THE ASSEMBLY OF THE B. H. AND Y.
Friday, the 4th of August, 1876, was a busy day in the camp of General
Crook. He had been waiting impatiently for the coming of the Fifth
Cavalry, in order that he might resume the offensive, and, to use his
own words, "finish the campaign in one crushing blow." The tragic
success of the Indians on the Little Big Horn, of June 25th, resulting
in the annihilation of Custer and five companies of the Seventh Cavalry,
compelled General Terry to fall back to the Yellowstone, where he set
about the reorganization of his command; and, safely intrenched in his
supply camp at the mouth of the Tongue River, he too had been awaiting
the arrival of reinforcements. General Miles, with his fine regiment,
the Fifth Infantry, was hurried up the Missouri from Fort Leavenworth,
and companies of the Twenty-second Infantry, from the Lakes, also
hastened to join him. They were stemming the muddy current of the great
river as fast as the light-draft steamers could carry them, while we
were marching up from Fetterman to join General Crook.
On the 4th of August, Terry's command, consisting of the remnant of the
Seventh Cavalry, one battalion of the Second Cavalry, the Fifth
Infantry (Miles), Seventh Infantry (Gibbon), a battalion of the
Twenty-second, and the Sixth Infantry garrison at Fort Buford,
threatened the hostiles on the side of the Yellowstone; while General
Crook, with the entire Third Cavalry, ten companies of the Fifth, and
four of the Second Cavalry, and an admirable infantry command,
consisting of detachments from the Fourth, Ninth, and Fourteenth
regiments, was preparing to advance upon them from the south. The two
armies were not more than one hundred and twenty-five miles apart, yet
communication between them was impossible. The intervening country
swarmed with warriors, six to eight thousand in number, completely
armed, equipped, supplied, and perfectly mounted. Crook had sallied
forth and fought them on the 17th of June, and found them altogether too
strong and dexterous, so he retired to Goose Creek once more; and here
he lay on the 25th of June, when Custer was making his attack and
meeting his fate--only fifty miles away, and not a soul of our command
had the faintest idea of what was going on.
Warily watching the two commands, the Indians lay uneasily between Crook
and Terry. Noting the approach of strong reinforcements to both, they
proceeded to get their women and children out of the way, sending them
eastward across Terry's front, and preparing to do likewise themselves
when the time came for them to start. On the 5th of August the two
armies moved towards each other. On the 10th they met; and one of the
most comical sights I ever witnessed was this meeting, and one of the
most unanswerable questions ever asked was, "Why, where on earth are the
Indians?"
[Illustration: SUPPLY CAMP, HEAD OF TONGUE RIVER.]
However, August the 4th was a day of busy preparation. At ten a.m. the
regimental and battalion commanders met in council at General Crook's
headquarters, and by noon the result of their deliberations was
promulgated. From the reports of his scouts and allies, General Crook
had every reason to believe that he would find the mass of Indians
posted in strong force somewhere among the bluffs and uplands of the
Rosebud, two days' march away to the north. He had been unable to hear
from General Terry or to communicate with him. Lieutenant Sibley, of the
Second Cavalry, a young officer of great ability, and universally
conceded to be as full of cool courage as any man could well be, had
made a daring attempt to slip through with thirty picked men; but the
Indians detected him quick as a flash, and after a desperate fight he
managed to get back to the command with most of his men, but with the
loss of all his horses.
The organization of the command was announced at one p.m.: General Crook
to command in person, his faithful aide-de-camp, Bourke, to act as
adjutant-general, while his staff consisted of Lieutenant Schuyler,
Fifth Cavalry, junior aide-de-camp; Dr. B. A. Clements, medical
director, assisted by Drs. Hartsuff and Patzki; Major J. V. Furey, chief
quartermaster; Captain J. W. Bubb, chief commissary; Major George M.
Randall, chief of scouts and Indian allies; and the bloodthirsty
paymaster, our old friend Major Stanton, was the general utility man.
The cavalry was organized as a brigade, with General Merritt in
command--Lieutenants Forbush and Hall, Fifth Cavalry, Pardee and Young,
of the infantry, serving as staff. General Carr took command of the
Fifth Cavalry, with myself as adjutant; and for the first time the
promotions which had occurred in the regiment consequent upon the death
of General Custer were recognized in the assignments to command. The
commissions had not yet been received from Washington, but all knew the
advancement had been made. So my old captain, now become Major Mason,
turned over Company "K" to its new captain, Woodson, and was detailed to
command the Second Battalion of the Fifth Cavalry, consisting of
Companies "B," "D," "E," "F," and "K," while the First Battalion--
Companies "A," "C," "G," "I," and "M"--remained, as heretofore,
under the leadership of our fellow-citizen Major Upham.
The Third Cavalry was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Royall, under whom
also was the battalion of the Second Cavalry. Consequently, it was his
distinguished privilege to issue orders to four battalions, while his
senior officer and quondam commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Carr (brevet
major-general) had only two. This was a source of much good-natured
raillery and mutual chaffing on the part of these two veteran
campaigners, and it was Royall's ceaseless delight to come over and talk
to Carr about "my brigade," and to patronizingly question him about
"your a--detachment." In fact, I believe that Colonel Royall so far
considered his command a brigade organization that his senior major,
Colonel Evans, assumed command of the Third Cavalry as well as his own
battalion; but, as this was a matter outside of my own sphere of duties,
I cannot make an assertion.
The infantry was a command to be proud of, and Lieutenant-Colonel
Alexander Chambers was the man to appreciate it. Detachments from three
fine regiments gave him a full battalion of tough, wiry fellows, who had
footed it a thousand miles that summer, and we were all the better
prepared to march two thousand more.
With every expectation of finding our foes close at hand, General
Crook's orders were concise enough. As given to me by General Carr, and
recorded in my note-book, I transcribe them here: "All tents, camp
equipage, bedding, and baggage, except articles hereinafter specified,
to be stored in the wagons, and wagons turned over to care of chief
quartermaster by sunrise to-morrow. Each company to have their coffee
roasted and ground and turned over to the chief commissary at sunset
to-night. Wagons will be left here at camp. A pack-train of mules will
accompany each battalion on the march, for the protection of which the
battalion will be held responsible. The regiment will march at seven
a.m. to-morrow, 'prepared for action,' and company commanders will see
to it that each man carries with him on his person one hundred rounds
carbine ammunition and four days' rations, overcoat and one blanket on
the saddle. Fifty rounds additional per man will be packed on mules.
Four extra horses, not to be packed, will be led with each company.
Curry-combs and brushes will be left in wagons. _Special instructions
for action_: All officers and non-commissioned officers to take constant
pains to prevent wastage of ammunition."
That was all. From the general down to subalterns the officers started
with no more clothing than they had on and the overcoat and blanket
indicated in that order. Many, indeed, officers and men, thinking to be
back in a week, left overcoats behind, as superfluous in that bright
August weather. When I tell you it was ten weeks before we saw those
wagons again, meantime the weather having changed from summer sun to
mountain storm and sleet, and we having tramped some eight hundred
miles, you can fancy what a stylish appearance the Fifth
Cavalry--indeed, the whole expedition--presented as it marched into the
Black Hills the following September.
Saturday morning, the 5th of August, broke clear and cloudless, and at
the very peep of day the hillsides re-echoed to the stirring music of
our reveille. Cavalry trumpet, soft and mellow, replied to the deeper
tone of the infantry bugle. We of the Fifth tumbled up in prompt and
cheery response to the summons. Roll-call was quickly over. The horses
took their final grooming with coltish impatience, and devoured their
grain in blissful ignorance of the sufferings in store for them. The
officers gathered for the last time in two months around their
mess-chests and thankfully partook of a bountiful breakfast. Then "the
General" rang out from cavalry headquarters; down fell the snowy canvas
in every direction; wagon after wagon loaded up in the rapid style
acquired only in long campaigning, and trundled off to join the
quartermaster's corral. The long column of infantry crawled away
northward over the divide; half a dozen mounted scouts and rangers
cantered away upon their flanks; the busy packers drove up their herds
of braying mules, lashed boxes of hard-tack and sacks of bacon upon the
snugly-fitting "apparejo"--the only pack-saddle that ever proved a
complete success--and finally everything was ready for the start. The
bustling town of yesterday had disappeared, and only long rows of
saddles and bridles disposed upon the turf in front of each company
indicated the regimental position.
At General Carr's headquarters, among the willows close to the stream, a
white flag, with a centre square of red, is fluttering in the breeze. It
is one of the signal flags, but as the regimental standard had been left
with the band at Fort Hays, the general adopted this for the double
purpose of indicating his own position and of conveying messages to the
distant outposts. Yesterday afternoon a group of our Indian allies,
Crows and Shoshones, surrounded that flag with wondering interest from
the moment of its first appearance. Accustomed to the use of signals
themselves, they eagerly watch any improvement upon their system, and,
learning from Sergeant Center, our standard-bearer and signal sergeant,
that this was a "speaking flag," they hung around for hours to observe
its operation. The herds of the different companies were browsing on the
hillsides half a mile away, strong pickets being thrown out in their
front, and each herd guarded by a sergeant and party from its own
company. So General Carr, to give the Indians an idea of its use and at
the same time secure more room, directed the sergeant to "Flag those
Second Battalion herds to the other side of that ravine." So Center
signalled "Attention" to the outposts, to which they waved "22, 22, 22,
3," the signal for "All right, go ahead, we're ready," and then, with
the staring eyes of a score of swarthy warriors following his every
move, Center rapidly swung his flag to form the message: "General Carr
directs herds Second Battalion cross ravine." Speedily the grays of
Company "B" and the four bay herds of the other companies began the
movement, were slowly guided through the sorrels, blacks, and bays of
the First Battalion, and commenced the descent into the ravine. One herd
lagged a little behind, and the general, gazing at them through his
binocular, quickly divined the cause. "Confound that herd guard; tell
'em to take off those side-lines when they're moving, if it's only a
hundred yards." The message is sent as given, the side-lines whipped
off, the horses step freely to their new grazing-ground, Crow and
Shoshonee mutter guttural approbation and say that flag is "heap good
medicine."
Hours afterwards they are hunting about camp for old flour-sacks and the
like, and several towels, spread on the bushes at the bathing-place
below camp to dry in the sun, are missing.
Now, on this brilliant Saturday morning, as we wait expectant of the
signal "Boots and saddles," the cavalcade of our fierce allies comes
spattering and plunging through the stream. Grim old chieftains, with
knees hunched up on their ponies' withers, strapping young bucks
bedaubed in yellow paint and red, blanketted and busy squaws scurrying
around herding the spare ponies, driving the pack animals, "toting" the
young, doing all the work in fact. We have hired these hereditary
enemies of the Sioux as our savage auxiliaries, "regardless of expense,"
and now, as they ride along the line, and our irrepressible Mulligans
and Flahertys swarm to the fore intent on losing no opportunity for fun
and chaff, and the "big Indians" in the lead come grinning and nodding
salutations towards the group of officers at headquarters, a general
laugh breaks out, for nearly every warrior has decorated himself with a
miniature signal flag. Fluttering at the end of his "coup" stick or
stuck in his headgear, a small square of white towelling or flour-sack,
with a centre daub of red paint, is displayed to the breeze, and, under
his new ensign, Mr. Lo rides complacently along, convinced that he has
entered upon his campaign with "good medicine."
Half-past six. Still no signal to bring in the herds. But Merritt, Carr,
and Royall are born and bred cavalrymen, and well know the value of
every mouthful of the rich dew-laden grass before the march begins. We
are exchanging good-byes with the quartermasters and the unhappy
creatures who are to remain behind, adding our closing messages to the
letters we leave for dear ones in distant homes, when the cheery notes
ring out from brigade headquarters and are taken up, repeated along the
line by the regimental trumpeters. Far out on the slopes our horses
answer with eager hoof and neigh; with springy steps the men hasten out
to bridle their steeds, and, vaulting on their backs, ride in by
companies to the line. The bustle of saddling, the snap of buckle and
whip of cinch, succeeds, then "Lead into line" is heard from the
sergeant's lips. Officers ride slowly along their commands, carefully
scrutinizing each horse and man. Blanket, poncho, overcoat, side-line,
lariat, and picket-pin, canteen and haversack, each has its appropriate
place and must be in no other. Each trooper in turn displays his
"thimble belt" and extra pocket package, to show that he has the
prescribed one hundred rounds. The adjutant, riding along the line,
receives the report of each captain and transfers it to his note-book.
Away down the valley we see the Second and Third already in motion,
filing off around the bluffs. Then General Carr's chief trumpeter raises
his clarion to his lips. "Mount," rings out upon the air, and with the
sound twenty officers and five hundred and fifteen men swing into
saddle. Ten minutes more and we are winding across the divide towards
Prairie Dog Creek on the east. The Third and Second, a mile to our left,
are marching northeastward on the trail of the infantry. We fill our
lungs with deep draughts of the rare, bracing mountain breeze, take a
last glance at the grand crags and buttresses of rock to the southward,
then with faces eagerly set towards the rolling smoke-wreaths that mark
the track of the savage foe in the valley of the "Deje Agie," we close
our columns, shake free our bridle reins, and press steadily forward.
"Our wild campaign has begun."