Grierson and his troopers pushed deeper into Mississippi on April 18, with the 7th Illinois Cavalry in the lead. The brigade passed through Ripley around 8:30 a.m. without any fanfare or interruption. Judge Orlando Davis, one of Tippah County’s Mississippi Secession Convention delegates, had little to say about the event, noting in his diary only that “they made no stop at Ripley, passed right on south.” Approaching the Tallahatchie River with his single column strung out for two miles behind Grierson would have been foolhardy. Once beyond Ripley, he divided his command into three wings so he could move forward along a broad front. It was more likely than not that the Confederates would offer a defense along the river, much like General Pemberton’s earlier stand the previous December when Grant was trying to move south. Grierson, explained Adjutant Woodward, wanted to show “an imposing front.”27
The river’s headwaters flowed from east of Grierson’s column off the high ground of Pontotoc Ridge. Several tributaries ran down the slope and into the main river channel, which flowed in a westerly course through New Albany and thence north of Oxford and Panola before entering the delta in a wide valley just to the west. The Coldwater River joined it there, and the water made its way south to Greenwood, which was the route portions of Grant’s army had taken during the earlier Yazoo Pass effort. At Greenwood, where Fort Pemberton had blocked Grant’s thrust, the Tallahatchie joined the Yalobusha to form the Yazoo River. The Tallahatchie was not so imposing near its headwaters around New Albany, but it represented a major obstacle, especially if properly defended.28
Grierson divided his command into three groups and approached the river along a six-mile front. His idea was that if one of the three sections could get across the waterway, it would aid the others by outflanking the defenders. Grant crossed this same river five months earlier using the same tactic and launching a flanking movement with cavalry and infantry from the west and turning the Confederate defenses along the river, forcing the enemy to withdraw without much of a fight. Grierson proposed to do the same thing. He sent one battalion (four companies) of the 7th Illinois Cavalry along the main road to New Albany under Maj. John M. Graham. While Graham’s force moved forward in an effort to keep any enemy at New Albany pinned down, a larger force consisting of the rest of the 7th Illinois Cavalry under Colonel Prince, together with the entire 6th Illinois Cavalry under Lieutenant Colonel Loomis, crossed the river two miles east (upriver) at a ford. To make sure he could get a body of troops across, Grierson also sent Colonel Hatch and his Iowans farther east to Molino, which sat on the main channel in the middle of many tributaries that came together to form the river.29
None of the three Union groups met much resistance. As it turned out, the strongest body of troops in the center (most of the 6th and part of the 7th regiments) easily waded or swam across the river. Once on the far side, Grierson turned the column south and it rejoined the main Pontotoc road below New Albany. The Illinois troopers captured a few Confederates along the way, and, Colonel Prince recalled, the scouts “killed one rebel who persistently fired upon the advance.”30
The other two columns met more opposition. On the far left, Colonel Hatch and the 2nd Iowa Cavalry skirmished with Col. J. F. Smith’s partisan rangers around Ellistown. The state militia regiment was organizing at Chesterville just to the south, between Pontotoc and Tupelo, when news reached them that Federal troopers were approaching. The Mississippians quickly moved forward to meet them. Because they were not yet fully organized, the Confederates could only put a few hundred men into what evolved into a running skirmish, and Hatch easily pushed them aside. He did so with care, however, detached as he was from the main brigade to the west. By nightfall Hatch was five miles south of the river and decided it was prudent to go into camp there.31
Major Graham’s 7th Illinois battalion encountered opposition at New Albany itself, which one of the men described as “a small place composed of a few dry-goods stores, whose stock needed replenishing; also some fine residences; altogether a pleasantly situated country town.” The Confederates tried to tear up a bridge over the river to deprive the Union troopers of an easy crossing, but they were unable to finish the job before the battalion approached the structure. Out of time and options, the enemy instead tried to burn the bridge. The Federals braved small-arms fire from the opposite bank and galloped ahead to smother the flames. “Rising in their stirrups and shouting the battle cry,” Graham’s cavalry drove the enemy away, repaired the bridge, and crossed the river.32
New Albany was in Union hands, but Grierson had no interest in holding towns or territory. The small victory, however, coupled with the easy crossing of the Tallahatchie River, elated the colonel. Taking advantage of his good fortune, he pushed southward toward Tardyville, putting ample distance between his command and the river. The two Illinois regiments, which rejoined south of New Albany, rode on about four more miles along the Pontotoc road. Hatch, meanwhile, was riding to a point roughly the same distance south of the river, parallel to Grierson and about ten miles farther east.33
It was about this time the men noticed the darkening western skies. Heavy storms normally moved west to east, as they still do. Grierson wanted nothing to do with moving his men and supplies during a heavy rainstorm, and he ordered the men to halt at a plantation that was likely full of the supplies he needed to continue the journey. It was a wise choice, he later recalled, because “the rain fell in torrents all night.” The same process that had played out at Ellis’s the night before again took place, although this time with more theatrics from the plantation owner.34
William D. Sloan’s small plantation was four miles southeast of New Albany and near Tardyville. The 55-year-old was one of the more prominent members of Pontotoc County society (the area later divided into a new Union County). Sloan was not a member of the planter class, as historians later defined it, and he lived in what Samuel Woodward described as “a rude log dwelling.” Sloan hailed from South Carolina, owned 18 slaves in 1860, and had a real estate value of $7,000 and a personal estate valued at $20,000. He had collected a large amount of corn and bacon to supply his operation, but he was in no mood to share what he had accumulated with Grierson or the Federal troopers.35
Grierson and Woodward, along with their orderlies, approached the cabin. Sloan, Grierson remembered, “wanted in a small way to resist, where effective resistance was of course impossible.” Woodward recalled that Sloan “was profuse in his professions of loyalty to the United States government and in protests against our use of his corn and bacon to feed the command.” When he refused to turn over the keys and Grierson ordered the locks broken, the Mississippian grudgingly obliged. His mild resistance turned to rage, however, when Union troopers began dividing his hard-earned goods. “When he saw his stores issued out, he was completely beside himself,” Grierson related, “alternately going to cut my throat and apparently desirous of having his own throat cut.” Sloan’s wife, Margaret, described by Grierson as “more self-possessed than her husband,” pled with her husband “not to be a fool,” and tried to calm him down, as did Grierson, who “tried to reason [with] and pacify him, to cool him off.”36
Sloan would have none of it, and the confrontation grew more heated and lasted much of the night inside his house while the rain made everyone outside that much more miserable. After Sloan admitted giving some of his provisions to Confederates, Grierson joked, “The least he could do was to contribute to the old Union cause.” The Mississippian alternated between periods of calm and bouts of anger—or, as Grierson put it, “He would moderate a little [until] the sight of some new depredation would set him in a tantrum again.” The Illinois colonel’s explanation that seizing his supplies was a necessity of war or that supporting the Confederacy was treason “would [not] avail to quiet him.” At one point Sloan loudly congratulated himself that the enemy had not gotten his horses, which were “safely hidden away where no Yankee in the world could find them.” On cue, some of Grierson’s troopers rode past, driving those very horse
s and mules to the Federal camp. “He fairly foamed,” Grierson remembered, “rushed towards me, and for the fiftieth time demanded that we should ‘take him out and cut his throat and be done with it.’”37
“Worn out by his whining,” the performer in Grierson decided to have a little fun. The commander’s personality—alternately described as “full of vivid, elastic life, overflowing with enthusiasm” and “modest, gentle and genial in his manners”—was soon on full display. He winked at his officers and loudly called upon an orderly to do the deed. “I concluded to take him at his word,” Grierson joked, “as nothing I could say or do would suffice to quiet him.” Grierson explained to the orderly—“an immense, athletic, heavily bearded man”—that the plantation owner “was very desirous of having his throat cut” and that he had “tried to reason with him out of his strange wish, but that he persisted and that the orderly might take him out into the field nearby and ‘cut his throat and be done with it,’ according to his oft-repeated and urgent request.” The aide played his part perfectly. “The huge orderly never smiled or hesitated,” recorded the perpetrator of the prank, “but deliberately taking a large knife in one hand, with the other seized Mr. Sloan and moved off with him as if he had been a kitten.”38
“Then a general hub-bub began,” wrote Grierson. Margaret Sloan, who had been trying to convince her husband that even if the enemy took everything they still had the plantation and that they could not do anything about it anyway, lost her self-composure. “She began to scream in chorus with the servants and beg me not to mind what her husband had said; that he did not know what he was about.” Sloan, before exiting the house, “was hollering lustily for the commanding officer and begging for dear life of the strong hand which held him.” When the larger orderly roughly ushered the man back into the room where Grierson was waiting, Sloan “avowed that he did not want to have his throat cut—that he did not want to die.” Grierson ordered him released. “Thereafter during our stay, he remained comparatively quiet.”39
The next morning, as the Federal troopers went about their morning routine, Grierson showed the Mississippian all the “tired stock, horses, and mules we would leave in place of the fresh animals we had taken from him.” The turn of events surprised Sloan, who was “quite appeased,” Grierson concluded, and “he was not so sure but he had the best of the trade with the Yankees after all.” In truth, Grierson was not overly concerned about the exhausted livestock he was leaving behind. He was much more worried about the rain that was still coming down and its effects on his troopers and their horses. Colonel Hatch, isolated farther to the east, was also on his mind. That the column had not covered as much ground on the second day of the raid as it had on the first was another fact that weighed heavily on him. Grierson’s initial ride had quickly slipped through and beyond the first level of enemy defenses by crossing the Tallahatchie, but on the second day, rain and other factors had forced him to halt much earlier than he would have liked after covering only 25 miles—5 fewer than he had logged the day before.40
It was important to make up the lost time. Whether the roads would dry out quickly and the enemy would cooperate remained to be seen.
***
Deception has been a part of everyday life since the serpent lured Adam and Eve into eating the fruit in the Garden of Eden. Deception in warfare has been practiced nearly as long. The same army manual that today teaches officers about the nine principles of war discusses “deliberately mislead[ing] adversary decision makers as to friendly military capabilities, intentions, and operations, thereby causing the adversary to take specific actions (or inactions) that will contribute to the accomplishment of the friendly mission.” Grierson’s raid was part of the larger effort by Grant to do exactly that: fool General Pemberton about where the major Union effort was being made. Although he was not trained at West Point like Grant, Grierson used deception on his raid as well, though on a much smaller level. He had gotten off to a good start because of other diversions that had helped open a riding lane through north Mississippi. Now it was time to implement some of his own trickery to make his effort that much more successful.41
Despite his need to move quickly, Grierson decided to implement a different plan that morning than simply push south. Confederate camps of organization were operating east and west of his position, and he decided to take the opportunity to break them up while at the same time deceive the locals about his overall intentions. “I thus sought to create the impression that the object of our advance was to break up these parties,” Grierson later explained. Lateral moves like this would also allow more time for the roads to dry. While some of Grierson’s men rode out to break up the enemy camps, the rest remained at Sloan’s plantation. Their continued presence gave them time to explore and find additional foodstuffs and other valuables, a fact that surely did not sit well with the excitable planter.42
The troopers involved in the raids within the raid set off on their assignments. One detachment rode east to find Hatch and the 2nd Iowa Cavalry (which was about ten miles away) and to threaten Chesterville, the location of a reported enemy camp. Grierson also sent troopers back to New Albany under Capt. George W. Trafton and more to the northwest, toward another reported enemy camp at King’s Bridge over the Tallahatchie River. The latter camp included Maj. A. H. Chalmers, the brother of James Chalmers, commander of the Confederate cavalry in northwestern Mississippi.43
All four of these mini raids ran into Confederates or at least the place where they had encamped. Hatch moved southward, “parallel to us,” reported Grierson. He had skirmished lightly with the enemy the previous afternoon, but the fighting increased that morning as he rode toward Chesterville. Hatch reported killing, wounding, and capturing several Confederates, but he soon broke off the chase and rode his Iowans southwest to rejoin the main body for the continued drive south. The troopers sent to threaten the camp at Chesterville never reached it, returning instead with several horses they had discovered en route.44
The expedition to King’s Bridge was thwarted by quick-acting Confederates. By the time the Union troopers reached the bridge on the Tallahatchie River, the enemy was already gone. When word had reached them that Union cavalry was in the vicinity, they “had suddenly left in the night, going west.” Chalmers evidently decided the safety of his brother’s larger command made more sense than remaining on the river.45
Captain Trafton’s cavalrymen, sent north to New Albany to secure the bridge and reconnoiter for any Confederate pursuit, also encountered the enemy. About 20 gray riders slipped in behind them as they drew near the small town. The minor skirmish that followed killed and wounded a few enemy riders. Trafton had the information he needed and wisely returned to inform Grierson of the potential danger in his rear.46
Once the various detachments returned and reported, Grierson ordered the entire column south on a wet April 19. Moving out was an imperative, but traversing the route was more difficult than Grierson had hoped. As he soon discovered, “the road being slippery and muddy somewhat retarded our progress and damped our feelings.” Progress may have been slower than desired, but this was the third day out and the column was still heading south. The continued ride, observed one trooper, “made the rank and file of our command prick up their ears to find ourselves on the third day still marching south.” Grierson headed straight toward Pontotoc, crossed Cherry Creek, and pushed on through the late morning. Welcome news arrived in the form of Hatch’s 2nd Iowa Cavalry, which reached the main Pontotoc road after disengaging the enemy and riding southwest to intersect with the main column. Hatch and Grierson spent some time discussing the intelligence gleaned from the Iowan’s raid, and all three regiments moved on toward Pontotoc.47
Before long, scouts discovered a house full of military provisions, including “United States muskets,” gunpowder, and other weaponry. “Unfortunately,” wrote one Illinois trooper, this “resulted in the burning of the house and most of its contents.” The deed infuriated Grierson, who had issued ord
ers at the raid’s outset to avoid destroying civilian property. The scout who helped provide the original operational plan had also recommended leniency. “The officers made every effort to find the guilty party,” continued the trooper, “but it occurred mysteriously, no one knew anything about it.”48
Grierson arrived at Pontotoc around 5:00 p.m. A Federal described the town as “a brisk business place, boasting a population of about three thousand inhabitants, a fine brick court-house, and beautiful residences, denoting wealth.” The brigade’s advance elements “dashed into the town, came upon some guerillas, killed 1, and wounded and captured several more.” According to Adjutant Woodward, “The advance guard, one troop, charged through the town, separating by twos at the different cross-streets.” Only one Confederate stood firm and fired at the blue invaders. One historian described him as “a solitary hero,” but a Union trooper offered a different reason for his bravery when he accused him of being “one drunk Confederate.” Whether a lone hero or simply inebriated, the Rebel was the only fatality of the Pontotoc skirmish. The scene that unfolded after he was killed, confessed an Illinois trooper, was sad: “They laid him by the side of the road. I seen a young woman come up apparently in great distress. I afterwards found out that it was her lover.”49
Grierson ordered a halt so his troopers could rest and gather supplies and intelligence. As the Illinois and Iowa riders discovered, there was plenty of both in Pontotoc. They found a mill and several hundred bushels of salt, a much-needed commodity in wartime Mississippi. Unable to take it with them, they poured it on the ground. The troopers also found the camp and books of “Captain [John T.] Weatherall’s command,” which they examined and destroyed. The townspeople were justifiably nervous, but Grierson and his officers kept a close eye on the men and very little was damaged. The Gordon plantation house, known as Lochinvar, just south of Pontotoc, exemplified the care Grierson’s men took to preserve private property. Woodward was approaching the house when someone handed him a note explaining that the Gordons’ son had shown kindness to a federal officer earlier in the war. Woodward placed a guard at the house until the column passed. Whether any of Grierson’s men would have pillaged or damaged the place is unknown, but the Gordons were convinced the note saved their mansion.50
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