A consultation of the principal Federal officers was held at Gen. Lyon’s headquarters, which lasted till midnight. The question of evacuating Springfield and abandoning Southwest Missouri to its fate was seriously discussed. Looking at the matter from a military point of view, there was no doubt of the propriety and even the necessity of such a step, and Gen. Lyon and the majority of his officers counseled such a movement. Some favored a retreat to Fort Scott, while others thought Rolla a point easier reached and promising better results.
Gen. Sweeney, however, was strongly opposed to retreating without a fight. With his naturally florid face flushed to livid red, and waving his one arm with excitement, he exclaimed vehemently against such a policy—pointing out the disastrous results which must ensue upon a retreat without a battle—how the “rebels” would boast over such an easy conquest, how they would terrorize, harass, and persecute the unprotected Unionists if given undisputed possession of the country, how the Unionists themselves would become discouraged, crushed, or estranged, and declared himself in favor of holding on to the last moment, and of giving battle to Price and McCulloch as soon as they should offer it.[5]
Gen. Lyon and some of the other officers became converts to Gen. Sweeney’s views, and it was decided to remain, save the reputation of the little army, hope against hope for reinforcements, and not evacuate Springfield and Greene county until compelled to. The next day when Sigel’s brigade quartermaster, Major Alexis Mudd, asked Gen. Lyon when the army would leave Springfield, the latter replied: “Not until we are whipped out.”
A FALSE ALARM.
Thursday morning, Price and McCulloch were reported to be actually advancing on Springfield. Lyon’s troops were quickly in line of battle, the luggage wagons were all sent to the center of the town, and in this position they remained during nearly the entire day. The Southern troops had advanced, but only about two miles, and had gone into camp in the southern part of this county, nearly on the line between Greene and Christian counties (in sections 25 and 36, tp. 28, range 23, partly in Greene and partly in Christian county), their tents being on either side of Wilson’s Creek, and extending a mile or so east and south of the Fayetteville road. Thursday evening the Federals were ready for marching orders, but a portion of the Kansas troops had been so much engaged the night before as to be really unfit for service, and an order for all of the soldiers, except those actually on guard, to retire and rest, was issued, and the night attack was again deferred. The Home Guards were on duty and in active service in the city at this time.
And so the soldiers lay down to rest and to sleep—to many of them it was to be the last repose they should take until they should lie down to take their last sleep. Soon the camps were wrapped in silence and slumber and no sound was to be heard save the cry of the night birds and the challenges of the watchful pickets as they hailed the relief guard, or arrested the steps of some belated wanderer. There they lay, these men from Iowa and Kansas, dreaming of the homes and loved ones they had left behind them on the beautiful prairies of their own States, and in vision seeing faces and forms and scenes they were destined to never see again in reality. There they lay, these bearded Germans from St. Louis, dreaming, perhaps, of families and kinsmen in the city by the great river, or of their early homes in the Fatherland, far across the deep, blue sea. There they lay, these Missouri Unionists, sleeping as peacefully as their brethren in arms.
There they lay, too, only a few miles away, those men under the folds of the new flag, who had come out from their homes by the bayous of Louisiana, on the plains of Texas, amid the hills and dales and valleys of Arkansas and Missouri, to do battle for the cause they believed to be just and righteous, to drive out those whom they believed to be the wrongful invaders of their country, the despoilers of their homes. And to blue and gray alike, with an equal peace and softness, came that balmy blessing which “knits up the raveled sleeve of care.”
Friday, the 9th, Springfield was remarkably quiet. But the calm preceded the storm. Those timid creatures who had made it a business to repeat exciting rumors had been frightened away with much of the material upon which they operated. Enlistments in the Springfield regiment had been rapid, and really among the uninitiated and uninformed a feeling of security prevailed. During the afternoon, Capt. Wood’s company of Kansas cavalry and Capt. Stanley’s company of regulars had a skirmish with a scouting party of Price’s cavalry on the prairie about five miles west of town, defeating them, wounding two and capturing six or eight prisoners. From the prisoners, among other information, it was learned that the Southern troops were badly off for provisions and were forced to do some pretty liberal foraging on both friends and enemies.
A MESSENGER FROM FREMONT—NO HOPE!
About noon there arrived a messenger from St. Louis and Fremont bearing a dispatch from the latter to Gen. Lyon. This dispatch informed Lyon that his situation was not considered critical; that he doubtless over-estimated the force in his front; that he ought not to fall back without good cause, and assured him that no reinforcement would be sent, but that he must report his future movements as soon as possible, and do the best he could.