CAMPAIGN OF 1863--CAMP POPE.
In October, 1862, General John Pope had informed General Halleck that
five Minnesota regiments could be sent south by November 1, but local
influences were at work to prevent the transfer of troops, as it seemed
very likely that hostilities would be renewed by the Indians again in the
spring, and the demand that the State should be fully protected against
these roving bands was acceded to, and orders were forthwith issued to
the various companies to proceed at once to points designated on the
frontier and go into winter quarters. Rumors were afloat at all times,
but there really was no danger, and the soldiers had little to do but
attend to a light guard duty and while away the tedious hours as best
they could. The campaign of 1863 was planned by General John Pope, and
General H. H. Sibley, who was in command of the district of Minnesota,
with headquarters at St. Paul, was selected to command the Minnesota
column, and General Alfred Sully to command the column that was to
proceed up the west bank of the Missouri.
These two columns were to co-operate for the final extinction of the
Indians; but the low water of the Missouri prevented the plan from being
carried out.
The rendezvous of the Sibley column was at a point near the mouth of the
Red Wood River, and twenty-five miles above Fort Ridgely. The forces
comprising the expedition organizing at this point were the Sixth, the
Seventh and the Tenth Regiments of Minnesota Infantry, under Colonels
William Crooks, William R. Marshall and James H. Baker; eight pieces of
artillery, under command of Captain John Jones; the Mounted Rangers,
under Colonel McPhail; Indian scouts and other small detachments, which
brought the force up to 3,052 infantry, 800 cavalry and 146 artillerymen.
The camp, named in honor of General John Pope, then in command of the
Department of the Northwest, was situated at the mouth of Red Wood
River, in the vicinity of the place where the outbreak was inaugurated.
The various regiments, composed of infantry, cavalry and artillery,
rendezvoused here. Colonel William Crooks, of the Sixth Minnesota, was
in temporary command, and soon after the troops began to assemble, guard
mount, company and regimental drills were the order of the day.
The land upon which we were encamped was a perfect level, and in order
to attain better discipline, and instruct the men in works of defense,
a complete system of sod breastworks and bastions were erected about
the camp, of sufficient width to admit of the sentinels being placed on
the top of them. It was really a magnificent piece of engineering and
reflected credit on the officer in command. The sentinels were instructed
to "walk the beat" all in the same direction, turn about at the same time
and retrace their steps, so that an enemy could not creep in between
them. This was done to instruct the men in guard duty and keep them out
of mischief, for there really was no danger.
On the 9th day of June, 1863, the monotony of the camp was relieved
by the arrival of General Sibley and his staff. This official family
consisted of Captain R. C. Olin, A. A. G.; Captain Forbes, brigade
commissary; Captain Atchinson, ordnance officer; Captain Edward L.
Corning, brigade commissary; Captain Kimball, A. Q. M.; First Lieutenants
Douglas Pope, F. J. H. Beaver, Joseph R. Putnam and Charles H. Flandreau,
aides-de-camp, and Rev. S. R. Riggs, brigade chaplain.
The cannon, placed across the river on the high bluff, boomed forth the
intelligence that the cavalcade of brilliantly uniformed officers was
approaching, and the General doffed his hat in salute as he rode down
the long line of soldiers who stood at "present arms." General Henry H.
Sibley, who had gained the confidence and universal respect and love of
the soldiers, was again with us.
Soon after his arrival he received the sad intelligence of a beloved
daughter's death. But the responsibilities resting upon him would not
admit of days of mourning; there was no time for communion with grief;
the needs of the hour reminded him of his duty.
While lying at Camp Pope, General Sibley heard that a party of Indians
were on their way down to the settlements, and would cross Red Wood River
at a certain point the next night. He at once gave orders that my own
company, the one that had sustained such losses at Birch Coolie, should
proceed at once to watch for and intercept this band. We received the
orders at midnight, and with three days' rations, and sixty rounds of
ammunition, started out on our mission in charge of First Lieutenant
Harry J. Gillhams. We had no doctor with us; no team; not even an
ambulance. I never thought our General knew of this, for he was a very
careful man, and the question with me was: "If we are attacked and meet
with losses in killed or wounded what shall we do with them in the
absence of any means of transportation?"
We arrived at the point designated the next day about noon and halted.
There was no going into camp, for we had no tents. We simply halted and
waited for night and Indians. I was in hopes that the Indians would
not come, and I got my wish. There were others hoping they would come,
and among those most desirous for them to make their appearance were
our three full blooded Indian soldiers we had captured, and who were
present at the various battles the year before. One of them, Joe Alord, a
powerful fellow, claimed to have a grudge against his own people. He said
they had always treated him badly, and he wanted to fight them, but I was
a little suspicious of him--did not think him sincere. This Alord formed
a strong attachment for me, which endured until he was finally mustered
out. He went south with us and stood the climate, and proved himself a
faithful soldier. I at one time saved him from death by his own hands. He
had been punished by the Colonel for an offense of which he said he was
not guilty. I think myself he had been imposed upon, like "Old Dog Tray,"
by getting into bad company. The Colonel, as a punishment, ordered him to
parade up and down the square with a bag of sand on his back. This was
galling to the Indian, and calling me to one side, he said: "Sergeant, me
kill me mine self; me kill me mine self!"
I tried to persuade him from his purpose, but he seemed determined to
carry out his threat, and I watched him closely. I could see he was very
much aggrieved, for to him the humiliation was galling.
He grabbed a bayonet, and putting it to his breast, attempted to throw
the weight of his body and thus push it through him. I jumped and kicked
it from under him just in time and then put him in a cell until he became
more reconciled. Soon after the close of the war he enlisted in the
regular cavalry, but one morning he was missing. He had deserted, taking
his horse and all his equipments with him; and although he was posted as
a deserter, he was not heard of for many months.
When heard from it was to the effect that he had gone back to the
Indians, taking the horse and all plunder with him. The old grudge
against him was rekindled and intensified on account of the course he
pursued against his people during the Sioux war, and some of the young
bucks, engaging him in a controversy, it resulted in his death.
The Indian soldier Miller was inclined to be pious. He served until the
close of the war, and afterwards was caught on the prairie in a severe
thunder storm, from which he took refuge in a barn, which was struck by
lightning and he was killed. The third was named Walker. At the outbreak
he was home on vacation from Bishop Whipple's school at Faribault, Minn.,
and was taken prisoner. I have referred to these Indian soldiers once
before. Walker was quite well educated and now lives near St. Paul.
These three Indian boys were with us on this midnight expedition, and I
felt they would bear watching, because I could not make up my mind to the
fact that they should want to so suddenly turn against their own people.
About midnight the second night an incident happened that gave us some
alarm for a little while. We were all on duty watching and listening
for Indians. You have heard about the burnt child dreading the fire.
Well, we had been seriously burnt at Birch Coolie, and did not relish
another taste of the same sort of fire, and it is not astonishing under
such circumstances how many Indian sounds there are to the square foot.
Every minute some of us heard an Indian sound, and all at once Joe Alord
skipped out in the darkness, and immediately he was followed by Miller.
I at once thought it was treachery, and the same opinion prevailed among
nearly all the boys. I was but a sergeant then and of course could not
assume supreme authority. If I had been in command I should have held
the remaining one as a hostage. He wanted to go after the other two and
gained the consent of the lieutenant to do so, and away he went out in
the darkness. I expected soon to hear the crack of the rifle, for I felt
satisfied that they had proved false to us. After they were gone half an
hour and returned to our lines with the news that the noise they heard
was not Indians we all felt relieved.
But the half hour was an anxious one, and we were rejoiced to have them
return. The Indians we were sent out to intercept did not appear, and the
next day our little expedition returned to camp.