Confederate wizards of the saddle /

by Bennett H. Young

In the beginning, Forrest underestimated both the courage and resources of his antagonists. Up to this period in his career, he had never struck anything that was so game and so wary as this intrepid brigade of Streight’s. He had not then realized that they were dauntless soldiers—led by a man as brave as the bravest. His first idea that they would become a lot of fugitives who had neither skill nor courage was soon dissipated. Captain William Forrest, brother of General Nathan Bedford Forrest, was in command of the advance guards and scouts. With a valor born of unlimited courage, he rushed up to the fleeing Federals, now climbing the sides of the mountain. He manifested neither fear nor discretion. He had absorbed his brother’s genius for quick and fierce assault. In a little while he ran into an ambuscade skillfully designed by Streight, who had left Colonel Sheets of the 51st Indiana in the rear. A minie ball broke Captain Forrest’s hip, and he fell in the midst of his enemies. Forrest had been accustomed to reckless use of his artillery. It was not often that his enemies disturbed him, but on this occasion he lost two of his pieces, and, right or wrong, he felt that the young lieutenant in charge of these pieces had not exactly measured up to his standard of determination. He requested later that this young officer be assigned to some other command. This brought about an altercation; the young officer attacked Forrest and shot him—as was supposed to be—mortally. Forrest, ferociously pursuing his antagonist, killed him. In death they were reconciled: the patriotic young officer expressing joy that his shot had failed of its purpose, that Forrest was to live and he to die.

Fighting, fleeing, feinting, ambuscading, hammering was now the order of the day. With his military experience and from fragmentary statements of his captives, Forrest knew that Rome was the destination of Streight. He understood what its destruction would mean to his people and to his country, and he resolved first, that Streight should never reach Rome, and second that he should never escape from the Confederate lines into which he had so boldly and fearlessly moved. At and about Rome, the Confederacy had unlimited treasures—there were foundries and manufactories of arms and munitions of war.

To his famous and gallant brother, Forrest gave only one command. He assumed that he and his forty scouts would need no sleep—at least they could have no rest—and so he told his brother to keep right on down the road and get up close to see what the enemy was doing. Streight made the mistake of ever taking any wagons at all. Climbing these narrow mountain roads with these impediments, his speed was greatly hindered. He had not gotten two miles from the top of Sand Mountain when he saw he must fight. Forrest’s order to “shoot at everything blue and keep up the scare” was driving his men with the courage of demons to attack every blue coat, wherever it was found. He had only one thousand men. He advanced them fearlessly and recklessly. Streight’s men fought vigorously and viciously. For a few moments they threw a considerable portion of Forrest’s forces into disorder, and with a gallant and splendid charge, scattered the advance guard of the Confederates. When Forrest was told that his guns were lost, he was beside himself with rage. He had too few men to use horse holders. He directed his men to tie their horses in the forest, and then ordered every soldier to the front. The effect of the loss of his guns upon his men he felt might destroy their morale, and he assembled his entire force and led them in a charge on the Federal rear. While Forrest was making these preparations to retake his guns, Streight’s men were all ready to remount their mules and ride in haste along the Blountsville Road. Streight had heard much of Forrest, and he was pleased with this repulse and the capture of Forrest’s guns. He congratulated himself that he could make a good showing even if he faced Forrest’s veterans.

GENERAL STARNES

Something like fifty of Streight’s men had been killed or wounded, and he left his own lieutenant, Colonel James W. Sheets of the 51st Indiana, mortally wounded on the field. There was no time for burial services, regrets, tears or ceremonies. While Sheets was mortally wounded, Forrest’s brother was desperately wounded. The Indiana colonel was left in the hands of his captors, and his lifeless body was consigned to a coffinless tomb. He died as brave men wish to die—at the front, with his face to his foes.

Forrest had sent two of his regiments by gaps parallel with Day’s Gap, to attempt to head off the Federals. In this, they failed because of the long detours they were compelled to make. Forrest now detached a portion of his command to ride parallel with Streight and west of him, and to be sure that he would not be permitted to retrace his steps toward Dodge’s protecting forces at Tuscumbia. It was well into the day before Forrest and his escort and his two regiments were able to overtake Streight again. He was once more repulsed. They fought and battled with unstinted fury until ten o’clock at night, and then Streight silently stole away. The Federals held their ground with unflinching courage and far into the night, when their only guide was the flash of their guns. Forrest had one horse killed and two others wounded under him in this encounter. A flank movement impressed upon Streight the danger of his position, and he hurried away, leaving his dead and wounded in possession of his foes, and Forrest retook his guns. They had been dismounted, spiked and the carriages destroyed; but he had them, and, though useless, he had regained them from his foes.

Streight had a great helper with him, a man who had not so much experience, but he had as much courage. This was Colonel Gilbert Hathaway, of LaPorte, Indiana. In August, 1862, he had recruited a regiment which was mustered in at South Bend. He and his command had been at Stone River, and there paid very heavy toll. His soldiers were well drilled and seasoned. Colonel Sheets had gone down at the front with the 51st, and since he fell, Streight laid heaviest burden upon Colonel Hathaway. Streight had now behind him a man who knew neither faintness nor fear, and when he rode away, Forrest and his men rode savagely behind him. Two or three hours had elapsed, when the impact in the rear was so fierce that Streight decided to use another ambuscade to stop, if possible, until daylight, the impetuosity of the pursuers.

With the obscurity of the night, Streight had used great skill and genius. Forrest called for volunteers to ride into the Federal lines and develop their fire, so that he might fix the position of his foe. Lots of men volunteered, but three were selected. They rode in knowingly to the death trap that had been arranged with such care and cunning. All three came out of a storm of shot and shell untouched. No sooner had the scouts informed General Forrest of the position of the enemy, than he ordered forward a piece of artillery, filled almost to the mouth with canister. Noiselessly, the artillery was pushed up to the Federal position, and then by the moonlight, the inclination of the gun was fixed so as to reach where Forrest had been told the Federals were. It was three o’clock in the morning, an hour that tries men’s nerves. A second piece of artillery was brought into requisition. This disturbed Streight and his men, and they were called in and hurried on to Blountsville. From Day’s Gap to Blountsville was forty-three miles. It had been a march of fighting and ambuscading, marked on both sides with noblest courage. At Blountsville, there was yet hope for Streight. If he drove due north, he was only thirty miles away from Guntersville, on the Tennessee River. There he might be safe; but Streight had started out to go to Rome, and to Rome he resolved to go at all hazards. Forrest felt that the troops he had despatched from Sand Mountain to head Streight off would meet him, if he veered from the line to Rome. Streight, true to his plans and promises, kept on the road he had mapped out to follow. Forrest had now been riding forty out of forty-eight hours, and for more than a third of the time he had been fighting. Seeing that Streight had now resolved to keep upon the direct course toward Rome, Forrest did the wisest thing that any cavalry officer could do. He concluded to rest his animals, and give his men two hours’ sleep. The horses were unsaddled and fed the last shelled corn that they had packed on their weary backs from Courtland.

Streight gave his men no rest, and at ten o’clock, upon the morning of the first of May, he rode into Blountsville. Strange scenes were enacted in that little town on that May Day. People from the surrounding country had come into the village to enjoy the festivities of such a holiday. They had driven or ridden their best horses and mules. There was food enough in town for Streight’s men to eat and enough fresh animals to assure every man in blue a mount. The pleasures of the picnic were rudely shattered; robbed by hungry Federals of baskets or lunches, they scattered like bird coveys, and from the homes of friends, hidden behind fences, or peering from the bushes with grief, rage and indignation, they witnessed their family steeds unhitched or unsaddled, harnessed with cavalry equipments, forced into the Federal column, and galloped away with the hated soldiers on their back. Girls, with tears raining down their cheeks, saw their pet saddle horses fade into the dim distance. The older men groaned in spirit, and the young men writhed in anguish to realize that the mounts which had long been their chiefest pride were thus ruthlessly taken from their possession. This first of May was the dreariest and saddest that ever came into the lives of Blountsville folk.