HEADQUARTERS SOUTHWESTERN DISTRICT OF MISSOURI,
CAMP NEAR FLAT CREEK, 2 MILES WEST OF CHRISTIAN�S,
February 15, 1862 -- 7 p. m.

GENERAL:  I moved slowly till I had passed Crane Creek.  There the precipitate flight of the enemy induced me to order forward the cavalry, with instructions to overtake and charge the enemy.  When they arrived here they were fired on by artillery, and therefore made a stand until other forces came up.  The little howitzers returned the fire of the enemy, and kept them at bay till I got heavier batteries in position and drove the enemy forward.  The valley is very strong for the enemy, and I wonder he did not make a better stand.  I am taking the straggling cattle for rations to-night, and will move on to Cassville at 4.

I hope the force of your command is near me to-night.  My men are living on meat, and have hardly time to cook it; but they seem eager to push forward, either to take Price or drive him out of the State.

I am, general, very truly, yours,

SAML. R. CURTIS,
Brigadier-General

SOURCE:  OR, Series I, Volume 8, Page 60.

. . . . We moved on that day, over a wild-looking country, to Crane creek, which we crossed, and camped in the bottom on the south side of it, about an hour before sunset.  Everything in the encampment was conducted in regular military style, the guns being first stacked upon the color-line, which the officers were very particular about having straight: the artillery was unlimbered, the pieces resting upon the trails, their bronzed muzzles elevated in perfect rows.  Especial care was also taken that our tents should be in correct lines.

Some of the command said we were done falling back, that McCulloch was rapidly advancing, and we would probably fight here.  Others, however, were of opinion that it was only a sham camp, and as soon as night came on and supper was dispatched, we would be on the move again.  It was also rumored that a heavy body of the Federal army was advancing on another road, running through the edge of Lawrence county, and would aim to intercept us at Cassville.  We got through stretching our tents, and our mess gathered up leaves and made a soft bed, spreading our blankets nicely upon them, with the hope of getting a good night's sleep, being now in the timber and protected also by the hills; it had ceased snowing and was somewhat warmer.

Our fires were built, and the bread put to bake in the skillets, when some one observed that he believed he heard a piece of artillery.  "Artillery-the devil!" exclaimed Abe Edwards, "you have got so damned badly scared that you imagine every noise you hear is artillery; it's nothing but a wagon rattling on the other side of the hill."

"Listen! I think I hear it again."  Several of us gave our attention, and in a moment the boom of a distant gun was heard, followed immediately by others, now very distinct, stopping all operations of the men in camp, whose attention was entirely occupied listening to the clear and rapidly repeated discharges: in a moment the camp was in the greatest bustle and excitement.  The colonel was upon his horse, and ordered the men to fall into ranks; our tents and blankets were hurriedly thrown into the wagons, some of the cooking utensils were also rapidly gathered up and put in, others that were hot were left upon the fires; a few tents remained upon the ground, being, in the rush and hurry, neglected.

Amid this confusion an old acquaintance, George W. Bryson, rode up and told the captain to give him a gun, as he wanted to join our company.  He was an officer in the State guard, and, having served out his term, had been to his father's, in North Missouri, not far from my own home, and had now returned.  In a few minutes the brigade was on the move at double-quick, and we soon learned that Gates was fighting about three miles in the rear.  Marching back and recrossing the creek about dark, we formed a line of battle just upon the north side, on the right of the road -- to the left, the cliffs were so high that an advance upon us from that side was impracticable.  The cavalry in the rear had been withdrawn.

The road approached the creek through a narrow gorge, at the mouth of which Clark's pieces, double-shotted, were in battery.  The strictest quiet was enjoined, and so well was it maintained, that the cracking of a small twig or the step of a man could be heard at some distance.  Motionless in the pale moonlight, the line of crouching figures could be faintly discerned, extended along the brow of the hill, while below, the shimmer of Clark's artillery was dimly distinguished; the artillerists were ready to apply the matches -- the men clutched their muskets with a firm and steady grasp.  Seated upon the hard and frozen ground, they awaited the enemy's approach: the night was cold and calm, and nothing but the distant rumbling of our train as it moved slowly along, or the occasional pawing of a restless horse, disturbed the deep and settled silence.

About midnight we withdrew, no enemy having come in sight or hearing: a picket was left at the entrance of the pass.  It was a great relief to our stiff and numb limbs to get in motion again, and, crossing the stream, we marched back about half a mile; here a halt was called and fires were kindled.  One of our company at this point accidentally let his gun go off, wounding three men -- a very unfortunate affair.

In about an hour we again took the road and moved on: the men were now beginning to become foot-sore and tired from marching over the hard and frozen ground; they were suffering also greatly from loss of sleep, having had but little on the route, and were very hungry; since breakfast, early in the morning, nothing had been eaten.  During the night the march was steadily continued, and through the next day until two o'clock p. m., when we came up with the train, which had halted.  Dinner was already prepared, and we speedily commenced eating, not having tasted food for thirty hours: after eating a mouthful of meat and a biscuit, feeling nauseated, I quit, and, lying down in the sunshine by the fire, was soon asleep.  In less than an hour I was awoke by the captain, who said if I was sick, it would be better to get in the wagon, which was ready to move; this I declined, telling him my nap had acted as a restorative, and I was well enough, except my feet, and these were, like the others, almost a solid blister upon the bottoms.

We were down in a clearing, on a narrow bottom, which was about two hundred yards wide and a mile long, a small branch running through it, and on all sides surrounded by high hills, upon which a scattering growth of timber was standing.  About-three quarters of a mile above us, the road upon which we had come descended obliquely into the hollow, and ran straight down the fence of the field in which our brigade was then halted; just above, where the road struck the field, a mile distant from us, a very high hill was in full view, whose summit was comparatively bare and without covering.

The train had scarcely got in motion when the sharp, irregular report of picket firing was heard, soon followed by a heavy volley, which must have been discharged by a strong force, equal at least to a regiment.  The brigade was immediately formed by Colonel Little, extending across the open space, and the batteries took positions commanding the field and the point where the road debouched from the woods; we had scarcely formed, when the picket fell back within our lines.  All eyes were turned upon the road in front, on which we soon expected to see the Federal cavalry advancing.

In a few minutes a long line of cavalry appeared, but cautiously avoiding the road, it moved up and formed upon the high hill in our front.  Captain Wade's battery was within a few steps of us, and Colonel Little, approaching, said, "Captain, can you elevate one of your howitzers so as to throw a shell to the top of that hill ?"

"I think I can, sir."

"You will oblige me by doing so."  The captain saluted and turned to his pieces.  A twelve-pounder was soon in readiness, and while an officer surveyed us from the hill with his glass, the gun was discharged, and the shot sent with such precision that the shell bursted in the midst of the mounted columns, as could be seen from the rising smoke, and the scrambling and rapidity with which the position was evacuated.  We kept our lines for an hour, but not another blue-coat appeared upon the hill or in any direction during the time.  Our command was then withdrawn.

After we had proceeded about three miles on the road, we heard the Federal artillery shelling the position we had occupied, the sound being too far off for our picket line, which was at a small creek some distance this side.  Supported by Gates' cavalry, this line had orders to fall back slowly in the rear.  We were about ten miles from Cassville, which we reached that evening without any further molestation, and about a mile beyond the train was overtaken.  Here it had halted, and supper was prepared upon our old camp-ground.

Strong expectations had been entertained of meeting McCulloch at this point, but as yet there was no sign of him or his forces.  Ever since we left Springfield it had been daily reported that we would see him and his army on the morrow, and it had been stated on that evening's march by officers considered reliable, that he and his men were on the road that ran through Buck Prairie to this place from Springfield, being the route upon which a Federal detachment, it was said, had been sent to intercept our advance.  The statement in regard to McCulloch was erroneous, though it was true that the enemy was approaching on that road, and we were only in time to prevent the accomplishment of their object.

Not finding reinforcements here, the men were much disappointed, and said they would believe no more in McIntosh and McCulloch being in supporting distance, until they saw them and their troops.  We were tired of retreating, completely broken down, weary and foot-sore, almost under an absolute necessity of sleeping at least for a short time: our vitality had been severely taxed and rest was indispensable to renew our strength.  The army remained here, however, but a little while, and was soon again on the toilsome march, dragging heavily along behind the train, the movement of which was slow and irregular; the animals were nearly worn out like ourselves.  The halts were frequent, and many of the men slept leaning against one another.

We reached Keytsville about an hour before day, and taking our blankets out slept until daylight, when we were roused up and informed that the enemy was rapidly approaching this side of Cassville, which was only seven miles distant.  The train was soon loaded and moved out of the way.  Giving it time to get ahead, the brigade advanced about a mile and formed in line of battle in a wood behind the brow of a hill, Clark's battery taking position on the side of the road that commanded a lane about four hundred yards off.  Through this the Federals would have to come some distance before they could or would probably discover us, concealed as we were behind the hill, and the battery only partially in view.  Our pickets were ordered in, leaving no obstruction on the road between us.

While here, let me present a sketch of Captain Clark.  There he stands, just behind his battery, in company with part of his men, around some smouldering embers, parching corn from an ear which he is holding in his hand.  His appearance is boyish, he cannot be over seventeen or eighteen, rather small and delicately formed; his features are regular and almost effeminate; cheeks fair and rosy, which war is beginning to bronze, and the expression of his face, bright and attractive.  He wore a dark overcoat, reaching below the knees to his boots; his hat was looped up on the side and surmounted by a black, waving plume.  The free and easy intercource between him and his men exhibits a kind and cordial feeling.  He has left West Point to assist in upholding a cause that he loved, and is considered one of the finest artillery officers in the West.

A regiment of Federals has now entered the lane, and come at a brisk trot, rattling their sabres, laughing gaily and merrily.  "Cannoniers, to your posts!" is Clark's order, as his sabre flashes in the sunlight and the ear of corn is thrown aside.  "Attention !" runs along the line of infantry, and the men spring to their places.  In a moment the voice of the youthful captain is again heard -- "Ready, aim, fire."  The roar of the four pieces was simultaneous.  The head of the Federal column reeled, saddles were emptied, riders tumbled to the ground, horses were plunging, rearing and falling.  "Well done -- load!"' is heard from Clark.

The front of the Federal column faced about, and spurred its horses in a confused mass upon those who were following on behind, completely blocking up the mouth of the lane -- men and horses mingled in wild disorder.  A cheer was heard from Clark's command, and the hills reverberated again with the echo of his pieces.  The shots were more effective than the first, sweeping through the centre of the disordered ranks, bringing down both horses and riders.  In an instant the discomfitted cavalry forced its way over the fences, disappearing in every direction through the woods beyond, leaving their dead and wounded behind.  Two riderless horses ran down near our lines and were captured.  We could hear the enemy's artillery advancing, and, from the noise in the woods, they were perhaps forming a line of battle.  The train being now considerably advanced, we fell back, but in as fine order as if going on dress parade.  There was no running ahead or falling out of ranks -- the men were all at their places, nearly broken down, rather silent, very mad, and somewhat moody.  A fixed determination settled upon every countenance, and fight was much preferred to being dogged any farther.  We were also approaching the border of the State, and the feeling was strongly in favor of fighting it out "to the death," rather than leave it.  I have seen Missourians in fine fighting trim many times since, but I never witnessed them in such a condition that they would have given their lives with as little reluctance as here.

We soon entered a deep gorge, which will be well remembered by any one who has ever traversed it, as it is several miles in length, and extends south within half a mile of the Elkhorn Hotel.  It is generally very narrow, not over forty or fifty yards in width, with high hills on each side, which are heavily timbered, and one or two small houses and fields where the bottom is wider, its course being almost due north and south.

We had entered the pass -- favorable to a retreat, as its situation in the hills made flanking difficult -- and Clark's battery again took position about three hundred yards from the entrance.  We were ordered back, and, thinking a fight would certainly come off now, the men cheered loudly -- the first that had been heard for some time.  Waiting only a short time, a body of Federal cavalry came cautiously down the hill, when the artillery opened upon them, and they went galloping back.  Remaining without seeing the enemy again, and resting a while we continued to fall back.

We soon passed a portion of McCulloch's blockade, which had been made the spring before while the Federal army was in Springfield, and it was thought that General Lyon might intend to penetrate farther South.  The work had been well done, and for some distance the entire road and hollow had been blocked up with felled timber.  A space in the road wide enough for a wagon to pass had been opened; the rest remained very dense, the leaves having dried upon the trees, which had been cut when green.  The men thought, as this was McCulloch's work, he might probably soon make his appearance.

We formed three different lines of battle in the pass, each time Clark using his artillery and driving the enemy back.  General Price was in the rear during the day.  Being satisfied from the bearing of the men, and the assurance of Colonel Little that there was no danger, he retired farther into the lines.  The boys could not help cheering him as he passed -- bowing and raising his hat in return.  He also informed us that a portion of McCulloch's forces would be with us before night, which, of course, raised our spirits.

About two hours before sunset, a regiment of Federal cavalry made a charge through a field, from which the fences had been removed, and drove in a small force of our cavalry, following them so closely that they came thundering down the road together, the blue-coats side by side with our men, cutting, slashing and fighting as they dashed up to the guns.  The charge had not been seen, owing to a turn in the road, and the artillery was not unlimbered.  Rives' regiment being nearest the firing, was ordered back in double quick; ours followed close behind.

The gorge near the battery, being very narrow was filled up by the battery wagon, the caissons and some of the pieces.  The fighting was over two of the pieces in the rear.  Clark had called upon his men to stand to their guns, and fight with anything they could get hold of: some used revolvers, while others fought with sponge staffs.  Major Maury, a brave and efficient officer, was present, and assisted to rally the cavalry, and Colonel Rives' glittering line of bayonets coming in view, the hostile troopers hastily retreated -- Clark getting his rear piece in position in time to give them a parting salute, which accelerated their movements.  Their killed and wounded were left behind, and several prisoners were captured.  Some of Clark's men and others were wounded with sabre cuts, and Major Maury was among the number.

The Missouri and Arkansas line was now within a few hundred yards.  With heavy hearts, the troops passed over it, and bid farewell to their cherished old State, hoping that it would be for only a short time.  The enemy had followed us so steadily and closely, that we had no time to rest, eat or sleep upon the route.  Nothing had been lost, however, except the few articles left at Crane creek, and every wagon of our long train was ahead but one, which had broken down and was burned.

The cheers of our troops, half a mile ahead, are distinctly heard as they welcome the advance of McCulloch, which consisted of the Third Louisiana and two Arkansas regiments, his main force being some distance behind.  They joined in the march with us, and we debouched from the gorge, passing to the high ground, where, on the right of the road, stands the Elkhorn Hotel, a two-story building, on the roof of which were placed the antlers of one of those monarchs of the waste.

I noticed here a soldier of our brigade leading a half-grown bear, which had been partly reared by a mountaineer of this wild region.  It was presented to General Price, and I afterwards saw it several times at his headquarters in Mississippi.

Marching on to Sugar creek, about four miles distant, over a smooth piece of high table land, we crossed that stream and camped in the bottom, on the south side, about ten o'clock at night.  The Confederate troops that had joined us that evening under the command of General McIntosh, had camped on the other side, and as they were fresh, were assigned to bring up the rear the next day.

It was twelve o'clock before we got supper, having eat nothing since leaving Cassville, a period of twenty-eight hours.  Our appetites being satisfied, we sought repose, now absolutely necessary to recuperate and restore our exhausted strength.  Several times during the night I awoke.  My sleep was not refreshing.  The system had been too heavily taxed to allow the tension of the nerves to relax in a short time.

SOURCE:  Ephraim McDowell Anderson, Memoirs: Historical and Personal; including the Campaigns of the First Missouri Confederate Brigade (1868), pages 144-152.

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