Chapter XIX: Battle of Brice’s Cross-Roads

In the beginning of the spring of 1864 it became very necessary that the granaries of South Mississippi and Alabama should be carefully guarded against a raid from the Union forces, these sections being absolutely essential to the sustenance of the Confederate armies. The task of protecting this land of plenty was assigned to General Forrest.

When General Sherman was pressing back the Confederate Army under General Joseph E. Johnston, he told his people at Washington that they must keep General Forrest from following his rear; also that the crops of South Mississippi and Alabama should be destroyed.

Accordingly, the Union commander at Memphis, Tenn., was ordered to assemble the largest possible force and place it under an able commander, so that Forrest could be permanently disposed of.

The force, when assembled on June 1, 1864, consisted of 3,500 cavalry, under two veteran commanders, Grierson and Warring, and 4,500 infantry, under McMillen, Hogue, and Bouton, the latter commanding a regiment of negroes. This army carried 250 wagons and twenty pieces of artillery.

The supreme command was given to Gen. Samuel D. Sturgis, an experienced warrior and brave fighter.

To meet this force, General Forrest had about 5,000 mounted troops, with two batteries of artillery--Morton’s and Rice’s.

The Federal Army left Memphis on June 1 for Ripley, Miss. Upon reaching that point, they halted and sent a cavalry force east to Hatchie River, and circulated the report that they intended to strike the Mobile and Ohio Railroad at Corinth, Rienzi, or Booneville, and then advance south or go east and cover General Sherman’s rear while he was pressing Johnston back through Georgia.

Of course this was done to mislead Forrest, hoping that he would throw his force as far north as Corinth, leaving the enemy time to march his force to Brice’s Cross-Roads, in which position he would block the Confederates and force them out through North Alabama, leaving open to Sturgis the rich country of South Mississippi and Alabama, which he so earnestly desired to reach. But Forrest never reached conclusions upon appearances, especially when he had reasons for believing that appearances were being made to deceive. On the 8th of June his command was strung out between Baldwyn, Booneville, Rienzi, and Corinth, Miss., as he was not yet certain as to what his foe contemplated in the invasion of this territory. It was naturally expected that some new tactics would be put forth by the new Union commander.

General Forrest came to our command at Baldwyn, and called for a reliable squad of four or five scouts who knew the country through the Hatchie Hills. I was one of the number furnished, and the General called us before him and told us that the Union commander was circulating the report that he was crossing the Hatchie River at Kellum’s Mill, and that they were going to Corinth, Miss., as soon as their infantry and artillery came up. Forrest told us that he wanted positive and exact information on this point, and that we must go until we could secure it; that we must not come back with a report that some one had told us so and so, but that we must go until we could see the enemy and know as a fact that they were there in force as represented.

Under these exacting instructions, we set forth, and reached the vicinity of the mill about dark. We went through the woods after we had passed the picket post, and carefully approached the miller’s house that stood on the hill overlooking the river.

It was late at night when we reached the house; but our pilot was well acquainted with the family, and they readily told us that the enemy had a pontoon bridge across the river, and that at sundown of that evening there was a brigade of cavalry on each side of the stream; but as General Forrest had told us to go until we could see for ourselves, we mounted and rode down to the bridge. We felt sure that we could ride in among the enemy and secure our information without betraying our presence if we had no mishap. In case we were discovered, we could fire on any one attacking us, and in the confusion and the darkness we could escape. But when we reached the bridge, there were neither soldiers nor horses to be found, though there were visible evidences of the very recent presence of a large body of horsemen on the ground.

The Union troopers had evidently left at nightfall, and had gone to Ripley to join their main column for the march toward Brice’s Cross-Roads. As soon as our captain made this discovery, he sent me back to Booneville to tell General Forrest what was transpiring, and that the captain and the other scouts would follow and endeavor to overtake the enemy and report later the number of the different organizations.

I left Kellum Mill about midnight of June 8, had a hard and lonely ride, and reached Booneville about noon of the 9th, almost exhausted, as was my horse. I found General Forrest occupying an old warehouse as headquarters, and reported to him. He asked me several pointed questions, and, as soon as my message was delivered, he dismissed me and told me to take nourishment and rest--an order which I obeyed very punctually.

Before I got out of the building I heard the General issuing orders for immediate preparation for marching.

At this date our forces were located as follows:

Bell’s Brigade was at Rienzi, twenty-five miles from Brice’s Cross-Roads.

Rucker’s Brigade, with Morton’s and Rice’s Batteries, was at Booneville, eighteen miles from Brice’s Cross-Roads.

The brigade of Lyon and Johnston was at Baldwyn, six miles from Brice’s Cross-Roads.

General Forrest had instructed all commanders to be in readiness to march on Brice’s Cross-Roads at daylight on the morning of June 10. He knew that the enemy heavily outnumbered him, and that General Sturgis was bending every effort to outmarch him to that point in order that he might force the Confederates to attack at a great disadvantage.

It had been raining for some time, and on the night of June 9 there was almost a deluge.

Late in the afternoon of the 9th I was unable to locate my company, as I had left it at Baldwyn; so I rode out toward Blackland and secured lodging in a farmhouse that belonged to a former comrade, and had a good supper and a comfortable night of rest. I found that General Lyon, of the Kentucky Brigade, was spending the night under the same kindly roof.

At daylight of the 10th everything in Forrest’s command was on the move. The clouds lifted and the day grew intensely hot.

The Union commander, evidently feeling that he had the situation well in hand, was not so zealous in getting all of his command to the Cross-Roads.

The enemy camped on the night of the 9th of June at Stub’s farm, nine miles from the battle field, while the bulk of our force was twenty miles away. Sturgis sent forward his two brigades of cavalry and took possession of the Cross-Roads, throwing forward a strong force on the Baldwyn and Guntown Road. I marched with General Lyon’s force until we met General Forrest with his escort, and then I fell in with the escort. We marched rapidly until we struck the Union pickets about three miles out on the Baldwyn Road. These we pressed back until we came up on Warring’s Brigade, posted behind a rail fence around a small field of corn. One organization of this command was armed with Colts’ repeating rifles, the most dangerous weapon the war had developed up to that time. Forrest, with only about 800 of his men at hand and facing 3,500 men, knew the danger of bringing on a fight. The units of his army were scattered far back on the muddy roads, moving with all possible swiftness to the field. Never did the infinite boldness of Forrest stand out more startlingly than at that moment of danger. He dismounted every trooper and ordered their horses tied to the trees in our rear. Then he strung out our thin line as far as possible, so that the enemy’s line would not overlap us, and we marched boldly up to the opening and began a rapid fire with our rifles. By this front we completely deceived the enemy and held him to his first line until we were reinforced with a part of our army. With this our force was increased to about half the number facing us, and General Forrest now felt that he must force the fighting in order to defeat the cavalry before the Union infantry could come up. Meantime, General Sturgis was urging his infantry through the intense heat. As the foot troops arrived almost exhausted, the Union cavalry was being pressed back, and Forrest’s artillery and Bell’s Brigade were swinging into view to reinforce the Confederates.

Forrest then resolved to stake the day on a charge against the enemy’s infantry before it could gain time to rest and while their cavalry was falling back.

We were then instructed to take advantage of the thick undergrowth and conceal our advance as much as possible until very close to the enemy and then rush the line with our six-shooters.

Forrest announced that he would take one end of our line and Rucker the other, and that we could not fail. We believed it, because he had never failed. Dismounting and drawing their pistols, Forrest and Rucker placed themselves in the line of battle and went forward with us. As we moved, there was not a word spoken in the throng--only a tense and anxious hurrying, as much as was possible in such a thicket. As we advanced, we were searching with anxious eyes every turn and undulation of the landscape to discover the enemy’s line, when suddenly the long, massed column, only a few feet in front of us, rose from a prostrate position to their knees and delivered in our faces one of the most withering rifle fires that our men had ever encountered. We were almost close enough to be powder-burned by the blaze from their long Springfield rifles, and the fire staggered us into a momentary confusion; but Forrest was there, and a single blast of his clarion voice was worth five thousand men in that vortex of danger and doubt. We were fighting an enemy that had two to our one, and nothing but our confidence that, in some way, Forrest would lead us to victory, could have sustained us. His escort moved as one man with him, and, with revolvers drawn, we charged the line of infantry before they could reload. Every man in our line had from five to ten shots, and we made them count. They broke in confusion and got away pellmell, but not before we had riddled them unmercifully. I never saw in any battle of the war as many arms and legs amputated as were lost at the field hospital at Brice’s Cross-Roads. It seemed that every pistol ball found its human mark. If it did not kill, it pierced an arm or a leg.

When the Union commander brought up his brigade of negro troops which had been held in reserve, he told the blacks to form in line and allow the defeated white troops to pass to their rear, and that they would reform and support them; but about the time this arrangement was made, Barteau’s regiment, which had been sent around to fall upon the rear of the Union column, made its appearance, and our artillery began to rake the retreating white troops with grape and canister. The brigade of blacks took to their heels without firing a shot and scattered through the woods like wild deer.

After the war, I knew an old negro in Corinth who was in the battle of Brice’s Cross-Roads, and I asked him one day if he ran away from the battle field. He replied: “No, boss, I didn’t run; I flew.”

A cold appraisement of this fight shows it to have been one of the most remarkable of all military history. With a force but little more than half as large as his enemy, this strangely gifted fighter of the Confederacy shattered a trained army of 8,000 men, and chased the remnant back to its base, forcing it to a speed seldom equaled in the wildest panics of war. The panoplied and militant host of Sturgis consumed nine days in the march from Memphis to Brice’s Cross-Roads, but, with Forrest on its trail, what was left of that host covered the same distance on the return in two nights and one day.

We captured 250 wagons and ambulances, eighteen pieces of artillery, 5,000 stands of small arms, 500,000 rounds of small-arms ammunition, and all the enemy’s baggage and military stores.

But, notwithstanding the great victory, this battle took heavy toll from our ranks.

“Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with its banners at sunset was seen.
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay scattered and strewn.”