Good morning, people! It's Monday again (ugh), and you know what that means—history time! And for this week's tale, I've found a good one. I can sum it up in 3 words:

Nathan Bedford Forrest.

Gen. Forrest was one of the most incredible stories of the war. A self-made millionaire planter and slave trader from Memphis, he entered the Confederate Army a private and left a Lieutenant General of Cavalry. Semi-literate and never formally schooled in military strategy, he is considered by many to be the greatest general of the War, on either side. His tactics are still studied to this day.

And he struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. With good reason, too; he was a powerful and _violent_ man, and when he committed to battle, he fought with a tenacity and ferocity that inspired his troops. Over the course of the four-year conflict, he had 29 horses shot out from under him and personally killed 30 Yankee soldiers. After it was over, he claimed to have finished the war "one horse ahead."

But one episode says it all. At a place called Fallen Timbers, covering the Confederate retreat to Corinth after the battle of Shiloh, Forrest's cavalry met up with an advance unit of Grant's army. Listen to Shelby Foote relate the story in "The Civil War, volume 1:"

"Forrest saw his chance. 'Charge!' he shouted, and led his horsemen pounding down the slope. Most of the skirmishers had begun to run before he struck them, but those who stood were knocked sprawling by a blast from shotguns and revolvers. Beyond them, the Federal cavalry had panicked, firing their carbines wildly in the air. When they broke too, Forrest kept on after them, still brandishing his saber and crying 'Charge! Charge!' as he plowed into the solid ranks of the [infantry] brigade drawn up beyond.

The trouble was, he was charging by himself; the others, seeing the steady brigade front, had turned back and were already busy gathering up their 43 prisoners. Forrest was one gray uniform, high above a sea of blue. 'Kill him! Kill the goddam rebel! Knock him of his horse!' It was no easy thing to do; the horse was slashing and kicking and plunging and Forrest was hacking and slashing; but one of the soldiers did his best. Reaching far out, he shoved the muzzle of his rifle in to the colonel's side and pulled the trigger.

The force of the explosion lifted Forrest clear out of the saddle, but he regained his seat and sawed the horse around. As he came out the mass of dark blue uniforms and furious white faces, clearing a path with his saber, he reached down and grabbed one of the soldiers by the collar, swung him onto the rear of the horse, and galloped back to safety, using the Federal as a shield against the bullets fired after him. Once he was out of range, he flung the hapless fellow off and rode on up to the ridge where his men were waiting in open-mouthed amazement."