Forrest’s calculation was that Streight would camp at the base of Sand Mountain and begin the ascent early the next day, and so it was. Just at sunrise our advance guard came on the enemy’s pickets. The army was breaking camp as we came into view, and a chorus of 2,000 braying mule voices greeted us, as Streight’s men were mounted on mules for mountain climbing.
We were a little too late to strike the enemy in camp according to plan, but a hasty and too eager company of our advance rushed in and fired on the rear of the column; whereupon the enemy turned and fought back, holding us off until he got his force on top of the mountain. Then he placed his men back in ambush and drew us into a deadly trap. In a rushing movement we were surprised and knocked out of all formation. It was the only time in my entire service of four years with Forrest that I ever saw him purturbed. He tried with all possible boldness to stem the tide; but our men had ridden hard all night, and they simply could not meet the advantage and the odds of fresh troops.
After losing a number of men, we “stood not upon the order of our going,” but recoiled from the front of flame; and on our retreat the enemy pursued us so closely that we lost two of our field pieces. Our retreat so enraged General Forrest that he was as ferocious and wild as a lion. He was so harsh in his treatment of the young captain of artillery on account of the loss of his guns that he afterwards, at Spring Hill, Tenn., attacked and shot General Forrest.
After this repulse, we brought up the remainder of our troops and turned the pursuit and kept it up so vigorously that they soon began to try to get away from us, and we pressed the running fight until we put these 2,000 raiders out of business.
After this fight of Day’s Gap, on Sand Mountain, followed that long and relentless pursuit of Streight and his men, which must forever stand as one of the most daring and spectacular exploits of military history. Forrest had picked 500 men for this great running fight with a foe 2,000 strong.
Our fight was, of course, with the rear guard, for our leader never permitted us to be drawn into a general engagement.
When the enemy would set traps for us, Forrest would invariably discover them and shell the ambush out and keep up his nagging, sleep-destroying pursuit day and night.
It was in the course of this pursuit that we came to the deep, high-banked waters of Black Warrior Creek and found the enemy on the opposite bank and the bridge in flames.
Near the burning bridge lived the Widow Sanson, whose fifteen-year-old daughter, Emma Sanson, made her name immortal in the records of the Southern Confederacy and in the sacred, tear-stained archives of Alabama. She it was who rode on Forrest’s horse behind him through the zone of danger to point out a little-known and isolated ford where she had seen her mother’s cows cross when the summer waters were low. By her timely help Forrest was enabled to pursue the enemy’s column in its last stretch of the long march to Rome.
For this intelligent, fearless, and patriotic service, her State, after the war, granted to Emma Sanson a section of land and in 1907 erected a monument to her memory at Gadsden.