by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
Merritt’s Relief Column to Milk River (By Jacob Blaut, formerly of Troop B, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, April, 1924)
As I recall, three companies left Fort D. A. Russell, Wyoming [Territory], going into the hills of Colorado to pacify the Ute Indians who had a dispute with Nathan C. Meeker, the Indian agent. Before the soldiers’ arrival there, the Utes killed Meeker and his clerk, Shadrack A. Price, taking with them Mrs. Meeker, her daughter [Josephine], and Mrs. Price.
About a week later a message came to Colonel Wesley Merritt, commander of the garrison at Fort Russell, saying the Indians had killed all the horses of the three companies and had surrounded the soldiers in a sort of canyon. A relief expedition of Companies A and B was immediately sent out. It was nearly a week later at daybreak when we reached the scene of the Meeker massacre and saw the dead horses of the companies lying where they had been killed by the Indians. We soon found the companies, finding many soldiers and citizens dead or wounded, among the dead being Major Thomas T. Thornburgh and the scout. We found the Indians had withdrawn and a little later we came across several Indian commissioners with some peaceful Utes who told us they had gotten the three women from the Indians and sent them on to the lower agency with some peaceful Utes.
The commissioners and friendly Indians now left and we buried the dead men, removing the wounded to a safe place. We then proceeded to White River, pitched camp, sending out scouting parties to look for the hostile Utes. First Lieutenant William B. Weir of the Ordnance Department, First Lieutenant William P. Hall of the Quartermaster’s [Hall was regimental quartermaster] and ex-Sergeant Major Paul F. A. Humme went with one of the parties and about 10 o’clock that evening Lieutenant Hall came back to camp and told Colonel Merritt the party had been attacked and he had lost sight of his two comrades. Every man in camp under Major Edwin V. Sumner was sent out to look for the two men. Lieutenant Hall secured permission of Captain Robert H. Montgomery to take ten men and myself and go to the place where they had been attacked. We arrived there and waited for the rest of the command. Major Sumner refused to go in the canyon, and so Lieutenant Hall and my small command went into the canyon, shouting for the missing men, but this brought no results. I then reported back to Major Sumner, who ordered me to dismount with my men and go on foot up the hills. I found several hats which I thought belonged to the missing men, but they turned out to be old Indian hats. After picketing for several hours, we were recalled and found out Lieutenant Weir’s body had been found and was later shipped east while we buried ex-Sergeant Major Humme’s body where we found it in the mountains of Colorado.
Reminiscences of the Ute Uprising (By Jacob Blaut, formerly of Troop B, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, March 15, 1926)
[On the] Ute Reservation in southern Colorado, [the] agent…had given orders to the Indians to work, which they refused and rebelled by killing Agent Nathan C. Meeker and three assistants, captured Mrs. Meeker and daughter, and Mrs. [Shadrack] Price. An expedition in pursuit of the Indians [was] commanded by Major Thomas T. Thornburg from Fort D. A. Russell, Wyoming [Territory], and five companies cavalry and infantry. I was in the relief expedition in the command of Colonel Wesley Merritt, two troops of Fifth U. S. Cavalry, and two companies of infantry. We found that Major Thornburg, First Sergeant John Dolan, and two privates of F Troop, one private of A Troop, one scout and several teamsters, and all the horses were killed and six privates wounded, the dead lying unburied in a ravine for a week. We buried the dead.
We came up to the Indians in a canyon and charged them, when they raised a white flag and advanced with two Indian commissioners who had arrived from the southern agency and spoke to the officers. Then we moved the troops up on the hill out of the canyon, where the stench was unbearable from the decay of the dead horses, and proceeded to the White River. After leaving White River about thirty-five miles, two companies took the wrong trail, leaving two companies in command of Major Edwin V. Sumner. First Lieutenant William P. Hall asked for a sergeant and ten men to go in advance, and I was detailed with ten men of Troop B, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. We rode up near the canyon where First Lieutenant William B. Weir and [former] Sergeant Major Paul F. A. Humme were attacked. [While] dismounted waiting for the two companies to come up with Major Sumner, the lieutenant asked if he, Major Sumner, was going in the canyon. He replied, “No, I will not.” Then the lieutenant asked me if I would go in with my ten men. I replied, “Yes, certainly. “
Then we started up the canyon, calling for Lieutenant Weir, but received no answer. At the end of the canyon we turned back. As I came back to the company, the major ordered me to leave the horses and proceed up the mountain with my ten men on picket duty. Advancing about 200 yards, I found two hats, sending them back to the major asking if he recognized them as the hats of the lieutenant and sergeant major. He returned word that they were Indian hats. About daybreak, two scouts came up and ordered me down. On arrival at the company the major asked me why I did not come down when he called me. I answered him that I did not hear him and did not think that his voice could be heard about a mile and a half up the mountain. Then Captain Robert H. Montgomery said, “Never mind him, sergeant, get your horses.” I found out later that the major intended to leave me and my ten men, and that was the cause of the captain telling me not to mind the major. The next day we returned to the camp and found the body of the sergeant major and buried him there. The lieutenant’s body had been brought in by some of the men before.
The Fifth Cavalry Comes Through (By Arthur S. Wallace, formerly of Troop A, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, September 30, 1933)
[Here are some] memories of the Fifth [U. S. Cavalry] at White River, Colorado, in’ 79 [when] I again sat along side my bunkie, huddled under a dog tent as we watched a wood fire in a small round of stones in front of our tent, and he remarked, “This beats our last winter’s ‘four left’ into a sand bank in the Sand Hills.” He had no sooner said this than we heard a picket cry out a challenge and a horse was heard coming down the hill and a few moments later splashed across the shallow ford of White River and coming up the bank, we heard the rider call out, “Orderly Bugler.” The cry brought Colonel Wesley Merritt to his tent door immediately and the rider proved to be First Lieutenant William P. Hall, regimental quartermaster, who, jumping off his horse, stated his errand. In a few minutes, “Boots and Saddles” rang out and we raced to our herd, brought in our horses, saddled up, and fell into line, and with Lieutenant Hall leading began a night ride Indian file, time about 10 p.m. in late October.
Some time after midnight, we came to a halt on finding we had lost contact with the company ahead of us. It seems the last rider in the company in front of us discovered he was riding blind with no one in front of him, and on halting so advised our captain Augur. It was therefore decided to stand to horse and wait for daybreak. At dawn, we backtracked and found that the rider who reported himself as lost had crossed a ravine, while the preceding riders had turned at right angles and ridden up the ravine, and this we now did also. Coming out on to a hillside, we soon saw a long distance away in the valley a cavalry troop and on their near approach it proved to be Troop B of the Fifth, and on the back of a horse was bound the body of First Lieutenant William B. Weir, naked but not scalped.
A few days before this ride of ours, Colonel Merritt ordered Troop B to advance toward Grand River, or Green River, to find a plausible way should it be found necessary for a quick movement of his command in that direction. Accompanying Troop B under his orders were Quartermaster (First Lieutenant) William P. Hall, First Lieutenant William B. Weir, and ex-Sergeant Major Paul F. A. Humme. Lieutenant Weir was an unassigned second lieutenant fresh from West Point [sic] who with the consent of Colonel Merritt came with us when we left Fort D. A. Russell, [Wyoming Territory], under orders to effect the rescue of three of our Fifth Cavalry troops corralled by Ute Indians at Milk River, Colorado. This rescue was accomplished on October 5th. Humme had been discharged in the fiel
d and on account of his experience and expert marksmanship was employed by Colonel Merritt as a scout.
The talk about the camp was that Lieutenant Weir was placed in Lieutenant Hall’s care and that under no circumstances were they to leave the troop to hunt. Evidently, if this was the instructions [sic], the death of Lieutenant Weir occurred as a result of the disobedience of orders. Hall, Weir, and Humme, while hunting deer, ran into a Ute Indian picket of seven Indians and Weir was killed by the first shot from them. Humme let his horse go and took to the brush fighting on foot. Hall kept to his horse and succeeded in getting away and rode into our camp for help.
Resuming our march now with Troop B and Weir’s body, we returned to headquarters camp and the officer in command reported to Colonel Merritt. Colonel Merritt, always a very soft spoken man and soldier, we heard give his reprimand for not bringing in Humme in no gentle tones, and in consequence, after a night’s rest we started out again, this time to find Humme. On our second morning out, we saw some Indians at a distance on a hillside, and we got ready for trouble. The Indians dismounted and signaled for a parley. Two of them advanced on foot and a lieutenant and bugler of ours walked out to meet them. One of them turned out to be a white man, a commissioner ordered out from Washington to negotiate the surrender of Mrs. Meeker and daughter, who had been captured by the Utes when they sacked the Ute Indians’ agency on White River, killing the agent, Nathan C. Meeker, and all other whites except Mrs. Meeker and daughter, whom they forced into captivity. The commissioner brought the parley to an abrupt end when he tried to place the blame of the deaths of Weir and Humme on the soldiers. Shortly after this, they showed us the body of Humme, which as I remember was buried where it fell. It was reported that Humme killed three of the Utes before they got him.
We returned again to headquarters and now began to settle for the winter. Snow had not come as yet. The ground was dry. Weather clear and cold. We cut logs on the hills and made shacks for four men to each, about eight feet square with stone chimneys, all of our own architectural design. Our entire furnishings consisted of bunks on each side of the rooms supported by forked willow, covered with small willow branches and snake wood from the hills for a mattress. The Indians had left plenty of cattle behind them when they fled, with which we supplied ourselves with meat, very generously killed by Chris Madsen on whom we especially relied for game when in the field. For stables for our horses, we cut and planted long willows in trenches, bringing the tops together for a roof, which served very well until the roof gave way under the weight of heavy snows. Our horses, like ourselves, were hardened to cold and exposure and lived through that winter minus flesh and plus bones and hair.
We lost one man from our troop that winter by fever, and had to ride horses over the trail of snow very deep to a neighboring hillside for burial. Second Lieutenant Frederick W. Foster spoke the Episcopal burial service, a distinct compliment to his early religious training as there was not a Bible in the camp. The ground was frozen too hard to dig a grave, so we laid his body on top of the frozen ground and the infantry which remained after we left for Fort D. A. Russell said they would bury his bones. The coyotes would do the rest. We left on March 31st [1880] for Russell, and as so many became snow blind the first few days, we rode for a time at night until we got away from the snow fields. Our wagon wheels were chained to runners under them, and with riders on the side of the trail steadying the heave loads by holding to ropes against their slipping and swaying, we got along fairly well. Occasionally one would tip over and then the mess of lifting and reloading it was done with the use of much polite language common to old-time cavalry men in time of trouble.
Winding up the memory trail, I feel that if this comes to print that Sergeants Madsen and Hauser can recall this picture of’ 79 more vividly and accurately than I have portrayed it. And perhaps Sergeant Madsen will hear again the night howling of the big timber wolves easily seen from our camp on moonlit nights as they dark-lined the white snow on the foothills. And perhaps [he will] remember when he went at midnight in his underclothes to the log crossing at the river to try for an engagement with a mountain lion whose appealing cry brought him out from under his blankets.
A Sidelight of the Ute Campaign (By Earl Hall, formerly Troop D, Third U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, October, 1924)
It was during the memorable campaign of 1879 against the Utes, in northwestern Colorado. The disturbance which prompted the campaign was known as the Meeker Massacre. Nathan C. Meeker, the Indian agent, was killed, and his wife and daughter carried into captivity. Major Thomas T. Thornburg and quite a number of his men, including a large per cent of Troop E, Third Cavalry, were killed. All the horses of this troop were slaughtered on the battlefield.
I did not see the scene of the conflict until after the battle. I was a recruit of Troop D, Third Cavalry, which comprised part of the force under Captain Guy V. Henry, ordered to the front from Fort Sanders, Wyoming, after the news of the slaughter. We proceeded rapidly to the scene of hostilities until we reached White River, where we went into camp. Our camp was located about seventy-five miles from Bear River, where Major Andrew W. Evans of the Third Cavalry was camped with another force. Both forces were awaiting orders from Colonel Wesley Merritt of the Fifth Cavalry, chief commander of this expedition, who was already in the field, in advance of us. It became important that immediate communication should be opened between our camp and Major Evans. It was decided to send two men, one an experienced soldier, and the other a recruit. They selected Francis “Pug” Malone of F Troop and myself of D Troop, both of the Third Cavalry. Fully armed and equipped, possessing the two best horses in the command for speed and endurance, we started toward dusk. We aimed to make a night ride of it in order to minimize danger of being discovered, as we had to travel through a hostile territory. After we had traveled a distance from camp and darkness approached, we halted and muffled our horses’ feet by binding remnants of an old saddle blanket around their fetlocks, and repeating as often as needed.
After sufficient time had elapsed at our rate of speed to cover nearly the distance we expected to go, we slowed up as we approached the ledge of a mountain, which brought us out in the clear from the timber and gave us a view of the surrounding territory. We at once observed campfires in the plain below, very many of them. This latter fact puzzled us and made us hesitate, as it was well known that it was the custom of the Indians to make many fires when in camp, while on the other hand, it was the custom of white men to build but a few large fires. We were not sure whether the camp contained friend or foe, but after looking to our weapons in order to be prepared for trouble, we determined to advance cautiously and ready for instant action. All at once, breaking the stillness of the night, came to our ears the hee haw, haw haw, hee haw of the camp mule. Can you blame me, a recruit, not yet twenty-one, dog tired, for calling this mule bray sweet music?
We quickly descended into the camp, were duly challenged, and conducted, after all preliminaries, to the commander. Our object accomplished so far, we were in the saddle and on our return trip after one hour of rest. Just as day broke, as we were on our way back, we discovered the dead body of a man. We found his body inside the entrance of a shallow cave, where we had tracked him after he had made a desperate fight for life, indicated by the empty cartridge shells, which made a trail for his last resting place. He was over six feet tall from appearance, fine looking, but roughly dressed in the style common to the western man of that day. He had wedged himself closely in the cave, his feet nearest to the entrance, and had not been scalped. His boots had evidently been taken by the murderers, as no doubt had been his other property, for carved over his head in the solid rock, which was low enough for him to reach in his reclining position, was this inscription: “In my pocket you will find $20 in gold and my watch. Please send to my mother, Dayton Ohio.” No further inscription, no name or address, so it appeared that he had expired before he had completed his message. We found nothing on him, and so we assumed h
is watch and money had gone with his boots. After the hasty inspection of this sad affair, we turned to mount, reminded of our own danger and the importance or our errand, but I could not help casting a last glance at the reclining martyr of the frontier days….
I may add the fellow had no martial cloak left [on] him, not even his boots. The cave as far as I ever learned became his grave. We were compelled to leave him as we had found him. Without further adventure we arrived at our camp. I would have liked to have taken a few snapshots of the scenery, as the Utes had left their mark all the way. We had covered a distance of 150 miles in less than thirty-six hours, without change of horses, and now we and our horses were excused from duty until we had recuperated. The effects of the trip showed more on the horses than it did on us, but I can say I felt it.
I have heard some fine music in my life, before and since this event, which has appealed to my soul. But none has appealed to me with the force, carrying a message of safety and friendship to two poor and poorly paid cavalry boys daring the dangers of death or torture, that the dignity of the United States might be sustained and its citizens might be protected, as the bray of that army mule.