Chapter Two –
Battle at Pea Ridge / Elkhorn Tavern

(Hospital) “It says here that General Van Dorn’s plan was simple. The Army of the West, as Van Dorn called his new command, with over sixteen thousand men and sixty-five cannons, would overwhelm the Federal Army of the Southwest, who only had 10,250 men and 49 cannons, driving them back to St. Louis – then Huzza.”

“What’s Huzza and Who’s Van Dorn?” Peg asked blankly.

‘Huzza is another way of saying ‘hooray’. And General Van Dorn is the senior officer President Davis put in command over the two non-talking generals, General Price and General McCullock.

“Huzza,” Peg hooted.

Patch read quietly to himself and then added, “It says here that General McCullock came up with a real good idea. They found out from spies that the two halves of the Yankee troops had come back together and were dug in at Little Sugar Creek facing south waiting for the Rebels to attack. McCullock explained to General Van Dorn that the Old Bentonville detour would take them up and around the back of the Yankees. From there, they could attack from the north while the Yankees faced south. This plan would cut the army off from its supply line from Missouri, forcing them surrender.”

“I like that plan even better, Southerners attacking from the north,” Peg bellowed, slapping his one good knee. “Once we have the Yankee’s gunpowder, weapons, mules and wagons, we can deliver this war right to St. Louis’ front door steps. Huzza.”

“Yes and no. You have to understand and recognize the situation at the time. The newspaper explained that the first vote in Arkansas for secession failed. The eastern half of the state is all flat Delta land near the Mississippi River. Cotton, plantations and slavery rules politics there. But the northwester section of the state was in the Ozark Mountains, and neither farming nor slavery was big political issues up there. So that’s why the first vote to leave the United States failed. But weeks later when Lincoln asked for 75,000 troops from each state, the second vote for secession passed quickly and with flying color, all except for Mr. Isaac Murphy, who voted to stay in the Union.”

“And he was born and raised in the Ozark Mountains,” Peg quickly added.

“No and yes. No, he was born at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in 1799. Yes, as a young man, he moved to Fayetteville, which is in the Ozark Mountains. There he practiced law and was elected to government office. But my point is that since slavery was not a political issue for the folks in the Ozarks, the Ozarks was thick with Northern sympathizers and supporters who were ready and quick to warn General Curtis that the Rebels were splitting up their troops and were planning to come up from behind him.”

“Fiddlesticks,” Peg grumbled. “Yankee spies.”

“The paper says it took all day for General Curtis, once informed, to turn his cannons around facing north and dig back in. But he did, and they were ready when Van Dorn, Price and McCullock came marching out of Bentonville.” Patch sipped his coffee and continued, “All thanks to the Northern sympathizers.”

“Spies,” interjected Peg.

“Whatever. Thanks to the Northern sympathizers, Curtis knew that Van Dorn had split off McCullock’s troops and sent them to Leetown in a flanking effort. Curtis in turn sent two Yankee scouting parties to harass and slow the Southern troop’s positioning efforts.” Patch folded the newspaper back and continued, “At Leetown, McCullock, McIntosh, Hébert, Pike and his Indians got tied up with these Union troops, delaying their meeting up with Van Dorn and Price, who was waiting for them near the Elkhorn Tavern.”

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(Dream) Hunter grabbed the Indian’s knife hand by the wrist and pulled him up from his kneeling position. “What are you doing?” Hunter screamed over the thunderous burst of the cannon and musket fire. The smoke was thick, and his nose and mouth were filled with the taste of sulfur and black gunpowder. “What are you doing?” Hunter screamed again, this time right into the face of the Cherokee warrior - trying to be heard.

The warrior blinked at him quizzically and then pushed him away savagely. As he turned and bent back down to his business, Hunter sprang up out of the dirt and dust and jumped on the Indian’s back before either one of them realized what he was doing. The Indian rolled over, out of his kneeling position, landing on top of Hunter. The Indian sprang to his feet and wheeled around with the bloody knife in the ready position. He was quivering; he was so angry that his business got interrupted and by a mere boy at that. He poked his bloody knife savagely at Hunter’s soft underbelly. Hunter sucked it in and moved back just in time. Now even angrier that this mere boy was besting a proven and accomplished warrior, he slashed at Hunter face, first from the right and then from the left.

Even though Hunter was quick and agile and missed the stabbing slashes of the warrior in front of him, he didn’t duck when another Indian hit him in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Hunter’s eyes rolled back into his head. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the dusty ground like a ten-pound bag of freshly picked potatoes.

He must have lain there for a long time because when he finally did lift open his ten-pound eyelids, the deafening roar of the cannons were silent. The battlefield, dank and musty, was silent as well. And all around him was silent, except for an occasional sharp pop from a distant musket. The stench of sulfur still filled his nose, and the taste of black powder still filled his mouth. He raised his head up slowly and cautiously looking for Indians, but there were none. The only thing he could see were dark heaps of dead bodies wrapped in swirling stripes of gray smoke.

Still wary of an Indian attack, he slowly and watchfully rose up to a kneeling position. Nothing. He slowly stood up and cautiously looked around, just as a full moon began to rise like a copper disk over the horizon. He took a deep breath, held it and listened intently. Still nothing or nobody. He tried to get his feet to work, to move away from the nearest mound of dead soldiers, but he froze and blinked. He blinked his eyes again and again. No. He thought to himself. No. He shuffled and dragged his feet over toward the closest mound. He blinked his eyes again. His head started spinning as the air whooshed from his lungs. He wobbled around on his useless legs for a few steps before falling forward on his hands and knees. He looked down at the copper colored clods of dirt and threw-up.

(Hospital) Peg rubbed his beard furiously in disbelief. “Indians!” He declared, rising slightly from his seat. “Indians? What kind of gentlemen’s war is this when they make soldiers out of Indians?”

“It says here that General Pike signed a deal with the Five Civilized Tribes of the Cherokee Nation. The deal was that the Confederacy agreed to pick up the support payments that the US government had fallen behind on, agreed to deliver more guns and munitions and agreed that the Indians would only be used to harass and distract the Yankee troops, keeping them tied up in Indian Territory and unavailable to fight in other states.”

“Indians,” Peg said, still complaining.

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“Another part of the agreement with Chief Watie was that the Indians would never, ever be used outside of the Indian Territory.” Patch took a sip of his coffee and a tiny bite from his cinnamon roll before he continued. “It seems that before the ink could dry on the new agreements, Van Dorn had told Pike he needed his Indians to help him with the battle at Pea Ridge. Pike reluctantly complied, and the braves insisted on payment up front to their families before they rode the 80 miles from Tahlequah, Oklahoma, to Pea Ridge. Pike paid them with large sums of Confederate money.”

“Other than the Indian stuff, how did our boys do?” Peg asked anxiously, moving closer to Patch.

“Not good. No, not good at all. After all the smoke cleared and the tallies were totaled, McCullock and his second in command, General James McIntosh, were killed near Leetown. Then Colonel Louis Hébert, the next in command, got captured on the back road leading to Pea Ridge. So, without a command structure, McCullock’s foot soldiers fell back into the woods and did not press the battle.”

“Now, don’t tell me what happened next.” Peg inhaled loudly, still perched on the edge of his chair.

“With the absence of McCullock’s troops, Van Dorn and Price faired badly. The battle at Pea Ridge centered around the Elkhorn Tavern. Even though Curtis moved his cannons up from Little Sugar Creek to support his Yankee troops, the Union Colonel Eugene Carr’s Fourth Division gave ground grudgingly to our General Price’s superior numbers. In the late afternoon, the Missouri Rebels, led by Colonel Henry Little, pushed Carr’s battered Fourth Division back from the area around Elkhorn Tavern, south to Ruddick’s cornfield. Then, they moved east on Huntsville Road and dislodged the Iowans as nightfall ended the fighting.”

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“I thought you said Van Dorn and Price faired badly?” Peg scrunched up his face and fish-eyed Patch sideways and then added, “It sounds like our boys did a pretty good job of running off the Yankees if you ask me.”

“The Battle of Pea Ridge would be decided the next day.” Patch avoided the comment and continued reading. “The Yankees spent most of the night preparing. Even though almost half of the enlisted troops and many of the officers spoke German as their first language, General Curtis, never the less, successfully rearranged the Army of the Southwest and made sure the men were fed, rested, and supplied with ammunition. The next morning, Union troops were ready to resume combat, but the Confederates were not. Van Dorn needed to re-concentrate his army. In the process, he neglected to bring up the supply trains from Bentonville, so most of the Rebels did not get food or new ammunition. The next morning, the Federal cannoneers were relentless. Realizing he had lost and was in danger of being trapped and destroyed, Van Dorn sent his exhausted army east toward Huntsville.” Patch paused for a second and then read a quote. “One Yankee soldier from Iowa said, ‘It was a continual thunder, and a fellow might have believed that the Day of Judgment had come. The thunderous noise could be heard fifty miles away.’”

“Germans,” Peg said thoughtfully to himself. “Wow.” He murmured, slipping silently back into his chair, perplexed. “Wow, where did they come from?”

Patch avoided the obvious answer and continued reading. “The Battle of Pea Ridge cost the Yankees 1,384 casualties or roughly 13 percent of the 10,250 troops who came to fight in Arkansas. It’s figured that the Confederacy had 2,000 casualties or 15 percent of the 16,500 Rebels, which included Pike’s 800 Indians but not including the Creeks and Choctaws who arrived too late to fight.”

“Germans.” Peg looked quizzically at nothing. “And Indians,” he added as he spit a stream of brown juice into the brass spittoon and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt thoughtfully.

“Yes, Germans and Indians.” Patch looked at Peg and then back to the newspaper. “There wasn’t much that President Davis could do about the Yankee Germans, but he could do something about the Indians. After the scalping incident hit the Southern newspapers, he ordered General Pike to take his Indians back to Indian Territory. And that was the last of the Indians being deployed in any significant numbers. It says that Chief Watie gladly went back to his original mission of harassing and distracting Yankee troops within the boundaries of the Indian Territory.”

“What happen to Van Dorn?” Peg asked, absently pushing further back in his chair. He was obviously still wrestling with the idea of Germans and Indians fighting in a gentleman’s war.

“Van Dorn went to Van Buren six miles north of Fort Smith and rested with his troops.” Patch took a small bite of his cinnamon roll and a sip of coffee before continuing. “Interesting. General Beauregard sent a telegram to Van Dorn requesting his assistance and that of his ‘Army of the West’. Wait!” Patch interjected. “I can see why. It looks like General Grant and his troops are in steamboats coming down the Tennessee River with plans to crush the rail crossing at Corinth, Mississippi.”

“‘Army of the West’. I like the way that sounds,” Peg cooed to himself as Patch read quietly to himself for a moment.

“Well, don’t get used to it. Wait until you hear this. General Van Dorn moved his men the 200 miles east to Des Arc and boarded steamboats headed down the White River to the Mississippi River and to Corinth. Unfortunately, Van Dorn’s arrival was too late.

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