by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
Captain Penrose was one of the bravest men, and was always in the lead. He, as well as some of the others of us, was satisfied there was a large force of Indians in that section. But we started back, arriving at Fort Lyon [on] September 9, just at guard mount, having made the 120 miles in twenty-four hours….
Combat near Fort Hays, Kansas, 1867 (By George W. Ford, formerly first sergeant, Troop L, Tenth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, November, 1925)
In October, 1867, Private John Randall, G Troop, Tenth Cavalry, in company with two civilians, was attacked by a band of Cheyennes numbering sixty or seventy near a spring about forty-five miles west of Fort Hays, or the present Hays City, on the line of the Union [Kansas] Pacific Railroad. In the fight that ensued the two citizens were killed and one of them scalped. Randall was shot in the hip and received eleven lance wounds in his shoulder and back. These wounds were received after he and one of the citizens named John Parks had taken refuge in a hole under a railroad cut. The Indians had caved in large portions of the bank upon Parks and dispatched him with their spears. The savages, worn out with trying to get Randall out of his hole and doubtless also weary of losing so many of their number, disappeared, leaving thirteen warriors dead, so effective had been the fire of Randall and his friend up to the time of the latter’s death.
The Indians then attacked the main camp on the railroad, which was protected by Sergeant Charles H. Davis and eight men, and were repulsed. The sergeant ordered the horses saddled, but thought it best to force the fighting and attack the enemy on foot. As soon as the warriors saw the soldiers advancing, they mounted their ponies and rode leisurely away along the line of the railroad until they met an ox team and wagon with two men. They at once fell upon the men. One escaped to the camp; the other remained and fought until his last cartridge was fired. Three of the warriors dismounted to take his scalp. Just at this critical moment, Sergeant Davis and his detachment arrived and opened fire upon the war party with such success that the Indians abandoned their victim and galloped away for the river bottoms. Returning to camp with the rescued teamster, Davis ordered his men to mount, and, at the head of the detachment, rode with greatest speed toward the river to ascertain, if possible, the whereabouts of Private Randall, who was then lying under the bank, bleeding and exhausted, by the side of his dead companion, Parks. On nearing the river and ascending a little rise of ground, he discovered an Indian picket on the lookout. Dismounting his eight men as quietly and quickly as possible, leaving the horses to be held by two of the men, he, with the remaining six, crept up to the top of a hill and a single shot from a carbine put an end to the savage sentry.
As soon as the man fell, the Indians who had been secreted in two ravines on his right and left rear to the number of seventy-five or eighty, advanced to give battle. The sergeant, finding his squad partially surrounded, divided his little band so as to engage those in rear and front, with, as he feared, little chance of success. The men who held the Indians off on the sergeant’s left rear fired so rapidly that the warriors broke and concentrated on his right. At this juncture, the ponies belonging to the Indians which had been left in the ravines, became frightened at the firing and stampeded. The hostiles finding themselves afoot concluded to give up the fight and fled from the scene in disorder. The sergeant followed in hot pursuit until close to the stream, when he concluded to return for his horses and to the two men who stood at their post holding the fretful animals in check. One of the horses had been killed. The men had not only been able to keep the horses together, but defended themselves against overwhelming numbers. The sergeant and his eight men were alive and without a scratch. The path of flight of the hostiles was strewn with war bonnets, quivers, arrows, skins, robes, belts and other paraphernalia.
Davis, in returning toward camp, found a fresh scalp of a white man lying on the ground. Concluding that this must tell the tale of the death of one of the citizens with Randall, he began at once to make search for the soldier and companion, dead or alive. The detachment passed close to the bank under which Randall was lying, and seeing evidence of a struggle, the closest investigation was made. The Indians killed by Randall and Parks had been removed, but the marks of warfare were more than visible. Randall, hearing the voices of the soldiers, cried out until he made himself heard. He was dragged from his hiding place more dead than alive. The dead men were buried near where they fell, and Randall was carried to camp where he rapidly recovered. Considering the number of soldiers and the number of foe, the amount of punishment inflicted upon the savages, the amount of war material captured, and the success in bringing out of the fight all of the men Sergeant Davis took into it, this engagement must be regarded as among the most notable of the period to which it belongs….
A Memory of Beecher Island, 1868 (By Reuben Waller, formerly of Troop H, Tenth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, August, 1925)
I want to add one…boast, and it is that Captain Louis H. Carpenter and myself were the first of the rescuers to reach Major Forsyth on the morning of September 26, 1868. I was Colonel Carpenter’s hostler and when…Carpenter dismounted to lift Forsyth out of the rifle pit, I held his horse. If any of those Beecher Island fighters are living and remember the circumstances, I hope they will come forward and testify to what I have said. They ought to remember Colonel Carpenter and his colored orderly, as we charged up to where they were lying in their rifle pits, and how we all cried together as we helped them out of their starving condition….
Sully’s Campaign in the Autumn of 1868 (By A. Clinton Rallya, formerly of Troop I, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, May 30, 1927)
I will now relate a few things that I remember in the Sully campaign of 1868. Troop I, Seventh U. S. Cavalry, left Fort Wallace in the spring of 1868, being ordered to join the regiment at Fort Hays. Arriving there in good shape, we were surprised to find that the Seventh U. S. Cavalry had a new commander, Lieutenant Colonel Alfred Sully, as Lieutenant Colonel George A. Custer had been suspended from the army for one year, and let me say right here that I think it should have been for all time, and I think it would had it not been for Major General Philip H. Sheridan. No doubt you know why. We stayed at Fort Hays only long enough to be fitted out for the warpath. Before leaving we were told that I Troop would have a new commander, as Captain Myles W. Keogh would be on Colonel Sully’s staff. This was sorrowful news as every man in the troop idolized Captain Keogh. However, we were not going to lose him entirely and would see him every day and did as he kept close touch with us to see that we were properly treated. Second Lieutenant Charles G. Cox was our new troop commander; don’t know where he came from, but did not amount to much.
We did not know where we were going, but were on our way, bringing up at Fort Dodge. After a short stay there, we crossed the Arkansas River and started south. On our way, we were told that this was to be known as the Sully Campaign after Indians, and right here let me say that it will never be forgotten by those who took part in it, and will be remembered as at least the worst the Seventh U. S. Cavalry took part in. We did not have much fighting to do until we got into the sand hills, and there and then we were up against it proper. In trying to cross forks of Canadian and Cimarron river, we lost several wagons and mules swamped in the quicksand. The only one of the scouts and guides, in my estimation, that amounted to anything was California Joe Milner, and he knew but little of that part of the country.
California Joe was a tall, rawboned, red-headed old scout whose appearance and makeup would indicate that soap, water, comb, and brush had been forgotten for a long time. What he lacked in makeup he more than made up in bravery, as he was like a tiger in that respect. His only aim during life was to kill Indians, in revenge for the massacre of his wife and children. He joined our expedition at Fort Dodge, and wanted nothing for anything that he might do to help us along, which he did on many occasions. His only wish was to be given a free hand in killing Indians. He said, “Give me a horse and mule, something to eat, also plenty a
mmunition, and when you see the smoke from my old Long Tom you can reckon there is one Indian less to fight.” We did see the smoke from that Long Tom many a time. He usually wore an old blue army overcoat and government boots, with cartridge box, saddle pockets and nose bag full of ammunition. He had a quart bottle of forty rod in the overcoat pocket, and you can imagine perhaps his appearance riding a small mule and his No. 14 boots almost touching the ground. I never saw him take a drink of water, and one day I asked him why it was. His reply was that water would rot your boots, and he would not take any chances with his stomach.
When Colonel Jack Romeo [Scout Raphael Romero] could not find a passage way through the sand hills, we were obliged to turn back and re-cross the river. From that time on we were kept busy fighting Indians, and every day brought more. We were told not to waste our ammunition, but wait until the Indians came close in and were about to pull us out of our saddles, then fire. [Our] wagon train was doubled up in order to be able to corral our wagons rapidly should occasion require it. However, we did make out to fight our way back without doing that. The Indians circled our train several times, drove our advance and rear guard in, also flankers. The Indians, however, were darn poor shots, and once in a while they would hit a wagon or mule. The only man lost on the trip that I can recall was Captain Louis M. Hamilton’s orderly. He was allowed to lag behind the rear guard one morning as we were starting on our day’s march. A bunch of Indians swooped down on the poor man and took him off. That morning our troop was at the head of the column and close to headquarters. Sergeant Andrews of our troop hastened to Keogh and requested permission to take a detail and try to rescue the man. Keogh requested permission of Colonel Sully, and he reluctantly gave consent. Andrews grabbed a dozen or so of us kids that had the best horses, and we were off, not giving a thought of our own lives, as the hills and ravines were lined with Indians.
They had perhaps two miles the best of us, but we gained on them rapidly. My horse was not fast, but could run all day, so I was at the head of the party. After a few miles run, we got so close to them that they drew their bows and arrows, and thinking that we would rescue our man, they shot several arrows into his body. He did not fall from his horse, as I think he was tied on, but loped down in the saddle badly hurt. At that time, the Indians did not have many firearms, and this bunch did not seem to have any. However, I would prefer a bullet to an arrow any time.
Colonel Sully had gotten out of his ambulance and was keeping tab on us. He perhaps thought we were getting too far from the command, so he had his bugler sound the recall. Andrews called our attention to it, and said the only thing to do was turn back or get into trouble, so you can imagine the status of our minds when turning back and leaving our comrade to his fate. Maybe you think I did not say some hard words for a long time after that, and yet, we cannot tell what might have happened to us if we had kept going. There might have been another Kidder or Major Elliott slaughter. However, on occasions like that, we never thought of danger, but would ride through hell to rescue a comrade.
The Indians seemed to think they had us licked, and every day they would receive reinforcements. They became more daring, and when they became too numerous and daring Colonel Sully would crawl out of his ambulance, have his orderly help him on his horse, then look things over and perhaps order a charge made. This state of affairs continued from day to day for some time, and finally the Indians commenced disappearing. Don’t know why, unless they thought we were not worth wasting any more ammunition on. We went into camp not far from where Camp Supply was established a little later. We stayed here until Custer was restored to command, and poor old Colonel Sully went back in his ambulance to his former command at Harker, and so ended the Sully Campaign.
The Fight at Beaver Creek, 1868 (By Edward M. Hayes, formerly first lieutenant, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, February, 1940)
Early in October,’ 68, seven troops of the Fifth Cavalry under command of Major William B. Royall left Fort Hays, Kansas, on a campaign against Roman Nose’s band of Cheyenne Indians who were supposed to be on Beaver Creek, a tributary of the Republican River, northwest of Fort Hays. This campaign was bare of results, but later the same command under Major Eugene A. Carr, who relieved Major Royall in command, was very successful. I was at that time quartermaster of the expedition, and had a wagon train of about seventy-six mule teams and a half dozen ambulances under my charge. The trail covered was partly over the same ground as the first expedition, but more directly toward the headwaters of Beaver Creek, as Major Carr had information that the Indians were located in that vicinity.
Orders were given for forced marches, and on the third or fourth day out, late in the afternoon my wagon train, which was about three miles in the rear of the column of cavalry, owing to its inability to keep up on account of inexperienced teamsters and the poor condition of the mules, was suddenly attacked by a band of 300-400 warriors, who had apparently risen as by magic from the prairie and formed line on a slight ridge bordering on a small stream, and in a perfectly open country about three-quarters of a mile from the train. The wagon train was in two columns, about a hundred yards apart, and somewhat lengthened out on account of the rapid gait and poor condition of the mules, but the sight of the Indians had a startling effect, and the straggling wagons closed up almost at a run.
The Indians presented a gorgeous spectacle with their war bonnets, arms, and so forth glistening in the blinding rays of the setting sun. This impressive sight was only momentary, when the larger part of the Indians composed of young warriors, I suppose, dashed forward to the charge, the others remaining apparently as a support to their charging brothers. The time given, however, was sufficient to get the train and guard in position to meet the attack. Two scouts were sent forward on the run to notify Major Carr of the condition of affairs, and succeeded in reaching him. The escort to the train, including convalescents, numbered about forty men and was divided into advance, rear guard, and flankers, covering the open space between the columns of wagons, front and rear of the teams, and forming a line of flankers on the side next to the enemy. The whole was kept moving all the time during the maneuvers and attack, and never once halted. The flankers were in charge of an old sergeant, whose name, unfortunately, I cannot recall, but whose coolness, bravery, and judgment was far above the average. The men were dismounted, their horses being sent to the shelter of the wagon train, the line marching in open order so as to cover the flank of the train, on which the attack was expected to fall. This line was reinforced by a part of the teamsters, who, after having tied their lead mules to the rear of the preceding wagons, were ordered to join the flankers. These men were armed with old-fashioned muzzle-loading Springfield rifles, and did good service.
Orders were given to reserve fire until the Indians were within fifty yards, and then “fire at will.” The charge was repulsed with considerable loss to the Indians in both warriors and ponies. In the meantime, Major Carr had detached three troops to the assistance of the train. The Indians discovering the reinforcements before we did, drew away to confront the cavalry. Then took place one of the most interesting and exciting engagements of Indian warfare ever witnessed. The Indians receiving the charge of the cavalry and vigorously returning it, for a time it was charge and countercharge, and doubtful as to which would give way, until finally a determined charge of the troops drove them back across the stream—both Indians and cavalry disappearing over the ridge. The train continued to move on, and joined the remaining troops with Major Carr who had gone into camp about four miles beyond. This was at sundown. The firing of the three troops and the Indians could be heard until dark, when Major Carr sent orders for the troops to withdraw and return to camp. The Indians followed, opening fire on the camp, which continued about two hours, but with little effect on account of the darkness and poor marksmanship. This was the first and only time in my experience that I witnessed a night attack by Indians.