Before proceeding to narrate the incidents of the pursuit which led us
to the battle of the Washita, I will refer to the completion of our
hasty preparations to detach ourselves from the encumbrance of our
immense wagon train. In the last chapter it has been seen that the
train was to be left behind under the protection of an officer and
eighty cavalrymen, with orders to push after us, following our trail
in the snow as rapidly as the teams could move. Where or when it would
again join us no one could foretell; in all probability, however, not
until the pursuit had terminated and we had met and vanquished our
savage foes, or had been defeated by them. Under existing orders the
guard for the protection of our train was each day under the command
of the officer of the day, the tour of duty of the latter continuing
twenty-four hours, beginning in the morning. On that day the duties of
officer of the day fell in regular routine upon Captain Louis McLane
Hamilton, Seventh Cavalry, a grandson of Alexander Hamilton. Of course
this detail would require him to remain behind with the train while
his squadron, one of the finest in the command, would move forward to
battle under charge of another. To a soldier of Hamilton’s pride and
ambition, to be left behind in this inglorious manner was galling in
the extreme. He foresaw the situation at once, and the moment that
intelligence of the proposed movement reached him he came galloping
up from the rear in search of me. I was busily engaged at the time
superintending the hurried arrangements for commencing the pursuit.
Coming up to me, with a countenance depicting the most earnest anxiety,
his first words were to frame an inquiry as to whether I intended him
to remain behind. Fully appreciating his anxious desire to share with
his comrades the perils of the approaching conflict, and yet unable
to substitute, without injustice, another officer for him unless with
the consent of the former, I could not give him the encouragement he
desired. The moment that the plans for pursuit were being formed, I
remembered that the accidents of service were to deprive the pursuing
column of the presence and aid of one whose assistance in such an
emergency could always be confidently relied upon. Some of his brother
officers had bethought themselves of the same, and at once came to
me with the remark that “we ought to have Hamilton with us.” My only
reply was that while my desires were all one way my duty prescribed
that Hamilton should remain with the guard and train, it being his
detail, and it also being necessary that some officer should remain
upon this important duty. I answered his repeated request, that while
I desired him in command of his squadron, particularly then of all
times, I was powerless to have it so without being unjust to some other
officer. While forced to admit this to be true, he added, “It seems
hard that I must remain.” Finally I said to him that all I could do
would be to allow him to get some other officer to willingly take his
place with the train, adding that some officer might be found in the
command who, from indisposition or other causes, did not feel able to
undertake a rapid and tiresome pursuit such as we would probably have,
and under such circumstances I would gladly order the change. He at
once departed in search of some one who would assume his duties with
the train and leave him free to resume his post at the head of his
splendid squadron--that squadron in whose organization and equipment
he had displayed such energy and forethought, and whose superior
excellency and efficiency long bore the impress of his hand. I am
thus minute in detailing these circumstances affecting the transfer
of Captain Hamilton from one duty to another, as the sad sequel will
show how intimately connected the destiny of one of the parties was
with the slight matter of this change. Hamilton had been absent but a
few minutes when he returned overflowing with joy, and remarked that
an officer had been found who consented to take his place, ending with
the question, “Shall I join my squadron?” To this I gladly assented,
and he galloped to another part of the field, where his men were, to
hasten and superintend their preparations for the coming struggle. The
officer who had consented to take Hamilton’s place with the train had
that day been affected with partial snow-blindness, and felt himself
disqualified and unable to join in the pursuit, and it was exceedingly
proper for him under the circumstances to agree to the proposed change.
During all this time Elliot with his three companies of cavalry was
following hard and fast upon the trail left by the Indians in the deep
snow. By being informed, as we were, of the direction in which the
trail was leading, and that direction being favorable to our position,
the main command by moving due south would strike the trail of the
Indians, and of Elliot also, at some point not far in rear perhaps
of Elliot’s party. Everything being in readiness to set out at the
expiration of the allotted twenty minutes, “the advance” was sounded
and the pursuit on our part began. Our route carried us across the
broad, open plains, the snow over a foot in depth, with surface of
course unbroken. This rendered it exceedingly fatiguing to the horses
moving in the advance, and changes were frequently rendered necessary.
The weather, which during the past few days had been so bitterly cold,
moderated on that day sufficiently to melt the upper surface of the
snow. After leaving the wagon train, we continued our march rapidly
during the remaining hours of the forenoon and until the middle of
the afternoon. Still no tidings from Elliot’s party nor any sign of a
trail. No halt was made during the day either for rest or refreshment.
Toward evening we began to feel anxious concerning Elliot’s detachment.
Could it be that the Indians had discovered that they were pursued,
and had broken up into smaller parties or changed the direction of
their trail? If so, could Elliot’s messengers reach us in time to make
the information valuable to us? We had hurried along, our interest
increasing with each mile passed over, until the sun was not more than
one hour high above the western horizon; and still, strain our eyes as
we would, and scan the white surface of the plains in every direction
in our front, the snow seemed unbroken and undisturbed as far as the
eye could reach. Our scouts and Indian guides were kept far out in
front and on the proper flank, to discover, if possible, the trail.
At last one of the scouts gave the signal that the trail had been
discovered, and in a few moments the command had reached it, and we
were now moving with lighter and less anxious hearts. After studying
the trail our Osage warriors informed us that the Indians whose trail
we were pursuing were undoubtedly a war party, and had certainly passed
where we then were during the forenoon. This was encouraging, and a
free reign was given to our horses as we hastened along through the
snow. The object now was to overtake as soon as practicable the party
of Elliot, which from the heavy trail we could see was in advance of
us. The almost level and unbroken character of the country enabled
us to see for miles in all directions, and in this way we knew that
Elliot must be many miles ahead of our party. At the same time I could
see that we were gradually descending into a valley, probably of some
stream, and far in advance appeared the dim outline of timber, such as
usually fringes the banks of many of the Western streams. Selecting
a few well-mounted troopers and some of the scouts, I directed them
to set out at a moderate gallop to overtake Elliot, with orders to
the latter to halt at the first favorable point where wood and water
could be obtained, and await our arrival, informing him at the same
time that after allowing the men an hour to prepare a cup of coffee
and to feed and rest their horses, it was my intention to continue the
pursuit during the night--a measure to which I felt urged by the slight
thawing of the snow that day, which might result in our failure if
we permitted the Indians to elude us until the snow had disappeared.
Satisfied now that we were on the right course, our anxiety lessened,
but our interest increased. Soon after dark we reached the valley
whose timbered surface we had caught faint glimpses of hours before.
Down this valley and through this sparse timber the trail led us. Hour
after hour we struggled on, hoping to overtake the three troops in
advance, for hunger, unappeased since before daylight, began to assert
its demands in the strongest terms. Our faithful horses were likewise
in great need of both food and water, as well as rest, as neither had
been offered them since four o’clock in the morning. So far had Elliot
pushed his pursuit that our scouts were a long time in reaching him,
and it was nine o’clock at night when the main command arrived at the
point where he and his three troops were found halted. A stream of good
water with comparatively deep banks ran near by, while the valley at
this point was quite heavily timbered.
To enable the men to prepare a cup of coffee, and at the same time give
no evidence of our presence to the Indians, who, for all we knew, might
be not far from us, advantage was taken of the deep banks of the creek,
and by building small fires down under the edge of the bank, they were
prevented from being seen, except at a small distance. At the same time
the horses were relieved of their saddles and unbitted, and a good feed
of oats distributed to each. Officers and men were glad to partake
of the same quality of simple fare that night, consisting only of a
most welcome and refreshing cup of good strong coffee and a handful of
army crackers--“hard tack.” By waiting an hour we not only gained by
rest and refreshment, but the light of the moon would then probably
be sufficient to guide us on our night ride. When the hour had nearly
expired, we began our preparations in the most quiet manner to resume
the pursuit. No bugle calls were permitted, as in this peculiar country
sound travels a long distance, and we knew not but that our wily foes
were located near by. Before starting I conferred with our Indian
allies, all of whom were firmly convinced that our enemy’s village
was probably not far away, and most likely was in the valley in which
we then were, as the trail for some miles had led us down the stream
on whose banks we halted. “Little Beaver,” who acted as spokesman for
the Osages, seemed confident that we could overtake and surprise the
Indians we had been pursuing, and most probably follow them direct to
their village; but, much to my surprise, Little Beaver strongly advised
that we delay further pursuit until daylight, remaining concealed in
the timber as we were at the time. When asked for his reasons for
favoring such a course, he could give none of a satisfactory nature. I
then concluded that his disinclination to continue pursuit that night
arose from the natural reluctance, shared by all Indians, to attack
an unseen foe, whether concealed by darkness or other natural or
artificial means of shelter. Indians rarely attack between the hours
of dark and daylight, although their stealthy movements through the
country, either in search of an enemy or when attempting to elude them,
are often executed under cover of night.
As soon as each troop was in readiness to resume the pursuit, the troop
commander reported the fact at headquarters. Ten o’clock came and found
us in our saddles. Silently the command stretched out its long length
as the troopers filed off four abreast. First came two of our Osage
scouts on foot; these were to follow the trail and lead the command;
they were our guides, and the panther, creeping upon its prey, could
not have advanced more cautiously or quietly than did these friendly
Indians, as they seemed to glide rather than walk over the snow-clad
surface. To prevent the possibility of the command coming precipitately
upon our enemies, the two scouts were directed to keep three or four
hundred yards in advance of all others; then came, in single file, the
remainder of our Osage guides and the white scouts--among the rest
California Joe. With these I rode, that I might be as near the advance
guard as possible. The cavalry followed in rear, at the distance of
a quarter or half a mile; this precaution was necessary, from the
fact that the snow, which had thawed slightly during the day, was
then freezing, forming a crust which, broken by the tread of so many
hundreds of feet, produced a noise capable of being heard at a long
distance. Orders were given prohibiting even a word being uttered above
a whisper. No one was permitted to strike a match or light a pipe--the
latter a great deprivation to the soldier. In this silent manner we
rode mile after mile. Occasionally an officer would ride by my side and
whisper some inquiry or suggestion, but aside from this our march was
unbroken by sound or deed. At last we discovered that our two guides in
front had halted, and were awaiting my arrival. Word was quietly sent
to halt the column until inquiry in front could be made. Upon coming up
with the two Osages we were furnished an example of the wonderful and
peculiar powers of the Indian. One of them could speak broken English,
and in answer to my question as to “What is the matter?” he replied,
“Me don’t know, but me smell fire.” By this time several of the
officers had quietly ridden up, and upon being informed of the Osage’s
remark, each endeavored, by sniffing the air, to verify or disprove the
report. All united in saying that our guide was mistaken. Some said he
was probably frightened, but we were unable to shake the confidence of
the Osage warrior in his first opinion. I then directed him and his
companion to advance even more cautiously than before, and the column,
keeping up the interval, resumed its march. After proceeding about half
a mile, perhaps further, again our guides halted, and upon coming up
with them I was greeted with the remark, uttered in a whisper, “Me told
you so;” and sure enough, looking in the direction indicated, were to
be seen the embers of a wasted fire, scarcely a handful, yet enough to
prove that our guide was right, and to cause us to feel the greater
confidence in him. The discovery of these few coals of fire produced
almost breathless excitement. The distance from where we stood was from
seventy-five to a hundred yards, not in the line of our march, but
directly to our left, in the edge of the timber. We knew at once that
none but Indians, and they hostile, had built that fire. Where were
they at that moment? Perhaps sleeping in the vicinity of the fire.
It was almost certain to our minds that the Indians we had been
pursuing were the builders of the fire. Were they still there and
asleep? We were too near already to attempt to withdraw undiscovered.
Our only course was to determine the facts at once, and be prepared
for the worst. I called for a few volunteers to quietly approach the
fire and discover whether there were Indians in the vicinity; if not,
to gather such information as was obtainable, as to their numbers and
departure. All the Osages and a few of the scouts quickly dismounted,
and with rifles in readiness and fingers on the triggers silently made
their way to the nearest point of the timber, Little Beaver and Hard
Rope leading the way. After they had disappeared in the timber they
still had to pass over more than half the distance before reaching the
fire. These moments seemed like hours, and those of us who were left
sitting on our horses, in the open moonlight, and within easy range
from the spot where the fire was located, felt anything but comfortable
during this suspense. If Indians, as then seemed highly probable, were
sleeping around the fire, our scouts would arouse them and we would
be in fair way to be picked off without being in a position to defend
ourselves. The matter was soon determined. Our scouts soon arrived at
the fire, and discovered it to be deserted. Again did the skill and
knowledge of our Indian allies come in play. Had they not been with
us we should undoubtedly have assumed that the Indians who had had
occasion to build the fire and those we were pursuing constituted one
party. From examining the fire and observing the great number of pony
tracks in the snow, the Osages arrived at a different conclusion, and
were convinced that we were then on the ground used by the Indians
for grazing their herds of ponies. The fire had been kindled by the
Indian boys, who attend to the herding, to warm themselves by, and in
all probability we were then within two or three miles of the village.
I will not endeavor to describe the renewed hope and excitement that
sprung up. Again we set out, this time more cautiously if possible than
before, the command and scouts moving at a greater distance in rear.
In order to judge of the situation more correctly, I this time
accompanied the two Osages. Silently we advanced, I mounted, they on
foot, keeping at the head of my horse. Upon nearing the crest of each
hill, as is invariably the Indian custom, one of the guides would
hasten a few steps in advance and peer cautiously over the hill.
Accustomed to this, I was not struck by observing it until once, when
the same one who discovered the fire advanced cautiously to the crest
and looked carefully into the valley beyond. I saw him place his hand
above his eyes as if looking intently at some object, then crouch
down and come creeping back to where I waited for him. “What is it?”
I inquired as soon as he reached my horse’s side. “Heaps Injuns down
there,” pointing in the direction from which he had just come. Quickly
dismounting and giving the reins to the other guide, I accompanied the
Osage to the crest, both of us crouching low so as not to be seen in
the moonlight against the horizon. Looking in the direction indicated,
I could indistinctly recognize the presence of a large body of animals
of some kind in the valley below, and at a distance which then seemed
not more than half a mile. I looked at them long and anxiously, the
guide uttering not a word, but was unable to discover anything in their
appearance different from what might be presented by a herd of buffalo
under similar circumstances. Turning to the Osage, I inquired in a low
tone why he thought there were Indians there. “Me heard dog bark,”
was the satisfactory reply. Indians are noted for the large number of
dogs always found in their villages, but never accompanying their war
parties. I waited quietly to be convinced; I was assured, but wanted
to be doubly so. I was rewarded in a moment by hearing the barking of
a dog in the heavy timber off to the right of the herd, and soon after
I heard the tinkling of a small bell; this convinced me that it was
really the Indian herd I then saw, the bell being one worn around the
neck of some pony who was probably the leader of the herd. I turned to
retrace my steps when another sound was borne to my ear through the
cold, clear atmosphere of the valley--it was the distant cry of an
infant; and savages though they were, and justly outlawed by the number
and atrocity of their recent murders and depredations on the helpless
settlers of the frontier, I could not but regret that in a war such as
we were forced to engage in, the mode and circumstances of battle would
possibly prevent discrimination.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF THE WASHITA.]
Leaving the two Osages to keep a careful lookout, I hastened back until
I met the main party of the scouts and Osages. They were halted and
a message sent back to halt the cavalry, enjoining complete silence,
and directing every officer to ride to the point we then occupied. The
hour was then past midnight. Soon they came, and after dismounting
and collecting in a little circle, I informed them of what I had seen
and heard; and in order that they might individually learn as much
as possible of the character of the ground and the location of the
village, I proposed that all should remove their sabres, that their
clanking might make no noise, and proceed gently to the crest and there
obtain a view of the valley beyond. This was done; not a word was
spoken until we crouched together and cast our eyes in the direction
of the herd and village. In whispers I briefly pointed out everything
that was to be seen, then motioned all to return to where we had left
our sabres; then, standing in a group upon the ground or crust of snow,
the plan of the attack was explained to all and each assigned his part.
The general plan was to employ the hours between then and daylight to
completely surround the village, and, at daybreak, or as soon as it was
barely light enough for the purpose, to attack the Indians from all
sides. The command, numbering, as has been stated, about eight hundred
mounted men, was divided into four nearly equal detachments. Two of
them set out at once, as they had each to make a circuitous march of
several miles in order to arrive at the points assigned them from which
to make their attack. The third detachment moved to its position about
an hour before day, and until that time remained with the main or
fourth column. This last, whose movements I accompanied, was to make
the attack from the point from which we had first discovered the herd
and village. Major Elliot commanded the column embracing G, H, and M
troops, Seventh Cavalry, which moved around from our left to a position
almost in rear of the village; while Colonel Thompson commanded the
one consisting of B and F troops, which moved in a corresponding
manner from our right to a position which was to connect with that of
Major Elliot. Colonel Myers commanded the third column, composed of E
and I troops, which was to take position in the valley and timber a
little less than a mile to my right. By this disposition it was hoped
to prevent the escape of every inmate of the village. That portion of
the command which I proposed to accompany consisted of A, C, D, and
K troops, Seventh Cavalry, the Osages and scouts, and Colonel Cook
with his forty sharpshooters. Captain Hamilton commanded one of the
squadrons, Colonel West the other. After the first two columns had
departed for their posts--it was still four hours before the hour of
attack--the men of the other two columns were permitted to dismount,
but much intense suffering was unavoidably sustained. The night grew
extremely cold towards morning; no fires of course could be permitted,
and the men were even ordered to desist from stamping their feet and
walking back and forth to keep warm, as the crushing of the snow
beneath produced so much noise that it might give the alarm to our wily
enemies.
During all these long weary hours of this terribly cold and comfortless
night each man sat, stood, or lay on the snow by his horse, holding to
the rein of the latter. The officers, buttoning their huge overcoats
closely about them, collected in knots of four or five, and, seated
or reclining upon the snow’s hard crust, discussed the probabilities
of the coming battle--for battle we knew it would be, and we could
not hope to conquer or kill the warriors of an entire village without
suffering in return more or less injury. Some, wrapping their capes
about their heads, spread themselves at full length upon the snow and
were apparently soon wrapt in deep slumber. After being satisfied that
all necessary arrangements were made for the attack, I imitated the
example of some of my comrades, and gathering the cavalry cape of my
greatcoat about my head lay down and slept soundly for perhaps an hour.
At the end of that time I awoke, and on consulting my watch found there
remained nearly two hours before we would move to the attack. Walking
about among the horses and troopers, I found the latter generally
huddled at the feet of the former in squads of three and four, in the
endeavor to keep warm. Occasionally I would find a small group engaged
in conversation, the muttered tones and voices strangely reminding
me of those heard in the death-chamber. The officers had disposed of
themselves in similar but various ways; here at one place were several
stretched out together upon the snow, the body of one being used by the
others as a pillow. Nearly all were silent; conversation had ceased,
and those who were prevented by the severe cold from obtaining sleep
were no doubt fully occupied in their minds with thoughts upon the
morrow and the fate that might be in store for them. Seeing a small
group collected under the low branches of a tree which stood a little
distance from the ground occupied by the troops, I made my way there to
find the Osage warriors with their chiefs Little Beaver and Hard Rope.
They were wrapped up in their blankets sitting in a circle, and had
evidently made no effort to sleep during the night. It was plain to be
seen that they regarded the occasion as a momentous one, and that the
coming battle had been the sole subject of their conference. What the
views expressed by them were I did not learn until after the engagement
was fought, when they told me what ideas they had entertained regarding
the manner in which the white men would probably conduct and terminate
the struggle next day. After the success of the day was decided, the
Osages told me that, with the suspicion so natural and peculiar to the
Indian nature, they had, in discussing the proposed attack upon the
Indian village, concluded that we would be outnumbered by the occupants
of the village, who of course would fight with the utmost desperation
in defence of their lives and lodges, and to prevent a complete
defeat of our forces or to secure a drawn battle, we might be induced
to engage in a parley with the hostile tribe, and on coming to an
agreement we would probably, to save ourselves, offer to yield up our
Osage allies as a compromise measure between our enemies and ourselves.
They also mistrusted the ability of the whites to make a successful
attack upon a hostile village, located--as this one was known to be--in
heavy timber, and aided by the natural banks of the stream. Disaster
seemed certain in the minds of the Osages to follow us, if we attacked
a force of unknown strength and numbers; and the question with them
was to secure such a position in the attack as to be able promptly
to detect any move disadvantageous to them. With this purpose they
came to the conclusion that the standard-bearer was a very important
personage, and neither he nor his standard would be carried into danger
or exposed to the bullets of the enemy. They determined therefore to
take their station immediately behind my standard-bearer when the lines
became formed for attack, to follow him during the action, and thus be
able to watch our movements, and if we were successful over our foes to
aid us; if the battle should go against us, then they, being in a safe
position, could take advantage of circumstances and save themselves as
best they might.
Turning from our Osage friends, who were, unknown to us, entertaining
such doubtful opinions as to our fidelity to them, I joined another
group near by, consisting of most of the white scouts. Here were
California Joe and several of his companions. One of the latter
deserves a passing notice. He was a low, heavy-set Mexican, with
features resembling somewhat those of the Ethiopian--thick lips,
depressed nose, and low forehead. He was quite a young man, probably
not more than twenty-five years of age, but had passed the greater
portion of his life with the Indians, had adopted their habits of
life and modes of dress, and had married among them. Familiar with
the language of the Cheyennes and other neighboring tribes, he was
invaluable both as a scout and interpreter. His real name was Romero,
but some of the officers of the command, with whom he was a sort of
favorite, had dubbed him Romeo, and by this name he was always known, a
sobriquet to which he responded as readily as if he had been christened
under it; never protesting, like the original Romeo,
Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he’s some other where.
The scouts, like nearly all the other members of the command, had
been interchanging opinions as to the result of the movements of
the following day. Not sharing the mistrust and suspicion of the
Osage guides, yet the present experience was in many respects new to
them, and to some the issue seemed at least shrouded in uncertainty.
Addressing the group, I began the conversation with the question as
to what they thought of the prospect of our having a fight. “Fight!”
responded California Joe; “I havn’t nary doubt concernin’ that part uv
the business; what I’ve been tryin’ to get through my topknot all night
is whether we’ll run aginst more than we bargain fur.” “Then you do not
think the Indians will run away, Joe?” “Run away! How in creation can
Injuns or anybody else run away when we’ll have ’em clean surrounded
afore daylight?” “Well, suppose then that we succeed in surrounding the
village, do you think we can hold our own against the Indians?” “That’s
the very pint that’s been botherin’ me ever since we planted ourselves
down here, and the only conclusion I kin come at is that it’s purty
apt to be one thing or t’other; if we pump these Injuns at daylight,
we’re either goin’ to make a spoon or spile a horn, an’ that’s my
candid judgment, sure. One thing’s certain, ef them Injuns doesn’t bar
anything uv us till we open on ’em at daylight, they’ll be the most
powerful ’stonished redskins that’s been in these parts lately--they
will, sure. An’ ef we git the bulge on ’em, and keep puttin’ it to
’em sort a lively like, we’ll sweep the platter--thar won’t be nary
trick left for ’em. As the deal stands now, we hold the keerds and are
holdin’ over ’em; they’ve got to straddle our blind or throw up their
hands. Howsomever, thar’s a mighty sight in the draw.”
California Joe continued in this strain, and, by a prolific use of
terms connected with other transactions besides fighting Indians, did
not fail to impress his hearers that his opinion in substance was that
our attack in the morning was to result in overwhelming success to us,
or that we would be utterly routed and dispersed--that there would be
no drawn battle.
The night passed in quiet. I anxiously watched the opening signs of
dawn in order to put the column in motion. We were only a few hundred
yards from the point from which we were to attack. The moon disappeared
about two hours before dawn, and left us enshrouded in thick and utter
darkness, making the time seem to drag even slower than before.
At last faint signs of approaching day were visible, and I proceeded
to collect the officers, awakening those who slept. We were standing
in a group near the head of the column, when suddenly our attention
was attracted by a remarkable sight, and for a time we felt that the
Indians had discovered our presence. Directly beyond the crest of
the hill which separated us from the village, and in a line with the
supposed location of the latter, we saw rising slowly but perceptibly,
as we thought, up from the village, and appearing in bold relief
against the dark sky as a background, something which we could only
compare to a signal rocket, except that its motion was slow and
regular. All eyes were turned to it in blank astonishment, and but one
idea seemed to be entertained, and that was that one or both of the two
attacking columns under Elliot or Thompson had encountered a portion
of the village, and this that we saw was the signal to other portions
of the band near at hand. Slowly and majestically it continued to rise
above the crest of the hill, first appearing as a small brilliant
flaming globe of bright golden hue. As it ascended still higher it
seemed to increase in size, to move more slowly, while its colors
rapidly changed from one to the other, exhibiting in turn the most
beautiful combinations of prismatic tints. There seemed to be not the
shadow of a doubt that we were discovered. The strange apparition in
the heavens maintained its steady course upward. One anxious spectator,
observing it apparently at a standstill, exclaimed, “How long it hangs
fire! why don’t it explode?” still keeping the idea of a signal rocket
in mind. It had risen perhaps to the height of half a degree above
the horizon as observed from our position, when, lo! the mystery was
dispelled. Rising above the mystifying influences of the atmosphere,
that which had appeared so suddenly before us, and excited our greatest
apprehensions, developed into the brightest and most beautiful of
morning stars. Often since that memorable morning have I heard officers
remind each other of the strange appearance which had so excited our
anxiety and alarm. In less perilous moments we probably would have
regarded it as a beautiful phenomenon of nature, of which so many are
to be witnessed through the pure atmosphere of the plains.
All were ordered to get ready to advance; not a word to officer or
men was spoken above undertone. It began growing lighter in the
east, and we moved forward toward the crest of the hill. Up to this
time two of the officers and one of the Osages had remained on the
hill overlooking the valley beyond, so as to detect any attempt at
a movement on the part of the occupants of the village below. These
now rejoined the troops. Colonel West’s squadron was formed in line
on the right, Captain Hamilton’s squadron in line on the left, while
Colonel Cook with his forty sharpshooters was formed in advance of the
left, dismounted. Although the early morning air was freezingly cold,
the men were directed to remove their overcoats and haversacks, so as
to render them free in their movements. Before advancing beyond the
crest of the hill, strict orders were issued prohibiting the firing of
a single shot until the signal to attack should be made. The other
three detachments had been informed before setting out that the main
column would attack promptly at daylight, without waiting to ascertain
whether they were in position or not. In fact it would be impracticable
to communicate with either of the first two until the attack began.
The plan was for each party to approach as closely to the village as
possible without being discovered, and there await the approach of
daylight. The regimental band was to move with my detachment, and it
was understood that the band should strike up the instant the attack
opened. Colonel Myers, commanding the third party, was also directed
to move one-half his detachment dismounted. In this order we began to
descend the slope leading down to the village. The distance to the
timber in the valley proved greater than it had appeared to the eye in
the darkness of the night. We soon reached the outskirts of the herd
of ponies. The latter seemed to recognize us as hostile parties and
moved quickly away. The light of day was each minute growing stronger,
and we feared discovery before we could approach near enough to charge
the village. The movement of our horses over the crusted snow produced
considerable noise, and would doubtless have led to our detection but
for the fact that the Indians, if they heard it at all, presumed it
was occasioned by their herd of ponies. I would have given much at
that moment to know the whereabouts of the first two columns sent out.
Had they reached their assigned positions, or had unseen and unknown
obstacles delayed or misled them? These were questions which could not
then be answered. We had now reached the level of the valley, and began
advancing in line toward the heavy timber in which and close at hand we
knew the village was situated.
Immediately in rear of my horse came the band, all mounted, and each
with his instrument in readiness to begin playing the moment their
leader, who rode at their head, and who kept his cornet to his lips,
should receive the signal. I had previously told him to play “Garry
Owen” as the opening piece. We had approached near enough to the
village now to plainly catch a view here and there of the tall white
lodges as they stood in irregular order among the trees. From the
openings at the top of some of them we could perceive faint columns of
smoke ascending, the occupants no doubt having kept up their feeble
fires during the entire night. We had approached so near the village
that from the dead silence which reigned I feared the lodges were
deserted, the Indians having fled before we advanced. I was about to
turn in my saddle and direct the signal for attack to be given--still
anxious as to where the other detachments were--when a single rifle
shot rang sharp and clear on the far side of the village from where we
were. Quickly turning to the band leader, I directed him to give us
“Garry Owen.” At once the rollicking notes of that familiar marching
and fighting air sounded forth through the valley, and in a moment
were reëchoed back from the opposite sides by the loud and continued
cheers of the men of the other detachments, who, true to their orders,
were there and in readiness to pounce upon the Indians the moment the
attack began. In this manner the battle of the Washita commenced. The
bugles sounded the charge, and the entire command dashed rapidly into
the village. The Indians were caught napping; but realizing at once
the dangers of their situation, they quickly overcame their first
surprise and in an instant seized their rifles, bows, and arrows, and
sprang behind the nearest trees, while some leaped into the stream,
nearly waist deep, and using the bank as a rifle-pit, began a vigorous
and determined defence. Mingled with the exultant cheers of my men
could be heard the defiant war-whoop of the warriors, who from the
first fought with a desperation and courage which no race of men could
surpass. Actual possession of the village and its lodges was ours
within a few moments after the charge was made, but this was an empty
victory unless we could vanquish the late occupants, who were then
pouring in a rapid and well-directed fire from their stations behind
trees and banks. At the first onset a considerable number of the
Indians rushed from the village in the direction from which Elliot’s
party had attacked. Some broke through the lines, while others came in
contact with the mounted troopers, and were killed or captured.
Before engaging in the fight, orders had been given to prevent
the killing of any but the fighting strength of the village; but
in a struggle of this character it is impossible at all times to
discriminate, particularly when, in a hand-to-hand conflict, such as
the one the troops were then engaged in, the squaws are as dangerous
adversaries as the warriors, while Indian boys between ten and fifteen
years of age were found as expert and determined in the use of the
pistol and bow and arrow as the older warriors. Of these facts we had
numerous illustrations. Major Benteen, in leading the attack of his
squadron through the timber below the village, encountered an Indian
boy, scarcely fourteen years of age; he was well mounted, and was
endeavoring to make his way through the lines. The object these Indians
had in attempting this movement we were then ignorant of, but soon
learned to our sorrow. This boy rode boldly toward the Major, seeming
to invite a contest. His youthful bearing, and not being looked upon as
a combatant, induced Major Benteen to endeavor to save him by making
“peace signs” to him and obtaining his surrender, when he could be
placed in a position of safety until the battle was terminated; but the
young savage desired and would accept no such friendly concessions. He
regarded himself as a warrior, and the son of a warrior, and as such he
purposed to do a warrior’s part. With revolver in hand he dashed at the
Major, who still could not regard him as anything but a harmless lad.
Levelling his weapon as he rode, he fired, but either from excitement
or the changing positions of both parties, his aim was defective and
the shot whistled harmlessly by Major Benteen’s head. Another followed
in quick succession, but with no better effect. All this time the
dusky little chieftain boldly advanced, to lessen the distance between
himself and his adversary. A third bullet was sped on its errand, and
this time to some purpose, as it passed through the neck of the Major’s
horse, close to the shoulder. Making a final but ineffectual appeal to
him to surrender, and seeing him still preparing to fire again, the
Major was forced in self-defence to level his revolver, and despatch
him, although as he did so it was with admiration for the plucky spirit
exhibited by the lad, and regret often expressed that no other course
under the circumstances was left him. Attached to the saddle bow of
the young Indian hung a beautifully wrought pair of small moccasins,
elaborately ornamented with beads. One of the Major’s troopers
afterward secured these and presented them to him. These furnished the
link of evidence by which we subsequently ascertained who the young
chieftain was--a title which was justly his, both by blood and bearing.
We had gained the centre of the village, and were in the midst of the
lodges, while on all sides could be heard the sharp crack of the Indian
rifles and the heavy responses from the carbines of the troopers.
After disposing of the smaller and scattering parties of warriors,
who had attempted a movement down the valley, and in which some were
successful, there was but little opportunity left for the successful
employment of mounted troops. As the Indians by this time had taken
cover behind logs and trees, and under the banks of the stream which
flowed through the centre of the village, from which stronghold it
was impracticable to dislodge them by the use of mounted men, a large
portion of the command was at once ordered to fight on foot, and the
men were instructed to take advantage of the trees and other natural
means of cover, and fight the Indians in their own style. Cook’s
sharpshooters had adopted this method from the first, and with telling
effect. Slowly but steadily the Indians were driven from behind the
trees, and those who escaped the carbine bullets posted themselves with
their companions who were already firing from the banks. One party of
troopers came upon a squaw endeavoring to make her escape, leading by
the hand a little white boy, a prisoner in the hands of the Indians,
and who doubtless had been captured by some of their war parties
during a raid upon the settlements. Who or where his parents were, or
whether still alive or murdered by the Indians, will never be known,
as the squaw, finding herself and prisoner about to be surrounded by
the troops, and her escape cut off, determined, with savage malignity,
that the triumph of the latter should not embrace the rescue of the
white boy. Casting her eyes quickly in all directions, to convince
herself that escape was impossible, she drew from beneath her blanket
a huge knife and plunged it into the almost naked body of her captive.
The next moment retributive justice reached her in the shape of a
well-directed bullet from one of the troopers’ carbines. Before the men
could reach them life was extinct in the bodies of both the squaw and
her unknown captive.
The desperation with which the Indians fought may be inferred from the
following: Seventeen warriors had posted themselves in a depression
in the ground, which enabled them to protect their bodies completely
from the fire of our men, and it was only when the Indians raised their
heads to fire that the troopers could aim with any prospect of success.
All efforts to drive the warriors from this point proved abortive,
and resulted in severe loss to our side. They were only vanquished
at last by our men securing positions under cover and picking them
off by sharpshooting as they exposed themselves to get a shot at the
troopers. Finally the last one was despatched in this manner. In a deep
ravine near the suburbs of the village the dead bodies of thirty-eight
warriors were reported after the fight terminated. Many of the squaws
and children had very prudently not attempted to leave the village when
we attacked it, but remained concealed inside their lodges. All these
escaped injury, although when surrounded by the din and wild excitement
of the fight, and in close proximity to the contending parties, their
fears overcame some of them, and they gave vent to their despair by
singing the death song, a combination of weird-like sounds which were
suggestive of anything but musical tones. As soon as we had driven the
warriors from the village, and the fighting was pushed to the country
outside, I directed “Romeo,” the interpreter, to go around to all the
lodges and assure the squaws and children remaining in them that they
would be unharmed and kindly cared for; at the same time he was to
assemble them in the large lodges designated for that purpose, which
were standing near the centre of the village. This was quite a delicate
mission, as it was difficult to convince the squaws and children that
they had anything but death to expect at our hands.
It was perhaps ten o’clock in the forenoon, and the fight was still
raging, when to our surprise we saw a small party of Indians collected
on a knoll a little over a mile below the village, and in the direction
taken by those Indians who had effected an escape through our lines at
the commencement of the attack. My surprise was not so great at first,
as I imagined that the Indians we saw were those who had contrived to
escape, and having procured their ponies from the herd had mounted
them and were then anxious spectators of the fight, which they felt
themselves too weak in numbers to participate in. In the mean time
the herds of ponies belonging to the village, on being alarmed by the
firing and shouts of the contestants, had, from a sense of imagined
security or custom, rushed into the village, where details of troopers
were made to receive them. California Joe, who had been moving about
in a promiscuous and independent manner, came galloping into the
village, and reported that a large herd of ponies was to be seen near
by, and requested authority and some men to bring them in. The men were
otherwise employed just then, but he was authorized to collect and
drive in the herd if practicable. He departed on his errand, and I had
forgotten all about him and the ponies, when in the course of half an
hour I saw a herd of nearly three hundred ponies coming on the gallop
toward the village, driven by a couple of squaws, who were mounted,
and had been concealed near by, no doubt; while bringing up the rear
was California Joe, riding his favorite mule, and whirling about his
head a long lariat, using it as a whip in urging the herd forward. He
had captured the squaws while endeavoring to secure the ponies, and
very wisely had employed his captives to assist in driving the herd.
By this time the group of Indians already discovered outside our lines
had increased until it numbered upwards of a hundred. Examining them
through my field glass, I could plainly perceive that they were all
mounted warriors; not only that, but they were armed and caparisoned
in full war costume, nearly all wearing the bright-colored war-bonnets
and floating their lance pennants. Constant accessions to their numbers
were to be seen arriving from beyond the hill on which they stood. All
this seemed inexplicable. A few Indians might have escaped through our
lines when the attack on the village began, but only a few, and even
these must have gone with little or nothing in their possession save
their rifles and perhaps a blanket. Who could these new parties be, and
from whence came they? To solve these troublesome questions I sent for
“Romeo,” and taking him with me to one of the lodges occupied by the
squaws, I interrogated one of the latter as to who were the Indians to
be seen assembling on the hill below the village. She informed me, to a
surprise on my part almost equal to that of the Indians at our sudden
appearance at daylight, that just below the village we then occupied,
and which was a part of the Cheyenne tribe, were located in succession
the winter villages of all the hostile tribes of the southern plains
with which we were at war, including the Arrapahoes, Kiowas, the
remaining band of Cheyennes, the Comanches, and a portion of the
Apaches; that the nearest village was about two miles distant, and the
others stretched along through the timbered valley to the one furthest
off, which was not over ten miles.
What was to be done?--for I needed no one to tell me that we were
certain to be attacked, and that, too, by greatly superior numbers,
just as soon as the Indians below could make their arrangements to do
so; and they had probably been busily employed at these arrangements
ever since the sound of firing had reached them in the early morning,
and been reported from village to village. Fortunately, affairs took a
favorable turn in the combat in which we were then engaged, and the
firing had almost died away. Only here and there where some warrior
still maintained his position was the fight continued. Leaving as few
men as possible to look out for these, I hastily collected and reformed
my command, and posted them in readiness for the attack which we all
felt was soon to be made; for already at different points and in more
than one direction we could see more than enough warriors to outnumber
us, and we knew they were only waiting the arrival of the chiefs and
warriors from the lower villages before making any move against us.
In the meanwhile our temporary hospital had been established in the
centre of the village, where the wounded were receiving such surgical
care as circumstances would permit. Our losses had been severe; indeed
we were not then aware how great they had been. Hamilton, who rode at
my side as we entered the village, and whose soldierly tones I heard
for the last time as he calmly cautioned his squadron, “Now, men, keep
cool, fire low, and not too rapidly,” was among the first victims of
the opening charge, having been shot from his saddle by a bullet from
an Indian rifle. He died instantly. His lifeless remains were tenderly
carried by some of his troopers to the vicinity of the hospital. Soon
afterwards I saw four troopers coming from the front bearing between
them, in a blanket, a wounded soldier; galloping to them, I discovered
Colonel Barnitz, another troop commander, who was almost in a dying
condition, having been shot by a rifle bullet directly through the
body in the vicinity of the heart. Of Major Elliot, the officer second
in rank, nothing had been seen since the attack at daylight, when he
rode with his detachment into the village. He, too, had evidently been
killed, but as yet we knew not where or how he had fallen. Two other
officers had received wounds, while the casualties among the enlisted
men were also large. The sergeant-major of the regiment, who was with
me when the first shot was heard, had not been seen since that moment.
We were not in as effective condition by far as when the attack was
made, yet we were soon to be called upon to contend against a force
immensely superior to the one with which we had been engaged during the
early hours of the day. The captured herds of ponies were carefully
collected inside our lines, and so guarded as to prevent their stampede
or recapture by the Indians. Our wounded, and the immense amount of
captured property in the way of ponies, lodges, etc., as well as our
prisoners, were obstacles in the way of our attempting an offensive
movement against the lower villages. To have done this would have
compelled us to divide our forces, when it was far from certain that
we could muster strength enough united to repel the attacks of the
combined tribes. On all sides of us the Indians could now be seen in
considerable numbers, so that from being the surrounding party, as
we had been in the morning, we now found ourselves surrounded and
occupying the position of defenders of the village. Fortunately for
us, as the men had been expending a great many rounds, Major Bell, the
quartermaster, who with a small escort was endeavoring to reach us
with a fresh supply of ammunition, had by constant exertion and hard
marching succeeded in doing so, and now appeared on the ground with
several thousand rounds of carbine ammunition, a reinforcement greatly
needed. He had no sooner arrived safely than the Indians attacked from
the direction from which he came. How he had managed to elude their
watchful eyes I never could comprehend, unless their attention had been
so completely absorbed in watching our movements inside as to prevent
them from keeping an eye out to discover what might be transpiring
elsewhere.
Issuing a fresh supply of ammunition to those most in want of it, the
fight soon began generally at all points of the circle. For such in
reality had our line of battle become--a continuous and unbroken circle
of which the village was about the centre. Notwithstanding the great
superiority in numbers of the Indians, they fought with excessive
prudence and a lack of that confident manner which they usually
manifest when encountering greatly inferior numbers--a result due, no
doubt, to the fate which had overwhelmed our first opponents. Besides,
the timber and the configuration of the ground enabled us to keep our
men concealed until their services were actually required. It seemed
to be the design and wish of our antagonists to draw us away from
the village; but in this they were foiled. Seeing that they did not
intend to press the attack just then, about two hundred of my men were
ordered to pull down the lodges in the village and collect the captured
property in huge piles preparatory to burning. This was done in the
most effectual manner. When everything had been collected the torch
was applied, and all that was left of the village were a few heaps
of blackened ashes. Whether enraged at the sight of this destruction
or from other cause, the attack soon became general along our entire
line, and pressed with so much vigor and audacity that every available
trooper was required to aid in meeting these assaults. The Indians
would push a party of well-mounted warriors close up to our lines in
the endeavor to find a weak point through which they might venture,
but in every attempt were driven back. I now concluded, as the village
was off our hands and our wounded had been collected, that offensive
measures might be adopted. To this end several of the squadrons were
mounted and ordered to advance and attack the enemy wherever force
sufficient was exposed to be a proper object of attack, but at the same
time to be cautious as to ambuscades. Colonel Weir, who had succeeded
to the command of Hamilton’s squadron, Colonels Benteen and Myers
with their respective squadrons, all mounted, advanced and engaged
the enemy. The Indians resisted every step taken by the troops, while
every charge made by the latter was met or followed by a charge from
the Indians, who continued to appear in large numbers at unexpected
times and places. The squadrons acting in support of each other, and
the men in each being kept well in hand, were soon able to force the
line held by the Indians to yield at any point assailed. This being
followed up promptly, the Indians were driven at every point and forced
to abandon the field to us. Yet they would go no further than they
were actually driven. It was now about three o’clock in the afternoon.
I knew that the officer left in charge of the train and eighty men
would push after us, follow our trail, and endeavor to reach us at the
earliest practicable moment. From the tops of some of the highest peaks
or round hills in the vicinity of the village I knew the Indians could
reconnoitre the country for miles in all directions. I feared if we
remained as we were then until the following day, the Indians might in
this manner discover the approach of our train and detach a sufficient
body of warriors to attack and capture it; and its loss to us, aside
from that of its guard, would have proven most serious, leaving us in
the heart of the enemy’s country, in midwinter, totally out of supplies
for both men and horses.
By actual count we had in our possession eight hundred and seventy-five
captured ponies, so wild and unused to white men that it was difficult
to herd them. What we were to do with them was puzzling, as they could
not have been led had we been possessed of the means of doing this;
neither could we drive them as the Indians were accustomed to do. And
even if we could take them with us, either the one way or the other,
it was anything but wise or desirable on our part to do so, as such a
large herd of ponies, constituting so much wealth in the eyes of the
Indians, would have been too tempting a prize to the warriors who had
been fighting us all the afternoon, and to effect their recapture they
would have followed and waylaid us day and night, with every prospect
of success, until we should have arrived at a place of safety. Besides,
we had upwards of sixty prisoners in our hands, to say nothing of
our wounded, to embarrass our movements. We had achieved a great and
important success over the hostile tribes; the problem now was how to
retain our advantage and steer safely through the difficulties which
seemed to surround our position. The Indians had suffered a telling
defeat, involving great losses in life and valuable property. Could
they succeed, however, in depriving us of the train and supplies, and
in doing this accomplish the killing or capture of the escort, it would
go far to offset the damage we had been able to inflict upon them and
render our victory an empty one.
As I deliberated on these points in the endeavor to conclude upon that
which would be our wisest course, I could look in nearly all directions
and see the warriors at a distance collected in groups on the tops
of the highest hills, apparently waiting and watching our next move
that they might act accordingly. To guide my command safely out of the
difficulties which seemed just then to beset them, I again had recourse
to that maxim in war which teaches a commander to do that which his
enemy neither expects nor desires him to do.