Cpl. Rex Griffin, Company. E, 77th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry     "We were in high feather as we marched toward the battlefield."      "Pvt. Frisby counted firing 74 rounds, while the rest of us had shot similar numbers." $10.00 Battle Report From Action on May 3rd 2003 Carthage, Missouri Roll call began at 0655 Saturday morning as the men of the 77th Pa fell in with members of the 1st Kansas, 6th US, 55th Illinois and a stray from the 1st Virginia to form the 6th Company of the Federal battalion under the sage and experienced Capt. Cal Kinzer, commander of the 55th Illinois.  From the very beginning, with Sgt. Bob Cosloy of the 1st Kansas acting as 1st Sgt. and Sgt. Dave Fowler of the 6th US acting as 2nd, it was evident this hodgepodge company would meld rapidly into a savvy and efficient fighting force. Formed as a battalion, we marched through the parade grounds between the two opposing encampments.  A narrow grove of trees separated the parade ground from the battlefield.  Once through a narrow defile between the trees, the clear field of fire opened up before us.  Rising slightly from north to south, we had entered the battlefield on its northern end.  A small, bridged creek crossed the field, cutting it nearly in half.  A fence with a paved road just beyond ran across the southern edge of the field. The battle plan was for the battalion to march across the field, over the bridge and attack the disloyal forces on the southern end of the battlefield.  The first 4 companies were to spearhead the attack, with the 5th company guarding the left flank and our company to guard the right flank.  Under the leadership of Major Prater, we practiced the maneuvers as a battalion.  As a backup plan, we tried falling back to form a square, a maneuver that proved extremely complicated in practice.  Our 6th company would have the honor of holding the line as the other companies fell in opposite and on either side of us to form the square.  Our company was to face the enemy's front as, much like a box turtle, the battalion square crawled slowly off the field.  As Major Prater explained, it would be exceedingly difficult for the officers to exercise control of the maneuver under fire and it was up to us, the rank and file, to, "Make it happen." After availing ourselves of the graciousness of the Sanitation Commission, we formed for battle.  Colonel Phil Sample delivered a rousing speech, saying it was up to us to keep the Secessionist schweinehunds" from linking up with other rebellious forces until General Lyon himself, who was on the way, came to reinforce us. Thus fired up for the impending showdown, we were in high feather as we marched toward the battlefield.  Scores of well-wishing civilians cheered us on as we marched through the defile and onto the field.  Cheers for the Union, sometimes unheard in these parts, made our hearts soar.  One very pretty supporter stood on a platform and threw her skirt over her head as we marched by, showing us the Stars and Stripes sewn on her petticoat.  I can safely say the morale of every man was at its height with the spirit shown by that pretty young lady. Our tremulous thoughts were rudely interrupted as cannon fire erupted across the battlefield.  We crouched low behind the artillery as they blew fire back and forth across the field like medieval dragons tethered by wheels.  Just as we thought our guns were getting the best of them, Secesh explosions would blow dirt high into the air before us.  From among the trees an enemy mortar began lobbing angry shells among us, raining death and destruction. After many long minutes the order came down to rise up and advance.  We marched to face the enemy. From a distance the Missouri Secessionists looked like a tangle of color, a long line of garrulous cloth.  But as we got closer we could see that they were almost all dressed in different shades of civilian clothes with a vast array of different weapons.  They carried flintlocks, Brown Besses, shotguns and muskets, even an occasional pike and pitchfork.  Most impressive were their numbers, for they were far more than we. Shrapnel from artillery shells whirred all around us as we charged across the field.  A single volley of the entire battalion drove the Secesh back long enough for the first four companies to race over the bridge and across the creek.  We took our place on the right flank, cannon fire exploding in the creek, showering us with its water.  The firing was so heavy a tent nearby actually caught fire and burned to the ground.  The lead companies were in the thick of the fight, with us little more than spectators, when we saw enemy cavalry attempting to swing around to flank the main body.  In a flash we charged through the creek, took position on the far side and fired a single deadly volley into their cavalry.  A second volley made the cavalry take to their heels.  Our cheers froze in our throats when we saw a long line of Secesh infantry march around to take their place.  Loading and firing for all we were worth, we held as long as we could, but badly outnumbered, we were forced to fall back through the creek.  That's when Pvt. Workman lost his leg to an artillery explosion.  His piteous screams could be heard above the cacophony of bullets and shells, shouts and yells. Pressed hard from the front, our lead companies fell back across the bridge in good order as our company continued to pump deadly volleys into the Secesh across the creek.  We stood firm as our compatriots fell past us.  Our murderous fire checked the enemy after they crossed the creek, giving our men time to form the square we had practiced.  Difficult in practice, forming the square with our lives on the line went much faster and smoother, thanks in no small part to the steadfastness and deadly accurate fire of us, the 6th company.  The wounded, including the traumatized Workman, were pulled to the center of the square to avoid being trampled by Secesh horses.  The air itself fairly screamed with a whirling storm of fire and lead.  The Secesh moved forward, but our murderously accurate volleys drove them back.  Again and again they would move toward us, but we stood our ground and again and again drove them back, leaving piles of dead behind each time.  The firing was so heavy our gun barrels grew hot.  Still we kept firing.  Still they came on.  I don't know how many times they attacked us, but it seemed to go on for hours.  We stubbornly held our ground until our own dead lay all around us.  The Rebel dead were so thick on the field it looked as if a multicolored carpet had been laid over the grass. Still they came.  Still we fired.  Finally, reluctantly, grudgingly, we succumbed to the Rebel pressure.  We fell back in good order, never turning our backs to the enemy.  As the other Federal units left the field, we still faced the enemy.  As if they had cornered a wounded lion, the Secesh kept their distance, giving us plenty of room to make our own way out. The day belonged to the disloyal forces.  But the contest had been bitterly fought from beginning to end and the Rebels had been visciously mauled.  Pvt. Frisby counted firing 74 rounds, while the rest of us had shot similar numbers. Back in camp, we grimly cleaned our muskets and wiped our bayonets.  The enemy was still there--we knew we would grapple with them on the morrow. As the sun went down, the wind picked up, blowing fiercely throughout the night and into the next day.  We expectantly awaited a storm from the sky and one on the battlefield. I have the honor to remain your most humble and obedient servant, Cpl. Rex Griffin, Coy. E, 77th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry