The dead at Wilson’s Creek were not well disposed of. All were given hasty and rude sepulture. Of course the Confederate slain fared the better, being buried by their own comrades. The Union dead were put under ground as soon as possible, and with but little ceremony. In an old well, near the battle field, fourteen bodies were thrown. In a “sink-hole” thirty-four of their bodies were tumbled. The others were buried in groups here and there, and the burial heaps marked. In many instances, a few Federal soldiers were present when the burials were made, and identified certain graves. Some of the bodies whose graves were so marked, were afterwards disinterred and removed to their former homes. A number of the Federal dead were never buried; this was particularly true regarding Sigel’s men. Dr. Melcher says he saw portions of the bodies of the German Federals along the line of Sigel’s retreat, several days after the battle, strewn along near the road, having been torn by dogs and hogs and buzzards. Skulls, bones, etc., indicating that at least a dozen corpses had been left above ground were gathered up. The doctor’s statement is corroborated by citizens who lived in the neighborhood.
The weather was hot—oppressively so. Putrefaction soon set in; there was a scarcity of coffins and coffin-makers, and coffin-maker’s materials, and perhaps the Confederates did the best they could. Their own dead were, in many instances, given imperfect burial.
In 1867, six years afterwards, when the National Cemetery at Springfield was established, the contractor for the removal of the dead bodies of the Union soldiers on the battle ground, took up and removed, and received pay for 183 bodies, as follows: Out of the “sink-hole,” 34; out of the old well, 14; from other portions of the field, 135.
THE HOME GUARDS AT SPRINGFIELD.
Back in Springfield there was a large force of Home Guards, numbering about 1,200, under Col. Marcus Boyd, from Greene and adjoining counties, all under arms, and all ready and willing to fight. But Gen. Lyon held their fighting qualities in such poor esteem—having no confidence that any other sort of troops but regulars would fight well—that he had refused to allow them to go to the field, saying that they would break at the first fire and demoralize the rest of the troops, and perhaps cause him to lose the fight.
But in all probability—no reason appearing to the contrary—if these 1,200 men had been taken out to Wilson’s Creek they would have fought well—as well as the volunteers, who fought as effectively as the regulars—and perhaps (who knows?) would have turned the scale in favor of the Federals. Gen. Lyon made a mistake, certainly, in not employing against the enemy in his front every man who could be induced to fire a musket; but his anxiety to not leave his rear and base wholly unprotected from a cavalry dash or sudden movement of some sort, led to his leaving this large force in Springfield, which stood in arms all of the forenoon and heard their comrades fighting so hard away to the southwest, and, anxious as they were to go to their relief, were forbidden to do so.
It is related of a certain doughty captain of the Home Guards then and now a resident of Springfield, that on his reporting to Col. Boyd for orders the morning of the battle, the colonel sent him out on the Mount Vernon road, directing him to observe closely the country to the westward and to report promptly every half hour should anything extraordinary occur. In a few minutes after the opening of Totten’s battery, back came the captain ambling along on a little brood mare, which he was industriously larruping with a lath, and reining up his steed in front of Col. Boyd, he made a military salute and announced:—
“Colonel Boyd, Sir! The cannings is a-firing!” As the roar of every gun had been plainly audible to everybody, this was not a very new piece of information, but Boyd replied, “All right, captain; go back to your post.”
Flourishing his lath as before, the captain rode away, and promptly in half an hour—still in his hand the lath, which was doing double service, as a sword and a riding-whip—he returned:—
“Colonel Boyd, Sir! The cannings is still a-firing!” And so every half hour, until the “cannings” had ceased to thunder, when he returned, and making the same military salute, the faithful lath still in his grasp, he announced:—