by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
Some of the officers of Troop B were First Lieutenant John Guest, Captain Edmund Luff, and First Lieutenant John A. Johnston, and Second Lieutenants Farrand Sayre and Ulysses G. Kemp. [Later, during my service with the Seventh Infantry, ] Captain Edward E. Hardin was in charge of Company B, Seventh Infantry, a good drill instructor and a fine and efficient officer. He is now retired from the service as lieutenant colonel. I was discharged at Fort Logan, Colorado, on July 29, 1897, for disabilities contracted while in line of service….
Time at Wounded Knee (By William J. Slaughter, formerly of Troop A, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, April 30, 1937)
About the middle of November, 1890, all was excitement at Fort Riley, Kansas, where the Seventh Cavalry was stationed, on learning that the Sioux Indians of the Pine Ridge Agency [Reservation] had gone on the warpath once more, threatening to kill the agent and burn the agency buildings. The older men of the regiment began regaling we youngsters with stories of the bloody battle of the Little Bighorn, of June, 1876, when Chief Sitting Bull and his Sioux warriors, thousands strong, ambushed and annihilated Lt. Col. George A. Custer and five troops of our regiment. This made us eager to meet the redskins and get revenge for what they had done to our predecessors. The good news from the War Department ordering us to pack up and entrain for Pine Ridge Agency, S. D., reached us a few days before Thanksgiving, so we said good-bye to Fort Riley, Kansas, a band, as usual, playing “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” little realizing that many of our comrades would never return.
We made our first stop at Beatrice, Nebraska, at sundown the second day after entraining. We unloaded our stock, consisting of pack mules, cavalry and artillery horses. The idea was to water them and allow them to stretch their legs after being shut up in cattle cars for about thirty-six hours, and believe me those gentlemen mules from Missouri did stretch their legs as the writer well knows, for one of our dear old Irish quartermaster sergeants, knowing him to be a rookie, ordered him to ride one bareback and lead three others to a watering trough about two hundred yards distance, and, after galloping over half of the state of Nebraska in the next hour or so, arrived at said watering trough. That night I saw bootleggers at work for the first time, for our commanding officer, Colonel James W. Forsyth, seeing some of the boys heading for the Stock Yard Hotel, ordered a guard stationed at each door to keep soldiers from entering. The enterprising proprietor, not to be outdone, had three or four men carry a couple of quarts of Tangle-foot apiece and sell it on the quiet to those who had the money, and when the money ran out he had them swap a quart for an army blanket. But a couple of our old timers turned the tables on him. They saw that he was throwing the blankets into a room behind the bar and, climbing through the window, threw them out to other comrades who carried them away.
Once more we loaded our stock and started before daylight over the Elkhorn and Missouri Railroad for Rushville, Nebraska, arriving there early the next forenoon. We unloaded our animals and equipment and started overland for Pine Ridge Agency, about twenty miles distance, when about five miles from our destination we heard firing ahead of us and upon reaching the agency found that some of the supposed friendly Indians had marched out of the agency firing upon some of its defenders, wounding several. Major General John R. Brooke, who was in command at the agency, ordered our colonel to make camp in a hollow on the bank of the creek which ran between two hills, giving us protection from the cold north winds and water for our animals. We then settled down to the regular routine duties of a cavalryman in below zero weather for a week or two. Our rations consisted of salt pork, hardtack biscuit, sinkers, and an occasional can of tomatoes topped off with alkali water coffee. Now, I am not criticizing the government for the quality of our rations, as South Dakota at that time had very few settlers and transportation facilities were not what they are today and potatoes and other fresh vegetables were hard to procure and could not be kept on account of the frigid temperature.
Our Indian and white scouts were continually watching the Sioux and bringing into camp an occasional spy. On December 26, they reported that the Sixth Cavalry had captured a large band of Indians and that Chief Big Foot and his band of…Sioux were headed toward the Wounded Knee Creek, about eighteen miles distance, their purpose being to form a junction with another band supposed to be in that vicinity. So our commanding officer ordered Major Samuel M. Whitside, with A, B, K, and L troops of the Seventh Cavalry, to proceed to Wounded Knee Crossing without delay. Just before noon of the 28th, two of our scouts caught an Indian spy taking a survey of our camp and reported Chief Big Foot and his band near Porcupine Buttes, about six miles away. “Boots and Saddles” was sounded instead of “Mess-call,” and we mounted and rode after them, accompanied by a platoon of E Battery, First Light Artillery, commanded by Second Lieutenant Harry L. Hawthorne. We came in contact with them near the buttes, and a bloodthirsty looking lot they were, their faces painted green, yellow, and red, with colored feathers in their hair. Each one of them wore a calico “Ghost Shirt” under his blanket, which crafty old Chief Sitting Bull and the medicine men had told them would stop the paleface or white man’s bullets from harming them.
While Major Whitside and our interpreter held a powwow with their chief, Lieutenant Hawthorne unloaded and assembled the two three-inch Hotchkiss guns, ready for action. The Indians were very much impressed by them, as they had never seen breech-loading [artillery] guns before. As our orders were to capture and disarm them without bloodshed, if possible, it took our commander and interpreter a long time to talk their chief into ordering his warriors to accompany us back to our camp, as most of the young “Bucks” wanted to try out the bullet resisting qualities of their “Ghost Shirts.” We eventually escorted them back to our camp, dividing our rations with them, also furnishing their chief, squaws, and papooses with a tent, as he claimed to be sick. After dark Major Whitside sent a courier to Pine Ridge Agency for reinforcements and formed a chain-guard around the camp. We spent a sleepless night as the Indians wailed and chanted all night long.
At daybreak on the 29th, we found ourselves re-enforced by the Second Battalion of our regiment, consisting of C, I, D, and G Troops commanded by Colonel James W. Forsyth. Also the rest of E Battery, First Light Artillery, commanded by Captain Allyn Capron. After breakfast our officers and Indian interpreters held a consultation and decided that we would give them a chance to lay down their arms and surrender, or [we would] disarm them, as they well knew that other bands of hostile Indians were nearby and there would be probability of another Custer Massacre if we allowed the other bands to come up with us, as we were greatly outnumbered and could look for no more help from the agency. Our commander ordered the interpreter to notify the chief that they must pile their arms in a certain spot, to which he apparently agreed. About a dozen of the Indians laid down some old guns, their medicine man meanwhile exhorting them to fight, and our interpreters told our officers what to expect.
The medicine man threw a handful of dust into the air and blew a whistle which was the prearranged signal to start the ball rolling. They threw their blankets off and poured a volley into our ranks, doing considerable execution as we were at close quarters. In the ensuing hour and a half the red devils got all the fight they wanted. We won, but it cost us dearly, for as well as I can remember, we lost two officers and about forty men killed; and three officers, Lieutenants Mann, Garlington, and Hawthorne and seventy or eighty men wounded, [and] my own Troop A having seven killed and six wounded. There was considerable hand-to-hand fighting. I saw Captain George Wallace down five Indians before he had his skull crushed with an Indian war club. Also saw Sergeant Coffey of B Troop drop four Indians by clubbing them with his gun before he died. And Captain William G. Spencer of the Medical Corps ministered to the wounded under fire as unconcerned as though he were on dress parade. We gathered our dead and wounded, and as we were short of ambulances, some of our wounded had to ride with the dead bodies of their comrades, which must have been a nerve-racking exper
ience for them, on our night trip back to the agency.
Myself and several others were detailed as guards over our wounded Indian prisoners and never heard a groan out of them, although several of them with shattered limbs and other painful gunshot wounds had to ride all night on bare-backed ponies. We arrived at our destination at daybreak on December 30, unloaded our dead and wounded, fed and watered our animals, and had just finished a much-needed breakfast and were anticipating that we would get a well-earned rest, when “Boots and Saddles” sounded once more and the tired bunch had to gallop to the relief of the sisters at the Catholic mission about five miles away, as the Indians had already fired and burned a couple of outbuildings and were about to burn the main buildings in which were several white sisters and three or four hundred Indian children. We drove them off, [but] a few of them acting as rearguard exchanged shots with us to keep us coming after them while the main body of the band prepared a trap for us, into which we would have walked if it had not been for Second Lieutenant John R. M. Taylor, Seventh Infantry, and his half-breed scouts, who located several thousand hostile Indians hidden on each side of the narrow trail through which we would have to ride after those who were acting as a bait for us. We were dismounted, fighting on foot and our horses and pack mules were in our rear, one man being in charge of four horses. In a short while we found ourselves running short of ammunition, as several of the pack mules, being wounded, had bolted with our ammunition. Luckily, several packs came loose, so that we had a chance to pick up a box or two.
Captain Myles Moylan of A Troop ordered the writer and another buddie to pick up a box of ammunition and follow the troop with it as they were returning to a knoll about two hundred yards away. We were making very slow progress as the box was heavy and upon coming up with I Troop, Captain Henry J. Nowlan in command, he asked us where we were going with it and I told him that Captain Moylan had ordered us to carry it to A Troop’s new position. He ordered us to deliver it to him and as we hesitated, he pointed his forty-five Colt’s revolver at us and the box left our possession immediately, I assure you. I heard afterwards that half of his command had only one round of ammunition left when we arrived on the scene.
Our commander seeing that the Indians were cognizant of the fact that we were running short of ammunition and were cut off from our horses, sent a courier back to the agency for re-enforcements and supplies. The Sioux were crowding us pretty close when Colonel Guy V. Henry arrived with four troops of the Tenth Cavalry and a battery of light artillery. The Indians did not linger any when they saw them and the artillery shells taught them a lesson which they will not soon forget, and we were glad to retire to the agency once more and get some food and rest. Our casualties were very light in this engagement, as the Indians are poor shots at a distance of two hundred yards or more. The next morning we buried forty-eight of our comrades during one of the worst blizzards we had ever experienced. The next few days were taken up with guard duty and hustling to keep warm.
About the middle of January, 1891, Colonel “Buffalo Bill” Cody arrived at the agency with several Indians who had been traveling with his wild west show. After a conference with Major General John R. Brooke, he took a few troops for an escort, rode out a few miles and coaxed the Indians to surrender and return to the agency, telling them that they could never win by fighting us, as the “Great Father” in Washington (meaning the president) had more pale-faced soldiers in numbers than the sands of the hills. It certainly impressed us very much to see what influence “Buffalo Bill” had over several thousand bloodthirsty redskins. There were so many of them that it took a couple of hours for them to file into the camp. That night, when all was quiet in camp, General Brooke had four pieces of light artillery placed on top of a hill to rake their camp if they should break loose again. Each piece had a tent placed over it to hide it from the Indians for the time being. When the coverings were removed the Indians showed a great respect for them, as one chief said to one of our interpreters, “Big guns heap bad. They shoot today and kill tomorrow,” meaning that the large shells carried a great distance.
The next word that we received was that the old arch-fiend, Chief Sitting Bull, who was the prime mover in all Indian uprisings for several years past, with several other warriors had been killed trying to escape from their captors [on December 15, 1890]. I think that a detail of the Eighth Infantry, Second Cavalry [sic], and Indian police were in this encounter. Early in February, everything now being quiet, all of the troops who had been called out to help put an end to this uprising were concentrated at Pine Ridge Agency for a review and I understand that it was the largest gathering of regular troops up to that time since 1865. Several days later we packed up, said good-bye to our erstwhile enemies and our comrades in arms who took other routes, and marched back to Rushville, Nebraska, and boarded a train for Fort Riley, Kansas. But it seemed that fate decreed that trouble for some of our outfit was not at an end, as the second and third sections of our train were wrecked before reaching Manhatten, Kansas, killing and injuring several cavalry and artillery men. Captain Edward S. Godfrey lost the use of his right arm. We arrived at old Fort Riley once more without further mishap and it certainly was a joyful homecoming for the officers and men who had the pleasure of meeting the “Girls They Left Behind Them” three months previously. We settled down once more to garrison life, satisfied that we had done our little bit to help win some of the northwestern territory, which at this writing contributes largely toward the nation’s bread rations….
An Army Medic at Wounded Knee (By Andrew M. Flynn, formerly of Troop A, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, November-December, 1939)
I enlisted in New York City in the year 1888. I was sent to Jefferson Barracks, Missouri, was there about four months, then was sent with many others to Fort Riley, Kansas, and joined A Troop of the Seventh United States Cavalry and went through the regular routine of learning my tactics and riding, doing saber drill, etc. There were lots of things besides. I remember very well that there was a heavy rain the day before we arrived at Fort Riley. It was a good thing for us because there was a large detail sent to pull out sunflowers that almost covered the parade ground. Some of the boys in my squad were complaining about this, saying, “I came here to be a soldier.” I urged them to pitch in and see if we could not beat the other squads, telling them we came to do what we were told to do, whatever it was. Well, we all stuck to it and our squad was the first one to be done, and it was no small task, for the sunflowers were very tall, some of them almost ten feet.
So much for that. We had very nice new barracks with a wonderful mess hall and good food. Much better than we had at Jefferson Barracks. The “non-coms” there had their own mess hall and, boy, but didn’t they live high. But that was changed very soon, as there was a place there where old soldiers from different places came on furlough to reenlist, and they began to complain about the food they were getting, such as “slumgullion” for dinner and a piece of dry bread and about three prunes for supper. There happened to be a quartermaster sergeant among the men and he went to the commanding officer, who was Captain Henry W. Wessels, Jr., of the Third Cavalry, from Fort Sam Houston, Texas. The captain said he did not know what he could do about it, but he said he would try to get it changed. However, this quartermaster sergeant did not wait, but wrote to Washington about it and someone was sent from there to inspect the whole thing. We had a large place where we had cows and lots of pigs and a very fine garden, but we did not get much of it. The man came from Washington incognito. He made out that he was an English lord and wanted to find out how things were done in the United States. He was there for a few days and found out all about it. So he went to Captain Wessels, giving him his card, and said that there must be a change and that every man be well fed, that not only a few were to get all the good things. Every “non-com” there, with the exception of our first sergeant, was sent out to the regiments, which they did not like. So it pays to be honest and kind to others.
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p; Now back to Fort Riley, the geographical center of the United States, they told us. We were treated well there and had a fine set of officers from Colonel James W. Forsyth all along the line. We had fine quarters, a nice chapel, and a good chaplain and a Y. M. C. A. secretary, a very fine man whom I liked very much. In fact, I liked everything there. There were the great open spaces like Pawnee Flats, where we used to drill in the early morning in the “good old summer time,” then come in and have a shower and go for breakfast and then had target practice. I never was much of a shot but I thought I was a fairly good horseman.
I had a good horse and was sorry to leave him behind me, but you know, the best of friends must part. I remember we took a long trip to Topeka, Kansas, to a Grand Army encampment, where we were escort to the Honorable Benjamin Harrison…. I tell you, we had a wonderful time of it. There were many G. A. R’s there, probably between two and three hundred of them. We then returned to Fort Riley to the fall maneuvers in the Indian Territory. That was a great thing for a “rookie” like me. I was not very old, but I tried to do my share in capturing the enemy.