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It ain’t that the citizens of Gray Summit weren’t warned. That many chose to disregard the warnings falls on their heads, not mine or my boys. Some folks seem to think they can hide in their towns from the ravages of war, but there ain’t no hiding once the dogs of war are released. Folks were warned.
Me and my boys arrived in Gray Summit Friday morning in good spirits, but weary from the long journey up from Pilot Knob. Our fine mood was the result of finally giving the demon James Wilson his just due and deserved fate. The scoundrel that had so long waged war on our families and some of his men now reside in Hell. Upon arrival we made a tour of the town to take mental note on who might be and might not be friendly types. High on the list was Mr. Smith the Inn keeper and his wife and this brave veteran of the late war with Mexico is a fine gentleman and a man of honor. I warned him of the approaching Federals and advised him to do what was necessary to survive their arrival. We met a drunk fellow that seemed to be an unwanted guest in the town and suspected him to be a deserter from the Confederate army and he pointed out houses where enemies resided but the information was not uplifting since according to him, everyone was our enemy, which may have been true. We continued to patrol the town and heard folks call us dogs, ruffians and scoundrels though we were polite to everyone. Note of such comments was stored away for later use.
Suspecting there might be outlaw types and deserters down along the creek, me and some of the boys moved that way. We found a fellow down by the creek with shifty eyes and not too smart ‘cause all he could say was ‘’be on your way.” Taking note of his rude manner and stupidity for challenging seven armed me, we followed his companions down the creek and took note where they were making camp. Returning to the first fellow and finding him joined by another fellow who was more intent on drinking whiskey than keeping an eye out for us, I divided my boys into sections and advanced toward them and this time made them drop their weapons. Again the shifty eyed fellow was rude and when I asked him for a drink, threw the cup on the ground. The other fellow began talking like a lawyer fellow and we got tired of dealing with the fellows and warned them to beware of crossing our paths again and we moved away. The shifty eyed fellow made the mistake of retrieving his pistol and he and the lawyer like fellow were shot and left for the buzzards. Later, I saw the leader of the ban and told him if he was looking for his men, they were lying down by the creek and made note that if we crossed paths with him or his surviving men we would kill them on site.
Toward evening we took a position in front of the grist mill. The town seemed pretty empty since most folks were inside their homes. A widow lady accompanied a fellow and his wife to the grist mill of which I gathered he had recently purchased. She referred to us as ruffians. This was noted and also that I had seen the fellow and his wife down on the Black River a few years back. Then the sheriff and his deputy and the preacher man came by and warned us to obey the law and riled one of my boys and note was taken of this. Then about dusk, we moved out of town and into the creek bottoms and bedded down for the night, one which was cold and not well received by most of my boys nor me.
The next morning we observed the yankee camp from the tree line about a quarter of a mile from their bivouac site and when they finally left, we occupied their previous site and set about boiling coffee and scheming our next move. High on my list was meeting up with them deserter outlaws of which the two we had killed the day before had been members and how to best get at the Yankees should they brave coming out of town. Unfortunately, one of my boys that was wearing a Federal uniform and patrolling the far side of the creek was shot by one of our own by mistake. Such things, while sad in nature, happen from time to time.
We moved back down the stream bed and set and hoped we would meet up with the above mentioned outlaws or Yankees. We hid in the bushes and waited like good hunters and soon heard the Yankees talking on the ridge in loud voices and later engaged them in a spirted fight across a bean field. I must say, the grit of an enemy is a worthy thing, and these boys had grit. The fight ended in a stand off with each side taking and giving about equally. We withdrew back to our camp and ate and drank and made plans for future actions.
We were joined by a couple of fellows hiding in the woods and a patrol of the town was organized. We approached the town from a different directions than the previous one and crossed to a covered bridge. The plan was to draw the Federals out of town. Three fellows wearing yankee uniforms were sent boldly toward where the Yankees no doubt had their pickets and when ordered to halt opened fire on the pickets. A company of Yankees obliged us and came swarming out of the town and we pulled back into a bean field and we engaged them in a spirited fight. I must mention the bravery of two yankee fellows who perused us while the comrades lingered back. A yankee officer and a corporal were captured but we did not want to be burdened with prisoners and dispatched them and left their bodies in the field and withdrew to the creek bed. A young fellow that had recently joined us and was unaware that we didn’t take prisoners proudly announced he had captured another yankee in the bean field. My blood had cooled and we tied the yankee and retreated back to our camp. Again, the eagerness of one of our men left behind to stand guard mistook one of our boys for an enemy and shot him.
A yankee sergeant arranged a parlay about the prisoners but I told him we didn’t have any prisoners, which was true, because we had dispatched the above mention prisoner taken by the young fellow earlier in the evening. The sergeant, who I recognized from the fight earlier, and thus had earned my respect as a brave man was told of where the outlaws ban was camped and he said he was send a patrol to find them and I even offered to help him in flushing them out. He seemed a bit surprised that we would turn on what he referred to as “our friends” but I assured him we had no friends. A yankee corporal deserted and joined us at our fire before we directed him that he best hide in the woods and get out of his yankee uniform which I suspect he did for we never saw him again.
We spent a restful night in a farm house and a school house . Then after coffee and cold biscuits, moved back toward the village and took up a position in the creek bed to observe things. Again, the Yankees came out to greet us and a spirited fight resulted. At this time, we were more interested in re-entering the town and taking care of unfinished business and I called for a parlay with the same yankee sergeant as I had spoken with the night before. I produced a forged document from the yankee provost stating that me and my boys were actually pro-union irregulars and that we should receive cooperation from the Federals. I don’t think the sergeant believed what he read, ‘cause he seemed a solid enough fellow, but he told me that the Yankees were getting ready to pull out and we could have the town. Since that was our objective in the first place we waited for the Yankees to pull out and then emerged from our hiding place.
We were greeted by a group of fellows led by led by the sheriff, but we were in no mood for friendly posers, and tied the men and led them back to town and began rounding up all the men of the town. They were taken to the grist mill and judgment was rendered. Those that had showed respect to us a few days ago were spared. The other men were shot and the grist mill set ablaze while women folks wept. Then we proceeded to the Inn for something to eat. After lingering for a few hours, we moved out. I have the feeling Gray Summit won’t ever be the same. But as I said, it ain’t like they weren’t warned!
The Preacher
Me and my boys arrived in Gray Summit Friday morning in good spirits, but weary from the long journey up from Pilot Knob. Our fine mood was the result of finally giving the demon James Wilson his just due and deserved fate. The scoundrel that had so long waged war on our families and some of his men now reside in Hell. Upon arrival we made a tour of the town to take mental note on who might be and might not be friendly types. High on the list was Mr. Smith the Inn keeper and his wife and this brave veteran of the late war with Mexico is a fine gentleman and a man of honor. I warned him of the approaching Federals and advised him to do what was necessary to survive their arrival. We met a drunk fellow that seemed to be an unwanted guest in the town and suspected him to be a deserter from the Confederate army and he pointed out houses where enemies resided but the information was not uplifting since according to him, everyone was our enemy, which may have been true. We continued to patrol the town and heard folks call us dogs, ruffians and scoundrels though we were polite to everyone. Note of such comments was stored away for later use.
Suspecting there might be outlaw types and deserters down along the creek, me and some of the boys moved that way. We found a fellow down by the creek with shifty eyes and not too smart ‘cause all he could say was ‘’be on your way.” Taking note of his rude manner and stupidity for challenging seven armed me, we followed his companions down the creek and took note where they were making camp. Returning to the first fellow and finding him joined by another fellow who was more intent on drinking whiskey than keeping an eye out for us, I divided my boys into sections and advanced toward them and this time made them drop their weapons. Again the shifty eyed fellow was rude and when I asked him for a drink, threw the cup on the ground. The other fellow began talking like a lawyer fellow and we got tired of dealing with the fellows and warned them to beware of crossing our paths again and we moved away. The shifty eyed fellow made the mistake of retrieving his pistol and he and the lawyer like fellow were shot and left for the buzzards. Later, I saw the leader of the ban and told him if he was looking for his men, they were lying down by the creek and made note that if we crossed paths with him or his surviving men we would kill them on site.
Toward evening we took a position in front of the grist mill. The town seemed pretty empty since most folks were inside their homes. A widow lady accompanied a fellow and his wife to the grist mill of which I gathered he had recently purchased. She referred to us as ruffians. This was noted and also that I had seen the fellow and his wife down on the Black River a few years back. Then the sheriff and his deputy and the preacher man came by and warned us to obey the law and riled one of my boys and note was taken of this. Then about dusk, we moved out of town and into the creek bottoms and bedded down for the night, one which was cold and not well received by most of my boys nor me.
The next morning we observed the yankee camp from the tree line about a quarter of a mile from their bivouac site and when they finally left, we occupied their previous site and set about boiling coffee and scheming our next move. High on my list was meeting up with them deserter outlaws of which the two we had killed the day before had been members and how to best get at the Yankees should they brave coming out of town. Unfortunately, one of my boys that was wearing a Federal uniform and patrolling the far side of the creek was shot by one of our own by mistake. Such things, while sad in nature, happen from time to time.
We moved back down the stream bed and set and hoped we would meet up with the above mentioned outlaws or Yankees. We hid in the bushes and waited like good hunters and soon heard the Yankees talking on the ridge in loud voices and later engaged them in a spirted fight across a bean field. I must say, the grit of an enemy is a worthy thing, and these boys had grit. The fight ended in a stand off with each side taking and giving about equally. We withdrew back to our camp and ate and drank and made plans for future actions.
We were joined by a couple of fellows hiding in the woods and a patrol of the town was organized. We approached the town from a different directions than the previous one and crossed to a covered bridge. The plan was to draw the Federals out of town. Three fellows wearing yankee uniforms were sent boldly toward where the Yankees no doubt had their pickets and when ordered to halt opened fire on the pickets. A company of Yankees obliged us and came swarming out of the town and we pulled back into a bean field and we engaged them in a spirited fight. I must mention the bravery of two yankee fellows who perused us while the comrades lingered back. A yankee officer and a corporal were captured but we did not want to be burdened with prisoners and dispatched them and left their bodies in the field and withdrew to the creek bed. A young fellow that had recently joined us and was unaware that we didn’t take prisoners proudly announced he had captured another yankee in the bean field. My blood had cooled and we tied the yankee and retreated back to our camp. Again, the eagerness of one of our men left behind to stand guard mistook one of our boys for an enemy and shot him.
A yankee sergeant arranged a parlay about the prisoners but I told him we didn’t have any prisoners, which was true, because we had dispatched the above mention prisoner taken by the young fellow earlier in the evening. The sergeant, who I recognized from the fight earlier, and thus had earned my respect as a brave man was told of where the outlaws ban was camped and he said he was send a patrol to find them and I even offered to help him in flushing them out. He seemed a bit surprised that we would turn on what he referred to as “our friends” but I assured him we had no friends. A yankee corporal deserted and joined us at our fire before we directed him that he best hide in the woods and get out of his yankee uniform which I suspect he did for we never saw him again.
We spent a restful night in a farm house and a school house . Then after coffee and cold biscuits, moved back toward the village and took up a position in the creek bed to observe things. Again, the Yankees came out to greet us and a spirited fight resulted. At this time, we were more interested in re-entering the town and taking care of unfinished business and I called for a parlay with the same yankee sergeant as I had spoken with the night before. I produced a forged document from the yankee provost stating that me and my boys were actually pro-union irregulars and that we should receive cooperation from the Federals. I don’t think the sergeant believed what he read, ‘cause he seemed a solid enough fellow, but he told me that the Yankees were getting ready to pull out and we could have the town. Since that was our objective in the first place we waited for the Yankees to pull out and then emerged from our hiding place.
We were greeted by a group of fellows led by led by the sheriff, but we were in no mood for friendly posers, and tied the men and led them back to town and began rounding up all the men of the town. They were taken to the grist mill and judgment was rendered. Those that had showed respect to us a few days ago were spared. The other men were shot and the grist mill set ablaze while women folks wept. Then we proceeded to the Inn for something to eat. After lingering for a few hours, we moved out. I have the feeling Gray Summit won’t ever be the same. But as I said, it ain’t like they weren’t warned!
The Preacher
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