The trio walked back to the orderly room, while the teamster retook his seat on the wagon. He filled his pipe for a period of patient smoking and waiting.
Mathews laid the carbine on Ludlow’s desk and began an impromptu class. “The Krag-Jorgensen rifles and carbines were designed and manufactured by a couple of Norwegian fellows by the name of Johannes Krag and Erik Jorgensen. This particular model has been designated by the United States Army as the M1892.” He twisted the bolt and pulled it back, exposing an irremovable fixed box magazine.
Ludlow looked at it. “How do you load this ‘fine brand new weapon’?”
“The Krag-Jorgensen is unique,” Matthews replied. “Most bolt-action weapons are loaded by inserting clips of five or so rounds.” He closed the bolt, and opened a hinge on the right lower side the breech. This was the entrance to the permanently installed magazine. He pulled five loose cartridges out of his pocket. “Now watch this.”
Mathews stuck a cartridge through the hinged opening, then another and another until all five were inserted into the magazine. “There! It’s loaded without having to open the bolt, and the rounds automatically line up.” He chuckled. “O’course you still have to make sure the pointy ends are toward the front.”
“I already figured that out,” Hawkins remarked with a grin.
Ludlow frowned. “That takes longer than using a clip.”
“Yes it does,” Mathews admitted. “Many consider it a blessing since soldiers won’t be wasting ammunition with rapid shots. However, watch this as I simulate firing.”
He brought the carbine to his shoulder and pulled the trigger twice, each time opening and closing the bolt, ejecting cartridges. I have just ‘fired’ two shots.” He took two more loose cartridges and stuck them through the latch. “I reloaded only two rounds to accompany the three that are still in the fixed magazine. That can’t be done with a clip. You can’t reload with a clip until all rounds in the breech are ejected.”
Hawkins nodded his understanding. “What sort of ammunition are we going to fire with these Krag-Jorgensens?”
“These carbines are chambered for the Army’s caliber .30 cartridge,” Matthews replied. “This is the first smokeless powder rounds our dauntless military has adapted. The sights are a rear v-notch and a front post. But I guess you figured that out while aiming at the crow.”
Hawkins looked down at the carbine. “I like the smokeless powder side of the weapon. But it’ll be difficult to fire accurately at distant targets with those sights.”
“You’ll have to use Kentucky windage,” Matthews replied with a shrug, referring to aiming by physically shifting the barrel to allow for distance or wind across a target.
“I have a question,” Ludlow grumbled. “How the hell are we suppose to carry loose cartridges around?”
“The quartermaster department has procured leather cartridge belts with six bullet pouches,” Matthews explained. “Each one holds ten rounds for a total of sixty. The belts are worn over the shoulder with the ammunition pouches in the front.”
“Sixty rounds!” Ludlow exclaimed. “Our missions always take us far from supply sources. What are we supposed to do? Pack our saddlebags with loose ammunition?”
Matthews snapped back, “No, Lieutenant, but you’ll have four of those belts. So wear one, and stick three in your saddlebags. That’ll give you 240 bullets. If that’s not enough, you’d damn well better shoot as accurately as you can.”
Ludlow was a bit humbled. “I didn’t know about the three extra belts.”
“Okay,” Hawkins said in tone of finality. He nodded at Ludlow. “Get Sergeant Eagle Heart to move the weapons and ammunition into the ordnance storehouse. We’ll start training on these Krag-Jorgensens in the next couple of days.”
When Hawkins conducted a class to familiarize the scouts with the Krag-Jorgensen carbines, the Indians were not exactly enamored of the new weapon. This disenchantment was because of their experiences during a particularly dangerous deployment into the Rocky Mountains. They were required to deal with snipers who were killing railroad workers from the hills above the construction sites. They had received Winchester 73 rifles from the Northern Plaines Railway System for the mission. After a victorious conclusion, the railroad allowed the detachment to keep the weapons. This gesture was to show gratitude for a job well done. Those particular rifles were .44 caliber and had bullet tubes that held sixteen rounds. The Krag-Jorgensens were smaller in caliber and could only accommodate five rounds.
Captain Mack Hawkins had secretly felt the same way, but his request to return the Norwegian rifles was turned down by the department commander at Fort Sill. Thus, Hawkins gave the scouts permission to take the Winchesters to their homes. At least they could use them for hunting.
Ludlow went to the post quartermaster and made arrangements to use the Fort Lone Wolf range for a week of firing the new carbines.
Three
The Mrs. Major Francine Berringer was beside herself with anger and frustration. The campaign to marry off her niece Elizabeth Spencer to one of the four subalterns she approved of was going nowhere. The cause of the lady’s aggravation was Second Lieutenant Ludlow Dooley. This impetuous young man had become a regular caller at the Berringer quarters, and the other lieutenants were staying away. It seemed that Ludlow’s reputation among the junior officers was one of admiration and awe. The lieutenant had extensive experience under fire; something none of the other subalterns had been through.
There was also the fact that he served under one of the most eccentric unpredictable captains in the United States Army and got along quite well with him.
~*~
One early evening in the Berringer parlor, the Mrs. Major approached her husband who was reading a copy of the Wichita Eagle newspaper. He looked up irritably when she interrupted him. “Thomas! I demand that you give Lieutenant Ludlow a direct order to cease calling on Beth!”
“I cannot do that, Beatrice. That would be most unfair and ungentlemanly to put him at a disadvantage where the other subalterns are concerned. Besides, Beth obviously likes Mr. Dooley more than Messieurs Martin, Whitmore, Yardley and Baldwin.”
“Young ladies need a guiding hand, Thomas,” the Mrs. Major pointed out. “That’s why my sister agreed to send her out here to us.”
“Why doesn’t your sister marry her off to one of the dashing blades in Boston society?”
The Mrs. Major sighed. “Unfortunately, most of Elizabeth’s male friends in her social circle are less than desirable. There have been several scandals regarding their conduct. A couple have gotten maids in their households in the family way, and gambling has—“
“All right,” Berringer interrupted. “I get the picture. Her generation hasn’t much to boast about when it comes to available swains. Thus your sister wants her to marry an officer and gentleman of the United States Army, right?”
“Exactly, Thomas.”
“It seems to me that Lieutenant Dooley meets those requirements.”
The Mrs. Major scowled. “That ruffian is not fit to marry a proper young lady, Thomas! We know nothing about him!”
The major shrugged. “It’s enough for me that he’s a West Point graduate.”
“Can’t you find out something about him?”
“My dear, Lieutenant Dooley is not in my chain of command. The scout detachment is assigned to department headquarters at Fort Sill.” He paused. “Now excuse me, I am reading a twelve-week old copy of a daily newspaper. That goes to show you how little information I am able to acquire. Besides, Lieutenant Dooley has proven himself to be a brave and capable leader of men.”
“He’s not leading men, Thomas! He is leading Indians!”
“Indeed he is,” the major agreed. “But those Indians are enlisted soldiers in the United States Army.”
“They are polygamists!” she exclaimed. “Everybody knows that.”
“And so does the Army, my dear. But they are only allowed to have one wife living with them here at the garrison.”
> “You are proving a disappointment to me, Thomas! Lieutenant Dooley is a hopeless case. After all, he’s under the influence of that Captain Hawkins who was once an enlisted man. An enlisted man!”
“Hawkins went from a sergeant’s rank to a commission as an officer by a direct order issued by General Phil Sheridan the commanding general of this United States Army! And that was on a recommendation made by General George Crook during the Apache wars. It was based on Hawkins’ leadership skills he used to accomplish—I say again—accomplish each and every mission assigned to him.”
The Mrs. Major smirked. “He’s not a West Pointer, Thomas.”
“I’ll admit he’s quite rough around the edges,” Berringer stated. “And he still conducts himself like a rough-and-ready sergeant. He’s also come close to getting court-martialed a few times. But he is efficient and incredibly brave.” The major took a deep breath, then announced, “I am going to tell you now—once and for all—to exclude me from this match-making endeavor you’ve involved yourself in.” With that, he turned his attention back to the out-of-date newspaper.
His wife gave him a final scowl of anger, then hastened to the bedroom for some solitary pouting and scheming.
~*~
Later that same week, Ludlow Dooley had not only called on Miss Elizabeth Spencer, but invited her to go horseback riding the following Sunday afternoon. Beth happily accepted, and Ludlow made arrangements with the stable sergeant to furnish a gentle mare and sidesaddle for the girl. When Beth apprised her aunt of the invitation she had accepted, it took all the Mrs. Major’s emotional efforts to keep from shrieking her anger and disappointment.
When Ludlow arrived to fetch Beth for their cross-country jaunt, he presented her with a military forage cap. He explained to her it was a popular custom in the Army for women going horseback riding with officers to wear that particular style of headgear. It was quite jaunty with a visor and chinstrap, and Ludlow had penned the crossed arrow insignia of the U.S. Scouts on the front.
“Oh, Ludlow!” Beth exclaimed. “What a charming tradition!” She hurried to her room and placed the cap on her head, using a hatpin to hold it in place. After a careful gaze in the dresser mirror, she returned to Ludlow in the parlor.
Ludlow grinned. “Very regimental, Beth!”
At that same instant, Mrs. Major appeared and noted the headgear. At least she approved of that. “I see Mr. Ludlow has given you—“ She stopped and gasped. “What is that pinned on the front?”
“Crossed arrows insignia, ma’am,” Ludlow replied.
“I know what it is,” the Mrs. Major exclaimed. “That is an Indian unit!”
“Of course, ma’am,” Ludlow stated. “I am the second-in-command of the U.S. Kiowa-Comanche Scout Detachment.”
“I am well aware of that fact!”
Ludlow turned to Beth. “Shall we depart?”
“Yes, Ludlow,” Beth happily replied. She nodded to her aunt. “Good day, Aunt Francine.”
Ludlow smiled at the older woman. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Berringer, I promise to take good care of her.”
The Mrs. Major gritted her teeth as the couple walked out of the house.
~*~
Lieutenant Ludlow Dooley and Miss Elizabeth Spencer rode at a moderate trot across the prairie south of Fort Lone Wolf. Ludlow had kept the pace down until Beth suggested they move a little faster.
“Of course,” he replied. “You sit a horse extremely well, Beth.”
“Thank you, Ludlow. I ride quite a bit during the summers at my family’s place in the country.”
Their conversation ceased as the ride continued except when Ludlow explained the fauna and flora of the pristine prairie they crossed. He pointed out flowers, types of grass and a small herd of antelope off in the distance.
After an hour, they circled back toward the east. They rode past several farms that caught Beth’s attention. “What are those Indian teepees doing beside the houses, Ludlow?”
“We’re on the Southern Kiowa-Comanche Agency,” he explained. “The treaty between the U.S. Government and those tribes provided farms for the Indians in an effort to civilize them.”
“But why the teepees?”
“They prefer their lodges to houses. It seems they feel smothered within walls.”
“How interesting!” Beth said. “Perhaps their children will want to live in houses after they grow up.”
“No, doubt,” Ludlow said. “Our scouts are all from this agency. They are quartered on soapsuds row in Fort Lone Wolf.”
“I’ve heard about soapsuds row. That’s where the soldiers and their families live.”
“Right,” Ludlow said. “By the way, do you remember Kristina Halverson at the officers’ ball?”
“Yes, Ludlow. I thought she was very beautiful.”
“Well, she teaches at the Indian school here on the agency. Would you like to visit her?”
“Oh, yes! I would love to. I remember that she and your captain are betrothed.”
Within a short ten minutes they rode past the agency store where several Indians stood in front of the building. They all called out Ludlow’s name and waved. Beth was pleased that they raised their hands at her in greeting when she nodded to them.
“They’re very friendly, aren’t they, Ludlow?”
“Now they are,” Ludlow said. “But the Kiowas and Comanches were among the fiercest of the plains Indians. They weren’t defeated and forced to move to the agency until their main food source was destroyed. That was the buffalo herds.”
“I think they’ll be better off as farmers,” Beth opined.
“They hate farming. But the Army has offered several Indian men a life they can appreciate in the U.S. Scouts. There’re several detachments out in different parts of the frontier.”
The two continued until arriving at Kristina Halverson’s house. They dismounted and looped their reins over the hitching rack. Ludlow offered an arm to Beth, leading her up on the porch. He knocked on the door.
When Kristina responded to the summons, her eyes opened wide at seeing Ludlow with the attractive young woman. “Why come in, Ludlow! And Beth! It’s so nice to see you again.” She chuckled. “I see Ludlow has presented you with a forage cap for riding. I have mine from Mack.”
Kristina, being a proper Scandinavian, offered them coffee and a baked snack. In this instance it was cherry pie. They settled around the kitchen table as Kristina set the coffee pot on the stove. She cut some slabs of pie, setting them aside until the coffee was ready.
“Ludlow said you were a school teacher, Miss Halverson.”
“Yes,” Kristina replied. “All my students are Indian children who live here at the agency.” She reached out and patted Beth’s hand. “And please call me Kristina.”
A female rapport developed quickly between the two women while Ludlow slipped into silence. After a few minutes Kristina served the coffee and put out the saucers bearing the slabs of the pie.
Ludlow barely listened to the feminine tête-à-tête as he devoured the desert. He was amazed how much Kristina and Beth revealed about each other in such a short time.
An hour later, Kristina accompanied her guests out to the front porch to bid them goodbye. The couple rode off, turning back toward Fort Lone Wolf. When Beth inquired as to the wedding date for Captain Hawkins and Kristina, Ludlow explained the couple’s predicament involving the Army not permitting the wives of commissioned officers to have careers. He further explained Kristina’s devotion to her students and unwillingness to resign from her teaching position. It was a seemingly impossible obstacle to their marriage.
Beth was moved. “How tragic!” she exclaimed. “Your captain and Kristina will have to make a decision soon. For her it’s losing the man she loves in favor of the children. Do you think she might make that sacrifice?”
“I think,” Ludlow replied, “that the outcome of this romance is going to be made by Captain Hawkins. And soon.”
“Their happiness is completely dependent
on that choice then.”
So is mine, Ludlow thought to himself.
Four
The largest state in the Mexican Republic is Chihuahua, also known as El Estado Grande i.e. “The Big State.” It is landlocked, bordered by the states of Sonora, Sinaloa, Durango and Coahuila. To the north are the American states of New Mexico and Texas; the latter being separated from Mexico by the Rio Grande River.
Chihuahua has a varied topography. There are mountains, plains and desert; each with its own climate. Several mountain ranges are located on the western edge of the desert that have cool temperatures because of the higher elevations.
After the signing of the treaty between Mexico and the United States in 1848, a number of Irish deserters who had avoided capture by the American Army gathered together to begin lives in their new nation. The promised land grants were not given to them since the war had ended in a defeat, but the government did provide farmland in northeastern Chihuahua for them to settle on. Although it was a disappointment not to have been granted enormous estancias, the Irish veterans consoled themselves with the knowledge their new property was a hell of a lot bigger than the miserable plots they had known in Ireland. They all optimistically looked forward to a quiet tranquil existence.
Twelve Irish veterans of the Batallón de San Patricio and their families founded a small farming community. The population also included widows and offspring of soldiers who had been executed by the American Army at Chapultepec. It is no surprise that they named their community” San Patricio” in honor of those who fought and died while serving in the battalion.
At that time, all the children were very young, their ages ranging from the newly born to toddlers. As they grew up, they were indoctrinated with a myriad of narratives and anecdotes regarding the harsh treatment and executions of the Irish prisoners. As a result the kids developed an ingrained hatred and fear of the gringos who lived up north.
But otherwise it was a good life and the Irish got along well with their Mexican neighbors. As time passed, the ex-soldiers acquired an excellent ability in the Spanish language from their wives. Later generations of San Patricio eventually lost all ability to speak either English or Gaelic.
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