In the spring of 1867, General Hancock, who then commanded the military
division of the Missouri, with headquarters at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas,
organized an expedition against the Indians of the great plains, which
he led in person. With him was General Custer, second ranking officer,
from whom I quote the story of the march and some of the incidents of
the raid.
General Hancock, with the artillery and six companies of infantry,
arrived at Fort Riley, Kansas, the last week in March, where he was
joined by four companies of the Seventh Cavalry, commanded by the
intrepid Custer.
From Fort Riley the expedition marched to Fort Harker, seventy-two miles
farther west, on the Smoky Hill, where the force was increased by the
addition of two more troops of cavalry. Remaining there only long enough
to replenish their commissary supplies, the march was directed to
Fort Larned on the Old Santa Fe Trail. On the 7th of April the command
reached the latter post, accompanied by the agent of the Comanches and
Kiowas; at the fort the agent of the Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Apaches
was waiting for the arrival of the general. The agent of the three
last-mentioned tribes had already sent runners to the head chiefs,
inviting them to a grand council which was to assemble near the fort on
the 10th of the month, and he requested General Hancock to remain at the
fort with his command until that date.
On the 9th of April a terrible snow-storm came on while the troops
were encamped waiting for the head men of the various tribes to arrive.
Custer says:
It was our good fortune to be in camp rather than on the
march; had it been otherwise, we could not well have escaped
without loss of life. The cavalry horses suffered severely,
and were only preserved by doubling their rations of oats,
while to prevent their being frozen during the intensely
cold night which followed, the guards were instructed to
pass along the picket lines with a whip, and keep the
horses moving constantly. The snow was eight inches deep.
The council, which was to take place the next day, had to be
postponed until the return of good weather. Now began the
display of a kind of diplomacy for which the Indian is
peculiar. The Cheyennes and a band of Sioux were encamped
on Pawnee Fork, about thirty miles above Fort Larned.
They neither desired to move nearer to us or have us
approach nearer to them. On the morning of the 11th,
they sent us word that they had started to visit us, but,
discovering a large herd of buffalo near their camp,
they had stopped to procure a supply of meat. This message
was not received with much confidence, nor was a buffalo
hunt deemed of sufficient importance to justify the Indians
in breaking their engagement. General Hancock decided,
however, to delay another day, when, if the Indians still
failed to come in, he would move his command to the vicinity
of their village and hold the conference there.
Orders were issued on the evening of the 12th for the march
to be resumed on the following day. Late in the evening
two chiefs of the "Dog-Soldiers," a band composed of the
most warlike and troublesome Indians on the plains,
chiefly made up of Cheyennes, visited our camp. They were
accompanied by a dozen warriors, and expressed a desire to
hold a conference with General Hancock, to which he assented.
A large council-fire was built in front of the general's
tent, and all the officers of his command assembled there.
A tent had been erected for the accommodation of the chiefs
a short distance from the general's. Before they could
feel equal to the occasion, and in order to obtain time to
collect their thoughts, they desired that supper might be
prepared for them, which was done. When finally ready,
they advanced from their tent to the council-fire in single
file, accompanied by their agent and an interpreter.
Arrived at the fire, another brief delay ensued. No matter
how pressing or momentous the occasion, an Indian invariably
declines to engage in a council until he has filled his pipe
and gone through with the important ceremony of a smoke.
This attended to, the chiefs announced that they were ready
"to talk." They were then introduced to the principal
officers of the group, and seemed much struck with the
flashy uniforms of the few artillery officers, who were
present in all the glory of red horsehair plumes,
aiguillettes, etc. The chiefs seemed puzzled to determine
whether these insignia designated chieftains or medicine men.
General Hancock began the conference by a speech, in which
he explained to the Indians his purpose in coming to see
them, and what he expected of them in the future.
He particularly informed them that he was not there to make
war, but to promote peace. Then, expressing his regrets
that more of the chiefs had not visited him, he announced
his intention of proceeding on the morrow with his command
to the vicinity of their village, and there holding a
council with all the chiefs. Tall Bull, a fine, warlike-looking
chieftain, replied to General Hancock, but his speech
contained nothing important, being made up of allusions to
the growing scarcity of the buffalo, his love for the white
man, and the usual hint that a donation in the way of
refreshments would be highly acceptable; he added that he
would have nothing new to say at the village.
Rightly concluding that the Indians did not intend to come
to our camp, as they had at first agreed to, it was decided
to move nearer their village. On the morning following the
conference our entire force, therefore, marched from
Fort Larned up Pawnee Fork in the direction of the main
village, encamping the first night about twenty-one miles
from Larned. Several parties of Indians were seen in our
advance during the day, evidently watching our movements,
while a heavy smoke, seen to rise in the direction of the
Indian village, indicated that something more than usual
was going on. The smoke, we afterward learned, arose from
burning grass. The Indians, thinking to prevent us from
encamping in their vicinity, had set fire to and burned all
the grass for miles in the direction from which they
expected us. Before we arrived at our camping-ground,
we were met by several chiefs and warriors belonging to the
Cheyennes and Sioux. Among the chiefs were Pawnee Killer,
of the Sioux, and White Horse, of the Cheyennes. It was
arranged that these chiefs should accept our hospitality
and remain with us during the night, and in the morning all
the chiefs of the two tribes then in the village were to
come to General Hancock's head-quarters and hold a council.
On the morning of the 14th, Pawnee Killer left our camp at
an early hour, as he said for the purpose of going to the
village to bring in the other chiefs to the council.
Nine o'clock had been agreed upon as the time at which the
council should assemble. The hour came, but the chiefs
did not. Now an Indian council is not only often an
important, but always an interesting, occasion. At this
juncture, Bull Bear, an influential chief among the
Cheyennes, came in and reported that the chiefs were on
their way to our camp, but would not be able to reach it
for some time. This was a mere artifice to secure delay.
General Hancock informed Bull Bear that, as the chiefs
could not arrive for some time, he would move his forces
up the stream nearer the village, and the council could be
held at our camp that night. To this proposition Bull Bear
gave his consent.
At 11 A.M. we resumed the march, and had proceeded but a few
miles when we witnessed one of the finest and most imposing
military displays, according to the Indian art of war,
which it has been my lot to behold. It was nothing more
nor less than an Indian line of battle drawn directly
across our line of march, as if to say, "Thus far and no
further." Most of the Indians were mounted; all were
bedecked in their brightest colours, their heads crowned
with the brilliant war-bonnet, their lances bearing the
crimson pennant, bows strung, and quivers full of barbed
arrows. In addition to these weapons, which, with the
hunting-knife and tomahawk, are considered as forming the
armament of the warrior, each one was supplied with either
a breech-loading rifle or revolver, sometimes with both-
the latter obtained through the wise forethought and strong
love of fair play which prevails in the Indian department,
which, seeing that its wards are determined to fight,
is equally determined that there shall be no advantage taken,
but that the two sides shall be armed alike; proving, too,
in this manner, the wonderful liberality of our government,
which is not only able to furnish its soldiers with the
latest style of breech-loaders to defend it and themselves,
but is equally able and willing to give the same pattern
of arms to the common foe. The only difference is, that if
the soldier loses his weapon, he is charged double price
for it, while to avoid making any such charge against the
Indian, his weapons are given him without conditions attached.
In the line of battle before us there were several hundred
Indians, while further to the rear and at different
distances were other organized bodies, acting apparently
as reserves. Still further behind were small detachments
who seemed to perform the duty of couriers, and were held
in readiness to convey messages to the village. The ground
beyond was favourable for an extended view, and as far as
the eye could reach, small groups of individuals could be
seen in the direction of the village; these were evidently
parties of observation, whose sole object was to learn the
result of our meeting with the main body and hasten with
the news to the village.
For a few moments appearances seemed to foreshadow anything
but a peaceable issue. The infantry was in the advance,
followed closely by the artillery, while my command,
the cavalry, was marching on the flank. General Hancock,
who was riding with his staff at the head of the column,
coming suddenly in view of the wild, fantastic battle array,
which extended far to our right and left, and was not more
than half a mile in our front, hastily sent orders to the
infantry, artillery, and cavalry to form in line of battle,
evidently determined that, if war was intended, we should be
prepared. The cavalry being the last to form on the right,
came into line on a gallop, and without waiting to align
the ranks carefully, the command was given to "Draw sabre."
As the bright blades flashed from their scabbards into the
morning sunlight, and the infantry brought their muskets
to a carry, a contrast was presented which, to a military
eye, could but be striking. Here in battle array, facing
each other, were the representatives of civilized and
barbarous warfare. The one, with few modifications, stood
clothed in the same rude style of dress, bearing the same
patterned shield and weapon that his ancestors had borne
centuries before; the other confronted him in the dress
and supplied with the implements of war which an advanced
stage of civilization had pronounced the most perfect.
Was the comparative superiority of these two classes to be
subjected to the mere test of war here? All was eager
anxiety and expectation. Neither side seemed to comprehend
the object or intentions of the other; each was waiting
for the other to deliver the first blow. A more beautiful
battle-ground could not have been chosen. Not a bush or
even the slightest irregularity of ground intervened between
the two lines, which now stood frowning and facing each other.
Chiefs could be seen riding along the line, as if directing
and exhorting their braves to deeds of heroism.
After a few moments of painful suspense, General Hancock,
accompanied by General A. J. Smith and other officers,
rode forward, and through an interpreter invited the chiefs
to meet us midway for the purpose of an interview.
In response to this invitation, Roman Nose, bearing a white
flag, accompanied by Bull Bear, White Horse, Gray Beard,
and Medicine Wolf, on the part of the Cheyennes, and Pawnee
Killer, Bad Wound, Tall-Bear-That-Walks-under-the-Ground,
Left Hand, Little Bear, and Little Bull, on the part of the
Sioux, rode forward to the middle of the open space between
the two lines. Here we shook hands with all the chiefs,
most of them exhibiting unmistakable signs of gratification
at this apparently peaceful termination of our rencounter.
General Hancock very naturally inquired the object of the
hostile attitude displayed before us, saying to the chiefs
that if war was their object, we were ready then and there
to participate. Their immediate answer was that they did
not desire war, but were peacefully disposed. They were
then told that we would continue our march toward the
village, and encamp near it, but would establish such
regulations that none of the soldiers would be permitted
to approach or disturb them. An arrangement was then
effected by which the chiefs were to assemble at General
Hancock's headquarters as soon as our camp was pitched.
The interview then terminated, and the Indians moved off
in the direction of their village, we following leisurely
in the rear.
A march of a few miles brought us in sight of the village,
which was situated in a beautiful grove on the bank of the
stream up which we had been marching. It consisted of
upwards of three hundred lodges, a small fraction over half
belonging to the Cheyennes, the remainder to the Sioux.
Like all Indian encampments, the ground chosen was a most
romantic spot, and at the same time fulfilled in every
respect the requirements of a good camping-ground; wood,
water, and grass were abundant. The village was placed on
a wide, level plateau, while on the north and west, at a
short distance off, rose high bluffs, which admirably served
as a shelter against the cold winds which at that season of
the year prevail from those directions. Our tents were
pitched within a mile of the village. Guards were placed
between to prevent intrusion upon our part. We had scarcely
pitched our tents when Roman Nose, Bull Bear, Gray Beard,
and Medicine Wolf, all prominent chiefs of the Cheyenne
nation, came into camp with the information that upon our
approach their women and children had all fled from the
village, alarmed by the presence of so many soldiers, and
imagining a second Chivington massacre to be intended.
General Hancock insisted that they should all return,
promising protection and good treatment to all; that if
the camp was abandoned, he would hold it responsible.
The chiefs then stated their belief in their ability to
recall the fugitives, could they be furnished with horses
to overtake them. This was accordingly done, and two of
them set out mounted on two of our horses. An agreement
was also entered into at the same time, that one of our
interpreters, Ed Gurrier, a half-breed Cheyenne, who was in
the employ of the government, should remain in the village
and report every two hours as to whether any Indians were
leaving there. This was about seven o'clock in the evening.
At half-past nine the half-breed returned to head-quarters
with the intelligence that all the chiefs and warriors were
saddling up to leave, under circumstances showing that they
had no intention of returning, such as packing up every
article that could be carried with them, and cutting and
destroying their lodges--this last being done to obtain
small pieces for temporary shelter.
I had retired to my tent, which was some few hundred yards
from that of General Hancock, when a messenger from the
latter awakened me with the information that the general
desired my presence in his tent. He briefly stated the
situation of affairs, and directed me to mount my command
as quickly and as silently as possible, surround the Indian
village, and prevent the departure of its inhabitants.
Easily said, but not so easily done. Under ordinary
circumstances, silence not being necessary, I could have
returned to my camp, and by a few blasts from the trumpet,
placed every soldier on his saddle almost as quickly as it
has taken time to write this short sentence. No bugle calls
must be sounded; we were to adopt some of the stealth of the
Indians--how successfully remained to be seen. By this time
every soldier and officer was in his tent sound asleep.
First going to the tent of the adjutant and arousing him,
I procured an experienced assistant in my labours. Next the
captains of companies were awakened and orders imparted
to them. They in turn transmitted the order to the first
sergeant, who similarly aroused the men. It has often
surprised me to observe the alacrity with which disciplined
soldiers, experienced in campaigning, will hasten to prepare
themselves for the march in an emergency like this.
No questions are asked, no time is wasted. A soldier's
toilet, on an Indian campaign, is a simple affair, and
requires little time for arranging. His clothes are
gathered up hurriedly, no matter how, so long as he retains
possession of them. The first object is to get his horse
saddled and bridled, and until this is done his own dress
is a matter of secondary importance, and one button or hook
must do the duty of half a dozen. When his horse is ready
for the mount, the rider will be seen completing his own
equipment; stray buttons will receive attention, arms will
be overhauled, spurs restrapped; then, if there still remain
a few spare moments, the homely black pipe is filled and
lighted, and the soldier's preparation is complete.
The night was all that could be desired for the success of
our enterprise. The air was mild and pleasant; the moon,
although nearly full, kept almost constantly behind the
clouds, as if to screen us in our hazardous undertaking.
I say hazardous, because none of us imagined for one moment
that if the Indians discovered us in our attempt to surround
them and their village, we should escape without a fight--
a fight, too, in which the Indians, sheltered behind the
trunks of the stately forest trees under which their lodges
were pitched, would possess all the advantage. General
Hancock, anticipating that the Indians would discover our
approach, and that a fight would ensue, ordered the
artillery and infantry under arms, to await the result of
our moonlight adventure. My command was soon in the saddle,
and silently making its way toward the village.
Instructions had been given forbidding all conversation
except in a whisper. Sabres were disposed of to prevent
clanging. Taking a camp-fire which we could see in the
village as our guiding point, we made a detour so as to
place the village between ourselves and the infantry.
Occasionally the moon would peep out from the clouds and
enable us to catch a hasty glance at the village. Here and
there under the thick foliage we could see the white,
conical-shaped lodges. Were the inmates slumbering,
unaware of our close proximity, or were their dusky defenders
concealed, as well they might have been, along the banks of
the Pawnee, quietly awaiting our approach, and prepared to
greet us with their well-known war-whoop? These were
questions that were probably suggested to the mind of each
individual of my command. If we were discovered approaching
in the stealthy, suspicious manner which characterized our
movements, the hour being midnight, it would require a more
confiding nature than that of the Indian to assign a
friendly or peaceful motive to our conduct. The same
flashes of moonlight which gave us hurried glimpses of the
village enabled us to see our own column of horsemen
stretching its silent length far into the dim darkness, and
winding its course, like some huge anaconda about to envelop
its victim.
The method by which it was determined to establish a cordon
of armed troopers about the fated village, was to direct
the march in a circle, with the village in the centre,
the commanding officer of each rear troop halting his
command at the proper point, and deploying his men similarly
to a line of skirmishers--the entire circle, when thus formed,
facing toward the village, and, distant from it perhaps a
few hundred yards. No sooner was our line completely formed
than the moon, as if deeming darkness no longer essential
to our success, appeared from behind her screen and lighted
up the entire scene. And beautiful it was! The great
circle of troops, each individual of which sat on his steed
silent as a statue, the dense foliage of the cotton trees
sheltering the bleached, skin-clad lodges of the red men,
the little stream in the midst murmuring undisturbedly in
its channel, all combined to produce an artistic effect,
as striking as it was interesting. But we were not there
to study artistic effects. The next step was to determine
whether we had captured an inhabited village, involving
almost necessarily a severe conflict with its savage
occupants, or whether the red man had again proven too
wily and crafty for his more civilized brothers.
Directing the entire line of troopers to remain mounted
with carbines held at the "Advance," I dismounted, and
taking with me Gurrier, the half-breed, Dr. Coates, one of
our medical staff, and Lieutenant Moylan, the adjutant,
we proceeded on our hands and knees toward the village.
The prevailing opinion was that the Indians were still
asleep. I desired to approach near enough to the lodges
to enable the half-breed to hail the village in the Indian
tongue, and if possible establish friendly relations at once.
It became a question of prudence with us, which we discussed
in whispers as we proceeded on our "Tramp, tramp, tramp,
the boys are creeping," how far from our horses and how
near to the village we dared to go. If so few of us were
discovered entering the village in this questionable manner,
it was more than probable that, like the returners of stolen
property, we should be suitably rewarded and no questions
asked. The opinion of Gurrier, the half-breed, was eagerly
sought for and generally deferred to. His wife,
a full-blooded Cheyenne, was a resident of the village.
This with him was an additional reason for wishing a peaceful
termination to our efforts. When we had passed over
two-thirds of the distance between our horses and the
village, it was thought best to make our presence known.
Thus far not a sound had been heard to disturb the stillness
of the night. Gurrier called out at the top of his voice
in the Cheyenne tongue. The only response came from the
throats of a score or more of Indian dogs which set up a
fierce barking. At the same time one or two of our party
asserted that they saw figure moving beneath the trees.
Gurrier repeated his summons, but with no better results
than before.
A hurried consultation ensued. The presence of so many dogs
in the village was regarded by the half-breed as almost
positive assurance that the Indians were still there.
Yet it was difficult to account for their silence. Gurrier
in a loud tone repeated who he was, and that our mission was
friendly. Still no answer. He then gave it as his opinion
that the Indians were on the alert, and were probably
waiting in the shadow of the trees for us to approach nearer,
when they would pounce upon us. This comforting opinion
induced another conference. We must ascertain the truth of
the matter; our party could do this as well as a larger
number, and to go back and send another party in our stead
could not be thought of.
Forward! was the verdict. Each one grasped his revolver,
resolved to do his best, whether it was in running or
fighting. I think most of us would have preferred to take
our own chances at running. We had approached near enough
to see that some of the lodges were detached some distance
from the main encampment. Selecting the nearest of these,
we directed our advance on it. While all of us were full
of the spirit of adventure, and were further encouraged
with the idea that we were in the discharge of our duty,
there was scarcely one of us who would not have felt more
comfortable if we could have got back to our horses without
loss of pride. Yet nothing, under the circumstances, but
a positive order would have induced any one to withdraw.
Cautiously approaching, on all fours, to within a few yards
of the nearest lodge, occasionally halting and listening to
discover whether the village was deserted or not, we finally
decided that the Indians had fled before the arrival of the
cavalry, and that none but empty lodges were before us.
This conclusion somewhat emboldened as well as accelerated
our progress. Arriving at the first lodge, one of our party
raised the curtain or mat which served as a door, and the
doctor and myself entered. The interior of the lodge was
dimly lighted by the dying embers of a small fire built in
the centre. All around us were to be seen the usual
adornments and articles which constitute the household
effects of an Indian family. Buffalo-robes were spread like
carpets over the floor; head-mats, used to recline on, were
arranged as if for the comfort of their owners; parfleches,
a sort of Indian band-box, with their contents apparently
undisturbed, were carefully stowed away under the edges or
borders of the lodge. These, with the door-mats, paint-bags,
rawhide ropes, and other articles of Indian equipment,
were left as if the owners had only absented themselves for
a brief period. To complete the picture of an Indian lodge,
over the fire hung a camp-kettle, in which, by means of the
dim light of the fire, we could see what had been intended
for the supper of the late occupants of the lodge.
The doctor, ever on the alert to discover additional items
of knowledge, whether pertaining to history or science,
snuffed the savoury odours which arose from the dark
recesses of the mysterious kettle. Casting about the lodge
for some instrument to aid him in his pursuit of knowledge,
he found a horn spoon, with which he began his investigation
of the contents, finally succeeding in getting possession
of a fragment which might have been the half of a duck or
rabbit, judging from its size merely. "Ah!" said the doctor,
in his most complacent manner, "here is the opportunity I
have long been waiting for. I have often desired to test
the Indian mode of cooking. What do you suppose this is?"
holding up the dripping morsel. Unable to obtain the
desired information, the doctor, whose naturally good
appetite had been sensibly sharpened by his recent exercise,
set to with a will and ate heartily of the mysterious
contents of the kettle. He was only satisfied on one point,
that it was delicious--a dish fit for a king. Just then
Gurrier, the half-breed, entered the lodge. He could solve
the mystery, having spent years among the Indians. To him
the doctor appealed for information. Fishing out a huge
piece, and attacking it with the voracity of a hungry wolf,
he was not long in determining what the doctor had supped
heartily upon. His first words settled the mystery: "Why,
this is dog." I will not attempt to repeat the few but
emphatic words uttered by the heartily disgusted member of
the medical fraternity as he rushed from the lodge.
Other members of our small party had entered other lodges,
only to find them, like the first, deserted. But little of
the furniture belonging to the lodges had been taken,
showing how urgent and hasty had been the flight of the
owners. To aid in the examination of the village,
reinforcements were added to our party, and an exploration
of each lodge was determined upon. At the same time a
messenger was despatched to General Hancock, informing him
of the flight of the Indians. Some of the lodges were
closed by having brush or timber piled up against the
entrance, as if to preserve the contents. Others had huge
pieces cut from their sides, these pieces evidently being
carried away to furnish temporary shelter for the fugitives.
In most of the lodges the fires were still burning. I had
entered several without discovering anything important.
Finally, in company with the doctor, I arrived at one the
interior of which was quite dark, the fire having almost
died out. Procuring a lighted fagot, I prepared to explore it,
as I had done the others; but no sooner had I entered the
lodge than my fagot failed me, leaving me in total darkness.
Handing it to the doctor to be relighted, I began to feel
my way about the interior of the lodge. I had almost made
the circuit when my hand came in contact with a human foot;
at the same time a voice unmistakably Indian, and which
evidently came from the owner of the foot, convinced me that
I was not alone. My first impressions were that in their
hasty flight the Indians had gone off, leaving this one
asleep. My next, very naturally, related to myself.
I would gladly have placed myself on the outside of the
lodge, and there matured plans for interviewing its occupant;
but unfortunately to reach the entrance of the lodge, I must
either pass over or around the owner of the before-mentioned
foot and voice. Could I have been convinced that among
its other possessions there was neither tomahawk nor
scalping-knife, pistol nor war-club, or any similar article
of the noble red-man's toilet, I would have risked an attempt
to escape through the low narrow opening of the lodge;
but who ever saw an Indian without one or all of these
interesting trinkets? Had I made the attempt, I should
have expected to encounter either the keen edge of the
scalping-knife or the blow of the tomahawk, and to have
engaged in a questionable struggle for life. This would
not do. I crouched in silence for a few moments, hoping
the doctor would return with the lighted fagot. I need not
say that each succeeding moment spent in the darkness of
that lodge seemed an age. I could hear a slight movement
on the part of my unknown neighbour, which did not add to
my comfort. Why does not the doctor return? At last I
discovered the approach of a light on the outside. When it
neared the entrance, I called the doctor and informed him
that an Indian was in the lodge, and that he had better
have his weapons ready for a conflict. I had, upon
discovering the foot, drawn my hunting-knife from its
scabbard, and now stood waiting the denouement. With his
lighted fagot in one hand and cocked revolver in the other,
the doctor cautiously entered the lodge. And there directly
between us, wrapped in a buffalo-robe, lay the cause of my
anxiety--a little Indian girl, probably ten years old;
not a full-blood, but a half-breed. She was terribly
frightened at finding herself in our hands, with none of
her people near. Other parties in exploring the deserted
village found an old, decrepit Indian of the Sioux tribe,
who had also been deserted, owing to his infirmities and
inability to travel with the tribe. Nothing was gleaned
from our search of the village which might indicate the
direction of the flight. General Hancock, on learning the
situation of affairs, despatched some companies of infantry
with orders to replace the cavalry and protect the village
and its contents from disturbance until its final disposition
could be determined upon, and it was decided that with eight
troops of cavalry I should start in pursuit of the Indians
at early dawn on the following morning.
The Indians, after leaving their village, went up on the
Smoky Hill, and committed the most horrible depredations
upon the scattered settlers in that region. Upon this news,
General Hancock issued the following order:--
"As a punishment of the bad faith practised by the Cheyennes
and Sioux who occupied the Indian village at this place, and
as a chastisement for murders and depredations committed
since the arrival of the command at this point, by the
people of these tribes, the village recently occupied by
them, which is now in our hands, will be utterly destroyed."
The Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Apaches had been united under
one agency; the Kiowas and Comanches under another.
As General Hancock's expedition had reference to all these
tribes, he had invited both the agents to accompany him
into the Indian country and be present at all interviews
with the representatives of these tribes, for the purpose,
as the invitation stated, of showing the Indians "that the
officers of the government are acting in harmony."
In conversation with the general the agents admitted that
Indians had been guilty of all the outrages charged against
them, but each asserted the innocence of the particular
tribes under his charge, and endeavoured to lay their crimes
at the door of their neighbours.
Here was positive evidence from the agents themselves that
the Indians against whom we were operating were deserving
of severe punishment. The only conflicting portion of the
testimony was as to which tribe was most guilty. Subsequent
events proved, however, that all of the five tribes named,
as well as the Sioux, had combined for a general war
throughout the plains and along our frontier. Such a war
had been threatened to our post commanders along the
Arkansas on many occasions during the winter. The movement
of the Sioux and Cheyennes toward the north indicated that
the principal theatre of military operations during the
summer would be between the Smoky Hill and Platte rivers.
General Hancock accordingly assembled the principal chiefs
of the Kiowas and Arapahoes in council at Fort Dodge,
hoping to induce them to remain at peace and observe their
treaty obligations.
The most prominent chiefs in council were Satanta, Lone Wolf,
and Kicking Bird of the Kiowas, and Little Raven and Yellow
Bear of the Arapahoes. During the council extravagant
promises of future good behaviour were made by these chiefs.
So effective and convincing was the oratorical effort of
Satanta, that at the termination of his address, the
department commander and his staff presented him with the
uniform coat, sash, and hat of a major-general. In return
for this compliment, Satanta, within a few weeks, attacked
the post at which the council was held, arrayed in his
new uniform.
In the spring of 1878, the Indians commenced a series of depredations
along the Santa Fe Trail and against the scattered settlers of the
frontier, that were unparalleled in their barbarity. General Alfred
Sully, a noted Indian fighter, who commanded the district of the Upper
Arkansas, early concentrated a portion of the Seventh and Tenth Cavalry
and Third Infantry along the line of the Old Santa Fe Trail, and kept
out small expeditions of scouting parties to protect the overland
coaches and freight caravans; but the troops effected very little in
stopping the devilish acts of the Indians, who were now fully determined
to carry out their threats of a general war, which culminated in the
winter expedition of General Sheridan, who completely subdued them, and
forced all the tribes on reservations; since which time there has never
been any trouble with the plains Indians worthy of mention.[69]
General Sully, about the 1st of September, with eight companies of the
Seventh Cavalry and five companies of infantry, left Fort Dodge, on the
Arkansas, on a hurried expedition against the Kiowas, Arapahoes, and
Cheyennes. The command marched in a general southeasterly direction, and
reached the sand hills of the Beaver and Wolf rivers, by a circuitous
route, on the fifth day. When nearly through that barren region, they
were attacked by a force of eight hundred of the allied tribes under the
leadership of the famous Kiowa chief, Satanta. A running fight was kept
up with the savages on the first day, in which two of the cavalry were
killed and one wounded.
That night the savages came close enough to camp to fire into it (an
unusual proceeding in Indian warfare, as they rarely molest troops
during the night), I now quote from Custer again:
The next day General Sully directed his march down the
valley of the Beaver; but just as his troops were breaking
camp, the long wagon-train having already "pulled out," and
the rear guard of the command having barely got into their
saddles, a party of between two and three hundred warriors,
who had evidently in some inexplicable manner contrived to
conceal themselves until the proper moment, dashed into the
deserted camp within a few yards of the rear of the troops,
and succeeded in cutting off a few led horses and two of
the cavalrymen who, as is often the case, had lingered a
moment behind the column.
Fortunately, the acting adjutant of the cavalry, Brevet
Captain A. E. Smith, was riding at the rear of the column
and witnessed the attack of the Indians. Captain Hamilton,[70]
of the Seventh Cavalry, was also present in command of the
rear guard. Wheeling to the rightabout, he at once prepared
to charge the Indians and attempt the rescue of the two
troopers who were being carried off before his very eyes.
At the same time, Captain Smith, as representative of the
commanding officer of the cavalry, promptly took the
responsibility of directing a squadron of the cavalry to
wheel out of column and advance in support of Captain
Hamilton's guard. With this hastily formed detachment,
the Indians, still within pistol-range, but moving off with
their prisoners, were gallantly charged and so closely
pressed that they were forced to relinquish one of their
prisoners, but not before shooting him through the body and
leaving him on the ground, as they supposed, mortally wounded.
The troops continued to charge the retreating Indians,
upon whom they were gaining, determined, if possible,
to effect the rescue of their remaining comrade. They were
advancing down one slope while the Indians, just across
a ravine, were endeavouring to escape with their prisoner
up the opposite ascent, when a peremptory order reached the
officers commanding the pursuing force to withdraw their men
and reform the column at once. The terrible fate awaiting
the unfortunate trooper carried off by the Indians spread
a deep gloom throughout the command. All were too familiar
with the horrid customs of the savages to hope for a moment
that the captive would be reserved for aught but a slow,
lingering death, from tortures the most horrible and painful
which blood-thirsty minds could suggest. Such was the truth
in his case, as we learned afterwards when peace (?) was
established with the tribes then engaged in war.
The expedition proceeded down the valley of the Beaver,
the Indians contesting every step of the way. In the
afternoon, about three o'clock, the troops arrived at
a ridge of sand hills a few miles southeast of the
presentsite of Camp Supply, where quite a determined
engagement took place between the command and the three
tribes, Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Kiowas, the Indians
being the assailants. The Indians seemed to have reserved
their strongest efforts until the troops and train had
advanced well into the sand hills, when a most obstinate
resistance--and well conducted, too--was offered the
farther advance of the troops. It was evident that the
troops were probably nearing the Indian villages, and that
this opposition to further advance was to save them. The
character of the country immediately about the troops was
not favourable to the operations of cavalry; the surface
of the rolling plain was cut up by irregular and closely
located sand hills, too steep and sandy to allow cavalry
to move with freedom, yet capable of being easily cleared
of savages by troops fighting on foot. The Indians took
post on the hilltops and began a harassing fire on the
troops and train. Captain Yates, with a single troop of
cavalry, was ordered forward to drive them away. This was
a proceeding which did not seem to meet with favour from
the savages. Captain Yates could drive them wherever he
encountered them, but they appeared in increased numbers
at some other threatened point. After contending in this
non-effective manner for a couple of hours, the impression
arose in the minds of some that the train could not be
conducted through the sand hills in the face of the strong
opposition offered by the Indians. The order was issued
to turn about and withdraw. The order was executed, and
the troop and train, followed by the exultant Indians,
retired a few miles to the Beaver, and encamped for the
night on the ground afterward known as Camp Supply.
Captain Yates had caused to be brought off the field, when
his troop was ordered to retire, the body of one of his men,
who had been slain in the fight. As the troops were to
continue their backward march next day, and it was impossible
to transport the dead body further, Captain Yates ordered
preparations made for interring it in camp that night.
Knowing that the Indians would thoroughly search the deserted
camp-ground almost before the troops should get out of sight,
and would be quick, with their watchful eyes, to detect a
grave, and, if successful in discovering it, would unearth
the body in order to get the scalp, directions were given
to prepare the grave after nightfall; and the spot selected
would have baffled any one but an Indian. The grave was
dug under the picket line to which the seventy or eighty
horses of the troop would be tethered during the night,
so that their constant tramping and pawing should completely
cover up and obliterate all traces. The following morning,
even those who had performed the sad rites of burial to
their fallen comrade could scarcely have indicated the exact
location of the grave. Yet when we returned to that point
a few weeks later, it was discovered that the wily savages
had found the place, unearthed the body, and removed the
scalp of their victim on the day following the interment.[71]
After leaving the camp at Supply, the Indians gradually increased their
force, until they mustered about two thousand warriors. For four days
and nights they hovered around the command, and by the time it reached
Mulberry Creek there were not one thousand rounds of ammunition left in
the whole force of troopers and infantrymen. At the creek, the incessant
charges of the now infuriated savages compelled the troops to use this
small amount held in reserve, and they found themselves almost at the
mercy of the Indians. But before they were absolutely defenceless,
Colonel Keogh had sent a trusty messenger in the night to Fort Dodge
for a supply of cartridges to meet the command at the creek, which
fortunately arrived there in time to save that spot from being a
veritable "last ditch."
The savages, in the little but exciting encounter at the creek before
the ammunition arrived, would ride up boldly toward the squadrons of
cavalry, discharge the shots from their revolvers, and then, in their
rage, throw them at the skirmishers on the flanks of the supply-train,
while the latter, nearly out of ammunition, were compelled to sit
quietly in their saddles, idle spectators of the extraordinary
scene.[72]
Many of the Indians were killed on their ponies, however, by those
who were fortunate enough to have a few cartridges left; but none
were captured, as the savages had taken their usual precaution to tie
themselves to their animals, and as soon as dead were dragged away by
them.