Confederate cavalrymen in the Trans-Mississippi west never belonged to a high-style corps like Jeb Stuart's or Philip Sheridan's. They were not long on flashy drills and parades; they were mostly cowboys and farmers who could rope and fire a revolver at a gallop and who knew very little about military tactics and cared less about military discipline. They were hard-boiled troops who had to do a great deal with very little. For supplies and equipment they relied heavily upon capture from the Yankees, or seizure from peaceful citizens. But they were a brave and patriotic body of men—a part of that great army which became a legend for valor and endurance that won battles against heavy odds.
Trans-Mississippi horsemen could not brag much about their leaders, for there were no really outstanding ones, at least none comparable to Stuart, Bedford Forrest, or Joseph Wheeler. In Joseph Orville Shelby and John Sappington Marmaduke the cavalry had intrepid and tireless leaders, but neither of them possessed that natural instinct for cavalry command that made Forrest something of a military genius. Others, such as John A. Wharton, Ben McCulloch, Tom Green, and William G. Vincent, gained local fame, but never displayed any great ability or originality in the handling of large bodies of horsemen. Nevertheless, Trans-Mississippi cavalrymen did many noteworthy things during the war, and they did them out of courage and determination to save a cause which they considered just.
Accustomed to a long and intimate companionship with the horse, with the six-shooter and musket, the men of Trans-Mississippi, especially the Texans, were excellent potential cavalrymen. "They had," recalled Major General Richard Taylor, "every quality but discipline." From the mustering-in ceremony to the end of the war, they disliked the strict enforcement of orders, the gap between officers and men, the spit and polish that characterized professional cavalry of Europe. They were rowdy and individualistic, and paid little attention to rank.
In an attempt to discipline the men, officers and government officials early set up camps of instruction throughout the region. But formal drills and parades never appealed much to the raw troops. They preferred to demonstrate their daring feats of horsemanship by riding at a gallop down the streets of nearby towns, jumping off and back on their mounts, and picking small objects off the ground. Breaking wild horses in the town square was also a popular sport. One newspaperman in Van Buren, Arkansas, having watched a group of cavalrymen whoop and shout, drink and celebrate, ride horses into saloons and out, wrote that "a more decided burlesque on military parade could not be had ... and we trust it will be at least a year, before another occasion occurs for preparation 'to defend our rights and liberties against northern aggression.' "
The cavalrymen may have enjoyed the "fun and frolic" to be had at recruiting and training centers, but when it came time to fight they were "like devils" who bore fatigue "like camels." "Talk of subjugating the South," mused a Texas trooper, "Why, with the cavalry around, it would take ten years to conquer Texas alone."
Like their counterparts east of the River, Trans-Mississippi cavalrymen were a little egotistical about their fighting abilities, or maybe just confident that they could win the war in their theater with or without the help of the other arms of the service, particularly the inglorious and unromantic infantry. Cavalrymen and infantrymen were always heckling and ridiculing each other, and when they met, horsemen might laugh and point and shout, "wagon dogs," "webfeet," "mud sloggers," only to be told: "There goes the buttermilk cavalry." "A hundred dollars reward for just one dead cavalryman." "All those fellows do is to find Yankees for us to kill."
This jesting was not altogether in fun, for infantrymen seriously thought the cavalry to be a greatly overrated arm. With their pompous air and prancing steeds, horsemen were little more than showoffs; when there was to be a man's fight, it must be left to the infantry. Cavalry, according to the Texas Adjutant General, was an obsolete type of force anyway.
Cavalry in the Civil War was, on the contrary, anything but obsolete. Though the claim that Confederate cavalrymen were the best the world had ever seen is open to dispute, it is certainly true that they constituted the best mounted force ever assembled in the United States. The war reached the midway point before the Union cavalry could stand up to the Confederates in the East; in the Trans-Mississippi, Federal horsemen never stood up to the Southerners. Throughout the war Confederate cavalry west of the River performed well in almost any capacity: as train guards, as scouts and reconnoitering patrols, as screens for the main army, as raiding forces, and even as infantry. In the battles at Pea Ridge and Prairie Grove, Arkansas, cavalrymen fought on foot and were every bit as good at it as the regular infantry. A Yankee at Pea Ridge, who was impressed with the ability of Confederate horsemen to fight both mounted and dismounted, recorded that "they fought the day like devils incarnate, and as if resolved on victory or death."
The most remarkable feats of the Trans-Mississippi cavalrymen were four major raids deep into Federal Missouri. Roaming about in territory thought to be safely inside Union lines, Confederate riders cut communications, blew up bridges, burned supply depots, tore up railroads, and in general spread terror and created havoc from Cape Girardeau to Westport. Moreover, the four expeditions helped prevent Union armies from capturing all of Arkansas, and perhaps Texas, by forcing the Yankee command to commit large numbers of troops to police duty throughout the southern half of Missouri. The strategic cavalry raid was a new element in warfare and required able leaders and strong men. To make it through such an operation, said the adjutant of the Fifth Missouri Cavalry, one. had to be of "iron frame, lithe of limb and eager as a bloodhound," with "a brain of fire and muscles of steel, and glorified courage."
In telling the story of cavalry in the Trans-Mississippi west, this study seeks to illuminate but one aspect of a little-known theater of the Civil War. The work does not claim to be definitive, for it makes no attempt to recount the experiences of every outfit from the region (one hundred and fourteen regiments and forty-seven battalions) or to cover all the isolated and frequently insignificant cavalry actions in Louisiana and Texas. In short, it is neither a compilation of regimental histories nor a chronicle of military events. It is a story, told in narrative form, that treats the cavalry as an autonomous arm of the service, with artillery support and supply service. It strives to present a realistic picture of day-to-day soldiering, of living in the field, of humor as well as suffering in camps, of exacting and vigorous scouts and expeditions, and of the high excitement of battle. As it joins the growing list of Civil War histories, this book readily agrees that the war "now takes longer to read about than it took to fight" but adds with a wink that at least its pages explore relatively virgin territory.
