bayonet charge was made by the garrison, that served to show the enemy that the Union troops were not yet worn out. All that day the soldiers in that little band stood straining their eyes and searching the distance in hopes that some friendly flag might be coming to their assistance. But no welcome flag came in sight, and with the energy of despair they determined to do their duty at all hazards. It was intensely hot—the lips of the men were parched and blistering. They were without water, and yet no word of murmuring was heard. That night two wells were dug. The morning of the next day, the 20th, dawned sadly upon them, and still the battle raged furiously. The rebels had constructed moveable breastworks of hemp bales, rolled them up the hill, and advanced their batteries so as to command the fortifications. Heated shot were fired at them but without avail, they having been thoroughly water-soaked. The outer breastworks were soon carried by a charge from the enemy, the Federal lines broken, and the rebels rushed in. At point after point they were repulsed, but the cartridges of the Union troops had given out, and it was evident that the struggle could not be protracted. Of a sudden the firing ceased, and it was subsequently ascertained that the Home Guards had hoisted a white flag. It was taken down, but again raised by the same hands from the centre of the fortifications—when the fire of the enemy slackened and ceased. Under this state of affairs, Colonel Mulligan, calling his officers into council, decided to capitulate, and Captain McDermott went out to the enemy’s lines, with a handkerchief tied to a ramrod, and a parley took place. Major Moore, of the brigade, was sent to General Price’s headquarters, at New Lexington, to know the terms of capitulation. These were soon made known; the officers to be retained as prisoners of war, the men to be allowed to parole, with their personal property, surrendering their arms and accoutrements.