We had a pretty heavy skirmish with the forces at the bridge, with infantry and artillery, but only to divert attention from the trains as they moved out to gain the boneyard road. General Price went to the mill and, pulling down the gable end, cast it on the mill dam, and thus made a temporary bridge over which the trains and artillery were driven. Then that gallant old man, who had just proved himself to be as much at home acting as chief wagon master as when commanding his army corps, sat on his horse at the end of his unique bridge nearly all night, hurrying the wagons and artillery across. On the west bank of the stream he kept a bonfire alight, which threw a flickering glare across the bridge. As each teamster drove on to the east end of the queer bridge he would slow up his team and peer through the dim light for the proper and safe route. Just as he would slow up one could hear the loud, distinct voice of “Old Pap” shouting: “Drive up there! Drive up! Drive up! Drive up!” And thus it continued until every wheel had rolled across to the west side of the Hatchie.
After we left the vicinity of the bridge and after the skirmishing ceased, there was no time for order in marching, unless it was with the rear-guard; no time to wait for the trains to stretch out into the road and to follow it then in twos. We fell into the road pell-mell, and moved in any style we wished to, in among the wagons, or any way just so we moved along and kept out of the way of those behind us. During the afternoon, in the middle of the road, I stumbled upon a small pile of corn meal, half a gallon, maybe, that had sifted out of a commissary wagon, and gathered part of it into my haversack, mixed with a little dirt. I crossed the bridge away along, I suppose, about 11 P. M., after which I stopped and watched General Price’s maneuvers and the crossing of the wagons until after midnight.
In the meantime I hunted around and found an old castaway tin cup, dipped up some river water and made up some dough, and then spreading it out on a board, I laid it on General Price’s fire until it was partially cooked. Surely it was the most delicious piece of bread I have ever tasted, even to this day.
When a good portion of the Third Texas had come up we moved on into the Ripley road and were sent northward for a mile or two, where we lay in line of battle in ambush, near the road until the trains had all passed.
After daylight we moved on towards Ripley, being again permitted to march at will, as we had marched the night before. Approaching Ruckersville my heart turned again toward my good cousin, Tabitha Crook. Taking little David Allen with me, I made haste to find her home. Arriving there a short time before dinner, I said to her, “Cousin, I am powerful hungry.” “Oh, yes,” she said, “I know you are, Willis came by home last night, nearly starved to death.” Soon we were invited into her dining-room and sat down to a dinner fit for a king. Here I met her brother, George Cotten, whom I had never seen before. After dinner Mrs. Crook insisted that we rest awhile, which we did, and presently she brought in our haversacks filled up, pressed down, and running over with the most palatable cooked rations, such as fine, light biscuits, baked sweet potatoes, and such things, and my mess rejoiced that night that I had good kins-people in that particular part of Mississippi, as our camp rations that night were beef without bread.
We then moved on to Holly Springs and rested for some days, after a fatiguing and disastrous campaign, which cost us the loss of many brave soldiers, and lost General Van Dorn his command, as he was superseded by General J. C. Pemberton.
The battle of Corinth was fought October 3 and 4, 1862. I do not know the number of troops engaged, but our loss was heavy. According to General Van Dorn our loss was: Killed, 594; wounded, 2162; missing, 2102. Total, 4858. The enemy reported: Killed, 355; wounded, 2841; missing, 319. Total, 3515. But if General Rosecrans stated the truth, our loss was much greater than General Van Dorn gave, as he (General R.) stated that they buried 1423 of our dead, which I think is erroneous. Company C lost our captain, James A. Jones, mortally wounded; John B. Long and L. F. Grisham, captured. As Captain Jones could not be carried off the field, Long remained with him and was taken prisoner, being allowed to remain with Captain Jones until he died. They were sent to Louisville, Ky., and then to Memphis, Tenn., where Captain Jones lingered for three months or more. After his death, Long, aided by some good women of Memphis, made his escape and returned to us.
It was at the battle of Corinth that the gallant William P. Rogers, colonel of the Second Texas Infantry, fell in such a manner, and under such circumstances, as to win the admiration of both friend and foe. Even General Rosecrans, in his official report, complimented him very highly. The Federals buried him with military honors. It was at Corinth, too, that Colonel L. S. Ross, with the aid of his superb regiment, the Sixth Texas Cavalry, won his brigadier-general’s commission.
The evening before reaching Holly Springs we had what in Texas would be called a wet norther. Crawling in a gin-house I slept on the cotton seed, and when we reached Holly Springs I had flux, with which I suffered very severely for several days, as the surgeon had no medicine that would relieve me in the least. In a few days we moved south to Lumpkin’s Mill, where we met our horses and were remounted, the Third, Sixth, Ninth and Whitfield’s Legion composing the cavalry brigade, which organization was never changed. The army was soon falling back again, and continued to do so until it reached Grenada, on the south bank of Yalabusha River.
As we were now in the cavalry service we did the outpost duty for the army north of the Yalabusha.