Nelson’s presence of mind and ingenuity saved Grierson’s column from an ugly and potentially deadly surprise. The scout, reported the brigade commander, “conversed with the commanding officer, and answer[ed] all the questions put to him in a satisfactory manner considering the impediment in his speech.” Nelson talked as if he knew the area well, shared news that he had seen the Yankees, and pointed the Confederates in a completely different direction. “He succeeded in misdirecting them as to the place where he had last seen us,” Grierson explained. Once Love’s squadron moved out, Nelson remained behind to make sure they were “well on the wrong road,” at which point he “immediately retraced his steps to camp with the news.” The scout reached McAdory’s on a sweat-lathered horse, and he informed Grierson of Love’s column and everything else he had learned. Grierson later expressed his gratitude: “When he first met them they were on the direct road to our camp, and had they not been turned from their course would have come up with us before daylight.”19
With the immediate threat receding by the mile, Grierson planned his next move. As his adjutant later described it, Grierson’s orders from Generals Smith and Hurlbut “abandoned him in the heart of the enemy’s country.” After compiling and sifting through Nelson’s information and other reports, Grierson made his decision. Grant was planning to cross the Mississippi River somewhere south of Vicksburg at a point now less than 100 miles west of Grierson’s present position. Information gleaned by his scouts confirmed the enemy was worried that just such a thing might take place. “It was seriously contemplated to swing back to the east,” Woodward wrote, but “Jackson [Mississippi] and the stations east as far as Lake Station had been re-enforced by infantry and artillery.” When he learned “a fight was momentarily expected at Grand Gulf” near the area Grant intended to cross, Grierson recorded, “I decided to make a rapid march, cross Pearl River, and strike the New Orleans, Jackson, and Great Northern Railroad at Hazlehurst, and, after destroying as much of the road as possible, endeavor to get upon the flank of the enemy and co-operate with our forces, should they be successful in the attack upon Grand Gulf and Port Gibson.”20
The bold plan had to be executed perfectly to succeed. It was also against Hurlbut’s orders, which were to circle back through Alabama. Grierson, however, was more worried about timing than Hurlbut’s distant directive. If Grierson showed up at Grand Gulf ahead of Grant’s crossing, he would do so without support and be exposed to destruction. If he was too late and unable to help Grant, the Confederates would be in a position to concentrate to meet the mounted threat and cut him off from the main army or escape in a different direction. If he timed his ride perfectly, however, he could assist Grant’s army and create real havoc for the defending enemy. This plan necessitated more forced marches, but his men were now well rested with two full nights of sleep and a relatively leisurely day’s ride under their belts. After weighing all his options, Grierson decided it was worth the risk.21
***
The morning of April 26 was like most of the raid’s previous mornings. Grierson ordered his troopers out of their slumber early and had them on the road by daylight. He wanted to get a fresh and early start. One of the major obstacles standing in the way of his goal was just west of McAdory’s plantation.
With its headwaters to the north around Lake Station and the Southern Railroad, the Leaf River flowed southward to the Pascagoula River and into the Gulf of Mexico. The impediment could be turned into an advantage by putting it behind them and obstructing the crossing for any pursuing Confederates. One of Grierson’s troopers summed up their situation: “In entering the state from the north it had in its favor all the advantages of a surprise, and could also count on the enemy’s ignorance of the numbers to be met. But surprise was now no longer possible, and the strength of the invading column had by this time been more or less correctly ascertained.”22
Grierson turned his refreshed column west, with the 6th Illinois Cavalry riding in the lead. To the surprise of many, the Federals reached and crossed the river on a good bridge soon after beginning the march around 6:00 a.m. The unguarded span indicated the Confederates did not expect the Federals to be in the area. Once across, Grierson rode most of his command onto the high ground separating it and the Strong River, the next potential obstacle blocking his route of escape. Other troopers, meanwhile, remained behind to burn the Leaf River bridge by piling brush around its supports and setting fire to the structure “to prevent any enemy who might be in pursuit from following,” Grierson explained.23
The column continued five miles west and entered Raleigh later that morning. Once again there was no resistance, although three companies of Smith County citizens, two of cavalry and one of infantry, had been raised to defend the town. Fortunately for everyone involved, the Mississippians had neither arms nor ammunition. The scratch militiamen were under the command of John J. Thornton, a disabled former colonel of the 6th Mississippi who had received a crippling blow in the thigh at Shiloh. One Smith County defender boasted a couple of days later that with arms and ammunition, “We would have given them the best fight we had—without regard to consequences.” The Union troopers came upon the town so quickly they captured the sheriff of Smith County, with some reports indicating he approached them thinking they were Confederates. The troopers also took “about $3,000 in Government funds.” Unwilling to waste precious time dealing with sheriffs and citizens, Grierson departed Raleigh almost as quickly as he arrived, heading west toward the Strong and Pearl Rivers.24
Leaf River Crossing. Grierson crossed the Leaf River at the Chambers McAdory plantation and burned the bridge behind him. This photo shows the bridge site. Author
Still, an odd episode unfolded in Raleigh, demonstrating once again that the world was indeed a small place. “I stopped at a house for water, and the people received me very kindly,” A. N. Shattuck of the 7th Illinois Cavalry wrote home to Litchfield. When a Mississippian learned where he was from, the man responded that he “had an uncle in Illinois.” Amazingly, Shattuck knew his uncle. As it turned out, the uncle’s brother was in the Raleigh area, although he was not in town when the Federals passed through. The Mississippian introduced Shattuck to the man’s wife, who wanted Shattuck to carry a letter for her brother-in-law back in Illinois. Shattuck, however, explained “there was a prospect of fighting in front and I could not wait for them to write.” He promised to let the uncle in Illinois know they were all well, or as they put it, “as well as anyone in the Confederacy, that is, they were making a living.” Their next objective, added the Mississippi man, “was to escape the Conscript, this they did by getting a Gov. contract for tanning hides.”25
The route that afternoon carried Grierson and his men through miles of heavy pine thicket until they reached the small hamlet of Westville, nearly 30 miles west of Raleigh. One Illinois trooper remembered the joy when they “emerged from that stretch of pine forest of 30 miles.” Locals in the area were still irritated decades later at the treatment meted out by Grierson’s raiders. “On the march they stole horses, mules and cattle and robbed farm houses and most especially smokehouses and barns and carried off all they could find,” grumbled one in a letter. Every word of it was true, as was the added conclusion, “It does not appear that they burned any houses in Simpson County.” As usual, the Federals had little time for pillaging. By this time it was well after dark, and Grierson knew he had to move on even though the Strong River was smaller than many others he had easily crossed. As far as obstacles went, it was not much of a concern. The Strong’s headwaters were several miles to the northeast, near Morton and Lake, the same area where the much longer Leaf River also began. Unlike the longer Leaf, however, the Strong River’s path was cut short because it flowed into the Pearl River just south of Georgetown. A “fine bridge” over the river just west of Westville would make the crossing easier.26
Two miles west of Westville was a plantation owned by George W. Williams. Grierson stopped the 6th Illinois Cavalry there alon
g the east bank of the river to feed his men and horses while the 7th Illinois Cavalry rode across the Strong River bridge to the Smith plantation. According to local lore, some of Grierson’s men found some whiskey and “got so drunk that he had to strike [stop] at the Williams place.” In fact, a heavy rain convinced Grierson to go into camp.27
Yet another exchange between raider and plantation owner unfolded. Several issues larger than forage and rest threaded through this particular meeting. George Williams was a Confederate soldier (a major, according to Grierson) who was home on leave. His sprawling plantation was valued at $6,000 in 1860, and his net worth at $19,590—much of which was bound up in 17 slaves. As was his custom, Grierson rode up to the plantation house, this time during a cold, driving rain, to seek out the owner. Like every other landowner in the area, Williams was accustomed to Confederate units occasionally paying a visit in search of provisions, and he naturally assumed the dirty column was simply more of the same. According to Grierson, Williams “came quietly to the door and asked whose command it was . . . never dream[ing] of the presence of Yankees.” The Confederate officer’s demeanor turned to frustration when he could not get a satisfactory answer or even get anyone to pay him any mind. When he discovered soldiers taking his goods—thinking all the while he was being robbed by his own army—Williams “became furious. [He] swore that he would report the commanding officer to General Pemberton; that he would not stand such abuse and insult on his own premises; they were ruining his garden and feeding up his corn and fodder.” Grierson let the man rant for a while before finally letting him in on the identity of the mud-covered troops. “He became cooler when to his great surprise he found out with whom he had to deal.”28
Despite the cold rain and even colder reception, good news arrived. During his return trip after leaving Enterprise, Captain Forbes had sent three couriers (his brother Stephen, John Moulding, and Arthur Woods) ahead to find Grierson. They caught up with him and the rest of the column just past Westville near the Williams plantation. The couriers brought news that Forbes and his small command were on their way to join him. The second part of the message, recalled Colonel Prince, was that “the main column should stop burning bridges, as Captain Forbes was endeavoring to reach the main column.” The news of the column’s pending arrival pleased at least one other Illinois man: “I well remember what a thrill of joy we experienced when the sharp clear voice of John Moulding announced that your command was struggling with floods and blockaded roads not far in our rear.”29
While cheered and perhaps a little surprised at the news of Company B’s imminent return, Grierson had yet to decide whether to remain in camp or march through the night. His custom was to make camp and remain there until about dawn, especially after the 40-mile day. He had only pushed the men through the night on one occasion, and that was to make the final run to Newton Station at dawn on April 24. Time was of the essence now more than ever. Colonel Prince of the 7th Illinois Cavalry thought so as well. “Notwithstanding . . . a severe rain most of the day,” he explained, “as I learned the citizens were arming themselves, and the news of the expedition was flying in every direction, it became to my mind a matter of life and death that the Pearl River should be crossed and the N. O. and Jackson Railroad reached without any delay.”30
The Pearl was the largest waterway Grierson would face on his trek. Adjutant Woodward described the river as “a wide, deep and rapid stream with precipitous banks, navigable for good sized vessels and unfordable.” If the Confederates were going to stop Grierson anywhere, it would be along the Pearl, pinning his men against the unfordable river. The Pearl, declared one writer, “held in its silent grasp the fate of the entire command.” The Federals believed that few if any locals realized they were anywhere near the Williams plantation, but the risk of discovery increased with each passing hour. If word reached Georgetown, the residents would disable or destroy the ferry there, making it impossible to cross the river. Grierson’s men and horses were rested and fed, and if he was going to move, now was the time.31
The decision to move meant that no one would get much sleep on the night of April 26—especially for two unfortunate battalions of the 7th Illinois Cavalry. Colonel Prince convinced Grierson to allow him to lead the advance “with 200 picked men of the 7th Regiment, to secure the ferry across Pearl River before the enemy should destroy it.” The action made sense, and Grierson had executed a similar move once before when he dispatched a couple of battalions to Newton Station early on the morning of April 24 before following up with the rest of the command an hour later. The decision to let Prince lead the thrust also made sense. Grierson wanted this done right, and sending the regiment’s commanding officer signaled how important he considered the movement to be. “Two hundred of us went in the night to take possession of the ferry boat,” recalled a 7th Illinois Cavalry trooper. Whether they would arrive in time to secure the ferry, or even reach the river, remained to be seen.32
Prince led his troopers west of the plantation and through the miserable night for nearly 10 miles to reach the Pearl River valley. The riders slipped to within sight of the crossing point, but they remained hidden to reconnoiter the situation. The ferry boat was on the opposite side of the Pearl. Prince mulled the idea of riding to the riverbank and hailing its operators to send it over, but he dismissed the idea as too dangerous. “I thought it not prudent, under the circumstances, to call for the ferryman,” Prince explained. If the operators realized he was a Federal, they would keep the ferry out of reach or sink it. Instead, the colonel asked for a volunteer on a “powerful horse” to swim the wide river, capture the ferry, and bring it to the near side at gunpoint, if necessary. Henry Dower of Company I volunteered for the hazardous duty. The recent rains that had flooded the Noxubee River and others had swelled the Pearl into a raging river. Dower eased his mount to the bank and slipped into the dark water to swim across, reported the colonel, but he “was carried far below the landing, and finding quicksand, barely escaped with his life.”33
To Prince’s delight, the ferryman solved his otherwise vexing problem for him when the commotion east of the river snagged his attention. “The proprietor of the ferry soon appeared on the opposite bank and queried, in the broad speech of a North Carolinian, if we wanted over,” recalled an incredulous Prince. The Federal officer took the man up on his offer by yelling back in his best Southern drawl, “A few of us would like to cross, but it was harder to wake his nigger ferryman than to catch the conscripts.” For good measure, Prince added that they were the 1st Alabama Cavalry—a bold lie, as that outfit was serving with Braxton Bragg’s Army of Tennessee around Tullahoma, Tennessee. Hearing enough to convince him that Prince was a Confederate, the Mississippi boat owner “at once woke up the ferryman and sent him over with the boat.” It took time, but Prince managed to ferry his two battalions across without any additional trouble: “We took possession of the boat, and received an appreciated breakfast with the proprietor, as the 1st Alabama regiment of Cavalry.”34
Prince’s good fortune continued. “Thirty minutes after crossing,” he wrote, his men captured a Rebel courier “with dispatches that the Yankees were coming and ordering the destruction of the ferry immediately.” He also learned about a steamboat fitted out with cotton bales and cannon that was supposedly lurking upriver. The fact that it had not shifted its position to protect the ferry was a good omen. Grierson sent a troop of horsemen to watch out for the warship, but if it existed, it never made an appearance. This was the second time the Pearl River had nearly tripped up the Federal raid, with the Illinoisan troopers dodging a pending crisis by mere minutes on each occasion.35
By the time the Confederate dispatch rider appeared, Prince was over the river, finished with his meal, and Grierson had reached the east bank with the rest of the command. Keeping up the ruse that the riders comprised the 1st Alabama Cavalry, Grierson “receipted to the ferryman for the passage of the command in the name of that regiment.” At 24 horses and riders a ferry l
oad, it took 41 separate trips to get the column across, not counting the artillery, forage wagons, and ambulances. The hours-long operation continued until 2:00 p.m. that afternoon. Grierson, Prince, and the rest of the men, meanwhile, did their best to keep up the charade to prevent anyone from discovering their real identity.36
While his command was being transported across the Pearl River, Grierson and his staff met a family who lived next to the ferry. Still thinking they were Confederates, the courteous Mississippians invited the officers in for breakfast. “The meal was well served [and] the ladies were all smiles,” Grierson remembered. His good fortune, however, ended before the repast could be finished. “Up came some blunder head of a soldier and blurted out to me something about the ‘6th Illinois Cavalry’ and what they were doing,” related a mortified Grierson. “The countenances of the host changed, and some persons at once left the room. I knew very well that every effort would be made to give information.”37
Informants who made it out of Georgetown could ride 10 miles west to the railroad and telegraph across the state the precise news of the invaders’ location. Intelligence that Grierson and his command were strung out on both sides of an unfordable river would trigger decisive Confederate action, and the railroad would make it easy to concentrate the resources needed to defeat his column. It was imperative that Grierson minimize the potential damage and at least unify his entire command so it could fight, if necessary, as one brigade. The worst possible scenario would be having to fight piecemeal with a wide and raging river dividing his command.38
Grierson acted decisively. He had already sent riders ahead toward the New Orleans, Jackson, and Great Northern Railroad, and when Prince’s two battalions fully crossed, pushed them on as well to inflict as much damage as possible. Now it was time to do more. “Bidding the ladies good-bye rather hastily, and without waiting to finish the breakfast,” he later wrote, “I instantly dispatched a messenger to hurry up my scouts previously sent to Hazlehurst [and] with a written dispatch in the name of the rebel colonel to General Pemberton at Jackson to say that ‘the Yankees had advanced to Pearl River and finding the ferry destroyed they could not cross and had left, taking a north-easterly course.’” Grierson intended to ride his command on a southwesterly course, pushing on toward Grand Gulf.39
The Real Horse Soldiers Page 25
