WITNESSED BY A REGIMENT

Started by Ozark Iron John, January 28, 2006, 10:04:34 AM

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Ozark Iron John

-pub. 08/29/1901-(Vol.25, No.25)

The St. Joseph (Mo.) correspondent of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat writes:


Wm. Balley, the chief lieutenant of the noted guerrilla, Charles Qunntrell, during the War of the Rebellion, who has just passed away at the State Insane asylum in this city, a victim of paresis, was one of the figures in a duel fought on the plains of Texas, as he was fleeing with Shelby and a handful of ex-Confederates from the United States, to seek an asylum under the reign of Maximilian in Mexico. After the last remnant of the guerrilla band had been hunted to earth, Halley escaped to one of the commands under Gen. Jo. Shelby, which was then making its way to a point on the Brazos river, in Texas, with the expectation of making a final attack upon Federal forces and supplies at Corsicana.


Shelby's army was marching toward Austin, near where the duel between Halley, who was then a first lieutenant in one of the companies, and a captain of a company in another regiment, occurred. The duel was witnessed by a number of Shelby's men, who are now residents of this city, and Major Edwards, who accompanied Shelby to the City of Mexico, returning only after the army was disbanded and upon the refusal of Maximillian to accept the Missourians into the service of the empire.


The duelists - both young men - quarreled about a woman - a fair young thing - who was the captain's by right of discovery, the lieutenant's by right of conquest. At the night encampment she abandoned the old love for the new, and in the struggle for possession the captain struck the lieutenant fair in the face.


`You have done a serious thing,' some comrade said to him.


`It will be more serious in the morning,' was the quiet reply.


`But you are in the wrong, and you should apologize.'


He tapped the handle of his revolver significantly and made answer: `This must finish what the blow has commenced. A woman worth kissing is worth fighting for.'


The name of either duelist has heretofore remained unspoken. Most of the men who witnessed the tragedy have long since passed to their reward, and it is only since the death of Balley in this city that one of his comrades-in-arms, who witnessed the tragedy, has volunteered to give his name. There are those to-day living in Marion county, Missouri, whose sleep in eternity will be brighter and sweeter if they are left in ignorance of how one fair-haired boy, who went forth to fight the battles of the South, found a grave when her battles were ended. The lieutenant challenged the captain, but the question of its acceptance was decided upon before the challenge was received. These were the terms: At daylight the principals were to meet one mile from the camp upon the prairie, armed with a revolver and a saber. They were to be mounted and stationed 20 paces apart, back to back. At the word they were to wheel and fire, advancing or remaining stationary, as they choose. In no event were they to pass beyond a line 200 yards in the rear of each position.


So secret were the preparations and so sacred the honor of the two men that, although the difficulty was known to 300 soldiers , not one of them informed General Shelby. The General would instantly have arrested the principles and forced a compromise, as he had done once before, under circumstances as urgent, but in no way similar. It was a beautiful morning, all balm and bloom and vendue. Two and two and in groups the men stole away from the camp and ranged themselves on either flank. A few rude jokes were heard, and they died out quickly as the combatants rode up to the dead line. Both were calm and cool, and on the captain's face there was a half smile. Poor fellow, there were already the sears of three honorable wounds upon his body; the fourth would be his death wound.


They were placed and sat their horses like men who are about to charge. Each head was turned a little to one side, the feet rested lightly in the stirrups, the left hands grasped the reins, well gathered up, the right hands held the deadly pistols, loaded fresh an hour before.


Ready - wheel! The trained steeds turned upon a pivot as one steed.


Fire!


The lieutenant never moved from his tracks. The captain dashed upon him at a full gallop, firing as he came on. Three chambers were empty and three bullets sped away. The fourth fire was given the captain was abreast of the lieutenant and aiming at him at deadly range. Too late! The lieutenant threw out his pistol until the muzzle almost touched the captain's hair, and fired. The horse dashed away riderless, the captain's lifeblood upon his trappings. There was a face in the grass, a widowed woman in Missouri and a soul somewhere in the white hush and waste of eternity. Comrades buried him before the sun rose, before the dew was dried upon the grass, and returned from the scene of combat without a word of comment upon their lips.


Lieutenant Halley sought his quarters, took a cup of coffee, a short nap and, with his comrades, resumed the march toward the Mexican border. They crossed and went straight to the City of Mexico, engaging in battle at almost every step of the journey, finally to reach their destination and have their proffers of service to an empire rejected. Halley and a few companions organized a band for an early return to the States. He dared not return to the States. He dared not return to the home of his childhood, near Independence, Mo., because a price had been placed upon his head. He was scarcely more than a boy, being then not 21 years of age. After a stealthy call at the home of his sister, at Independence, he left the next day for Salt Lake City, where, for many years he discharged the duties of a peace officer in that wild and unsettled country. Many outlaws fell victims to his unerring aim with the revolver, and in the course of a decade the feeling against him and the guerrillas of the Civil War had so much ameliorated that he returned to Missouri and became an officer of the St. Joseph police force. In his demise passes away one of the characters which the Civil War produced among the boys of Missouri yet in their teens.


"Wrap my Body in a Bonnie Blue Flag and bury me with my Feet in the South!"
>:(    - Ozark Iron John cir. 1876

SASS #60933, CMSA #4406, Masonic Cowboy Shootist

LazyK Pejay


Ozark Iron John

Yeah, I saw this and I thought, the folks on CAS City oughta see this one. 

"Wrap my Body in a Bonnie Blue Flag and bury me with my Feet in the South!"
>:(    - Ozark Iron John cir. 1876

SASS #60933, CMSA #4406, Masonic Cowboy Shootist

Standpat Steve

Howdy,

Not only was it a great story, but ask yourself when was the last time you read something that well written in a newspaper? Thanks for posting it.
Standpat Steve, SASS #113, NCOWS #1468

Steel Horse Bailey

"May Your Powder always be Dry and Black; Your Smoke always White; and Your Flames Always Light the Way to Eternal Shooting Fulfillment !"

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