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A Page of War History—Take No Prisoners. From the Richmond State Journal, November 9. A friend who happened, by the tortures of the re cent war, to be placed for a few days under the com mand of the late Confederate General Hindman, of Arkansas, #0 recently assassinated in that State, be plies us with the following pace of unrecorded his tory in “Did I ever meet with Hindman in my war expe rience?” you ask, Yes, I met him once, and had no wish to meet‘him again. ‘Tyrant’ was marked in every lineament ‘of his handsome face, in each haughty curl of his proud lip, and, waved ore ringlet of his fair, flowing, Abrsalom-like locks. It was late in the evening,on the 71st of May, 1863. General Halleck had been wasting more than a month and a half in making his advance against Beauregard, at Corinth, by slow approaches, plank roads, en trenchments and parallels, while the Confederate army was melting away by sickness, and sinnest per ishing for want of water, Beauregard saw his army dwindling day ve and knew that his only alternative was to battle or to retreat. On the evening mentioned he determined to bring on a general engagement, and made his dispositions accordingly. ‘The entire be | was put in motion and marched out of the ¢atrenche camp of Corinth. We balted on the brow of the hill half way between the two camps—the Federal arm then occupying Farmington, three miles from Corinth. The e country was thickly wooded and undulating, and a email stream meandered through the ravine which separated the hostile hosts. Our forces were dis posed in three lines of battle in the same manner as we verse the fight at Shiloh, Price and Van Dorn, with their Missouri and Arkansas troops, had been sent to attempt a secret movement, by which it was contemplated the left flank of the enemy might be turned, and the thunder of their guns or on our right and on the Federal left the next morning was to announce the success of the plan, and be the signal for a general alt all.along the line. I was in the first line of battle, acting as a file-closer, the left being in front. The sun was setting serenely in the west, as is usually the case, and betweened a goodly day on the borrow, when a ‘solitary horseman” ap ed the head of our column and reined as superb war steed within two paces of where I stood leaning on my bucket. He at once commenced talking. “Men,” said he, “in to morrow’s battle fire low. It is as important to wound the enemy in his legs, and even more im portant, than to kill him, for it will require two sound men, at least, to take care of the wounded. Be calm, and be sure of your aim. Don’t waste your ammuni tion. Keep your formation , remain always with your colors, be careful not to struggle or get separated, and always push to the front. Never mind your wounded comrades, for ample provisions have been made to remove them from the field. You need not take any prisoners. I do not want them. They will only serve to embarrass the army and weaken our strength. “Obey my instructions—stand by your colors—and tomorrow’s sun will set upon one of the most glorious victories ever achieved on the American continent ;’ and, bowing gracefully, he passed on, leaving us to wonder. As he wore no uniform, car ried no sword, showed no military insignia, save a revolver in his belt, and was gak to the com mand, his address somewhat surp ué, and the in jury, “Who is he?” was pretty general. ‘‘Why that's de tal Hindman, your new Division Commander,’ the Brigade Adjutant, “and you'd better believe that he'll show me tomorrow. The reply was anything but reassuring, for we had heard that he was prone to the fault of annecessarily exposing his men. “What did he mean by not wanting to take prisoners? inquired a sergeant to my left; “does he expect us to murder them?” ‘‘Ihat's the only con struction I can give, his remark, and the peculiar man ner in which it was made,” was the reply. And his division so understood it; but I doubt whether a single man in that line would have obeyed instruc tions so inhuman. He was a splendid tyrant—young and handsome, but soulless—and, no doubt, met his fate at the hands of some relative of one of the many victims to his stern cruelty, as it was his practice to shoot his soldiers for very slight offenses, or other wise severely punish them. That night was an anxious one—as “the night be fore the battle” ever is to the soldier. Around the bivouac fires comrades gathered gloomily, as the scattering shots of the pickets in front, and the whistling of the balls over our heads, subdued the certaminia gaudia, and reminded us before the sun rose again the combat would deepen and many of us below. Each confided to his friend some message for home and dear ones—to sweetheart, wife or mother—prefacing it, ‘If I fall and you escape, tell her that— =. Morning came—the enn rose; but the fog which hung like a shroud over the two armies, was impene trable to its rays. Every ear was awake to hear the signal from the night; but the day advanced, the sun stalked his stately Course up the heavens; noon came, and still nothing from Price and Van Dorn. The day waved, night approached, and with it brought a tired and dust-begrimed courier, with the intelligence that the flank movement had failed through premature discovery, and that Price and Van Dorn were falling back. So ended the intended rey fight of the 22d of May, 1862, which would have been known as the battle of Farmington, and which would have resuited as did that at Shiloh. Beauregard now commenced his pre parations for the evacuation of Corinth, and eight days after, simultaneously with the opening of Hal leck’s big guns on that town, his army withdrew by the causeway he had previously constructed for the purpose through the Tuscumbia swamp, and escaped to Tupelo, without the loss of a single prisoner, not withstanding General Pope telegrav' to Washing ton that he had taken 10,000. He might have taken 20,000 if he had pursued the army or attempted to cut it off, for never, before or since beheld such demo ralization among troops. They were without organi zation, almost in a state of mutiny, and ready to yield at any moment to the first demand. Pope lost a guiden opportunity there. I never saw Hindman again.
Newspaper Details
Philadelphia Inquirer
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US
Tue, Nov 17, 1868
Page 2
Full Page
Clipped by
Tanisha C.
USA 30 Jun 2026
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