Parnell, amazed, stared at his superior officer.
“Do you know,” he cried, “that it is seven o’clock in the morning—not evening—that we have been fighting nearly four hours and have but a few rounds per man left?”10 Each soldier had started with forty rounds of ammunition.
Apparently, Perry was confused by the unexpected turn of the battle, and the Nez Perces’ surprisingly efficient resistance. He asked Parnell to hold the position until he could get his men mounted.
The lieutenant did so, and then discovered his own horse missing and that the command was a hundred yards away. He shouted, but no one heard him. He thus continues:
The Indians were now gaining on me, and shots kept whizzing past me from every direction in rear. I looked around for a hiding-place, but nothing presented itself that would secure me from observation. I fully made up my mind that I would not be taken prisoner, and determined to use my hunting-knife or a small derringer pistol I always carried in my vest-pocket.11
Meanwhile, Parnell kept running after the troops. Some of his own men missed him, and, glancing back, saw him and reported to Perry. The captain halted the troops, and had Parnell’s horse caught and led back to him. Perry then asked the lieutenant to reorganize the command. Parnell writes:
I did so quickly, for there was little to organize, and requesting Perry to support me at a distance not greater than one hundred yards, I stated that I would take charge of the skirmish-line. The line was deployed at unusually great intervals, so as to cover as much front as possible and then, after a few words of caution and instructions, we waited the coming of the Indians, who at a distance had been closely watching us.12
With a yell the Nez Perces soon dashed up to the troops. Parnell waited until they were a hundred yards away, and then gave the order to commence firing. This fusillade brought down several warriors and ponies. The troops retreated at a walk and halted to fire again. Once more their volley checked the Indians’ charge. These tactics of retreat, halt, fire, retreat another eighty or ninety yards was repeated by the troops for miles until they came close to Mount Idaho.
One warrior, presumed by Parnell to be White Bird, led repeated flanking movements in an attempt to force the soldiers off the plateau into Rocky Canyon on the right. Well-directed volleys by Perry repulsed the attacks and saved the command from being driven to certain annihilation.
While the troops were sloshing through a marsh, Parnell noticed the head of a man. He appeared to be stumbling through the swamp’s long grass about halfway between the soldiers and the Indians. Parnell rallied his men and advanced toward the lone trooper, firing at the enemy as he did so. The man proved to be a private of Company H whose horse had been shot. Another cavalryman pulled him onto his own mount, and the soldiers continued their retreat. Not until they were within four miles of Mount Idaho and citizen reenforcements had come to their aid, did the Indians give up the pursuit.
Unlike the usual procedure in Indian warfare the Nez Perces followed through, sustaining their attack to a definite goal. Then the victors hurried back to the canyon to share in the spoils of battle. The bodies of the fallen troops were stripped of their clothing, pistols, rifles, and ammunition.
Thirty-three soldiers, one third of Companies F and H, and one officer had been killed in this brief and decisive battle. The Indian casualties were never determined officially. Three Eagles, however, is authority for the statement that the Nez Perces had two wounded, but none killed. Both Yellow Bull and Yellow Wolf give the number as three wounded. In the Lewiston (Idaho) Teller for June 23, 1877, four Indians were reported wounded. It is possible that the Nez Perces’ casualties may have been somewhat higher, since it is an Indian characteristic to minimize losses in battle.
In speaking of the White Bird fight, Joseph told Inspector McLaughlin in 1900:
I had two hundred and forty fighting men at first . . . but Looking Glass came in afterwards with more. [This would be after the Cottonwood skirmish.] I knew that there would be much fighting, and I had talked to my people, and it was settled that we would go to the buffalo country over to the east. I told my people that they must not fight with settlers, but wait for the soldiers, and our scouts told us that the soldiers would soon come after us. They didn’t think that the Nez Perces would stand against the troops. I found that our young men had been making ready for the trouble, and so had the other chiefs, and we had many guns and much ammunition—we had more before the fight was over. . . . Until the first fight had been fought and the victory had been given to the Nez Perces, I did not think that we would go farther than the buffalo grounds. After the fight, I knew that I would have to lead my people to the country where Sitting Bull had found a refuge when pursued.13
However, in an interview given in 1878, Joseph said, “We numbered in that battle sixty men, and the soldiers a hundred.” The chief probably meant the figure of 240 to include the disaffected Indians from other bands who joined him after the fight at White Bird Creek, and in time for the Cottonwood skirmish.
After the battle Joseph’s first thoughts turned to his family. He hastened back to his lodge to see how his wife and infant daughter were getting along.
That night the Nez Perces, nearly delirious with joy, celebrated with victory dances before the blazing campfires. The canyon walls reverberated with the wild war whoops of young men and the excited screams of women and children mingling with the pulse-maddening drumming of the tewats. Painted bodies, made weirdly grotesque by the flickering firelight, swayed, gyrated, and leaped to the barbaric rhythm of the tomtoms.
From Mount Idaho, Captain Perry immediately sent off a dispatch to General Howard at Fort Lapwai, informing him of the army’s overwhelming defeat. His message concluded with: “Please break the news of her husband’s death to Mrs. Theller.”14
But six hours before the battle took place, the general had been apprised of the disastrous outcome by a Nez Perce woman. Regarding this strange prophecy, Howard wrote:
I was awakened by loud talking in front of the porch at Lapwai, and went out. Jonah’s wife, a large sized Indian woman, sat upon her horse. She was accompanied by another woman, the one that, as I understood, had just come from the hostiles. One of the half-breeds interpreted. She spoke so emphatically and so excitedly that she awakened everybody, and she declared:
“The Indians had fixed a trap. All our troops had run straight into it. They [the hostiles] had come up on every side, and killed all the soldiers and all the scouts, including the friendly Indians.”15
Perry, however, had not taken the Nez Perce scouts into the canyon, for they were unarmed. Thus, they had escaped danger. Nor had all the troops been killed. Otherwise, the woman’s story veraciously depicted the events in White Bird Canyon.
The general realized the Indians’ victory would not only give them confidence to engage the soldiers in another battle, but that very likely a number of malcontents from other bands would rush to the hostile ranks—as indeed they did. The fighting courage of the Nez Perces had been tested and proved on the field of combat, and the overconfidence of the whites changed to wholesome respect for the prowess of the enemy. This White Bird battle was the second most disastrous defeat ever suffered by the United States Army at the hands of Indians, being surpassed only by the Custer Massacre in 1876.
It was plain to the officers now that they had a foe worthy of their mettle, and one practiced in military tactics. General Shanks reports that
. . . Joseph’s party was thoroughly disciplined; that they rode at full gallop along the mountain side in a steady formation by fours; formed twos, at a given signal, with perfect precision, to cross a narrow bridge; then galloped into line, reined in to a sudden halt, and dismounted with as much system as regulars.16
As a result of the fight, the Nez Perces not only replenished their supply of ammunition and rifles from the bodies of the soldiers, but they held the upper hand. Howard dared not attempt another battle with demoralized troops, and he would have to wait for re
enforcements. He had already sent couriers to Walla Walla, 120 miles distant, to telegraph General McDowell in San Francisco for aid. Troops on the way from Alaska to California were rerouted to Idaho. The general also appealed to Governor Brayman of Idaho Territory to lend what assistance he could, and to Major Green, commanding Fort Boise, to bring his cavalry from that region.
Before attempting another display of force, Howard waited for the troops and volunteers to arrive from Walla Walla, and for Whipple’s and Winters’ commands to come from the Wallowa Valley. Captains Miller and Miles brought several companies of the Fourth Artillery and Twenty-first Infantry to Fort Lapwai to join the concentration of troops for a major campaign. Miners and their packtrains of mules came to the post for the same purpose.
The citizens and the press clamored for action, but the general chose the wiser course of avoiding an engagement until he was thoroughly prepared. He declined to march immediately to Mount Idaho with what forces were then available, for that would leave Lapwai and Lewiston unguarded. Besides, he felt that Perry could defend Mount Idaho against any attack for a few days. Every citizen had a plan which he believed was the best one for conducting the campaign, and many besieged Howard with their ideas. The general was obliged not only to try to calm the fears of settlers, but also to appease the demands of volunteers who resented the authority and slow tactics of the military.
Finally, at noon of June 22, five days after Perry’s battle, Howard’s column of cavalry, infantry, and artillery, under command of Captain Marcus P. Miller, was ready to leave Fort Lapwai. Miller, a graduate of West Point and an officer in the Civil War, had also seen service in the Modoc uprising. He was a man of “middling height, well knit for toughness, with light beard and lightish hair, handsome forehead, blue eyes, and a pleasant face.”17 At this time the general’s force numbered 227 men and was later joined by other troops, bringing the total to four hundred in the field.
13
The Skirmish at Cottonwood
After the first victory Joseph brought the young men under control.1 He, with White Bird, Alokut, Tuhulhutsut, Yellow Bull, and others planned their next move while in the White Bird camp. Although Joseph was considered the “dominant leader by every officer and civilian who reported the progress of the campaign,” as Professor Beal points out,2 the Indian testimony does not confirm this view. The Nez Perces themselves declare plans were discussed at a council of the chiefs and older warriors.
Since the scouts kept the chiefs informed of the general’s movements after leaving Lapwai, they knew that Howard would follow them, and they waited until the command had almost reached the Salmon River Valley. Then, on June 19, two days after the battle, the chiefs moved down the river a few miles, crossed at Horseshoe Bend, and took an admirably strong position in the mountains on the other side, using superb generalship in doing so. The warriors now held strategic command of the countryside. The only way in which they could be dislodged was for Howard to cross the Salmon and attack them in their rocky wilderness, which would give the Nez Perces a chance for a counterstroke. They could recross the river to the north, pass the troops’ flank, and cut off Howard’s communications and supplies from Fort Lapwai.
Besides, this strategic move in crossing to the south bank of the Salmon left the Indians three possible routes of escape: they could turn south and hide in the Seven Devils country, an extremely rough and inaccessible mountain region where they could resist superior numbers for an indefinite period; or, farther south, they could take flight across the Little Salmon and head for the buffalo trail eastward; or, immediately to their rear, they could recross the Snake River into Oregon where Joseph could fight on his own land in Wallowa. At the same time the enemy had, as Howard recognized, “a wonderful natural barrier between him and us in the Salmon, a river that delights itself in its furious flow.”3
On June 23, the day after leaving Fort Lapwai, Howard’s command reached Norton’s ranch, Cottonwood House, which had been pillaged by the Indians and was now a shambles. The roadhouse and corrals were situated on the extensive and rolling Camas Prairie. The general laid over on Sunday, the twenty-fourth, and the press accused him of halting in order to preach to his men and distribute Bibles! In reality, he was awaiting the scout’s report to determine the exact location of the hostiles, and was also waiting for reenforcements from Lewiston. He dispatched Captain Trimble to Slate Creek to protect the barricaded settlers there. The general hoped this company would check the Indians in that direction by occupying their attention, thus preventing further massacres in the vicinity, and giving the main force time to move on the hostiles directly.
On the twenty-fifth Howard moved his column by two routes to Johnson’s ranch, about four miles from the head of White Bird Canyon. The general himself led his cavalry to Grangeville, being joined there by the remnants of Perry’s defeated command. The citizens of Mount Idaho, three miles away, demanded action, and Howard grimly promised them plenty of it as soon as he could find the enemy.
With his force reunited on June 26, the general made a reconnaissance into that part of the canyon which had so lately been Perry’s battlefield. The troops found the bodies of their comrades which had lain there stripped of clothing for over a week. However, the corpses had not been mutilated, as most victorious Indians would have treated them.
It has been charged that the Nez Perces scalped the troops after the White Bird fight. Lieutenant Albert G. Forse, First U.S. Cavalry, conclusively refutes this:
The dead had been lying for about 12 days before General Howard’s command came to bury them. By that time, through the effects of heat, sun, and rain, they were in such a state that when a body was lifted up or rolled over into his grave, his hair and whiskers would adhere to the ground, tearing off the scalp and skin, which gave to the uninitiated the appearance of their being scalped and caused the circulation of the rumor. I did not see all the dead, but from inquiries made at the time I failed to find any one who had seen a body that had been scalped or mutilated in any way.4
In one transverse canyon the command found the mute evidence of the gallant stand of Edward Theller and his men, the large number of empty cartridges around the bodies proving how valiantly they had resisted. Howard’s troops buried the corpses where they fell, except the brave lieutenant’s remains, which were shrouded and sent under escort to Fort Lapwai.5 The sight of their fallen comrades aroused the soldiers of the First Cavalry, and they swore vengeance against the hostiles.
While the troops were burying the dead, Captain Paige and twenty volunteers from Walla Walla, who had joined the command at Lapwai, scouted along the crest of a ridge to the right of White Bird Canyon until they could get a view of the country beyond the Salmon. They saw the hostiles in force, and hastened back to report to the general.
Since the Indians had crossed the river and turned south, Howard ordered immediate pursuit before the Nez Perces could escape, as it was feared Joseph’s band would return to Wallowa. On June 27 and 28 the troops marched toward the crossing of the Salmon about one and one-half miles above the mouth of White Bird Creek. Here the expected reenforcements joined Howard’s column, bringing his command to four hundred men.
In the afternoon of the twenty-eighth, as the soldiers approached the mouth of the creek where it empties into the Salmon River, Indian snipers rushed down from the ridges on the other bank and taunted the long knives to come after them. The warriors tried to pick off any troops who ventured too near. However, when the command opened fire with long-range rifles, the Indians scrambled for the cover of the trees on the heights beyond. A sergeant and several of Paige’s Walla Walla volunteers managed to swim the river and crawl to the top of the bluffs, but to their amazement not an Indian could they see!
However, the Nez Perce snipers had remained long enough to accomplish their mission. They had been sent to occupy the troops’ attention, and so prevent them from learning that the Indians were recrossing to the north bank of the Salmon at Craig’s Ferry, fifteen o
r twenty miles away. This ruse placed the hostiles in Howard’s rear and isolated the general from Fort Lapwai for a few days. Joseph had hoped the general would follow them by crossing the river. “He did follow us,” the chief said, “and we got . . . between him and his supplies, and cut him off for three days.”6
Unsuspicious of the trick as yet, Howard decided to ferry his command to the south shore. However, as the troops did not know how to float their equipment across such a swift-flowing torrent, that objective was reached only after considerable delay. The Salmon River was running high, carrying a full flood of water from snows melting in the mountains. After careful mathematical calculations, Lieutenant H. G. Otis, an engineer of the Fourth Artillery, declared that a rope made of the cavalrymen’s lariats would be strong enough to hold a raft against a current of seven miles an hour. So the troops constructed a raft of rough-hewn twelve-inch logs, thirty or forty feet long. One end of the rope they tied to a tree, and the raft was then launched into the river to test its strength. Swift eddies caught it and swung it downstream, the terrific strain broke the rope, and the raft disappeared far down the Salmon. Undoubtedly, Otis received much chaffing from his comrades.
An Indian scout with Howard’s command had watched the experiment in amusement. He now demonstrated to the military technicians how four Indians, mounted on horses, one at each corner of the raft, could ferry it across to the opposite bank, 250 feet away. Attempts to imitate the Indian were partially successful, but the greater part of the troops and equipment were ferried over on boats by means of a cable,7 fastened to trees on the opposite shore. The soldiers had carried a cable as part of their equipment.
During this time Howard received reports from friendly Indians that some of Looking Glass’s young men had slipped away to join the hostiles, and the settlers feared his whole band might enter the war. To thwart this, the general dispatched a company of cavalry and a small party of volunteers under Captain Stephen G. Whipple to Looking Glass’s camp with orders to surprise and capture the chief and “all that belonged to him,” and to “turn all prisoners over, for safe-keeping, to the volunteer organization at Mount Idaho.”8
Saga of Chief Joseph Page 16