Terry's Texas Rangers

By A. P. Harcourt
The Southern Bivouac, Nov, 1882

B. F. Terry, a native of Todd County, Ky., but a Texan by long residence, left his sugar and cotton plantation on the Brazos, at the first drum-beat of the war and, as a volunteer staff-officer, won his spurs in the battle of Bull Run. He was mentioned in general orders for his intrepidity and surprising exploits in that action. It was said of him that he captured a number of groups of infantrymen by his very audacity, pouncing down upon them as he did with his bridle-reins in his teeth and a six-shooter crackling from either hand. President Davis commissioned him on the spot to return to Texas and raise a regiment of his own liking to fight his own way. The flower of the State rushed to him in response to his call, in numbers more than wanted, self-equipped--each man with two "navy six" pistols, a bowie, and double-barrel shotgun, and every thing ready for action from spurs to the lariat tethered to the horn of the saddle. Such was the ardor for the position of high private in this command, embracing ex-Governor Noble's son, a son and nephew of Sam. Houston, Major Thornton, and J. A. McKenzie, present member of Congress from the second district of Kentucky, that the cry as made by Texan Unionists of "a rich man's war and a poor man's fight" was quickly silenced, and, all in all, from flag-bearer Jones, with sixty thousand acres of land at his back, to Elam, who had fourteen of his own horses shot under him, there was a make-up about the regiment exceptional and strong. They were sworn in at Houston, Texas, not for ninety days or other limited period, as troops were then being received, but "for the war," as they insisted the oath should be administered. How well they kept that oath let facts attest. They were eleven hundred and seventy strong, rank and file, when organized. The muster-rolls show that they lost in killed and wounded and by deaths from sickness, six hundred and twenty-five men, besides one hundred and ninety discharged for disease. Twenty-three were transferred to other commands under the act of the Confederate Congress. Forty-six are reported missing; two, only two, as having deserted. The total survivors at the end of the war, including recruits received from time to time, were two hundred and forty-eight men. Warworn to this fragment, they were averse to the surrender in North Carolina, particularly after the first terms agreed upon had been openly disregarded, and obtained permission from Wheeler to cut their way out and go to Kirby Smith in the trans-Mississippi department. He advised them of the difficulties in the way, and counseled against the undertaking, but finally yielded his authority longer to hold them, and, after shaking hands, with many a tear trembling in eyes unused to tears, the general and rangers parted. They succeeded in getting out of the tactical inclosure, as the whole army might have done, but Forrest surrendered before they reached him in Georgia, and the surrender of Kirby Smith soon followed, and the Confederacy was no more. The color-bearer snatched off what remained of the bullet-riddled flag, and folding it up in saddest silence, its history closed, the regiment disbanded, and after an absence of nearly four years, its remaining heroes, submissive but unvanquished, returned to their sunny homes between the Sabine and Rio Grande.

Of the eight commanders from the first to last, Terry was killed on the field in the first engagement, Lubbock died, Wharton was several times wounded and promoted to Major-general, Harrison was wounded a number of times and promoted to Brigadier-general, Ferrell was wounded and died, Walker was wounded and died, Evans, splendid Evans! was killed at Perryville, and Gustave Cook, the last Colonel with the scars of Shiloh, Griswoldville, and Farmington on his person, fell severely wounded at Bentonville.

Whatever differences of opinion may exist among military men as to which is the stronger arm of the service, cavalry or infantry, Terry's Rangers, opposed by an isolated regiment, never were repulsed, but in a fair match on one hundred fields perhaps made their adversaries bite the dust. But the rangers carried no clanging saber--that weapon of the centuries past, fit only to frighten women and hack unarmed footmen with--but bore arms they were accustomed to, rode lithe like Commanches, complete masters of the horse, and shot quick as sportsmen sure on the trigger. In brief, Terry's Rangers, known in reports of battles and on the muster-rolls as the "Eighth Texas Cavalry," constituted, so far as I have been able to ascertain, the only body of genuine cavalry in the Confederate service. They were horsemen to the saddle born. Hundreds of citizens of Nashville can recall the pleasant days of September, '61, when the rangers lay in camp at the Fair Grounds and the fashionables of the city rode out in throngs to witness these gay troopers in trappings quaint, ride at full tilt and pick up from the ground a handkerchief or glove and fifty cent pieces as fast as placed before them.

They began the war in the department under Sidney Johnston by charging Willich's famous Thirty-second Indiana at Woodsonville, which regiment, composed of old Prussian veterans, they drove over rocky ground, and a part of it through a corn-field, and the whole finally across the bridge to Munfordville. It was in vain that, after staggering from the shock of shot-guns, these trained infantrymen threw themselves into groups after the regulation, and bristled all around to the command of "guard against cavalry." The crack of the navy six right over the glistening steel forced them back, and yet back, until, running and loading and firing over their shoulders as they ran, they regained the bridge, and wound under their covering batteries like a crippled moccasin, glad to escape. The noble Terry fell, but he lived to see the fame of his men, which had gone before, fully sustained.

General Albert Sidney Johnston paid the rangers a special visit on the eve of the movement from Corinth to Shiloh. In response to the cheers that greeted him he said, "With a little more drill you are the equals of the 'Old Guard' of Napoleon." They led the advance to Shiloh and covered the retreat from before the fresh second army encountered Monday on that sanguinary field. Wherever danger was most imminent or apprehended, in front, flank, or rear, I speak but the fair truth of history without detriment to others when I say, the rangers were always there. In reconnoissances, in picketing, in bringing on and slacking off engagements to time and place selected, they did their full share, but the charge in column or in line was their forte; and if cavalry be the eyes and ears of an army, be it said as their just due that they were never known to bring in a false report. They were never dismounted except where the nature of the ground compelled it. They fought unbrigaded until after the battle of Shiloh.

It was due perhaps to the fact that they had been hovering around Pittsburgh Landing off and on some days previous that a circumstance I am about to relate did not awaken Grant to his exposed situation. Saturday night preceding the battle Colonel Wharton gave one man permission to discharge a wet gun. To his amazement the whole regiment had wet guns, and they all went off. General Polk double-quicked a brigade of infantry over from their hiding to discover if the army which next morning was to surprise the Federals was really surprised itself at that supreme hour under the shadows of the night. The old Bishop, on ascertaining the facts, was not in the mood to lead in sacred song, and Wharton and the entire regiment were placed under arrest, from which they were not released until long after the roar of battle, commencing on the right at dawn of day, told the way the tide was tending. It was of no avail that men and officers, through couriers dispatched, plead to take part in the glorious chase. Hours elapsed, it seemed, before Major Tom Jack--who had been promoted from the regiment to Johnston's staff came galloping up, with face all wreathed in smiles, and gave the order to move. With a shout that gave no cheer to the Union General if, mayhap, it reached his ears through the cyclone that had burst about him, away in column of fours swept the unleashed bloods of the saddle--away from Owl Creek up a slope, over acres of ground blue with Federal dead, down the road through lanes of our own infantry, around a point of woods into an opening and across a ravine into line, and the regiment confronted the Federal General Prentiss, holding, as it were, the pivot on which hung for the time the fortunes of the day. Separated by a rail fence and half concealed by timber and undergrowth, the enemy made good use of his advantage. Wharton and the two Terrys--son and brother of the late leader--fell, the last mortally wounded, and thick and fast horses and riders were dropping, when a rush was made forward, and the enemy's front line gave back, followed by the rangers, who began tearing away and leaping the fence. Just then the enemy opened with grape and canister, and this brave command, instead of an opportunity to efface the memory of their arrest, found themselves now exposed to a fire not within the power of mortals long to withstand. But a wild yell and rattle of small arms is heard in the Federal rear. Hardee comes charging down; a whoop and another volley, and Prentiss and his brigade three thousand five hundred strong, surrender. The rangers had not charged in vain, and had the honor of escorting Prentiss and his men to the rear. To say that he was mad and swore like a trooper is to state it mildly, and give him the benefit of any membership he may have had in the Young Men's Christian Association.

Late on Tuesday following, as the rear guard of the retreating army, the rangers, reduced by details made to gather the immense spoils to three hundred men, Major Tom Harrison, as senior officer succeeding to the command, called a halt as the fresh troops of Buell pushed in sight and began sending in a few leaden compliments. Breckinridge was but a mile ahead, struggling through the mire, with men almost exhausted. Old Tom, as called, a little man, seated on a large bay, with a red bandanna tied around his head in lieu of the hat he had lost in the dark of the preceding rainy night, was a picture for an artist; but not the white plume of Henry of Navarre was ever more gallantly borne or followed than that red bandanna that bobbed in the wind. Facing about and forming them into line lie told them that Breckinridge's men were broken down and must have time to clear a marsh they were trudging through. Also cautions were given to reserve fire and aim low. The enemy could plainly be seen over the swell of ground about four hundred yards distant forming in dense lines, with calvary in support and skirmishers to the front concealed behind trees, the whole, as has since transpired, led by General Sherman in person.

At their reunion in Cincinnati a little over a year ago, General Sherman gives his account of this affair, from which I beg in some respects to differ. He says, "In like manner on the 8th, when I was ordered by General Grant to move forward with one of my brigades and another of Thomas J. Wood's division, to ascertain if the rebel army had actually retreated to Corinth or were simply repairing damages to renew the attack, I led in person Hildebrand's brigade. We reached, about six miles out, an old cotton-field with deadened timber standing, fences all down, and mud in the road and in the plowed field ankle deep. Seeing ahead a large number of tents, with men and horses moving about, I concluded to deploy a couple of companies of the leading regiment forward at five paces interval, with the remaining eight companies in line in support, leaving the rest of the brigade to follow along the road by the flank. I gave the orders in person. ... We moved forward, guide left, I with my staff close to the support. As we approached the ridge down came with a yell Forrest's cavalry, firing right and left with pistols over the skirmish line, over the supports and right in among me and my staff. Fortunately I had sent my adjutant (Hammond) back to the brigade to come forward into line quickly. My aide-de-camp (McCoy) was knocked down, horse and rider, into the mud, but I and the rest of my staff ingloriously fled, pellmell, through the mud, closely followed by Forrest and his men, with pistols already emptied. We sought safety behind the brigade in the act of forming forward into line, and Forrest and his followers were in turn surprised by a fire of the brigade."

Forrest barely came up in time with forty men to take part in the charge and waived the command to Harrison, who really led the charge, and is entitled to the credit of it. General Sherman does not say so, but he makes the impression that only one regiment of his forces, ten companies, was actively engaged, beside his escort. One thing is certain--there were two lines, the first kneeling, the next erect, and cavalry equal to our own in numbers fought to the last, only yielding as their gallant leader fell, shouting, "Stand to me, my brave Ohioans! You've never deserted me yet." Then began the pursuit and stampede, continued into the green woods, and that General Sherman only found safety in the rear of the brigade shows that more than one regiment was involved in the discomfiture, and that explains that "act of forming into line."

The truth is, the double-barrels, with eighteen and twenty-two buckshots in each, delivered at the proper range, did the work, and the hero, whose monuments are lone chimneys and burnt Columbias, may possibly thank his Napoleonic stars that he was not known on the field. The rangers bivouacked on that ground and only retired next day leisurely, and without an enemy in sight. Our loss was considerable. Their dead lay two and three deep, scattered far back to where the rally was made by the rear of the brigade; and so many prisoners were taken that it gave the regiment the blues until they were gotten rid of at Breckinridge's quarters. So ended Shiloh and the battle of the deadening.

From shortly after the battle of Shiloh to October following, the regiment did some of its best service under Forrest--notably the dash upon Murfreesboro, July 15, 1862, where, with about fourteen hundred men--consisting of the rangers, parts of the First and Second Georgia, two Kentucky companies, and Major Baxter Smith's battalion of Tennesseeans--seventeen hundred and sixty-five prisoners were captured, besides a battery of new Parrot twelve-pounders.

About the time Bragg entered Kentucky the mounted troops on both sides engaged in a rather diverting chase, that illustrates cavalry life at that time. A Federal force was after Adam Johnson; Morgan went in pursuit of them; another Federal force (Wolford's, perhaps) pursued Morgan; Forrest pursued them; another force of Federals followed him; and so went the circus, the pursued and pursuers in blissful ignorance for two days and nights of the danger behind.

At Murfreesboro (Stone River) a regiment of Federals--I believe the Fourth Regulars--with saber in hand, came charging in column upon the rangers in line. All cramped up, with their knees nearly to their chins, on they came. It took but a few minutes to double them up and hurl them back, tumbling from their horses and scattering their paraphernalia like leaves before the wind. While every other weapon counts its slain by thousands, a score or two, I much suspect, will embrace all on both sides killed by the saber in the late war.

In February, 1863, Wheeler at the head of Forrest's and Wharton's divisions--the latter including the rangers in Harrison's brigade and two sections of artillery, in all some six thousand mounted men undertook to surprise Fort Donelson. Slipping away from before Rosecrans, near Shelbyville, Tenn., three days and nights' hard riding brought the command, about ten o'clock at night, in sight of the fort-or rather a new fort on a hill in the little town of Dover, over-looking the old fort in the bend of the river. Recent rains had swollen the Cumberland until it was a roaring torrent, and muddy. A deep snow had fallen that day and the night previous, and it had turned so cold that steel and iron were not handy to handle. The full moon was shining; all was quiet; the snow around was untrodden by patriot or picket, and the indications were favorable for a complete surprise. But the advance up the slope had barely begun before light, like sunbeams, broke over the earthworks and the stillness was broken by cannon and musketry. Up and at them quickly was the only hope, the more so as a gunboat signaled its coming and to hold the fort. Not a moment could be lost, and with a yell and a rush the outer line of fortifications was carried. After a breath, another yell and charge took the second line, but could it be held? An unexpected raking fire poured in from a force concealed in the town, out of windows and port-holes, while the gunboat, still blowing its deep bass, would soon reach a bend in the river and sweep the whole ground from the other side. The enterprise was lost, and here was a second Hohenlinden. It was not wholly lost--several hundred prisoners were captured and a standard or two and some brass cannon, but who shall tell the agony of the wounded, left in hundreds as they fell, and the sufferings of all on that bitterly cold and biting night?

A daring feat performed by a ranger just before the arrival of the gunboat deserves mention. Sam Maverick, fastening some matches in his hair and drinking about a pint of "medical supplies," plunged into the river, and "hand over hand" swam across the river and set fire to and destroyed a large transport loaded with army stores valued at five hundred thousand dollars. The light was soon seen from the fort, and many a shot plunged in the water around him, but he safely returned and obtained a lieutenancy and another pint on the spot.

I shall not attempt to give losses, but that they were heavy may be judged from the fact that Forrest, Wharton, and Harrison each had several horses shot under them. As to cold, particularly that night on the retreat, it was so intense that four Georgians were taken from their horses frozen dead.

At Bentonville, N. C., where was fought the last and one of the most terrific battles of the war, although scarcely given a place in history--the prompt action of the rangers alone saved the army from surrender. This is stating it strong, but not stronger than the facts warrant. The battle began March 19, 1865, and continued through three days, for the most part in a dense pine and turpentine forest. After the first day's firing this forest got on fire and at night, the scene beggars description, as lurid flames, fed by the rosin on the trees, would shoot up into the sky and suddenly drop back like so many tongues, while underneath the wounded moaned piteously for help or struggled to escape roasting alive. Sometimes huge logs of fire would drop from a great height, or a shell would knock off a blazing tree-top upon a litter corps or other troops in motion or at rest. It was grim-visaged war in his most weird, most grand and appalling aspect. Our line of battle was in the horse-shoe shape common for the weaker force to take--the toe toward Sherman--our left resting on a swamp. The Neuse River lay across the two heels, as it were, over which was a bridge connecting with the camp of the wounded and with our entire army-train of supply and ordnance wagons all in park. There was a temporary lull on the left, and the rangers, under Capt. Matthews as the ranking officer--all his superiors being wounded and disabled--had orders to move back about a mile toward the bridge to a low and open place, and feed.

About two quarts of corn were issued to horse and rider, and it was while the men were parching and eating their portion of it that young Hardee joined the regiment, having that morning refused a place on his father's staff with the remark that he would not have rank until he won it. He was detailing the latest news around headquarters when a sharp rattle and then a roar of small arms was heard at the bridge. There was no mistaking what it meant. The enemy had gained the rear, infantry at that; an entire brigade, with pick and spade had come to stay. The situation was comprehended in a moment. The swamp had by some means been crossed; the guard at the bridge had been surprised, and our camps, with wounded, ammunition, provisions, teams, every thing making up the appointments of a moving army, were for the time in the enemy's possession. Without waiting for orders, without stopping to form, every ranger leaped into his saddle and away they rode at full gallop for this new danger that imperiled all. Companies continued intermixed, but into "fours" was effected on the ride under spur, when General Hardee, with a single staff officer, dashed up on another road and took the lead of the column.

In the old general's face was read an anxiety and suspense never observed there before. In a short time an open space was reached where four hundred yards beyond the Federals were seen, busy as bees, throwing up breastworks across the highway leading to the bridge. "There they are, boys, charge them!" said Hardee, as he reined up and sent his aide back for more troops, and watched through his eyeglass that charge of less than three hundred men upon a picked brigade at least one thousand five hundred strong. Word passed among the rangers, "Close order and reserve fire," and on they went, a living wedge into a wall of blazing fire. Disincumbering themselves of their guns after they were emptied (by throwing them to the ground) and seizing their six-shooters, they spurred right on for the Federal center, already shattered and wavering as if with wonder at such a cavalcade of yelling, desperate madmen. Yell answered to yell, and fire flashed in the face was flashed back again, but so fast and fierce did the rangers ride, so fast and true were their bullets sent, that the enemy's line, though deep and strong, was cut in two, and then, taken in the rear and on all sides, encumbered with weighty arms and extra rounds of ammunition and with knapsacks stuffed with stolen plunder, and in some instances with whole hams of bacon lashed to their knapsacks, they fell like leaves shaken after a biting frost, and pell-mell, God save the hindmost, rushed bleeding at every step, back into the friendly swamp and under the shelter of Sheridan's corps, just too late in coming to their support.

General Hardee, much delighted, turned to a brother officer and staff who had but then reached the field, and remarked that he had seen many a charge of cavalry, infantry, and artillery on the plains of Mexico and elsewhere, and had seen the old United States dragoons charge, and the Commanches charge, but had never witnessed the equal of the charge just made. It was sad that he was presently informed that his gallant and noble son, and only son, was among the mortally wounded.

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