Slack’s division of Northwest Missourians was the first to come up, and under the personal direction of Gen. Price himself, who had come to the front, took position on Rains’ left, and became instantly engaged. In a few minutes afterwards came John B. Clark’s division and formed to the left of Slack. Then came M. M. Parsons’ division, with Col. Kelly’s regiment or brigade at the head, and went into line to the left of Clark. Then came the division of Gen. J. H. McBride, who took position on the left of Col. Kelly and commanded a flank movement on the right of the enemy, which movement was unsuccessful. (It cannot be learned in what part of the field the forces of Gen. A. E. Steen, of the 5th division, Missouri State Guard, did duty.)
In this position, by Gen. Price’s orders, and led by him in person at the first, the entire line advanced in the direction of the enemy, under a continuous fire from Lyon’s infantry and Totten’s battery, until it reached a position within range of its own guns when the Federal fire was returned, the double-barreled shotguns getting in their work now very effectively. After a few minutes steady firing the Missourians were driven back.
M’CULLOCH COMES TO THE RESCUE.
Meantime Gen. McCulloch had hurried to the lower end of the valley where his division was encamped, and the impetuous Texan chieftain speedily brought out of camp Col. Hebert’s Louisiana regiment, and McIntosh’s Arkansas mounted riflemen, and hastened to the rescue of the Missourians. This force went to the east side of Wilson’s Creek and coming up to the fence enclosing Ray’s cornfield, the Arkansas riflemen dismounted, and they and the Louisianians leaped over the fence and charged through the corn upon the Federals (Plummer’s battalion) and drove them back upon the main line with loss. This fight in the cornfield was one of the severest of the day, and when it was ended many a corn blade and stalk and tassel had been torn with bullets, and many a dead man lay in the furrows. For no sooner had the Federal infantry been driven back than Dubois’ battery opened on the Confederates in the field whose surface had never been disturbed by any thing ruder than Farmer Ray’s plow. But now it was soon plowed by shot and shell, and death gathered a full harvest where only the husbandmen had reaped before. The two regiments were driven back with some loss and considerable confusion, but soon reformed and taken charge of by McCulloch in person, who led them to another part of the field.
McCulloch had also ordered up Woodruff’s battery, which had engaged Totten and was doing excellent service. During the period of the fight in the cornfield, Price’s Missourians were endeavoring to sustain themselves in the center, and were hotly engaged on the sides of the height upon which the enemy was posted. Early in the fight, the 1st Regiment of Arkansas Mounted Rifles, which had been driven out of its camp by Sigel, and had formed a few hundred yards to the north, was brought up by Price’s order to the support of Gen. Slack, and formed on his left. Here it fought during the battle, led in person by its commander. Col. T. J. Churchill,[11] who had two horses killed under him. The regiment’s loss was 42 killed and 155 wounded. One captain (McAlexander) and three lieutenants were among the killed. The 2d Arkansas Mounted Rifles, Col. B. T. Embry, also fought with the Missourians against Lyon, losing 11 killed and 44 wounded.
Then came the “forward and back” period of fighting described in the Federal account, which lasted for hours. Sometimes the advantage was with one party, sometimes with the other. The firing, both of infantry and artillery, was incessant. Many deeds of gallantry and heroism were performed—enough to immortalize the memory of any one of the perpetrators.
One unfortunate thing, brought about by the battle, was the fact that it produced, or rather made conspicuous, a large crowd of liars who are yet wont to brag and bluster about the various deeds of valor they performed at Wilson’s Creek, while the chances are that instead of displaying any remarkable quality of bravery or feat of extraordinary value, they were skulking in the bushes or sitting securely under cover somewhere, not firing a gun or harming an enemy. This is true of both sides. Pity ’tis that any man who wore either the blue or the gray should be a liar, but pity ’tis ’tis true. Deeds worthy of Rome or Sparta—aye, worthy of America, were rendered that day of battle on Wilson’s creek, but these shameless liars one often meets with did none of them.
From nearly every quarter of Missouri had come the Missourians who this day fought under the flag of the grizzly bears and against the stars and stripes. Slack had men from off the Iowa line; John B. Clark had men from the Northeast (properly belonging to Harris’ division, not then south of the Missouri) whose homes were in sight of Hannibal and of the great Mississippi farther to the north. Men fought who, when at home, could stand in their door-yards and look westward over on the prairies of the then territory of Nebraska. Many of McBride’s division were from Southeastern Missouri, from the swamps of Pemiscot, from the cypress forests of Dunklin. From the cities—from the warehouses, the counting-rooms and the law offices of St. Louis, St. Joseph and other Missouri towns, had come some men to fight against what they believed to be Federal tyranny and usurpation, and for the honor of old Missouri and the rights of the South. And men fought under Price that day whose feet were on “their native heath,” whose homes were in this county, in sight of the battle-ground.
And they all fought well, those in line, whether advancing or retreating, firing or falling back. Not any better than the Federals, perhaps, but fully as well. There were some stragglers on both sides—not all of the cowards were in but one army.
When early in the engagement Gen. Clark sent a mile and a half to the rear for his regiment of cavalry, Col. James P. Major, commanding, that officer was attacked by Sigel at the moment of receiving the order and driven back into the woods with all his force. After reforming and starting toward the front where Lyon was, to join their own division, Major’s men were all broken up by large bodies of other horsemen, who, seeking to escape from Totten’s grape and Dubois’ shells and the Kansas men’s musket balls, rode through Major’s ranks in all directions, dividing the forces and communicating their own terror to those about them, so that the colonel was left with only one company.