Wilson’s Creek (or Oak Hill to the unionists) was the first major battle fought west of the Mississippi and occurred soon after Bull Run in the east. A ragtag army gathered here in Northwest Arkansas, and the men marched towards Springfield, MO, to meet the Union forces of General Nathaniel Lyons. Many of the men were barefooted and carried no weapons, and of course, there were no fancy uniforms and not nearly enough supplies. As the army marched northward, more joined them along the way. The heady scent of battle drew men like locusts following some blind instinct; a swarm ready to devour anything in its path.

There is an unusual weather phenomenon, pocketed in an area around Springfield. Over ten thousand men marched into it and experienced the abnormal heat. Temperatures often soar well over 100 degrees in August. The day of the battle, thermometers registered 110 degrees at mid-day by some accounts. Talk about war being a taste of hell.

Henry Howdeshell was with the cavalry in a cornfield and they received the first bombardment of the day from a surprise dawn attack by Lyons, who had the smaller force. Lyons was killed during the battle and his army eventually fled the field. It may surprise historians that the Confederates didn’t follow up their victory by giving chase, but after fighting all day in a furnace, with ammunition and supplies running low, with inexperienced soldiers, many of whom were probably busy fleeing, and with the number of dead and wounded they had to care for, it doesn’t surprise me in the least. The Confederates, under Texan Ben McCullough, picked up the pieces and retreated to Arkansas to regroup and prepare for the next battle.

What became of Henry? Was he injured in that first artillery attack? Was he already too sick to fight at all? Did he grow cowardly and run? Or, did he fight bravely on foot since the cavalry was not used that day? The official record only tells us that he was missing after the battle, then later showed up with the wagon train. General N. Bart Pearce, Henry’s commanding officer, disbanded his regiment after returning. Did Henry go home or did he join another fighting unit? All we know is that two years later, in 1863, he and his much younger brother, Hiram, joined some Indian troops in Oklahoma, under General Stand Watie, where he served till the end of the war. Watie had the distinction of being the last general in the Confederate army to surrender. (The young man in the photo next to the cannon is my grandson, Porter. He is fourteen, the same age as our ancestor, Hiram, when he joined General Watie.)

If you want to know more about Henry and the rest of the Howdeshell boys, you will have to read my next book, which may come too late for some of you. At the rate I’m going, someone else may have to finish it after I’ve gone the way of my Civil War ancestors. Wait, did I just feel a hint of inspiration?

From there I was taken on a tour of Tuskahoma home sites where family had once lived. I didn’t see any teepees, but there was beautiful farm and ranch land with remnants of houses, wells, and cellars. After that, we got back in our painted ponies and made our way to the famous trading post of McAlester where we continued our visit at the wigwam of Cousin Lucille. I was careful to keep my eyes and ears open at all times, and consequently, saw lots of photos and heard lots of stories.

Later in the evening we went to a favorite Indian watering hole called Adelitas and had Mexican food. I was beginning to feel quite comfortable around these folks, but I still slept with one eye open that night (although that may have been because I forgot to take my sleeping pill).

The next day, I was up before dawn (dawn’s at 8:00, right?) and was taken down the Texas Road, farther into Choctaw territory to visit Boggy Depot, where Hugh Howdeshell and Ann Eliza Hildebrand had their first child, William Lewis, in 1865. Boggy Depot was an important stop on the Butterfield Stagecoach Line before the war and there was a thriving town there when the war broke out. It was also the headquarters of Colonel, later General, Stand Watie and his confederate troops starting in 1863. I was still unable to find out for sure what Hugh was doing there since he is not on any military roster, but that was not uncommon and records get lost. Unless I find out differently, I’m going to assume that he was with the troops there along with his brothers Henry and Hiram Rufus.

Seriously folks, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the Oklahoma Howdeshells. We Howdeshells have to stick together whether we come from Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas or any of the other 45.  Many thanks to Elaine Howdeshell from Bentonville who escorted me in her VW Caprio (that’s Cherokee for Very Wild Horse), and also to Lucille Summers, Marjorie McNatt and Carolyn Hill of McAlester; you are all precious newfound cousins and friends. Hope you don’t mind me having a little fun.  The truth is I’m a little envious of your Native American roots. I’m still trying to find mine. I have chased down rabbit trails among the Cheyenne, the Cherokee, and the Seminole, but find only whispers in the wind.

Several times before Elaine and I were safely back across the border into Arkansas, we barely missed turtles that were crossing the road. We decided after the fifth one that it must be a sign and have decided to claim membership in the Cherokee Turtle Clan.

Fort Smith

I’ve been wanting to make the hour and a half trip down to Fort Smith, AR, for a year now. Every time I thought about going, other plans came up or the weather wasn’t right or there wasn’t enough gas in the truck (there are no stations I’m aware of between here and there). But Saturday, the 9th of October, was finally the right day!

Why Ft. Smith? It is believed that David Howdeshell died there during the Civil War and was buried in their national cemetery. You may remember that David was one of the eleven sons of Hiram H. Howdeshell and left home in Double Springs, Arkansas, to join the Union Army at Fort Scott, Kansas. It is assumed that he wanted to get far enough away from his Confederate brothers and friends to protect them from his bullets. What David couldn’t foresee was that he would be sent to Fort Smith, deep in Confederate territory. Since at least two of his brothers fought on the Confederate side in Oklahoma (Fort Smith is right on the border of AR and OK), it is certainly possible that they did face off on the battlefield.

David's Grave

The cemetery was very neat and beautifully maintained. Jack and I had some trouble finding David’s name in the grave locator (Howdeshell rarely gets spelled correctly). We went through all the H’s until we found D. Hoddeshell. It was a short walk to the Civil War section and his grave was almost perfectly centered there. Since it is the only Howdeshell grave of that period that I have found here in Arkansas, it was a very special moment for me. David and his wife had no children so I wondered if I might be the only Howdeshell relative to ever visit his grave. Perhaps his youngest brother, Hiram Rufus, came by on his way to Texas after the war. We know that David’s estate, estimated at $270 dollars (mostly land value), was divided among his living brothers and the heirs of deceased ones, his young wife having been shot and killed in 1865. There was so much loss and sadness in this family. I sometimes wonder if I can survive the telling of it.

Kale on JR

Here is one of the main reasons I haven’t done  any writing lately. My riding students! I enjoy them so much as they continue to improve their western equitation skills. It’s hard to keep the boys challenged enough, so sometimes I just have to hold my breath and let them do their own thing. At least Johnny Reb doesn’t seem to mind.

I have an interest in these two locations because my ancestor, Hiram Rufus Howdeshell, and his older brother Henry, served with the Cherokee general Stand Watie in Indian Territory. They joined up in early 1863, and on several occasions attacked Union wagon trains headed to Ft. Smith and Ft. Gibson. One of the other Howdeshell boys, David, went to Ft. Scott in April of 1863, to join the Union Army. He was assigned to the 14th Kansas Calvary. Part of the 14th was involved in the above mentioned battle, but I don’t know if David was among them.

Speaking of highlines, I’ve been reading about the significance of the telegraph road, sometimes called the wire road, during the Civil War.  President Lincoln was quick to comprehend the advantage of fast communication to the war zones and was responsible for many miles of telegraph wires being strung. Many a Confederate was shot or hung for attempting to cut the wires.  And, to the Union’s discredit, anyone who lived near a cut wire was subject to elimination as well.  The only benefit to the South was that it provided a road for easier travel.  The wire road of interest to me followed old Indian traces from St. Louis to Fort Smith, AR., passing through Fayetteville.  It was the road used by the armies in and out of Arkansas.

I have finished the prologue and four chapters of the next book, but I’m having trouble making myself stay on any kind of schedule.  When I think about the project as a whole, it’s overwhelming.  Dozens of names and dates, maps, charts, and lots of family.   I have to keep reminding myself to take it one line at a time and never, never quit!

Happy Trails ~ Claudia

It was a lovely afternoon and a little hard to imagine what it must have felt like on that fateful day, August 10th, 1861, with the temperatures hovering around 100 degrees. It must have been a hellish experience. The wide, clear creek which gave the battle its name didn’t really figure much during the action. Most of the fighting was on and around a certain prominent hill, later referred to as “Bloody Hill”. The Confederates called it the Battle of Oak Hill which was perhaps more descriptive than Wilson’s Creek.

I was able to identify where Henry Howdeshell would have camped with the 1st Arkansas Cavalry, and what he would have experienced in the first moments of the surprise attack. The cavalry wasn’t used in the traditional way that day, but he was in no less danger as he may have helped carry messages to key people during the battle or perhaps helped get the wounded to safety. I learned something about the mounted men in the army. The Cavalry was trained to fight on horseback. Dragoons fought either mounted or on foot. Mounted Rifles fought on foot and only used horses for travel.

The men with Henry, under General Pearce, had traveled about 150 miles to Wilson’s Creek in the scorching heat of that July and August. As the troops from Arkansas under their commanding general, Ben McCullough, joined with General Price’s Missouri State Guard, they made up an impressive army of over 12,000 men (although many were yet unarmed). Their target was Springfield, where the Union General Lyon was camped with  5,000+ men. Lyon was faced with a real dilemma. His superiors refused to send reinforcements and he was fearful of taking his troops back to St. Louis with McCullough’s army so close on his heels. He made the decision to at least deal the Confederates a blow that might cripple their efforts to follow and he planned a two-pronged surprise attack.

Both sides planned a surprise attack for the morning of August 10. McCullough called off his night time march to Springfield, however, because of rain and the potential of wet ammunition. Lyon did not. At 5:00 a.m. the first scuffle began north of the Confederate encampment and on the south side, General Sigel opened his bombardment right into Sharp’s cornfield where Henry would have been sleeping, or maybe eating breakfast.

The Battle of Wilson’s Creek or Oak Hill lasted for over 5 hours with more than 2,500 casualties, including General Lyon. What was left of the Union army made good its weary escape from a Southern army too broken and exhausted to fight on. In spite of the Confederate victory, the ragged southern army failed to achieve its goal. Missouri would remain under Union control.

As JR and I (and 10 others) barely made it in some places along the narrow trails, I wondered once again how an army of men, artillery and wagons could ever transverse such a landscape. Trees, brush, ridges, ravines, and rivers are plentiful and come in all sizes in the Missouri and Arkansas Ozarks, and must have presented enormous challenges.  As a matter of fact, the Ozarks were far more condusive to guerilla warfare which became the norm after Jefferson Davis ordered the Arkansas Confederates to Mississippi after their major loss at Pea Ridge.

State Militias along with ruffian partisan gangs rushed into the void caused by so many men leaving the then vulnerable state. Many were simply trying to protect their land and families. Were any of the Howdeshells caught up in that type of warfare? You’ll just have to wait for the book.

JR (Johnny Reb), likes to remind me to pick up all trash before we leave our beautiful National Forest lunch stops.

Today, I rode back in time to the Pea Ridge battlefield in NW Arkansas. I left Trusty behind and went with some friends, Lissa and Rich, who are also into time travel. When we got there, it was March 7th, 1862, and very cold. We held our ears as the cannons roared and ducked as musket fire peppered the air.

During a lull in the battle, some soldiers were willing to stop and talk to us. No one knew if there were any Howdeshells fighting in the battle today. They told us that in army life bullets aren’t the only killers.  Men died frequently from dysentery, disease, mal-nuitrition, exposure and accidents. On a good day, their rations consisted of a pound of meat, hardtack, and whatever else they could forage from neighboring farms and fields. Twenty-mile marches on half-rations in the rain and cold were often forced on them. They dropped like flies in the searing heat. There were no beautiful uniforms except on a few of the officers. When their clothes and boots wore out, they scavenaged from their dead enemies and comrades. A good many of the Confederate soldiers marched barefoot.

We paid a visit to the hospital and talked to the army physician. He was between patients and gave us a detailed description of how he amputated arms and legs. Those men were the lucky ones. A trunk wound meant almost certain death from infection or lead poisoning. He laughed when I asked him if he washed his hands between patients or sterilized his instruments. He said he was too busy and what good would that do anyway.

He had an assortment of bottles containing colorful liquid medicines. He held up one called Blue Mass that he was particularly fond of for a variety of ills. He had started cutting back on its use, however, because some of his patients on the amazing blue stuff were losing hair and teeth. The main ingredient? Mercury.

Between battles, a soldiers life was mostly routine and dull. A good officer would drill his men often so that in battle, every response to command was automatic. In the evenings, they would clean their guns, smoke their pipes, play musical instruments or card games and checkers, and many would write letters home.

The Pea Ridge battle raged for two days, and wouldn’t you know it, the South lost again! It was a deciding loss, too. In spite of continued Confederate harassment, the Union never again lost control of Missouri and Arkansas.