The Running of Streight

-And so there came a time when battles lagged.
It was sixty-three. The cavalry went riding
North into Tennessee with Forrest at last.
At Thompson's Station, Brentwood, Harpeth River,
They slashed at Rosecrans' rear, and kept him scared
While Bragg lay quiet, idling in the hills,
And Forrest was tetchy as a cat;
He needed room to work his temper off
And got it, when the Yankees tried his trick,
And sent Streight riding deep in Alabama...

So Forrest got his orders , and they rode
Looking for trouble and shouting to head it off.
Men wanted no rooster crow to waken them.
At three o'clock there were stars in the ragged clouds;
The critters were limber on Pulaski Pike.
That was a day - and another - on the third
They rode to the sound of guns in Alabama,
Beyond Town Creek, and made a line of battle
And at day-dawn on Sand Mountain dropped
One cannon-shot on General Dodge's tents -
A visiting card, with Forrest's kind respects...

Like hounds through the mist and rain the cannon belled.
Their mouths were set for Yankee meat, but no,
The Yankee bear laid low that day. They hushed
The hounds' voices, waiting. Dodge was fooling.
The bear made show for a fox who had stolen away.
Then, when the bugles blew, the word was passed;
Men had the news that Streight had slipped away
From the Yankee rear, swinging east with a raid,
Thousands in line, all cavalry and guns,
Bound somewhere, God knew where, to burn or kill.
They set their mouths for fox, and were right glad...

Then Forrest came among them, and his beard
Was thick with battle, and his skin was red
With hot blood-anger as he gave commands.
He said these were picked men; and all the rest
Must go to hold the line; his boys would ride.
The blue eyes of Forrest took in the horse...

The blackness beat men's faces with a drizzle,
And all that night the lick of cold rain creeping
In the stiff boot. Men could not see their horses'
Ears, and the bridle rein was a twitching
Halter slipped on the great mane of the dark.
Dawn saw the column twine by mist hung creeks.
The Alabamans said: "Behind that fog
Is Sand Mountain - and a road by Day's Gap...

Mist towered on the slopes like Indian ghosts.
No sound or track to tell of any foe.
They looked and rode again, and at Moulton resting
Took saddles off; men said the climb was long.
At the bugle call they tossed the stirrups high,
The sun charged through spent clouds; and Forrest
Galloped the line on his black horse and hollered,
Move up, men! And the blood of an Alabama
April where the fox runs into morning
Yelled at the rebel lips as the wild hoofs rang
Thunder against the mountain, and it was spring...

Miles went under their feet. They scaled ravines
And saw new mountains where the low sun raked
Tall pines with little strength, and twilight
Darkened Hog mountain where again the rifles
Blazed from shadow; and again they followed
Shoulders of Forrest heaving through the fight
As once more Streight turned, firing.
In charge after charge the Rebel yell went up
Like the long keen of the mountain cat. It made
A music fit to mix with the bullet's whiine,
And Streight talked back with the loud bass of cannon...

The running went to the Black Warrior River
That running went over rocks and fallen trees,
By crossroads and by field, by land and water
They gnawed and nagged and shot and charged him down,
And soon by country stores and villages
Came fast and hard, while women and old men
Waved from porches, whooped at roadside gates
Without a rest of the spend fox, without
A spell to tighten girth or breathe a horse.
They left him not a shady place to lie in,
They cut him off from every telegraph,
They drove him from his oats, his corn, his pasture,
They harried Streight to hell in Alabama...

Hardly six hundred out of Forrest's men
Were left to ride and fight, grim riders all
On steeds the last and finest, steeds the best
Of all that great breed that the stallions got
On Tennessee hills, Kentucky bluegrass land;
Down valleys now they rode; their long hair fell
Tangled beneath the sodden hat; the flesh
Clung to the bone; eyes red with wind and madness
Clutched at the swimming road. The flag went up.
The bugle sang. Taller than sons of men,
The avengers followed Forrest's shout, and all
Who saw them whispered, Now they'll cut Streight off!
Whispered, and saw the white teeth ground beneath
The muddy beard, and said, It's Bedford Forrest...

And Forrest said, they had surrounded Streight,
Riders behind, riders in front. He waved
A gauntlet, and around the ridge and back,
And back again, and back again, his lone
Five hundred men and guns paraded all.
I've got enough to whip you out of your boots,
Forrest said, and the bluff worked, and then
Without a shot the Yankees stacked their arms,
But wanted them back, seeing they had been fooled...

And then rode on to Rome where hills and trees
Pierce the sweet mountain air by Coosa River.
They saw the pretty girls crying and laughing all
Together, and children waving flags, the South
Swept into victory on Forrest's shoulders.
Forrest they followed all in that great riding
And had their time of glory under the sun.
Then regiments moved in column where the fields
Sloped toward the mountain pines, and Tennessee
Called for her Forrest boys, and Mississippi
Beckoned through battle murk, and roads
Of Alabama gathered with lean men
Riding to meet the flag and follow where
The Wizard of the Saddle led them on.

-Donald Davidson