We then retraced our steps and moved on up the road to Wilson’s Creek, nine miles from Springfield, and camped on the ground that was to be our first battlefield. We came to the premises of a Mr. Sharp, situated on the right hand or east side of the road. Just beyond his house, down the hill, the creek crossed the road and ran down through his place, back of his house and lot. On the left hand or west side of the road were rough hills covered with black jack trees, rocks, and considerable underbrush. Before coming to his dwelling we passed[41] through his lot gates down in the rear of his barn and premises, and camped in a strip of small timber growing along the creek. In the same enclosure, in front and south of us, was a wide, uncultivated field, with a gradual upgrade all the way to the timber back of the field. Here we lived on our meager rations for several days. In the. . . Read More