5th U.S. Colored Cavalry at Simpsonville, Ky

      Eighty “colored” troops of the 5th US Cavalry, under command of 2nd Lieutenant Augustus Flint (a former private from Michigan), were detailed to move almost a thousand head of cattle to Louisville from Camp Nelson, Ky. Since a movement of this size could hardly have gone unnoticed, it quickly drew the attention of Confederate guerrillas. On 24 January, 1865, the detachment camped four miles west of Shelbyville, about the area of Bullskin Creek. The owner of the land allowed the troops to put the cattle in a fenced lot for the night, after which they pitched tents while their officer took shelter for the night in the farmhouse. Shortly after all were settled in, events setting the stage for the massacre began.

      One of the guerrillas, sent to scout out the strength and ability of the cattle guard, did so in a particularly adept manner. First the scout pulled down some fence rails between the lot the herd was in and a neighbor’s field of un-shocked corn. Once a good part of the herd was loose in the field, the scout went to the farmhouse under the guise of a farmhand working for the neighbor. Already, he knew the guerrilla band would be dealing with poorly managed troops, since they’d had no pickets out, now he had to test the fully ability of their officer. Banging on the door of the farmhouse until he got an answer, the scout demanded to speak with the officer in charge of the herd. Once Lt. Flint was called and told of the situation, he asked the guerrilla spy what could be done. The scout realized he had gotten a real stroke of luck with this officer, and played it to the hilt. First, the scout asked how many men the officer had in his command. The officer stated nearly one hundred, and a thousand head of cattle. The scout suggested that the officer have the men herd out ten head each to keep down the confusion. When the Lt. readily agreed, the scout took the game even further. He said he would be willing to oversee the work, but the boots he was wearing were unsuited to tramping around in the snow so much. To the scout’s surprise, the officer told the scout he would loan his own boots; if the scout would take care of the situation. The scout took the boots and left, surely laughing under his breath about the stupidity of this officer. After rousting the troops, he sped off; his mission fulfilled beyond his wildest dreams. The scout would report the exact number of troops, their untrained condition, and the fact that they would be extra tired from running down the cattle herd in the dark. The most enjoyable part however, would be telling his story of the gullible lieutenant’s boots.

      The fateful day of 25 January, 1865 arose cold, near zero, and white with snow. The officer roused his troops early to cover as much distance as possible on the short winter day. With the troops about evenly split between the front and rear of the herd, the detachment moved out for Louisville again. Since it was cold, and no danger was expected, the lieutenant did not enforce much discipline and allowed the troops to straggle along as they saw fit. Beside this, the fact was the officer dropped out of the march often to warm his nearly frozen feet in boots he had been forced to borrow from the farmer he’d spent the night with!

       As the soldiers and cattle moved through Simpsonville, Lt. Flint stopped in the store to again warm his feet, and look at buying some new boots. The rear guard of the detachment were just out of sight, when fifteen guerrillas, supposedly led by Captain Dick Taylor, rode into town. As a citizen ran into the store with the cry of: “Here comes Taylor and his guerrillas!”, the lieutenant lost all interest in boots. He ran out the back of the store, and hid under the storeroom until such time as his men were dead, and the guerrillas safely back on their way toward Shelbyville. The guerrillas then proceeded to terrorize the store’s customers, and rob them and the store of about $1,200.00 in money and goods. This done, Taylor and his men set out to attack the rear guard of the cattle herd.

      The guerrillas weren’t long in catching up to the troops guarding the rear of the herd, as they were just about half a mile out of town. Since only one of the soldiers got off a shot, which missed, they probably were carrying their muskets slung. Taylor and his men rode down on them firing revolvers and screaming like devils. Cold, tired, and never having faced combat before, the troops were faced with insurmountable odds as panic ensued. The cattle stampeded, startled horses turned over the wagon hauling tents and rations, as the men faced this unexpected threat unguided by any officer. Some died before they could unsling their muskets, others were shot down in cold blood as they tried to surrender. Only two of the forty-one men escaped unharmed, one falling facedown in the snow and playing dead; the other by hiding under the overturned wagon bed. While the lead guard detail was faulted as having “skedaddled”, one wonders what anyone with full mental faculties would have done differently when faced with an unknown number of enemies, and a thousand stampeding cattle. The guerrillas made short work of the rear guard, and seized all the weapons and ammunition from the dead and wounded troops, returning to Simpsonville within half an hour.

        On their return to Simpsonville, the guerrillas stopped long enough to brag about the massacre. They claimed to have killed twenty-five of the “negros”. One of the band, himself a “black scoundrel”, boasted that he had personally killed three of the soldiers. The killers seemed perfectly delighted with what they had accomplished; and without further injury or comment to the townspeople, headed off in the general direction of Shelbyville. At this point Lieutenant Flint, (who had cowered while his men bled and died) came out from under the store, and without further thought to his boots, grabbed his horse and lit out toward Louisville.

        The men at Simpsonville waited just long enough to be sure the guerrillas would not return before setting out. An hour and a half after Taylor and his men entered town the first time, a group of citizens led by a Captain Richard George arrived on the scene of the massacre. The frozen ground and glaring white snow were stained red with blood. Thirty-five dead and wounded bodies were stretched out on and near the road, four more were later found, dead of wounds and / or exposure. The men of Simpsonville took twenty wounded men back to town, eight of the men so severely wounded they were not expected to live. There they were tenderly cared for by the citizens, until ambulances arrived a few days later to carry them to Louisville.

        The men of Simpsonville also took care of the nineteen dead, burying them in a long mass grave near the road where they fell. Today some may ask, “Why were the bodies not taken to a cemetery in town?” The writer can find no racial motive for the burial as it was done. The good “Union” men of Simpsonville took the time to dig a mass grave in the frozen ground. To those who feel the fallen should have been placed in a “real” cemetery, the writer can only offer the following. Most of the casualties of the Civil War were buried where they fell; though many bodies were later recovered. It has also been said that, “There can be no more hallowed ground for the burial of a soldier, than that which was bought with his own blood”.

       As the writer feels that all who die in the service of their country, regardless of circumstance or humbleness of duty, are heroes, he must conclude with these statements:

        On the outskirts of Simpsonville, near modern Highway US 60 are (at least) nineteen of the twenty-two who were listed as missing, and reportedly killed, helping preserve the Union: Sergeants Harrison Lampkins and Benjamin Lewis; Corporals Lewis and Jerry Moton; Farrier Walter (Walker) Bailey; and Privates Allen Coleman, Frank Ford, Anderson Gray, James Hackley, Henry Harrison, Lewis Jones, Marcellus McCall, Samuel Moton, David Parish, Shelby Phelps, Alexander Seals, Albert Thompson, George White, Murthey Moton, Isaac Hodgers, Samuel Huff, and Jacob Padick.

        May their souls rest in peace. Let us ever remember them as they deserve our memories.  With help, we may yet give them the service they deserve; and place 22 memorial stones over their burial site.