by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
During the latter part of the year of 1891, the Moqui [or Hopi] Indians were creating hostilities among the white people throughout that territory, stealing horses, cattle, sheep, and threatening destruction of the white people’s homes. The Second U. S. Cavalry received orders from the governor of New Mexico to report to the Moqui Indian Reservation for the purpose of suppressing all hostilities and to restore all stolen property to its rightful owners. I, myself, served under First Lieutenant Lloyd M. Brett. He is very cool headed and fearless. When we arrived at the Moqui Indian Reservation, Lieutenant Brett leaned up against a ledge of rock and carefully rolled up a cigarette. He did not realize the dangerous position he was in, half way up the mountainside. Just two or three minutes before the Moqui Indian chief gave the final signal, which was a swing of his long knife over his head, for his tribe to open fire on Lieutenant Brett and his detachment, our expert interpreter conveyed the information to the Moqui chief, that if he and his tribe killed Lieutenant Brett and his soldiers, Captain Colon Augur was in the rear with another strong detachment at the foot of the mountain and all might be killed. Through this information, the Moqui Indian chief and his tribe surrendered.
As a result, Lieutenant Brett and our detachment proceeded to the top of the mountain and with Captain Augur and his detachment in the rear, succeeded in making arrests of nine Moqui Indians without firing a shot. The nine Moqui Indians were taken to Fort Wingate, New Mexico, and confined in the guard house. During each day, these Moqui Indian prisoners were released from the guard house and under heavy guard were put to work in keeping the grounds clean around the post. These Moqui Indian prisoners appeared to be contented and therefore the guard did not fear for their escape. However, these prisoners were secretly formulating a plan to escape to the mountains near the saw and planing mill. The guard being in sight, though at a considerable distance, did not realize their plans for escape. At a given signal, these nine Moqui Indian prisoners made a dash for liberty and succeeded in being hidden from view of the guard. They were in perfect seclusion before any reinforcements could be notified.
An Indian can outrun any white man and never tire. In that country, Indians have been known to run very many miles without a stop and when they get into the mountains you might as well hunt for a needle in a haystack. After their escape they were never recaptured during my time of service in that country. Fort Wingate, New Mexico, is surrounded by several Indian reservations, consisting of the Navajos, Pimas, Moquis, Apaches, and several other tribes. During the latter part of the summer of 1892, a Navajo squaw and her grandson came to the rear of our quarters at the mess hall and demanded some food, and if her appeal could not be granted she would make it known to the chief of her tribe, who had 18, 000 Navajo warriors organized for the purpose to wipe the post of Fort Wingate, New Mexico, off the map.
Members of Company H, Tenth U. S. Infantry arrayed in fatigue dress against an adobe building at Fort Union, New Mexico Territory, 1891.
Editor’s collection
I happened to be on duty at the mess hall and I told the chef what this squaw said concerning the destruction of Fort Wingate, New Mexico. Upon this information, the chef with my assistance took her gunny sacks and filled them full of food which consisted of the leftovers from the day before. This Navajo and her grandson promised that no harm would be done to the post. Although doubting her story, the Second U. S. Cavalry and two companies of the Tenth U. S. Infantry were being prepared for the attack. Through an interpreter, it was made known to the Navajo chief and his warriors that we were ready for battle. We had Hotchkiss guns stationed all around the post. These preparations at the post were made known to the Navajo chief by the interpreter. As a result of this information, the Navajo chief and his 18, 000 [sic—an overestimate] warriors backed down. All the Indian tribes in that country dread the Hotchkiss guns worse than death because a shell discharged from a Hotchkiss gun always results in complete destruction at long distance. During the latter part of the summer of 1893, I had a narrow escape from death as a result of a midnight attack on Fort Wingate, New Mexico, by several different tribes of Indians between 10 p.m. and 12 midnight. Being a moonless night, it was very dark.
During those days there was a canteen in operation at all posts. When Indians became intoxicated, trouble is inevitable. Shortly after supper one summer’s evening, several Indians and soldiers congregated at the canteen. My comrade, Mr. Shattuck, the drum major of the band, was standing with his hands in his pockets about thirty feet from the canteen. All of a sudden pieces of bricks, rocks, and empty beer bottles were flying around and my comrade Shattuck’s cadet cap was knocked off his head without the slightest injury. Finally, the interpreter was successful in restoring peace and the Indians agreed to return to their reservations. That evening shortly after 10 p.m., I was awakened by rifle shots all around the post and in the rear of our quarters bullets penetrated through the panels of the back doors and through the windows and the roof. One of my comrades ran from his bed through the front door in his shirt. He ran so fast that his shirttail flew out straight behind him about two feet. The Officer of the Day ordered every man to arms. A carbine was thrown on my bed with plenty of ammunition. The firing of the Indians did not last long. The night being pitch dark, we were at odds. We could hear the bullets whistle, but fortunately I was not hit. The two companies of the Tenth U. S. Infantry, being stationed there with the Second Cavalry, made a charge in the rear of our quarters where forms of Indians were running back and forth.
I ran out with my carbine and back of the chapel building. I saw Indians cross a narrow gulch or ravine near the base of the mountains. It was such a dark night that much risk was taken for our proper defense. I was close in the rear of the Indians crossing this narrow gulch. Suddenly, I heard a shot close by. I kept advancing until I got across the gulch. When I got to the other side I stepped against something soft. I lighted a match and saw the face of one of our army Indian scouts. He was dead with a ghastly bullet hole through his head in the left eye. Soon after, I was stunned with a blow on my head, and was unconscious for some time. After I regained consciousness, I managed to crawl back to my quarters. There I saw one of my comrades hidden under his bed trembling from fear. I called him a coward. His carbine was on top of his bed, which he had failed to use. This night attack lasted nearly to midnight….
Part II
Battles and Campaigns
A. Northern Plains and Prairies
The most constant and lengthy Indian campaigns involving the largest Indian tribes took place on the Northern Plains and prairies between the 1850s and the 1890s after whites were drawn there seeking economic advantage. The soldiers who served in this region, spanning Minnesota on the east to western Montana on the west, and from the Canadian border on the north to Kansas and Colorado on the south, had to contend with extremes in temperature during the summers and winters, besides native foes of extraordinary endurance and pronounced fighting abilities. Among the army campaigns prosecuted by the government in this region, those here registered in the memory bank of veterans include elements of the so-called Red Cloud War of 1866-68, the Yellowstone Expeditions of 1872 and 1873, the Great Sioux War of 1876-77 (including the Battle of the Little Bighorn), the Cheyenne Campaign, 1878-79, the Pine Ridge Campaign of 1890-91 (including the Wounded Knee Massacre), and the Chippewa Insurrection of 1898. In addition, there are accounts of various isolated incidents and actions involving Indians operating in the vicinity of military posts (e. g., the Bates Fight of 1874), as well as of events tangential yet bearing on particular army campaigns (e. g., the death of Sitting Bull prior to Wounded Knee in 1890).
The Fetterman Tragedy, 1866 (By Timothy O’Brien, formerly of Company E, Eighteenth U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, March 30, 1933)
On March 29, 1866, in New York City, I enlisted in Company E of the Eighteenth U. S. Infantry and shortly thereafter our command was ordered to [Wyoming and] Montana, going by way of St. Louis, Missouri, Leavenworth, Kansa
s, and then on to [Wyoming and] Montana [territories], arriving there about May of 1866. At that time the Indians were making raids on different white settlements, stealing horses, cattle, and terrorizing the settlers. Upon our arrival in Montana [sic—northern Wyoming], we built a fort at Phil Kearny using the native pine and spruce trees then growing in the Rocky Mountains. The Indians became jealous of our presence and continually watched our work, constructions, and movements. Colonel Henry B. Carrington was in command of the fort with four companies of about sixty-six men to each company. In building the stockade at the fort, each day we sent out a train of seventeen wagons to the mountains to load and bring in the logs with which to construct the stockade. It frequently happened that the wood train would be attacked by the Indians and some hard fighting was required to drive the Indians off.
At that time it seemed that the whole country was infested with the various and sundry tribes of Comanches, Kiowas, Sioux, Apaches, Cheyennes, Snakes, and other tribes. It appeared that Chief Red Cloud, who always wore a red blanket about his head and shoulders, was a leader of all the tribes, and was chief of the Sioux. Red Cloud was a very brave man and always exercised good judgment in his attacks and skirmishes. I remember to have shot at him several times, but always in a running fight and from which he successfully managed to escape.
I will try to tell something of the massacre of Captain Fetterman and his command. On the morning of December 21, 1866, a detachment was ordered out with the wood train to bring in more timber and logs to construct the stockade at Fort Phil Kearney. Seventeen wagons went out with a citizen driver for each wagon and one soldier for each wagon well armed with rifle and ammunition. I was in wagon No. 2. We were about one mile out from the fort on our way to the mountains to get our load of logs when we were attacked by the Indians, about fifty or sixty of them. Corporal Albion C. Segrow of Philadelphia was in command of our wood train, and after repulsing the Indians we held a consultation and decided to go on to the mountains for our load of logs. Hearing the fire of our rifles back at the fort, Colonel Carrington decided to send a relief to assist us, and this was the occasion of Fetterman being sent out with about eighty men to our rescue. (We of course knew nothing at that time of Fetterman being dispatched to the rescue of our wood train.) Bringing our wood train to the mountains, we hurriedly pulled logs down the mountain sides through the deep snow, and after loading our wagons we started for the fort. Upon arriving at the fort, I met Colonel Carrington at the entrance to the stockade. He asked me, “Were any of your men killed?” I replied, “No, Colonel, none of our men have been killed.”
Colonel Carrington then related that he had sent out Captain Fetterman with eighty odd men to relieve our wood train, and that evidently Fetterman and his men had all been killed by the Indians. It was then immediately decided to take every available man at the fort and go out in search of Fetterman and his men. Second Lieutenant Winfield S. Matson being placed in command of our searching party, we started out toward Lodge Trail Ridge taking a twelve-pound Howitzer and six wagons. After crossing the creek at the same place where Fetterman and his men had crossed, we came to the crest of the ridge. At this point, Lieutenant Matson took out his glasses and began to search in all directions for some evidence of Fetterman’s command. Far out to the north, Lieutenant Matson was able to see the bodies of Fetterman’s men lying dead upon the ground. The wagons were ordered to advance to rescue the bodies of the dead. We took up the mangled bodies of our comrades, all of whom had been scalped by the Indians, save one man, Private Frank P. Sullivan, company clerk. For some reason, the Indians had spread a buffalo robe over his head.
I remember that my comrade and buddy Jimmie Filnain [sic—probably Private Timothy Cullinane] (who was born in Cork, Ireland) was not only scalped, but had both hands cut off at the wrists. This must have been done by the Indians in retaliation for the deadly fire and good mark of Jimmie’s rifle. It was desperately cold, and after loading our dead we started back to the fort. In coming down the steep mountain side, one of the wagons overturned, throwing the bodies out into the deep snow. Loading them again, we brought them into the fort. A heavy guard was immediately placed about the fort in expectation of an attack from the Indians, and preparations went forward for the burial of the dead heroes. The cold, frozen ground made it a desperately difficult undertaking to dig the graves, but all hands worked with courage and fidelity to accomplish the task. And thus, there within the grounds of the stockade was laid to rest the bodies of our brave men.
An unidentified corporal of Company K, Ninth Infantry, had this image made at Omaha. He likely saw duty at Camp Robinson, Nebraska, through most of 1876 during the period of principal campaigning of the Great Sioux War. Editor’s collection
Note on the Fetterman Fight (By Alexander Brown, formerly sergeant, Troop D, Second U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, February 28, 1927)
I enlisted in June, 1865, sent to Lookout Mountain, Tennessee, where I was assigned to the Twenty-seventh U. S. Infantry, and we were sent out on the plains, wintering at Old Fort Kearney on the Platte River in Nebraska. In the spring of 1866, we went up in Dakota [later Wyoming Territory] and established Fort Phil Kearny. The fight took place in December and I was one of the detachment to handle the artillery and we certainly shelled those Indians. I was standing alongside of Colonel Carrington on that fatal day of December 21, 1866, when he told Colonel Fetterman to take the men that was not on duty and go and relieve the wood train, but not to proceed or pursue the Indians over Lodge Trail Ridge. He disobeyed orders and consequently he and his command were wiped out. The following day we brought in the bodies and they were horribly mutilated. This is a true version of that terrible and tragic Fetterman disaster.
The Relief of Fort Phil Kearny and Fort C. F. Smith, 1866 (By Bartholomew Fitzpatrick, formerly sergeant, Company B, Eighteenth U. S.Infantry. From Winners of the West, February 28, 1927)
After the arrival of Portugee Phillips at Fort Laramie, the commanding officer at that post ordered Major James Van Voast to take Companies A, B, C, E, and G of the Eighteenth U. S. Infantry and to proceed by forced marches to Fort Phil Kearny to reinforce Colonel Henry B. Carrington, who was in command there. This march of 236 miles took place in the winter of 1866, and it was said to be the severest winter known to the oldest trappers who worked for the American Fur Company.
We arrived at Fort Phil Kearny and our company, B, was sent out to help bring in the bodies of the soldiers of Fetterman’s command. After that, we put in the winter by doing all kinds of dangerous escort duty. I had the pleasure of being detailed to take charge of a mail escort with Portugee Phillips as mail agent and escort it back on the old Bozeman Trail to Fort Laramie. We had two engagements with the Indians while en route to Fort Laramie, and one returning to Fort Phil Kearny. It was rumored at that time that the troops at Fort [C. F.] Smith on the Big Horn River, Montana [Territory], a hundred miles away, had all been massacred by the Indians. Two brave first sergeants, Joseph Grant of Company C, and Joseph Graham of Company G, were dispatched to Fort C. F. Smith to find out the true condition of things. When nearing Fort Phil Kearny on their return, Grant’s horse was shot from under him. Although badly frozen, he managed to climb on Graham’s horse and they reached the fort in safety, reporting that the soldiers at Fort Smith were well except that they were sadly in need of supplies.
Major Van Voast was ordered to take the five companies of the Eighteenth U. S. Infantry and two companies of the Second U. S. Cavalry, with the famous scout, Jim Bridger, as guide, and convoy a supply train of wagons to Fort Smith. When the command returned to Fort Phil Kearny, the cavalry was ordered on to Fort Laramie. They reached there, however, on foot, as the Indians stampeded and stole their horses. Lieutenant Colonel Henry W. Wessells, the post commander, ordered Major Van Voast to send a detail of men out six miles to where the government wood cutters were employed, and I was put in charge of the detail. After arriving at the camp, we found a lot of wagon boxes strewn in a circular di
rection, which we remodeled and improved by throwing in more ox yokes and wood into them. All this took place a few weeks before the Wagon Box Fight. I was about sixty miles away at Fort Reno on the Powder River, when the valiant battle of the Wagon Boxes was fought….
Guarding the Union Pacific (By Lauren W. Aldrich, formerly sergeant, Company A, Thirtieth U. S. Infantry, and Company H, Fourth U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, September, 1924)
I will briefly sketch some of my own experience. During the years of 1867, 1868, 1869, and 1870, I served in the Regular Army in the West. Some 800 of us were entrained at Newport, Kentucky, with Wyoming our place of destination. About 75% of the recruits had served in the Civil War and knew something of discipline. We detrained about September 1, 1867, about forty miles west of Omaha, and started at once on foot on a forced march from dawn to nearly dark every day over what seemed an endless desert, in face of hot winds and blistering hot sun, suffering daily for the lack of water, each carrying his personal effects averaging about thirty pounds. Even many of our mules succumbed to the hardships and died on the way. Thus we continued making an average of twenty-five miles a day until we arrived at a point some 150 miles west of the present site of Rawlins, Wyoming. Here we were assigned to various locations along the Union Pacific Railroad, which was then being constructed.