Confederate wizards of the saddle /

by Bennett H. Young

The Federal commanders resolved to prevent General Forrest from recrossing the Tennessee River, and to this end, they applied all the means at their command. They had plenty of men, but the trying problem was to anticipate Forrest’s track and to cope with his wonderful methods for outwitting his foes.

With the keen mind of the great cavalry soldier, it did not take General Forrest long to understand that his enemies were concentrating their forces to prevent his re-passage of the river. He fully understood that it was impossible for him to escape south, that he must go east, and in going east, he must get over the Tennessee River. Before he could start well upon his return, it was necessary for him to cross the Obion River, which empties into the Tennessee, but this was now full with winter floods. All the bridges but one had been destroyed. Across this dangerous and uncertain stream, the bridge had been partially torn out, and it was left undefended because it was regarded as impassable.

Within an hour, the men were at work getting together timber with which to repair the bridge, so as to admit of the passage of artillery. The seemingly hopeless task was accomplished in the briefest period. Within an hour, the causeway was made passable. It was a cold, dark midnight, and a sleeting, drizzling rain was falling, chilling the bones but not the hearts of the Confederate command.

General Forrest, in order to nerve his soldiers for the dangers of slipping from the tottering bridge, himself mounted the saddle horse and drove over the first wagon. Catching the inspiration of their great leader’s courage, two teamsters attempted to follow. They slipped or fell from the bridge and plunged into the deep stream and freezing mud, from which they were with difficulty released.

Men, who had hitherto looked on with undisturbed hearts, now began to question if the crossing of the stream could be made, whether in the gloom of the dark hours which precede the dawn, and the dawn was far off, it would be possible to carry over his sixteen hundred soldiers now present with their equipments. But there was no difficulty or danger that could quail the heart of Nathan Bedford Forrest. The muddy, slushy roads made the passage more dangerous. Conscious of the lack of supplies in the territory into which he must return, Forrest was endeavoring to carry a number of wagon loads of flour, coffee and sugar. The safety of his command and the lives of his soldiers rose higher than all thoughts of the commissary, and the mud and chuck holes were filled with sacks of flour and coffee, and along these and over these the wagons passed.

The trains, by three o’clock, had been gotten over the bridge, but the muddy, sloppy condition rendered it impossible for the artillery horses to draw the guns and caissons. The horses were knee deep in mud, and the men waded in slush half way up their limbs. Fifty men were detailed with ropes to pull each piece of artillery, and only by these superhuman efforts, at three o’clock in the morning, the Obion was passed.

The only rest that could be allowed after the awful experiences of the night was a short halt for food; and hardly had men and beasts satisfied nature’s craving until the scouts informed General Forrest that twelve miles away were several thousand men, converging upon his small and valiant force.

General Forrest had no idea at this time of giving any intimation where he would pass the Tennessee River. And he pursued his way southward toward Lexington, over a wild, rough, hilly, rocky road. The tramp of the horses and the cutting of the wheels of the artillery and the wagons made the road a veritable bayou. The friable soil, stirred and cut by cannon, caisson and wagon wheels, and mixed by the six thousand hoofs of the cavalry horses, became a canal of freezing slush. The animals and their equipments were bespattered with this horrible material, and the clothing, necks, faces, saddles, blankets and guns of the riders were covered with mud, making the march extremely distressing. With grim courage, they ceased endeavoring to wipe the disgusting slime from their faces or clothing. They gritted their teeth, clenched their reins with a stronger grip, and, uncomplaining, rode on in the dark stillness of the awful night; they could at least, they believed, endure the horrors of the situation until dawn of day. This, they hoped, would bring some relief and somewhat assuage the dreadful punishment of this night march. The scouts reported one brigade of the enemy within six miles of General Forrest, another, six miles from this force. Resting until four o’clock, his men were aroused, ordered to saddle and prepare for the advance upon the Federal armies.

General Forrest determined to force the fighting, and he had only a brief time to form a line of battle. Biffle, with his regiment, had moved towards Trenton, but the soldierly instinct told him that his chieftain was calling for him, and so he paroled his prisoners, destroyed his supplies, and turned his face toward the battlefield which was now to decide the fate of the command. General Forrest believed he could destroy one brigade, under Colonel Dunham, before the other, under General Sullivan, could march six miles over the terrible roads along which it must advance, and he resolved to try his fortunes with Dunham first.

The Federals were quite as eager for conflict as General Forrest, and as soon as they felt the impact, pressed forward with great vigor. General Forrest had six pieces of artillery and about fourteen hundred available fighting men; he was hunting a fight, and he was to get quite all that he desired.