by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
Here nothing of any importance had taken place except that a brave who had taken part in the rescue of Bugonaygeship had given himself up. He was sent on board the Flora under guard together with two sick men, a hospital steward, [and] the marshal O’Connor. Morton, the correspondent of the Globe, also returned to the Flora. It was now about 11:30 and the men were drawn up near the house and ordered to stack arms preparatory to dismissal for dinner. As nearly as can be made out, one of the recruits’ rifles was fired accidentally as the men were stacking arms. This, according to most of the witnesses, was followed by two shots from the woods, evidently fired as a signal and then by a volley from the three sides of the clearing. The men without waiting for orders snatched their guns from the stacks and jumped for the cover afforded by the house, the stumps, and the irregularities of the ground. A soldier who was present told the writer that in half a minute after the first fire from the Indians there was not a man in sight. There were only nineteen veterans in the detachment, the remainder being raw recruits who had never been under fire before and some of whom scarcely knew how to load and fire their own rifles. That there was a sort of panic for a few minutes, as stated by some of the eyewitnesses, is not strange. The suddenness of the attack from the concealed foe would have shaken the courage of veterans. Encouraged, however, by the shouts and example of their officers and by the old soldiers in the force, the men quickly recovered themselves and formed a rough skirmish line in the shape of an irregular crescent facing toward the wooded sides of the clearing and with their backs to the lake.
Here from the best cover they could obtain, they vigorously returned the Indians’ fire. General Bacon with Captain Wilkinson took charge of the center of the line, Second Lieutenant Tenney Ross the left, and Deputy Marshal Sheehan, who was an old soldier, the right. General Bacon, rifle in hand, fought like a common soldier, while he continued with the other officers to encourage the men by word and example. All the officers exposed themselves freely to the Indians’ fire, walking up and down the line to see to the disposition of the troops. Captain Wilkinson proved himself true to the traditions of the brave though profane old army as he walked along the line shouting: “Give it to them, boys; give ‘em hell! We’ve got ‘em licked! Give ‘em hell!” He was in full uniform of his rank and evidently drew the fire of the Indians for he soon received a slight flesh wound in the right arm and a few minutes later a bullet struck his left thigh just above the knee. He fell to the ground saying to Lieutenant Ross: “I’m hit, Ross, but not badly. Keep ‘em at it.” He was carried behind the log house where the hospital steward dressed his wound as the captain sat propped up against the wall. But nothing could keep him out of the fight and as soon as his wound was dressed he was back on the firing line. He had scarcely returned when a bullet struck him in the right side, passing completely through the abdomen and he fell mortally wounded. “Give ‘em hell!” he shouted to General Bacon as he breathed his last a few minutes after being hit.
For a time both Indians and soldiers kept up a hot fire although neither side had much to aim at save the puffs of smoke. By the volume of fire from the woods it appeared that the braves were about equal in number to the soldiers. It was very easy to distinguish the rifle fire of the Indians for most of them were armed with Winchesters whose duller reports were punctuated by the sharp staccato crack of the soldiers’ Krag-Jorgensens. At the end of about half an hour, the fusillade from the woods slackened and there was a short respite after which it broke out again more fiercely than before. Altogether, there were six separate attacks, or rather bursts of fire, from the woods with short intervals between until about three o’clock in the afternoon, when apparently the main body of the Indians withdrew. Occasionally a few shots would come from the woods but the main attack was over. It had lasted for three hours and a half and had resulted for the troops in the loss of one officer and five men killed and ten men wounded. There were plenty of narrow escapes among the remainder. A number had bullet holes in their clothing, one man had a bullet graze his chin, and another had a bullet take a piece of skin from the bridge of his nose. A bullet went through General Bacon’s hat, passing within an inch of his head. All from the general to the last recruit fought well and instances of individual gallantry were common. General Bacon, Lieutenant Ross, and Marshal Sheehan, as well as Captain Wilkinson, all showed great coolness and resolution, as did the noncommissioned officers, particularly First Sergeant Kelly, who took charge of the center of the line after the fall of Captain Wilkinson. Sergeant Butler was killed by a bullet through the head while exposing himself in the carrying of a message. The hospital steward, Burkhard, distinguished himself by his disregard of danger while bringing in the wounded under fire. The surgeon, Dr. Henry S. T. Harris, was equally devoted to his duty. He was on board one of the steamers when action began, having accompanied one of the sick sent to the steamer. He returned to the command again by rowing ashore under fire in a small skiff. Together with his hospital steward, he upheld the highest tradition of his department for matter-of-fact courage and efficient performance of duty in the face of danger and difficulties.
At the commencement of the firing the steamers lying off the point were exposed to a sharp rifle fire from the Indians and in a short time they stood out from the shore and returned to Walker, where no little excitement and consternation was caused by the report which they brought. Indian Inspector Arthur M. Tinker, Marshal O’Connor, and several of the deputy marshals were aboard, and their rather hurried return to Walker, leaving the soldiers to fight it out or be driven into the lake, caused a great deal of unfavorable comment and a good many broad hints that the courage of those aboard was rather questionable. It seems, however, that both Inspector Tinker and the marshal were desirous of getting to town to hurry up reinforcements as well as to send food and blankets to General Bacon’s detachment. The boats themselves were quite unable to render any material assistance as their sides and pilot houses were readily pierced by rifle bullets.
The night was an anxious one for General Bacon’s men. The wounded were made as comfortable as possible, and a trench and some rifle pits were dug and pickets posted. Several alarms took place and an Indian policeman was killed by a sentry who mistook him for one of the hostiles. The provisions were scanty and the men did not have their blankets. When morning came the little force was well intrenched and felt confident that it could easily repulse the Indians if again attacked. Most of the enemy had apparently left the peninsula but occasional shots from the woods proved that some of the Indians were still lurking there. A chance shot killed a soldier digging potatoes in the neighboring field, and the situation was hardly a pleasant one, particularly for the wounded. The arrival of a steamer from Walker with blankets and a quantity of food greatly cheered the men. The steamer was fired upon and consequently was able to take off only one of the wounded.
About 3:30 p.m., October 6th, Lieutenant Colonel Abram A. Harbach, with a force of two hundred and fourteen men and a Gatling gun, arrived at Walker to reinforce the detachment at Sugar Point. About two hours later, the steamer Flora, returning with the dead and wounded of General Bacon’s party, brought the report that fighting had practically ceased and that the steamer had established satisfactory communication with the shore. Indeed, from about noon on the sixth no Indians were seen and only one or two shots were fired. The wounded were sent to the Walker hospital and the bodies of the dead were taken to Bailey’s warehouse near the dock. About noon on Friday, October 7, General Bacon’s force embarked on the steamer Leila D., arriving about 5:30 in the afternoon at the Walker dock where they were warmly greeted by the citizens and by the men of Colonel Harbach’s command. The next morning the latter force went to the Indian agency five miles north of Walker where they pitched tents and went into camp. Runners were sent out inviting the Indians to come to the agency for council to discuss the surrender of the braves for whom warrants had been issued and to investigate and settle the complaints in regard to the disposal of the dead and fa
llen timber. The United States Commissioner of Indian Affairs, William A. Jones, arrived from Washington October 10, and the next morning he and Father Aloysius Hermanutz, a priest who had great influence over the Indians, went to Bear Island, where they had a long and friendly conference with those chiefs of the Pillager band who were principally concerned in the outbreak.
The news of the clash between the troops and the Indians spread like wildfire and resulted in a general alarm throughout the northern villages. The settlers and timber cruisers poured into the towns for protection and telegrams were sent to the adjutant general of the department requesting that troops be sent to Walker, Bemidji, Farris, Cass Lake, Deer River, and Aitken, while, at the same time the citizens of these towns armed and organized for the defense of their homes. At Bemidji, something like a panic took place. The women were collected in the court house and two hundred armed citizens kept watch and ward. The arrival of detachments of troops in the villages soon quieted the alarm and caused the excitement to subside.
Troops were poured into the Indian country, not only for the sake of actual protection in case of an extensive uprising, but also to impress the Indians with the fact that recourse to arms was hopeless and that the government was determined to suppress any armed resistance to its authority. At the same time, a thorough investigation of the Indians’ complaints in regard to the disposal of the dead timber on their land was promised. Influenced by the tact of the Indian commissioner, persuaded by the chiefs and the leading men of the tribe, which has always been conspicuously friendly to the whites, and also, probably, impressed by the military force brought to the scene, the Bear Islanders gradually acceded to the demands of the marshals and by the middle of October practically all the men for whom warrants had been issued were in the hands of the authorities. They were transferred to Duluth for trial. When their cases came up before Judge William Lochren on October 21, all were found guilty and were given sentences varying from sixty days imprisonment and a fine of twenty-five dollars to ten months and one hundred dollars. On December 13, the Indian office recommended that the term of imprisonment be commuted to two months and that the fines be remitted, and finally on June 3, 1899, the pardons were granted.
B. Central and Southern Plains
The area of modern Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and eastern Colorado held proximity to many of the principal emigrant arteries west, as well as collateral overland trails, roads, and railroads between the 1850s and 1890s. During that period thousands of whites entered the region seeking land and fortune, some passing through to the goldfields of California and elsewhere and others remaining to gain their livelihoods from the land. The inroads disrupted Indian societies and brought warfare as the tribes attempted to dissuade the invasion. Ultimately, the army, as instrument of the federal government committed to the protection of American citizens, waged brutal campaigns against them, and in the end the native people met defeat and were placed on reservations. Military expeditions on the Central and Southern Plains in many ways mirrored those in the north, particularly in the grueling extremes of climate posed by torrid summers and freezing winters, and in the mobility and fighting prowess of the native people targeted by the army. Among the reminiscences presented here are several dealing with the Cheyenne and Arapaho War of 1867-69 (which included the notable engagements of Beecher’s Island, Colorado Territory, Beaver Creek, Kansas, and Washita, Indian Territory [Oklahoma]), which is represented here by accounts from veterans of state forces as well as federal commands, and the Red River War of 1874-75, which included the noted Battle of Palo Duro Canyon in west Texas.
Supplies for Colorado in 1864 (By Elias J. Quick, formerly of Tyler’s Rangers. From Winners of the West, January 15, 1926)
During the summer of 1864 the Indians were on the warpath and stopped supplies going to Denver, Colorado Territory, and there was no mail for several weeks. Denver sent out scouts every day and night to see if the Indians were mobilizing to attack the city. Every commodity in the market that was scarce was bought up and prices raised. Common salt was 75 cents a pound wholesale. Pork products were all 50 cents a pound. Certain kinds of nails even brought $1.00 per pound. All provisions were getting scarce, prices higher, and it looked like starvation as well as the probability of being massacred.
Governor John Evans called for volunteers to open up communication with the states. Clinton M. Tyler of Black Hawk, Colorado, raised a company of ninety-five men, calling themselves Tyler’s Rangers. These men were sworn into the service…on August 15, 1864. The government had no arms or ammunition, so we furnished our own horses, guns, ammunition, clothing, bedding, and cooking utensils. Officers and men had no tents, sleeping in the open, rain or shine, hot or cold. Government furnished us four mule teams and wagons loaded with bacon, hardtack, and grain for the horses. The hardtack must have been made two years, and before we could eat it we had to boil it, skim the worms off, and then fry in bacon grease.
We left the city [Denver] three days after being sworn into the service, going down the Platte River, scouting both sides of the river, and did not see a white man until we came to Fort Cottonwood, Nebraska, a distance of 300 miles. We had trailed Indians from Colorado to here, and as Nebraska had issued a law that they would protect all peaceful Indians at Fort Cottonwood on a certain date, that stopped us. We followed another bunch of Indians over on the Republican River, but ran out of provisions and had to return to Fort Cottonwood, where was stationed a regiment of soldiers under Brigadier General Robert B. Mitchell[, commander of the District of Nebraska]. We drew rations here for our return trip home.
At Fort Cottonwood there was over a hundred teams loaded with provisions that the soldiers were holding for Colorado. We escorted them to Denver. We established a mail and express line to Denver, and living again became normal. The territory had no money to pay us, and so we were conditionally discharged. On our return to Denver the government addressed us, saying we had accomplished much that would do credit and add luster to the fame of the most valiant veterans of any war. “A more noble and patriotic service than yours has not been rendered by anybody at any period in the history of our country.” This is recorded in Denver.
Campaigning in Colorado and New Mexico, 1860s (By Luke Cahill, formerly of the Third U. S. Infantry and Fifth U. S. Infantry, and former National Commander, National Indian War Veterans, Denver, Colorado. From Winners of the West, August, 1924)
During the winter of 1867 and 1868 I was stationed at Fort Lyon, Colorado, along with Companies G and I of the old Third U. S. Infantry. Captain Lee P. Gillette was then with Company G but was succeeded by Captain J. Ford Kent. Its first lieutenant was John W. Hannay. Company I was commanded by Captain William H. Penrose, First Lieutenant John W. Thomas, Second Lieutenant Thomas B. Briggs, and First Sergeant Conway. I served nine months in camp with Buffalo Bill and also Wild Bill Hancock [Hickok] in that terrible expedition in the winter of 1868-69, commanded by Major Eugene A. Carr of the Fifth U. S. Cavalry, and Captain Penrose of the Third Infantry. The campaign was against the Cheyennes and Arapahos….
On the 4th day of May, 1866, I enlisted in the regular army at Chicago, Illinois. [I] was sent to Governors Island, New York [Harbor], then to Fort Leavenworth, where 1, 500 of us soldiers with 100 wagons started on our long march across the Great American Desert to Fort Union, New Mexico Territory. We were under the command of Lieutenant Colonel George Sykes. Colonel Sykes, then brevet major general, commanded the Fifth Army Corps and captured Little Round Top at the Battle of Gettysburg. Our quartermaster on that expedition was Major George A. Forsyth of Beecher Island fame. From Fort Union I was assigned to Company A, Fifth U. S. Infantry, then at Fort Sumner. Here three companies of infantry and one troop of cavalry were trying to keep 20, 000 Navajo Indians on a reservation. We had daily trouble, and many of our men were killed.
In August, 1867, a courier arrived at Fort Sumner with a message that the little town of Trinidad, Colorado, was surrounded with Ute Indians and all the whites [were] abou
t to be killed. A company was sent out and at once marched day and night until we arrived at Trinidad, beat off the Indians and saved the lives of the people. In the meantime, the Navajos broke out, surrounded the three remaining companies, and we were ordered back from Trinidad on another day-and-night march to help relieve our surrounded troops. Troops came from Fort Stanton, [Fort] Bascom, Santa Fe, and our Company A from Trinidad in time to save the garrison.
Thirty-six soldiers were killed. The Indians began leaving by thousands and the troops were unable to stop them. General William T. Sherman was sent out by the War Department to try to make peace with them. He gave them twenty-four hours in which to surrender and return the guns they had taken from the dead soldiers. The little headstones at Fort Sumner tell the history of those poor boys who gave up their lives there in defense of their country.
The Navajos were without control. Their head chief, Manuelito, was a good Indian but he could not control the young braves of the tribe and they went back to their own country. The great General [Colonel] Kit Carson [had earlier] defeated those Indians and put them on the Fort Sumner reservation in the winter of 1863. He killed all their horses. The Fifth Infantry was relieved from duty in Arizona in November, 1867, and ordered to report to General Hancock for duty on the great plains of Colorado and Kansas. My company arrived at Fort Lyon [on] November 7, 1867. The fort [second Fort Lyon] was just being built, and we were compelled to lie out in tents all winter. It was terribly cold and much snow.