February 1965

Before turning to the prelude to the battle, let us briefly consider the three principal protagonists --- Nathaniel Lyon for the Union and Ben McCulloch and Sterling Price for the Confederacy.

Nathaniel Lyon was born on a farm in Eastport, Connecticut in 1818. From the time he was old enough to think about his future, Lyon wanted to be a soldier. He graduated from West Point in 1841 and fought both in the Seminole and Mexican Wars. Later, as a captain, he, as Adamson puts it, "acquired a well-earned reputation for turning bad Indians into good Indians. The latter being dead ones." In the border warfare between the pro and anti-slavery elements in Missouri and Kansas in the late 1850s, Lyon saw a miniature of what was to come: the war between the North and the South. He wanted to be in it to fight, as he said, "for the triumph of my principles" and, writing prophetically in January 1861, said "...I certainly expect to expose and very likely lose my life." That same month, his company was ordered to St. Louis to reenforce the U.S. arsenal garrison. The various means which he took to reenforce the arsenal, his scouting disguised as a woman, and his capture of the secessionist stronghold, Camp Jackson, are not within the scope of this paper. Suffice it to say that these actions reflect Lyon's daring, bravery and willingness to fight against odds---all of which were clearly reflected at Wilson's Creek. For his actions in recruitment and at Camp Jackson, he was promoted from Captain to Brigadier General of Volunteers. He was fated to die at Wilson's Creek and is buried near his home in Connecticut. A description of the man provides a key to his character) both in St. Louis and later: "His face, deeply creased, tanned by sun and weathered by wind, was set in a frame of unkempt sandy hair and a sparse fringe of reddish whiskers. It could be said that Lyon had an almost comical appearance. . .until one caught a look of the mouth that held the quality of a bear trap and gazed into eyes that were as blue and cold as newly chilled steel."

Franz Sigel, Wilson's Creek (Failure), Pea Ridge (Success); Second Manassas (Failure), Shenandoah Valley, New Market (Failure).

Ben McCulloch elder brother of Gen. Henry E. McCulloch, was born in Tennessee in 1811. He served under Sam Houston at the Battle of San Jacinto, was an Indian fighter and rendered brilliant service in the Mexican War. After serving as a United States marshal in Texas, he was commissioned brigadier general in the Provisional Confederate Army in May, 1861 and was assigned to the command of troops in Arkansas. Together with Sterling Price, he won the Battle of Wilson's Creek though, as we have said" this victory went unexploited. While under the command of Gen. Earl Van Dorn at Elkhorn Tavern (Pea Ridge) on March 7, 1862, he was fatally wounded. Invariably refusing to wear a uniform, he was attired in a suit of black velvet at the time of his death and, at that time, was the second ranking brigadier in the Confederate service. He is buried in Austin, Texas.

Sterling Price, known to his men as "Old Pap" was born in Virginia in 1809, but moved to Missouri about 1831. From 1844 to 1846 he was a Member of Congress, resigning to serve first as colonel and then as brigadier general of volunteers in the Mexican War. He was governor of Missouri from 1853-1857. In March 1861 he was president of the state convention that opposed secession and, disagreeing with the extreme Unionists, he accepted command of the Missouri militia in May of that year, with the rank of major general. Like McCulloch, he fought at Pea Ridge and,, following this battles accepted a Confederate commission as major general in the Provisional Army to rank from March 6, 1862. His campaign around Iuka and Corinth in October of that year was unsuccessful, as was the case at Helena, Arkansas in 1863. His raid through Missouri in September and October, 1864, after initial successes, was finally turned back at Westport, and the end of the war found him in Texas with his command. After the collapse of Maximilian's Empire, where Price had gone following the Confederate surrender, he returned to Missouri in 1866. He died in St. Louis the following year, and is buried there.

Other Wilson's Creek battle participants included a number of soldiers of future prominence. The little army which fought under Lyon later furnished the Union with seven major-generals: John M. Schofield, D.S. Stanley, Frederick Steele, Franz Sigel, Gordon Granger, Peter J. Osterhaus and Francis J. Herron, as well as thirteen brigadier-generals, among them being Samuel D. Sturgis, E.B. Carr, Joseph B. Plummer, Robert B. Mitchell, Thomas Sweeney, James Totten, C.C. Gilbert and Powell Clayton. Missourians who rose to general officer rank in the Confederate Army were Sterling Price, M.M. Parsons, William Y. Slack, Joseph 0. Shelby, John B. Clark, Jr., Colton Greene and Francis M. Cockrell.

I imagine that most of us know that the Confederate forces at Pea Ridge included a number of Indians, under the command of Brig. Gen. Albert Pike, later of Masonic fame. However, the first engagement in which Trans-Mississippi Indians participated was the affair at Wilson's Creek. The number of red men involved was small and their chief contribution seems to have been the rousing war whoop which they had taught to their paleface comrades. In a charge led by Col. Greer, the savage shrieks issuing from both Choctaws and Texans, blended with the Rebel yell to create surprise, if not alarm, in Union ranks.

As the curtain goes up on the prelude to Wilson's Creek, we see Gen. Lyon in southwestern Missouri, at Springfield, with about five thousand men, most of whom are soon to return to their homes, the term of enlistment being nearly expired. They are, many of them, without shoes; their uniforms are in tatters, according to one contemporary war correspondent. Lyon has won the Battle of Boonville, Missouri on June 17th and advanced to Springfield. Col. Franz Sigel has lost the Battle of Carthage on July 5th, and retreated to Springfield. As soon as Lyon reached the city, he began writing and sending representatives to St. Louis and Washington, demanding reinforcements. But his demands received little if any attention. Maj. Gen. John C. Fremont, commanding in St. Louis, did not seem disposed to help him. When assured that Lyon must and would fight at Springfield, he simply replied: "If he does, he will do it on his own responsibility." Lyon chafed at Washington: "If it is the intention to give up the West, let it be so. Scott (Lt. Gen. Winfield Scott) will cripple us if he can." Fremont's indifference prodded Lyon with such sharp torment that he would often flare into temper at the mere mention of his name. Once, during a conference, he banged the table with his sword hilt, and shouted, "God damn Fremont." He is a worse enemy to me, and the cause of the Union than Price and McCulloch and the whole damn tribe of rebels in this part of the state." Finally two regiments--one in Boonville and the other in Leavenworth (Kansas) --- were ordered to report to him but---they never reached there.

It was a question with Lyon whether to fight or retreat and the first alternative seemed safer than the last. His only line of retreat was to Rolla, 125 miles distant (between Springfield and St. Louis) through a broken and rugged country with the probability that Price's and McCulloch's cavalry would be thrown in his front, while their infantry pressed him desperately in the rear. Besides, to retreat was to give up all he had gained, to allow Price to return to the Missouri River with an army and to begin anew the fight for possession of the state. He determined to risk defeat rather than turn back.

Lyon, as we have seen, had incomparable troubles, but there was far from concord in the camp of his opponents. Like thousands of other men, McCulloch's ambition far transcended his abilities. He at once assumed the attitude that, as a Brigadier General in the Confederate Army, he outranked Sterling Price, who was a Major General of State troops -- a humorous reversal of the state sovereignty idea. The dispute actually became quite acrimonious, but was at last settled by Price's yielding to McCulloch, so anxious was he that something decisive should be done toward driving back Lyon and, as he phrased it "redeeming the State of Missouri." According to Thomas L. Snead, his Chief of Staff, Price went to McCulloch's quarters on Sunday morning, August 4th, and after vainly trying to persuade him to attack Lyon, said:

I am an older man than you, Gen. McCulloch, and I am not only your senior in rank now, but I was a Brigadier General in the Mexican War, with an independent command when you were only a Captain; I have fought and won more battles than you have ever witnessed; my force is twice as great as yours; and some of my officers rank and have seen more service than you, and we are also upon the soil of our own State; but, Gen. McCulloch, if you will consent to help us to whip Lyon and to repossess Missouri, I will put myself and all my forces under your command, and we will obey you as faithfully as the humblest of your own men. We can whip Lyon, and we will whip him and drive the enemy out of Missouri and all the honor and all the glory shall be yours. All that we want is to regain our homes and to establish the independence of Missouri and the South. If you refuse to accept this offer, I will move with the Missourians alone against Lyon; for it is better that they and I should all perish than Missouri be abandoned without a struggle. You must either fight beside us or look on at a safe distance and see us fight all alone the army which you dare not attack even with our aid. I must have your answer before dark, for I intend to attack Lyon tomorrow.

General McCulloch replied that he was expecting dispatches from the East, but would make known is determination before sundown. At that time, accompanied by Gen. McIntosh, he went to Price's headquarters and informed him that he had just received dispatches that Gen. Pillow was advancing into the southeastern part of the State with 12,000 men, that that he would accept the command of the united forces and attack Lyon. Price at once published an order that he had turned over the command of the Missouri troops to Gen. McCulloch but -- reserved the right to resume command at any time he might see fit.

Actually, an audacious stroke by Lyon on August 2nd had quite unsettled McCulloch's nerves. Getting information that his enemies were moving on him by three different roads, he determined to move out swiftly and attack one of the columns and rush it before the other forces could come to its assistance. At Dug Springs, 20 miles away, he encountered McCulloch's advance guard under Brig. Gen. Rains and -- scattered this force in wild confusion. Lyon then marched forward to within six miles of the main Confederate position, and lay there 24 hours when, not seeming it wise to attack so far from his base and with incomplete information concerning enemy strength, he retired unmolested to Springfield. This startling aggressiveness quite overcame McCulloch, and the conduct of the Missourians disgusted him. He was strong in his denunciation of them and quite frank in his reluctance to attack Gen. Lyon without further information as to "his position and fortifications," and complained bitterly that he could get no information as to the "barricades" in Springfield and other positions he might encounter. He said that "he would not make a blind attack on Springfield," and "would order the whole army back to Cassville (Missouri) rather then bring on an engagement with an unknown enemy."

Gen. Price was strenuous in his insistence upon attack, and finally McCulloch consented to meet all the general officers at his headquarters. In the council, McCulloch was plain in his unwillingness to engage Lyon or to enter on any aggressive campaign but Price seconded by Gens. Parsons, Rains, Slack and McBride, were most determined that Lyon should be attacked at once and, Price once again declared that if McCulloch would not do it, he would resume command and fight the battle himself. McCulloch finally yielded and ordered a forward movement and on the morning of Aug. 6th, the entire force was in camp along the bank of Wilson's Creek, south of Springfield. This position was taken largely because of its proximity to immense cornfields, which would supply the troops and animals with food. There the Southern army remained for several days, the dispute going on all the time between Price and McCulloch. Finally the reluctant McCulloch again decided to move at 9 P.M. an August 9th. But before that time it began to rain and the order was countermanded, chiefly because Price's Missourians had no cartridge boxes, but carried their ammunition in their pockets, and it was liable to be ruined if it rained hard. The troops, therefore, lay on their arms during the night, awaiting the development of events.

Unknown to them, these "events" were already in progress because about five o'clock on the afternoon of August 9th, Lyon moved out of Springfield. His plan was bold, even to rashness. He sent Col. Franz Sigel with around 1,200 men and a battery of six guns to turn the enemy's right flank, while he himself with the remainder of his force, attacked in front. After marching about five miles, he turned south across the prairie and about midnight came in sight of Rains' campfires. He halted there until dawn. Lyon was further favored in his plan of surprise by the fact that the Confederates had withdrawn their pickets in anticipation of moving themselves, as we have seen, and when the movement was abandoned, "somebody goofed" and they had not been set out again.

Let us leave Lyon for the moment and look in on Sigel's activities. The morning is dawning, and Sigel's cavalry are in advance. In the dim gray of the morning the cavalrymen see Confederate soldiers coming down the road from their camp with pails and kettles, on their way to the creek for water. The cavalrymen ride into the fields, circle around them, and the Confederates suddenly discover that they are prisoners. The troops press on. They can see the white tents of the Confederates on the slope of a hill. The smoke is curling up from the campfires. Sigel whirls four of his six cannon into position and opens fire. There is a sudden commotion. Some of the Confederates flee, panic-stricken, through the fields. Far better for Sigel -- far better for the fortunes of the day if, instead of firing, he had pressed on quietly with his troops, for then he could have captured many prisoners. His troops press on and take possession of the camp. Sigel had fallen upon the Commissary Department of the Confederate Army and around the camp were quarters of beef hanging on stakes and poles. There was a corral of cattle, another of horses.

The Confederate troops had fled, but they are rallying on another hill. Sigel brings up his cannon and once more opens fire. Looking across the hills towards the northwest he can see the battle-cloud rising above the treetops. "Gen. Lyon is driving all before him," is the thought that comes to him. "Lyon's men are coming up the road towards us say Sigel's skirmishers. Suddenly his men see a brigade of troops coming through the fields, and above them floats the Stars and Stripes. The color-bearer is waving it as a signal to them not to fire. Though the uniforms are gray, he believes them to be those of the first Iowa, the men of which wore this color. "They are Lyon's troops. Don't fire," says an officer. The men stand at ease. The advancing line halts. Suddenly muskets flame, and shells from a battery crash through the woods.

The cry of anguish and consternation runs along the line, "They are Lyon's troops firing on us!" Up, almost to the muzzles of Sigel's cannon, rush the Confederates, shooting horses, capturing five of the guns, killing and wounding nearly three hundred men. Back through the fields flee Sigel's troops -- their part in the battle ended. Many of his men, while attempting to make their way back to Springfield by the same route they came, were captured or killed. Sigel himself got to Springfield with only one man accompanying him.

Let us return to Gen. Lyon and, as with Sigel, we find the Southern forces being surprised. The morning is dawning. Some of the Confederate soldiers are asleep, others rekindling their fires and putting their frying pans upon the coals, cutting slices of ham for their breakfast, when they hear a rattling of musketry a mile away. A picket comes running in. "The Yankees are coming!" he shouts. The drums beat the long roll, the bugles sound; frying pans are tossed aside; soldiers run hither and thither. The regiments form in hot haste, for Gen. Lyon is driving in the pickets. Capt. Totten's battery is sending its shells into camp from the north.

We see Gen. Lyon's line moving down the road, the battalion of regulars under Capt. Plummer in advance. Major Osterhaus commands the skirmishers on the right. Capt. Totten's guns are active, the First Kansas comes up on the left, and up the ridge they drive the Confederates.

Passing over now to the Confederate camp, we see Gen. McCulloch marshalling his forces. It is half-past five o'clock when the rattle of musketry breaks on the skirmish line. In front of the position where Lyon is advancing are the troops commanded by Generals Slack, Clark, McBride, Parsons and Rains. Capt. Woodruff, with his six cannon, comes into position and replies to Totten's guns. Off to the left, Louisiana and Arkansas regiments of McCulloch and other troops oppose Plummer and troops from Kansas. Forward and backward, through scrubby oaks, surge the lines of battle, the Confederates greatly outnumbering the Union troops.

The Union artillerist, Capt. Totten plays his pieces with the skill of the virtuoso he was. He has a feeling, an instinct, for the handling of his round- mouthed monsters similar to that of a great chess player. He has an uncanny instinct for just when and where to place his guns. That morning, between swigs from the canteen of brandy at his hip, he bellows orders, always ending with his stentorian, "God damn you, sire." He works under great handicaps. This is not artillery country--too small a field of fire, too many trees, too much underbrush. Still, he plays on the enemy's lines with telling effect.

There are many incidents relating to the Union troops at this stage of the battle. They are more than willing to fight; in fact, they cannot be restrained. Mainly the only service performed by the officers, after the battle lines are formed, is to keep the men from unnecessarily exposing themselves. Most of the regiments are lying flat on their faces, the line officers sitting on the ground a few paces in the rear. Capt. Cracklin of the First Kansas, takes out his old briar-root pipe and, after fumbling for tobacco in every pocket, he gets up, borrows a fill from one of his men, and smokes as unconcernedly as if it were a sham battle.

When the men are ordered to lie down., a tall German by the name of Henry Neukampf refuses to do so. He keeps walking back and forth along the rear of the line, picking off the Rebs as the opportunity offers. For a time, he seems to bear a charmed life. He escapes injury where the bullets are flying so thick that a gun or ramrod held up a few feet above the ground is sure to be hit. To all entreaties of his comrades, Henry stoically replies, "Oh, vell, it makes me no difference out." Neukampf is hit in the head after an hour of exposure. "Now I vas mad," he shouts. Dropping to his proper position, he fights like a tiger to the end of the battle. He dies 12 days afterward in Springfield.

An Indian sharpshooter among the Confederates, climbs to the crotch of a tree between the lines and wounds two men in Cracklin's company, with one shot. Lt. Schuyler draws a bead on him and the Indian tumbles to the ground, dead.

Some of Gen. Lyon's regiments have fired away all their ammunition. A soldier of a Missouri regiment has fired the last bullet that will fit his gun, but has some of a larger size. He sits down beneath a tree and begins to whittle them. "What are you doing?" asks an officer. "Whittling the bullets to fit my gun," is his reply. "Don't stop to do that. Look into the cartridge-boxes of the men who have been killed; you will find some to fit your gun." In a few minutes he is loading and firing once more.

The battle thus joined upon the hillside is now waged for hours with intense earnestness. The lines approach again and again within less than fifty yards of each other and then, after delivering a deadly fire, each falls back a few paces to reform and reload, only to advance again and again to renew this strange battle in the woods. The most remarkable of all its characteristics is the deep silence which now and then falls upon the smoking field -- falls upon it and rests there undisturbed for many minutes, while the two armies, unseen of each other, lie but a few yards apart, gathering strength to grapple again in the death struggle for Missouri.

From the summit of Bloody Hill, Lyon can see the entire field. It all lies before him., its outmost limits hardly a mile away. He knows now that Sigel has been defeated and that many fresh Southern forces are preparing to attack him. There is no hope left within him but to dash upon Price with all his might and crush him to the ground before these new gathering forces can come to his help.

Neither line of battle is more than a thousand yards in length. Price guards carefully every part of his own. Wherever the danger is greatest and the battle most doubtful, thither he hastens and stays until the danger is past. In the intervals of the fight, he rides far to the front among his skirmishers and peers into the thick smoke which tangles itself among the trees and bushes, and clings to the ground; he peers wistfully into it until, through its rifts, he can discern what the enemy is doing, and then his strong voice rings out and officers and men quickly spring forward to obey it. Many a time do his men cry out to him as with one voice: "Don't lead us, General; don't come with us; take care of yourself for the sake of us all; we will go without you. Several times Price's clothing is pierced by bullets, one of which inflicts a painful wound in his side. Turning with a smile to an officer who was near him, he said, "That isn't fair; if I were as slim as Lyon, that fellow would have missed me entirely." No one else knew until the battle is ended that he had been struck. One of his aides, Col. Allen, is killed while receiving an order; Col. Weightman is borne to the rear, mortally wounded; Gen. Slack is fearfully lacerated by a musketball and Gen. Clark is shot in the leg; Col. Brown is killed but -- despite all these losses, Price grows stronger all the time, while Lyon's strength is fast wasting away.

Lyon, like Price, is a splendid example to his men. Walking along his line from left to right encouraging his men by his own intrepid bearing and by a few well-spoken words; rallying them where they are beginning to give way; inspiring them with his own brave purpose to make one more effort to win the day, his horse, whose bridle he holds in his hand, is killed and he himself is wounded in the leg and in the head. Stunned and dazed by the blow, his brave soul cast down by the shock, he says in a confused sort of way to those who are nearest, that he "fears that the day is lost." But he comes quickly to his senses and, ordering Maj. Sturgis to rally the First Iowa, which is beginning to break badly, he mounts a horse that is offered to him and swinging his hat in the air, calls out to his men to follow. A portion of Mitchel's Second Kansas closes quickly around him and together they dash into the fight. The next instant Mitchel is struck down severely wounded and almost instantly thereafter a fatal ball pierces Lyon's breast. He falls from his horse into the arms of his orderly, who had sprung forward to catch him, and in another minute he is dead. According to a Brigham family legend, Gen. Lyon was killed by a sharpshooter who was a private in the 1st Brigade, Missouri State Guard . . . my great-grandfather, John M. Oliver. This I cannot authenticate but, Pvt. Oliver was most definitely an active participant at Wilson's Creek.

There is no surviving Union officer above the rank of major, and the senior major is Samuel D. Sturgis, upon whom the command devolves. He calls his few remaining officers together, concludes that the little army has about fought itself out, and decides to retreat. Steele's battalion of regulars covers the retreat and, eventually, first Springfield and then Rolla are reached.

It is now half-past eleven. Silence has again fallen upon Bloody Hill on whose rough surface the dead of both armies lie in great heaps. The Confederates, stretched out among the bushes in which they have been fighting all day, are waiting for the enemy's next onslaught, or for Price's order to attack and are ready for either. Suddenly a cry rings along their ranks that the Federals are retreating; that they have already gotten away and are ascending the hill from which they had begun the attack upon Rains at dawn of day; that they have at last abandoned the field for which they had fought so bravely and so well against such odds. Springing to their feet, they give utterance to their unspeakable relief and to their unbounded joy with that exultant cry which is never heard except upon a battlefield whereon its victors stand. It reaches the ears of Col. Weightman, whose life is fast ebbing away. "What is it?", he asks. "We have whipped them. They are gone." "Thank God!" he faintly whispers. In another instant, he is dead.

The Union commanders were naturally very apprehensive that as soon as Price and McCulloch realized that the field had been abandoned they would "precipitate upon them their immense horde of vengeful horsemen." Such was not the case. Price urged McCulloch to pursue, but - urged him in vain. It was a grave mistake that McCulloch made, for the Federals had barely three thousand weary and disheartened men, while the Confederates had nearly twice that number of fresh troops, many of whom had hardly fired a shot. It was two whole days before McCulloch was in a frame of mind to move forward ten miles and occupy Springfield, the goal of the campaign. This delay was golden to the Union commanders, hampered as they were by hosts of Union refugees fleeing from the rebel wrath, and encumbering the column with all manner of vehicles and great droves of stock. Considering the activity of the Missourians in guerilla warfare, and the vicious way they usually harried the Union forces, it is incomprehensible, except on the theory that the Confederate forces had been stunned into torpor by the blow. The Union column was able to make its one hundred and twenty-five mile retreat to Rolla and traverse an exceedingly rough country cut up every few miles by ravines, gorges and creeks, without the slightest molestation from the Confederates.

Let us return to the Union Army in its retreat from Wilson's Creek. At the first halt of the army, about two miles from the battlefield, it was discovered that Gen Lyon's body had been left behind. A surgeon and another officer volunteered to take an ambulance and return to the battlefield for it. There they were graciously received by Gen. McCulloch; the body had been taken to the Ray House and from there it was transported by the Union escort to Springfield. The surgeon made an attempt to embalm it by injecting arsenic into the veins, but, owing to exposure to the hot sun, decomposition had already progressed too far to render it impracticable, and they were compelled to leave it in the city when the army moved off to Rolla.

Mrs. Phelps, wife of the member of Congress from that district, and a true Union woman, obtained it and had it placed in a wooden coffin, which was hermetically sealed in another one of zinc. Fearing that it might be molested by the Confederate troops when they entered the city; Mrs. Phelps had the coffin placed in an outdoor cellar and covered with straw. Later she took an opportunity to have it secretly buried at night.

Relatives of Gen. Lyon arrived from the East; the body was exhumed and brought to St. Louis. The city went into mourning and, as the body was conveyed East by railroad, distinguished honors were paid at Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, New York and Hartford. The body was taken to Eastport, Conn., and there it was interred in a grave beside his parents, in accordance with the desire which he had expressed. Upon opening his will, it was found that he had bequeathed all of his savings, investments and property (he was a bachelor), amounting to about $50,000 to the Government of the United States to aid it in the prosecution of the war for its existence.

Although only a simple headstone marks his grave, Gen. Lyon's true epitaph can be found in a statement of Thomas L. Snead---one who fought and lived wholeheartedly for the South: "By wisely planning, by boldly doing and by bravely dying, Lyon won the fight for Missouri." In the Army -- be the time peace or war -- one does the best one can with what one has. This is the Army way -- and it was Nathaniel Lyon's way.

Bibliography:

Adamson, Hans Christian -- Rebellion in Missouri: 1861 New York: Chilton Company., 1961

Coffin, Charles C. -- Drum-Beat of the Nation New York: Harper and Bros., 1888

Fiske, John -- The Mississippi Valley in the Civil War New York: Houghton Mifflin and Co., 1900

Johnston, J. Stoddard -- Confederate Military History Vol. IX Atlanta, Ga., Confederate Publishing Co., 1899

McElroy, John -- The Struggle for Missouri Washington, D.C.: National Tribune Co., 1909

Peckham, James -- Gen. Nathaniel Lyon and Missouri in 1861 New York, American News Company, Publishers, 1866

Rea, Ralph R. -- Sterling Price Little Rock., Ar.: Pioneer Press, 1959

Snead, Thomas L. -- The Fight for Missouri New York: Charles Scribner & Sons, 1886

Turner, Dale O. -- Missouri in the Confederacy 1861-1865 Unpublished paper Cincinnati CWRT September 1962

Warner, Ezra J. -- Generals in Gray Baton Rouge, La.: Louisiana State University Press, 1959

Wiley, Bell Irvin -- The Life of Johnny Reb New York: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1943