August, 2010

Issue #11

Shadows on Pea Ridge
by C. Allan Butkus

"Shadows are getting shorter."

"Yep, it's about noon."

"You think there's any place in the world where there is no shadows at noon?" said David Morgan.

"Suppose so. Just about any day that's real cloudy don't have no shadows," said Cletus Jones.

"You know what I meant. Can't you just answer questions straight up? Or is it just because you are a lying Arkansas Yazoo," said David.

"Most questions got more than one answer. You and I done both got our shadows and it don't make me no mind how long they are. When I don't see no shadow on a sunny day that's when I start to worry." said Cletus.

The two privates were interrupted as Sgt. Rhodes walked up to them, "I'm looking for two volunteers and that means you two."

"Why us? We been in that wood choppin' detail for three days runnin'," said David.

"Because I'm a sergeant and I'm bigger than you. Any other questions?"

"No sergeant," they mumbled together.

"Good, that's what I wanted to hear." He straightened up his kepi and motioned toward the officers' tent. "Get your butts over there. You are both runners for General Van Dorn." He turned quickly and walked purposely over toward the campfire where some other men were cooking.

"Damn, you're always getting' me in trouble. I don't know why I hang around with you," said Cletus.

"You ain't got no choice. I'm the only friend you have and besides you ain't nothing but a dumb Yazoo from the Arkansas bayous," said David.

"Rather be a dumb Yazoo and married to a three-legged gator than bein' a egg suckin' hillbilly from Tennessee."

They continued arguing as they walked over to the tent were Major General Van Dorn was briefing his fellow officers.

General Earl Van Dorn was a firebrand of the old order. His men called him 'Old Hot Damn', but never said it loud enough for him to hear. It was rumored that President Jefferson Davis had personally appointed him to command the Military District of the Trans-Mississippi.

"You think we should go inside and report to the general?" asked Cletus.

"I'd rather suck a rotten egg than go in there with all those officers," said David as he slipped his 69-caliber musket off his shoulder and rested the butt between his feet.

Cletus didn't say anything, but he nodded his head and then he assumed his position on the other side of the flap leading into the tent.

They could hear the general's voice booming inside the tent. "Gentlemen, here is the plan. I'm going to split our forces. In most military situations, this would be a poor idea, but not this time. We outnumber the blue bellies almost two to one. We also have more artillery. We are going to smash them and assure that Arkansas and all land west of the Mississippi belongs to the Confederacy. The blue bellies are having trouble with Missouri. I plan to make certain that Missouri will come to the aid of the Confederacy. The outcome of this battle will make that bearded monkey from Illinois sit up and take notice. General Lee will be able to concentrate his efforts on smashing the Army of the Potomac."

A round of, "Hear, Hear's" resounded from inside the tent.

The general continued, "We missed our chance at the battle of Little Sugar Creek; that will not happen again. This time we will attack the Union forces from the rear. General McCulloch, you will take your forces around the western edge of Pea Ridge and come up behind the federal troops. General Price you will take your army and take the Bentonville detour around Pea Ridge and then down Telegraph Road where you will meet up with General McCulloch at Elkhorn Tavern. Are there any questions?"

"Sir, how soon before we attack? The men are worn out and need a few days to rest. Our supplies are lagging way behind and there is question about the amount of ammunition we have for the artillery," asked Major Brown.

"I'm aware of the situation and have taken it into consideration. It is my decision that we will attack tomorrow morning, March 7. The longer we wait, the stronger the federal forces will become. We will have surprise, numerical superiority and heavier artillery. We will triumph." He straightened up from the big map before him, "Gentlemen, return to your units, tomorrow victory awaits us." After all officers had left except his adjutant Major Lafon, he said, "Attach runners to General Price and General McCulloch."

Major Lafon stepped outside the tent and directed Cletus to act as a runner for General McCulloch and David to act as the runner for General Price.

The two privates had been together for almost a year now and even though they constantly argued, there was a strong bond between the two. Cletus put his hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "Take care hillbilly, I want to see your ugly face again after this is over."

"Who's calling who ugly? You're so stupid you don't know which end of a canoe goes first." But he was smiling and also put his hand on his friend shoulder. "Take care of your shadow."

"You too."

Both men shouldered their muskets and moved off with their respective officers.

The next morning was cold and a slight mist floated on the fields as the attack began. The federal forces fired the first shots in an effort to find the strength of the attacking force. The Rebel forces were pushing ahead when disaster struck. General McCulloch decided to reconnoiter the federal position. Cletus was standing beside the general's horse when he heard a sound he had heard too many times before. It was the sickening splat of a bullet meeting flesh. He looked up just as the general fell across his body. He twisted to the side and looked into the general's face. McCulloch's eyes were open but they would never see another thing. Cletus had seen enough dead men to know that he could do nothing for the general. Keeping low to avoid the bullets that whizzed around him, he called to an officer, "The general is dead, and I have to get word back to command." Without waiting for a reply, he crawled over the small ridge and then rushed back toward the camp.

When he got there, he had no difficulty locating Brig. General James McIntosh. He rushed past the guard and into the tent where the general was working on a map. "Sir I have terrible news, General McCulloch has been killed."

"Are you certain?" asked the General.

Cletus looked at the general for a few moments before answering, then he ran his fingers over it still wet blood on his jacket and held them out to the general and said, "Yes Sir, I'm certain."

"Damn damn damn," said the general as he stalked from the tent. "This is a hell of a way to run a war. It can't get much worse than this." But just then, it did. A 69 caliber mini ball removed the general's head. Cletus was on his belly before he heard the sound of the shot echo across the camp. Damn Yankee snipers, he thought.

Two corpsmen rushed over and picked up the general and carried him back into the tent. Cletus followed them and closed the tent flap. They gently lay the general's body on the map table. "Any chance for him?" asked the taller of the corpsmen.

"Nope, he's gone. Somebody better get the word to Old Hot Damn, he's ain't gonna like this."

"I'll get over to his tent right away and tell him," said Cletus. He worked his way quickly across the sprawling camp until he found the general's tent. He could hear voices from inside the tent, but another worried looking private was waiting outside to see the general. "Y'all mind if I see the general first?" asked Cletus.

"Don't think that's a good idea. I got some really bad news for the general. I was back with Colonel Hébert, we had attacked the blue bellies with about 2000 troops. We done real good at first, but we got all mixed up in the woods. Them Damn Yankees captured the Colonel, I done nearly got kilt myself," said the private.

"Damn. It sure ain't looking good. I done seen two generals get shot just today. Makes me mighty proud not to be an officer today," said Cletus.

Major Lofon stepped out of the tent and looked at two privates, "If you men have anything to report, come into the tent."

They stepped in and saluted the general; Cletus spoke first, "Sir, I was the runner assigned to General McCulloch."

The general interrupted him before he could continue, "What the hell do you mean was assigned?"

"He was shot and killed early this morning."

The general became extremely angry, "Get word to General McIntosh I need to speak to him right away."

"You can't do that general," said Cletus.

The general gave him a hard look, "I may be mistaken private, but in the armies I command, generals tell privates what to do, not the other way around."

"Beg the general's pardon Sir, but General McIntosh is also dead. A blue belly sniper done killed him right outside his tent."

The general looked over at his adjutant, "Who's next in line to command after McIntosh?"

"General Albert Pike sir."

"Damn it all to hell. Pike is not near as aggressive a man as I need right now." He stood silently for a few moments and then said, "I want Colonel Louis Hébert put in charge of those forces. He's a good man and aggressive."

It was the other privates turn to be the bearer of bad news. "Beggin' the general's pardon. Colonel Hébert has been captured by the Yankees."

"What the hell is going on today? Do I have any officers left to command? You privates get out of here. I don't want to ever see your faces again."

Both privates did an about-face and gratefully left the tent. "Damn, I think I'd rather kiss a snake afore I go back in there again," said Cletus.

The adjutant had followed them both out of the tent, "I agree with you private, but I have to go back in there. I want both of you to report to General Price's Army. I want you both to know that you've done a good job." With a sigh, he turned and reentered the tent.

They found their way over to General Price's Army and were soon hunkered down in a ditch along Telegraph Road with the rest of the troops. They had been in position about an hour when Cletus saw some horsemen coming. Someone farther down the line called out, "It's General Price, hooray!" As the horsemen rode past, Cletus recognized David trailing the officers.

"Hey hillbilly, look over here."

David reined up, and looked over the gray-coated soldiers crouched in the ditch alongside the rail fence. Finally he spotted Cletus and rode over to him. "Well if it ain't the Yazoo. You doing okay?"

"Fair ta middlin'. How about you?"

"Bout the same." He looked back at the other horsemen who were far down the road by this time. "I gotta go now. See you later?"

"Y'all can bet your life on it."

On March 7 and 8 in 1862, the fields on and around Pea Ridge soaked up the blood of three thousand three hundred and eighty four men. The soil wasn't concerned about the blue or gray uniforms. It accepted all of the blood that was offered.

Lady luck smiled on Cletus and David, they both still had their shadows as the sun set. They were not among the 2000 Confederate soldiers that died in this battle.

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