A company was organized in Memphis during Forrest’s absence, called the Forrest Rangers, under Captain Charles May,—and the Boone Rangers became the nucleus of Forrest’s famous regiment, which in a few weeks grew to be a battalion of eight companies, and, which in a few days by active operations, laid the foundations of their leader’s astonishing reputation and success.
Two of Forrest’s companies were from Kentucky, one from Meade County and one from Harrodsburg. Alabama contributed four, Texas one, and Memphis one, so that as far as his fame was to become coextensive with the South and West it would seem as if fate had spread over Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama and Texas a call for these men who were to make their commander renowned.
In a little while, Alabama sent two more companies, and the regiment became of sufficient numbers to make Forrest lieutenant colonel. Alabama troops predominated in his own regiment.
Many skirmishes and marches marked the career of this active and aggressive command prior to February, 1862, and then Forrest was ordered to repair to Fort Donelson, where as senior officer, he assumed command of the cavalry of the army here concentrated. The cavalry consisted of Forrest’s regiment, Colonel Gantt’s Tennessee Battalion, and three Kentucky companies under Captains Huey, Wilcox and Williams, counting, all told, eight hundred men.
Twenty-five thousand Federals surrounded fourteen thousand Confederates at the eventful siege of Fort Donelson. By the exigencies of war these men were surrendered. Whose fault brought about this unfortunate result has long been one of the most fiercely discussed of Confederate military problems.
When a council of war had decreed that a surrender was inevitable, Forrest entered an earnest protest; and at the suggestion of General Pillow, he was allowed to effect his escape, upon condition that he should do so before a flag of truce had communicated with the enemy. The sequel shows upon what slight events human destiny hinges. Had Forrest been less courageous or determined, his future would have been entirely changed. His pluck and his pride revolted at a cavalry soldier yielding without a vehement wrestle with the god of chance; and his brave soul cried out against becoming prisoner without one impetuous appeal to fate for a juster determination of the conflict which raged at this crucial hour.
In the darkness and frost of a cold winter night, Forrest immediately laid his plans to bring his horsemen out of the beleaguered fort. By four o’clock in the morning, with five hundred men and officers, he undertook to ride away. He could only conjecture as to what was ahead. He had no time to send out scouts to reconnoitre as to the presence or position of his foes. He was not so much concerned as to who and where they were. The only anxious inquiry that crossed his mind was how many they were and whether the waters that traversed his path were too deep or too swift for him and his followers to ford or swim in their struggle to find a way of escape from the clutches of their enemies. He had no guides to point the road. He knew that safety beckoned for a southward march. A great host was encamped somewhere in the vicinity. He knew they were ready to dispute his going. He had never traveled the road he was to follow. His keen vision could only pierce a few feet into the blackness of the night. He had only one plan and that was to fight and ride over whatever obstructed his chosen track. With one hand to guide his steed and the other grimly gripping his faithful revolver, he led his followers cautiously and yet speedily amidst the oppressive silence. Every slip of his floundering steeds amidst the gloom of the cold and dreary night, seemed full of awful portent and danger, and yet, amidst all these depressing conditions, the gallant leader entertained no thought of a retreat and sternly ordered all to go forward. It required an iron will and an invincible soul to thus lead five hundred men on this desperate and difficult ride. A few wounded Federal soldiers, crouching by the fires of the rails they had kindled into flames to keep the warmth of life in their maimed bodies until their comrades with the dawn of day should bring succor, were the only sentinels that called to the riders to halt. These were not disposed to question Forrest’s right to pass on into the outlying darkness and he was glad to leave them alone in the cheerless hours of that dread night, which the misfortunes of war had forced them to face.
Once, back water seemed to stop the course of the gallant troopers, but it was only for a moment. His advance guard hesitated, but calling them to clear the way, he fearlessly crushed the ice with his sword, and bade those behind to follow where he so promptly and confidently led.
MAP OF FORREST’S RAID INTO TENNESSEE, DECEMBER, 1862