It had been decided that my command should thoroughly scout the country
from Fort Hays near the Smoky Hill river, to Fort McPherson, on the
Platte; thence describe a semicircle to the southward, touching the
head waters of the Republican, and again reach the Platte at or near
Fort Sedgwick, at which post we would replenish our supplies; then move
directly south to Fort Wallace, on the Smoky Hill, and from there march
down the overland route to our starting-point at Fort Hays. This would
involve a ride of upwards of one thousand miles.
As is usually the case, the first day’s march was not to be a long one.
The troops, under charge of the officer second in command, Colonel
Wickliffe Cooper, left camp and marched up the valley of Big Creek
a distance of eighteen miles, and there encamped. Two companies of
cavalry and a small force of infantry were to constitute the garrison
to remain behind. When the troops composing my command left, it
became necessary to rearrange the camp and provide new dispositions
for defence. My wife, who always accompanied me when in camp or on
the march except when I was engaged in active pursuit of Indians, had
rejoined me soon after my arrival at Fort Hays. She was accompanied by
a young lady friend from the East, a schoolmate, who had been tempted
by the novelties of wild Western life to make her a visit in camp. As
there were other ladies in camp, wives of officers who were to remain
with the garrison, my wife and friend decided to remain and await
our return, rather than go back to the protection and luxuries of
civilization. To arrange for their comfort and superintend the locating
of their tents, I remained behind my command, intending to wait until
after midnight, and then, guided by the moonlight, ride on and overtake
my command before it should commence its second day’s march. I retained
with me two soldiers, one scout, and four of the Delawares.
As soon as the command moved, the portion to remain at Fort Hays
was drawn in near the few buildings which constituted the fort. All
of the cavalry and a portion of the infantry were to encamp in the
valley and not far from the stream. For three-quarters of a mile on
either side the valley consisted of a level unbroken plain; then a low
bluff was encountered, succeeded by a second plain of less extent.
This was bordered by a higher and more broken bluff than the first.
Fortunately, in selecting the ground on which the tents intended for
the ladies were to stand, I had chosen a little knoll, so small as to
be scarcely perceptible, yet the only elevated ground to be found. It
was within a few steps of the bank of the stream, while the main camp
was located below and nearer the bluff. For safety a few soldiers were
placed in camp a short distance above. In ordinary times the banks of
Big Creek are at this point from twenty-five to forty feet above the
water, and a person accustomed to the slow and gradual rise and fall
which prevails along the beds of streams in the Eastern States, can
with difficulty realize the suddenness with which the deep and narrow
channels of watercourses on the Plains become filled to overflowing.
In proportion to the surface of the country or the watersheds, the
watercourses or channels are few, too few to accommodate the drainage
necessities during the wet season. The bank on which the little knoll
stood was, by actual measurement, thirty-six feet above ordinary water
mark. The knoll was probably three or four feet above the level of the
valley. Surely this location might be considered well enough protected
naturally against the rainy season. So I thought, as I saw the working
party putting the finishing touches to the bright white canvas house,
which to all intents and purposes was to be to me, even in absence, my
army home.
I confidently expected to return to this camp at the termination of
my march. I will be pardoned if I anticipate events and terminate its
history now. A few days after my command had marched, a heavy storm
set in, the rain pouring down in a manner resembling a waterspout.
The immediate effect of the heavy shower was not at once noticeable
near the camp at Fort Hays, as the heaviest rainfall had occurred far
above that point. But in the night-time, after the entire camp except
the guards had long since retired and fallen asleep, the stream,
overcharged by the rushing volumes from above, soon became transformed
from a mild and murmuring brook into an irresistible, turbulent
torrent. So sudden and unexpected had been the rise, that before the
alarm could be given the thirty-six feet which had separated the
surface of the water from the top of the banks had been overcome, and
in addition the water began now sweeping over the entire plain. After
overflowing the natural banks of the creek, the first new channel ran
in such a manner as to surround the tents occupied by the ladies as
well as that occupied by the few soldiers stationed up the stream, but
still leaving communication open between the main camp and the bluff
toward the mainland. The soldiers, as well as the officers and their
families in the main camp, hastened to the bluff to escape being swept
down before the huge torrent which each instant became more fearful.
To add to the embarrassment of the situation, the blackest darkness
prevailed, only relieved at times by vivid gleams of lightning, while
the deep sullen roar of the torrent, increasing each moment in depth
and volume, was only drowned at intervals by the fierce and more
deafening uproar of the thunder, which sounded like the applause of
some huge fury watching this struggle between the elements.
When Mrs. Custer and her young lady companion were awakened by the
storm, they discovered that their tents were surrounded by the new
channel, and that all efforts to reach the main camp would prove
unavailing. They had with them at this time only a colored female
servant. They did not even know the fate of the other portion of the
camp. In the midst of this fearful scene, they heard the cries of men
in despair near their tent. The cries came from the soldiers who had
been in camp above them, but were now being carried off in the darkness
by the rising current. No assistance could reach them. It is doubtful
if they could have been saved even had they been found by daylight.
There were seven in all. One of them, as he was being swept by the
tent, contrived, through accident no doubt, to grasp the branch of
a small bush which grew on the bank. It was from him that the cries
of distress principally proceeded. Aided by the dim light of a camp
lantern, the ladies were enabled to see this unfortunate man clinging,
as it were, between life and death. With commendable presence of mind,
considering the fate staring them in the face, a rope was procured, and
after a few failures one end was thrown to the unfortunate man, and by
the united strength of the two ladies and their servant he was pulled
to shore and, for the time being at least, his life was saved. His six
less fortunate companions were drowned.
Two of the officers, Brevet Major-General A. J. Smith, and his
Adjutant-General, Colonel Weir, with a view to rescuing the ladies,
had succeeded in making their way across the new channel made by the
torrent to the knoll; but when attempting to return on horseback to
the mainland, they found the current too deep and swift for them to
succeed. They were compelled then to await their fate. The water
continued to rise until the entire valley from the natural channel to
the first bluff, a distance of a quarter of a mile, was covered by an
unfordable river. The only point still free from water was the little
knoll which I had been so fortunate as to select for the tents. But the
rise in the water continued until it finally reached the edge of the
tent. At this rate the tents themselves must soon be swept away. As a
last resort, a Gatling gun which stood near the entrance of the tent,
and which from its great weight would probably withstand the force of
the current, was hauled closer to the tent and ropes securely attached
to the wheels; by these ropes it was proposed to fasten the ladies and
the servant to the gun, and in this way, should the streams not rise
too high above the knoll, their lives might be saved.
The colored girl, Eliza, who was devoted to her mistress, and who had
been amid scenes of great danger, was on this occasion invaluable.
Eliza had quite a history before she visited the Plains. Formerly
a slave, but set free by the war, she had accompanied me as cook
during the last three years of the war. Twice taken prisoner by the
Confederates, she each time made her escape and refound me. She was
present at almost every prominent battle of the Army of the Potomac,
accompanied my command on all the raids and winter marches, and upon
more than one occasion during the progress of a battle Eliza might be
seen near the front earnestly engaged in preparing a cup of coffee for
the officers at headquarters, who but for her would have gone through
the day dinnerless. I have seen her remain by her camp cook fire when
the enemy’s shells were bursting overhead, to such an extent that men
who were similarly employed deserted their station and sought shelter
in the rear. There were few officers or soldiers in the cavalry corps,
from General Sheridan down, with whom Eliza was not a great favorite.
All had a pleasant word for her, and few had not at some time or other
cause to remember her kindness.
When the water finally approached close to the tent, Eliza marked its
progress from time to time by placing small stakes at the water line.
How anxiously the gradual rise of the torrent must have been watched.
At last, when all hope seemed almost exhausted, the waters were stayed
in their progress, and soon, to the great joy of the little party
besieged, began to recede. It was still dark, but so rapidly did the
volume of water diminish--as rapidly as it had accumulated--that a
few hours after daylight a safe passage was effected to the mainland.
With the exception of those of the six soldiers, no lives were lost,
although many narrow escapes were made.
In the morning, daylight showed the post hospital, a stone building,
surrounded by an unfordable stream, the water rushing through the doors
and windows. The patients had managed to climb upon the roof, and could
be seen by the officers and men on the mainland. No boats were to be
had, but no class of men are so full of expedients as soldiers. The
beds of some government wagons were hastily removed, the canvas covers
were stretched under the bottoms, and in this way a temporary kind of
pontoon was constructed which answered the desired purpose, and by
means of which the beleaguered patients were soon released.
The officer in command of the infantry, Major Merriam, was occupying
a tent with his wife near the main camp. Finding himself cut off from
the mainland, but before the water had attained its greatest depth, he
took his wife in his arms and forded the stream which ran between his
tent and the bluff, and in this manner reached a point of safety. It
is remarkable, however, that within two years from the date of this
occurrence, this same officer with his wife and child encountered a
similar freshet in Texas, hundreds of miles from this locality, and
that the watery grave which was so narrowly avoided in Kansas awaited
the mother and child in Texas. Of the circumstances of the storm at
Fort Hays I was necessarily ignorant until weeks later.
* * * * *
Soon after midnight, everything being in readiness, and my little party
having been refreshed by a cup of good army coffee, it only remained to
say adieu to those who were to remain behind, and we were ready for our
moonlight gallop.
But little was said as we made our way rapidly over the plain in the
direction taken by the command. Occasionally, as we dashed across
a ravine, we would suddenly come upon a herd of antelopes or a few
scattering buffaloes, startling them from their repose and causing them
to wonder what was the occasion and who the strange parties disturbing
the peaceful quiet of the night in this unusual manner. On we sped,
our good steeds snuffing the early morning air and pressing forward
as eagerly as if they knew their companions were awaiting them in the
advance.
Daylight had given us no evidence of its coming, when, after a ride of
nearly twenty miles, we found ourselves descending into a valley in
which we knew the command must be encamped. The moon had disappeared
below the horizon, and we were left to make our way aided by such light
as the stars twinkling in a clear sky afforded us. Our horses gave
us unmistakable evidence that camp was near. To convince us beyond
all doubt, the clear ringing notes of the bugle sounding the reveille
greeted our ears, and directed by the sound we soon found ourselves in
camp.
A cavalry camp immediately after reveille always presents an animated
and most interesting scene. As soon as the rolls are called and the
reports of absentees made to headquarters, the men of the companies,
with the exception of the cooks, are employed in the care of the
horses. The latter are fed, and while eating are thoroughly groomed
by the men, under the superintendence of their officers. Nearly an
hour is devoted to this important duty. In the meanwhile the company
cooks, ten to each company, and the officers’ servants, are busily
engaged preparing breakfast, so that within a few minutes after the
horses have received proper attention breakfast is ready, and being
very simple it requires but little time to dispose of it. Immediately
after breakfast the first bugle call indicative of the march is the
“General,” and is the signal for tents to be taken down and everything
packed in readiness for moving. A few minutes later this is followed by
the bugler at headquarters sounding “Boots and saddles,” when horses
are saddled up and the wagon train put in readiness for “pulling out.”
Five minutes later “To horse” is sounded, and the men of each company
lead their horses into line, each trooper standing at the head of his
horse. At the words “Prepare to mount,” from the commanding officer,
each trooper places his left foot in the stirrup; and at the command
“Mount,” every man rises on his stirrup and places himself in his
saddle, the whole command presenting the appearance to the eye of a
huge machine propelled by one power. Woe betide the unfortunate trooper
who through carelessness or inattention fails to place himself in
his saddle simultaneously with his companions. If he is not for this
offence against military rule deprived of the services of his horse
during the succeeding half day’s march, he escapes luckily.
As soon as the command is mounted the “Advance” is sounded, and the
troops, usually in “column of fours,” move out. The company leading
the advance one day march in rear the following day. This successive
changing gives each company an opportunity to march by regular turn in
advance. Our average daily march, when not in immediate pursuit of the
enemy, was about twenty-five miles. Upon reaching camp in the evening
the horses were cared for as in the morning, opportunities being given
them to graze before dark. Pickets were posted and every precaution
adopted to guard against surprise.
Our second day’s march brought us to the Saline river, where we
encamped for the night. From our camp ground we could see on a knoll
some two miles distant a platform or scaffold erected, which resembled
somewhat one of our war signal stations. Curious to discover its
purpose, I determined to visit it.
Taking with me Comstock and a few soldiers, I soon reached the point,
and discovered that the object of my curiosity and surprise was an
Indian grave. The body, instead of being consigned to mother earth,
was placed on top of the platform. The latter was constructed of
saplings, and was about twenty feet in height. From Comstock I learned
that with some of the tribes this is the usual mode of disposing of
the body after death. The prevailing belief of the Indian is that when
done with this world the spirit of the deceased is transferred to the
“happy hunting-ground,” where he is permitted to engage in the same
pleasures and pursuits which he preferred while on earth. To this end
it is deemed essential that after death the departed must be supplied
with the same equipment and ornaments considered necessary while in
the flesh. In accordance with this belief a complete Indian outfit,
depending in extent upon the rank and importance of the deceased, is
prepared, and consigned with the body to the final resting-place.
The body found on this occasion must have been that of a son of some
important chief; it was not full grown, but accompanied with all the
arms and adornments usually owned by a warrior. There was the bow and
quiver full of steel-pointed arrows, the tomahawk and scalping-knife,
and a red clay pipe with a small bag full of tobacco. In order that
the departed spirit should not be wholly dependent upon friends after
his arrival at the happy hunting-ground, he had been supplied with
provisions, consisting of small parcels containing coffee, sugar,
and bread. Weapons of modern structure had also been furnished him,
a revolver and rifle with powder and ball ammunition for each, and a
saddle, bridle, and lariat for his pony. Added to these was a supply of
wearing apparel, embracing every article known in an Indian’s toilet,
not excepting the various colored paints to be used in decorating
himself for war. A handsome buckskin scalping-pocket, profusely
ornamented with beads, completed the outfit. But for fear that white
women’s scalps might not be readily obtainable, and desiring no doubt
to be received at once as a warrior, who in his own country at least
was not without renown, a white woman’s scalp was also considered as a
necessary accompaniment, a letter of introduction to the dusky warriors
and chieftains who had gone before. As the Indian of the Plains is
himself only when on horseback, provision must be made for mounting him
properly in the Indian heaven. To accomplish this, the favorite war
pony is led beneath the platform on which the body of the warrior is
placed at rest, and there strangled to death.
No signs indicating the recent presence of Indians were discovered by
our scouts until we neared the Republican river, where the trail of a
small war party was discovered running down one of the tributaries of
the Republican. After following it far enough to determine the futility
of pursuit, the attempt was relinquished. Upon crossing the Republican
we suddenly came in full view of about a hundred mounted warriors, who,
without waiting for a parley of any kind, set off as fast as their
horses could carry them. One squadron was sent in pursuit, but was
unable to overhaul the Indians. From the tracks we learned that the
Indians were mounted on horses stolen from the stage company. These
horses were of a superior quality, and purchased by the company at
a price about double that paid by the Government. This was the only
occasion on which we saw Indians before reaching the Platte river.
One of our camps was pitched on the banks of a small stream which had
been named Beaver Creek. Comstock informed us that here an opportunity
could be had of killing a few beavers, as they were very numerous all
along this stream, which had derived its name from that fact. We had
gone into camp about 3 P. M. The numerous stumps and fallen trees, as
well as the beaver dams, attested the accuracy of Comstock’s statement.
By his advice we waited until sundown before taking our stations on the
bank, not far above the site of our camp, as at that time the beaver
would be out and on shore.
Placing ourselves under Comstock’s guidance, a small party proceeded to
the ground selected, where we were distributed singly at stations along
the stream and quietly awaited the appearance of the beaver. Whether
the noise from the camp below or the passing of hunting parties of
soldiers in the afternoon had frightened them, I know not. I remained
at my station with my rifle in hand ready to fire at the first beaver
which should offer itself as a sacrifice, until the sun had disappeared
and darkness had begun to spread its heavy mantle over everything
around me. No living thing had thus far disturbed my reveries. My
station was on the immediate bank of the stream, on a path which had
evidently been made by wild animals of some kind. The bank rose above
me to a distance of nearly twenty feet. I was just on the point of
leaving my station and giving up all hope of getting a shot, when I
heard the rustling of the long dry grass a few yards lower down the
stream. Cocking my rifle, I stood ready to deliver its contents into
the approaching animal, which I presumed would be seen to be a beaver
as soon as it should emerge from the tall grass. It did not make its
appearance in the path in which I stood until within a few feet of
me, when to my great surprise I beheld instead of a beaver an immense
wildcat. It was difficult to say which of us was most surprised.
Without delaying long to think, I took a hasty aim and fired. The next
moment I heard a splash which relieved my mind as to which of us should
retain the right of way on shore, the path being too narrow to admit of
our passing each other. I had either wounded or killed the wildcat, and
its body in the darkness had been carried down with the current, as the
dogs which were soon attracted from the camp by my shot were unable to
find the trail on either bank.
Nothing occurred to break the monotony of our march until we reached
Fort McPherson, on the Platte river. The country over which we had
marched had been quite varied in its character, and as we neared the
Platte it became very broken and abrupt. It was only by availing
ourselves of Comstock’s superior knowledge of the country that we
found an easy exit from the deep cañons and rough defiles which were
encountered.
At Fort McPherson we refilled our wagons with supplies of rations
and forage. At the same time, in accordance with my instructions, I
reported by telegraph my arrival to General Sherman, who was then
further west on the line of the Union Pacific road. He did not
materially change my instructions, further than to direct me to remain
near Fort McPherson until his arrival, which would be in the course of
a few days.
Moving my command about twelve miles from the fort, I arranged for
a council with Pawnee Killer and a few other Sioux chiefs, who had
arrived at the Platte about the same time my command had. My object
was, if possible, to induce Pawnee Killer and his band, with such
other Indians as might choose to join them, to bring their lodges into
the vicinity of the fort, and remain at peace with the whites. Pawnee
Killer and his chiefs met me in council and the subject was discussed,
but with no positive conclusions. While protesting strongly in favor
of preserving peaceful relations with us, the subsequent conduct of
the chiefs only confirmed the suspicion that they had arranged the
council not to perfect a friendly agreement with us, but to spy out and
discover, if possible, our future plans and movements. In this they
were disappointed. Their numerous inquiries as to where we intended
proceeding when we resumed the march were unavailing. Desiring to leave
nothing undone to encourage a friendly attitude on their part, I gave
the chiefs on parting with them liberal presents of coffee, sugar, and
other articles gratifying to the taste of an Indian. They departed
after giving utterance to the strongest expressions of their desire
to live at peace with their “white brothers,” and promised to collect
their families and bring them in under protection of the fort, and thus
avoid becoming entangled in the ravages of an Indian war which now
promised to become general throughout the Plains. Pawnee Killer and his
chiefs never attempted to keep their promises.
General Sherman arrived at my camp next day. He had no confidence in
the faith of Pawnee Killer and his band, and desired that a party be
sent in pursuit at once, and bring the chiefs back and retain a few of
the prominent ones as hostages for the fulfilment of their agreement.
This was decided to be impracticable. It was then judged best for me
to move my command in a southwesterly direction to the forks of the
Republican, a section of country usually infested by Indians, and
there endeavor to find the village of Pawnee Killer, and compel him,
if necessary, to move nearer to the fort, so that we might distinguish
between those who were friendly and those who were not. Besides, it
was known that the Cheyennes and Sioux, whom we had pursued from the
Arkansas across the Smoky Hill river, had not crossed north of the
Platte, and they were rightly supposed to be located somewhere near
the forks of the Republican. I could reach this point in three days’
marching after leaving the Platte river, on whose banks we were then
encamped.
Owing to the rough and broken character of the bluffs which bound
the valley of the Platte on the south side, it was determined to
march up the men about fifteen miles from the fort and strike south
through an opening in the bluffs known as Jack Morrow’s cañon. General
Sherman rode with us as far as this point, where, after commending the
Cheyennes and Sioux to us in his expressive manner, he bade us good-by,
and crossed the river to the railroad station on the north side. Thus
far we had had no real Indian warfare. We were soon to experience it,
attended by all its frightful barbarities.