Honnell

In the battle of Mill Springs, there were other incidents of thrilling interest. The fall of Zollicoffer, the Rebel General, was one of these. The darkness of the morning was increased by the heavy rain and dense smoke of the battle, so that it became difficult to distinguish the battle line. We had fallen back in good order to the west fence of Logan's field, leaving the open grounds covered by our dead, now being more thickly dotted over by those of the advancing enemy. Wolford was riding up and down our front in almost the same danger from both sides. Gen. Thomas and Capt. Joseph Breckinridge sat on their horse twenty steps only to the rear, with the limbs, cut from trees overhead, falling upon them, when I stepped to their side and shouted above the roar, "General, the men in your front are nearly out of ammunition." "Tell them to hold their line, that McCook is coming up on their right." As I had just given the order, I saw a commotion, and ran back to see what it meant, when I saw the dead Zollicoffer and Bailey Peyton lying by the road, slain by Col. S.S. Fry, and the men just around him; among whom were several of the First Kentucky Cavalry, and I noted a young soldier named George W. Cabbell, soon after killed, at the battle of Lebanon, Tennessee. Fry having the first shot, and giving the command to "shoot him," as he turned to escape, has the honor of being the "slayer of Gen. Zollicoffer." I called to others, who aided me in lifting his now lifeless body from near the road, back toward the fence line, a little eastward.

As there were three wounds on his body, and only one of them of immediately deadly effect, and that by a large ball, the belief became general in our regiment that two of them were inflicted by men of the First Kentucky Cavalry, the other by Col. Fry, of the Fourth Kentucky Infantry.

As we buried the dead next day, I cut a white oak stick from the place as a souvenir of the fierce conflict at that point, for I noticed that it had five bullet marks and clots of blood upon it. I learned that when he approached Fry, he shouted "Cease Firing there, those are the Mississippians!" But I believe this was done through mistake, thinking Fry and the men around him belonged to his own command. Fry called back, "Who are you?" as his own horse fell under him, but not until after the Confederate chief had turned to flee.

By this time Col. McCook, with the Second Minnesota, and his own Ninth Ohio German regiment, with fixed bayonets (though shot in the leg himself), came past our line on their left, and with a wild shout, and one volley, started their whole army into a stampede. We had brought on the battle at morning dawn, and now remounted and helped to hurry the retreat. I assisted in the burial of the dead next day, and most of them were placed in a single deep grave, near where their leader had fallen the day before.

We shelled them in their intrenched fortifications that evening, and might have taken them as prisoners and fed them up in some Northern camp, but as I heard Gen. Thomas say that night -- and it was verified afterwards&nbssp; -- "they did our cause more good by their terror spread over Middle and East Tennessee, than all who had been taken in and held as prisoners of war."

     Wolford tells one of his characteristic stories as occurring in our gathering up the prisoners. Among them was a Georgia Captain, who addressed him in a plaintive strain:
     "Colonel, this is a dreadful business!"
     "Yes," he replied, " and more dreadful to us than to you; for you count us as enemies, and we count you only as deluded fellow citizens, whom we are compelled to whip back to your allegiance to the best government on earth."
     "All we want," retorted the Georgian," is to be let alone."
     "It looks that way," continued Wolford, "when you have come all the way from Georgia here, and are shooting down my men; many of whom are within hearing of their homes."
     The conversation was dropped then.

Col. Frank Wolford
1st Kentucky Cavalry
This very interesting CDV, from a private collection, shows Col. Wolford's probable appearance during the Mill Springs campaign.

Another characteristic anecdote of Wolford, while scouting in the mountain region, is told by the people of that section. Naturally, Cavalry, away from their base of operations, and under the necessity to forage the country for supplies for their horses, would gather in every chicken that crowed for Jeff Davis. The loyal mountaineers held a meeting and sent a delegation to complain to Wolford. After hearing them, the Colonel replied: "Those thieving troops must belong to some other regiment, for I have ordered my men to be careful to steal nothing from you men; that you are loyal people in this section. Now, my men always mind me; so it must be men of some other regiment. To show you how well my men obey me, I will tell you a story of the Wild Cat battle. As the enemy came up I said to my men: 'Men, wait till they come close; then shoot them in the head.' After the terrible fight, the Chaplain went over to bury them, and we counted just sixty dead, and fifty-nine were shot in the head, and one in the neck. So you see how well my men mind me." The delegation was satisfied.

In the death of Lieut. Jonathan P. Miller, not only his company, but the regiment lost a man of sterling worth. He was a merchant of Albany, Ky., and was a young man of fine moral standing, free from all wild habits, and conscientious in all his acts and dealings; brave, and highly respected by the men and officers of the regiment. His men procured a coffin and buried him with a soldier's honors near the battle ground. Chaplain W.H. Honnell, bespattered with mud from the scene of the conflict, delivered an eloquent eulogy over his remains.
His father afterward removed his body to his home at Albany.

Privates Cole, Zachary, and Duncan also fought bravely, and gave their lives to their country's cause.

The next morning after the battle, while the Author and one or two others were still examining the field they came across a dead Confederate and a wounded one in a cornfield off to themselves, where the carnage was not so great as at other places. Those collecting the wounded had failed to find him. Though shot in the center of the forehead, he was still sensible, and gave his name as McBride, from White county, Tennessee. He was reported to those caring for the wounded and was removed to a hospital tent. The Author saw him again the next day, but he was then delirious, and, of course, died. Twenty-two years afterward, in Dallas county, Texas, the author happened to mention the circumstance to a fresh immigrant from that county, and found that McBride was a widows' son, and that his mother had never known for certain what had become of him.

In order to bemean the Union cause, it was charged by the Confederates that the body of Gen. Zollicoffer was terribly outraged on the battlefield, pulling out his hair, etc. The facts of the case are these, and no more: some of the privates, out of mere thoughtlessness, not thinking how bad it looked, tore his clothes in order to procure souvenirs of the noted general; but when it was fully made known to the officers who he was, his body was removed from the field, nicely laid out, and a guard placed over him. Nobody but the guard was even allowed to uncover his face for those who wished to see him. There was a ruffled place in his hair on one side of his head, which appeared as if a lock had been plucked out, but it did not disfigure his looks. So much for the charge of vandalism against a loyal, patriotic people, who, with the assistance of their fellow-patriots of the North, were defending their own firesides from a merciless invading foe, who had been for months stripping their defenceless families of their scanty means of support.

From: Sergeant E. Tarrant, "The Wild Riders of the First Kentucky Cavalry," Louisville, 1894 (1969 Lexington ed.), pp. 63-65.