The close of the last article left my command on the Washita, still
surrounded by a superior but badly defeated force of Indians. We were
burdened with a considerable number of prisoners and quite a number of
our own and the enemy’s wounded, and had in our possession nearly nine
hundred ponies which we had just captured from the enemy. We were far
away--just how far we did not know--from our train of supplies, and
the latter with its escort was in danger of capture and destruction by
the savages if we did not act to prevent it. We felt convinced that
we could not, in the presence of so large a body of hostile Indians,
hope to make a long march through their country, the latter favorable
to the Indian mode of attack by surprise and ambush, and keep with us
the immense herd of captured ponies. Such a course would only encourage
attack under circumstances which would almost insure defeat and
unnecessary loss to us. We did not need the ponies, while the Indians
did. If we retained them they might conclude that one object of our
expedition against them was to secure plunder, an object thoroughly
consistent with the red man’s idea of war. Instead, it was our desire
to impress upon his uncultured mind that our every act and purpose
had been simply to inflict deserved punishment upon him for the many
murders and other depredations committed by him in and around the homes
of the defenceless settlers on the frontier. Impelled by these motives,
I decided neither to attempt to take the ponies with us nor to abandon
them to the Indians, but to adopt the only measure left--to kill them.
To accomplish this seemingly--like most measures of war--cruel but
necessary act, four companies of cavalrymen were detailed dismounted,
as a firing party. Before they reluctantly engaged in this uninviting
work, I took Romeo, the interpreter, and proceeded to the few lodges
near the centre of the village which we had reserved from destruction,
and in which were collected the prisoners, consisting of upward of
sixty squaws and children. Romeo was directed to assemble the prisoners
in one body, as I desired to assure them of kind treatment at our
hands, a subject about which they were greatly wrought up; also to tell
them what we should expect of them, and to inform them of our intention
to march probably all that night, directing them at the same time to
proceed to the herd and select therefrom a suitable number of ponies
to carry the prisoners on the march. When Romeo had collected them in
a single group, he, acting as interpreter, acquainted them with my
purpose in calling them together, at the same time assuring them that
they could rely confidently upon the fulfilment of any promises I made
them, as I was the “big chief.” The Indians refer to all officers of
a command as “chiefs,” while the officer in command is designated as
the “big chief.” After I had concluded what I desired to say to them,
they signified their approval and satisfaction by gathering around
me and going through an extensive series of hand-shaking. One of the
middle-aged squaws then informed Romeo that she wished to speak on
behalf of herself and companions. Assent having been given to this,
she began the delivery of an address which for wisdom of sentiment,
and easy, natural, but impassioned delivery, might have been heard
with intense interest by an audience of cultivated refinement. From
her remarks, interpreted by Romeo, I gathered much--in fact, the first
reliable information as to what band we had attacked at daylight, which
chiefs commanded, and many interesting scraps of information. She began
by saying that now she and the women and children about her were in the
condition of captivity, which for a long time she had prophesied would
be theirs sooner or later. She claimed to speak not as a squaw, but as
the sister of the head chief of her band, Black Kettle, who had fallen
that morning almost the moment the attack was made. He it was who was
the first to hear our advance, and leaping forth from his lodge with
rifle in hand, uttered the first war-whoop and fired the first shot
as a rally signal to his warriors, and was almost immediately after
shot down by the opening volley of the cavalry. Often had she warned
her brother of the danger the village, with its women and children,
was exposed to, owing to the frequent raiding and war parties which
from time to time had been permitted to go forth and depredate upon
the settlements of the white men. In the end it was sure to lead to
detection and punishment, and now her words had only proven too true.
Not a chief or warrior of the village in her belief survived the
battle of the forenoon. And what was to become of all these women and
children, bereft of everything and of every friend? True, it was just.
The warriors had brought this fate upon themselves and their families
by their unprovoked attacks upon the white man. Black Kettle, the head
chief and the once trusted friend of the white man, had fallen. Little
Rock, the chief second in rank in the village, had also met his death
while attempting to defend his home against his enemies; others were
named in the order of their rank or prowess as warriors, but all had
gone the same way. Who was left to care for the women and children
who still lived? Only last night, she continued, did the last war
party return from the settlements, and it was to rejoice over their
achievements that the entire village were engaged until a late hour
dancing and singing. This was why their enemies were able to ride
almost into their lodges before they were aroused by the noise of the
attack. For several minutes she continued to speak, first upbraiding
in the bitterest terms the chiefs and warriors who had been the cause
of their capture, then bewailing in the most plaintive manner their
sad and helpless condition. Turning to me she added, “You claim to be
a chief. This man” (pointing to Romeo) “says you are the big chief. If
this be true and you are what he claims, show that you can act like a
great chief and secure for us that treatment which the helpless are
entitled to.”
After the delivery of this strongly melodramatic harangue there
was introduced a little by-play, in which I was unconsciously made
to assume a more prominent part than either my inclinations or the
laws of society might approve. Black Kettle’s sister, whose name was
Mah-wis-sa, and whose address had just received the hearty approval of
her companions by their earnest expression of “Ugh!” the Indian word
intended for applause, then stepped into the group of squaws, and after
looking earnestly at the face of each for a moment, approached a young
Indian girl--probably seventeen years of age--and taking her by the
hand conducted her to where I was standing. Placing the hand of the
young girl in mine, she proceeded in the Indian tongue to the delivery
of what I, in my ignorance of the language, presumed was a form of
administering a benediction, as her manner and gestures corresponded
with this idea. Never dreaming of her purpose, but remembering how
sensitive and suspicious the Indian nature was, and that any seeming
act of inattention or disrespect on my part might be misunderstood,
I stood a passive participant in the strange ceremony then being
enacted. After concluding the main portion of the formalities, she
engaged in what seemed an invocation of the Great Spirit, casting
her eyes reverently upward, at the same time moving her hands slowly
down over the faces of the young squaw and myself. By this time my
curiosity got the better of my silence, and turning to Romeo, who stood
near me, and who I knew was familiar with Indian customs, I quietly
inquired, “What is this woman doing, Romeo?” With a broad grin on
his swarthy face he replied, “Why, she’s marryin’ you to that young
squaw!” Although never claimed as an exponent of the peace policy
about which so much has been said and written, yet I entertained the
most peaceable sentiments toward all Indians who were in a condition
to do no harm nor violate any law. And while cherishing these friendly
feelings and desiring to do all in my power to render our captives
comfortable and free from anxiety regarding their future treatment
at our hands, I think even the most strenuous and ardent advocate of
that peace policy which teaches that the Indian should be left free
and unmolested in the gratification of his simple tastes and habits,
will at least not wholly condemn me when they learn that this last
touching and unmistakable proof of confidence and esteem, offered by
Mah-wis-sa and gracefully if not blushingly acquiesced in by the Indian
maiden, was firmly but respectfully declined. The few reasons which
forced me to deny myself the advantages of this tempting alliance were
certain circumstances over which I then had no control, among which
was a previous and already solemnized ceremony of this character,
which might have a tendency to render the second somewhat invalid.
Then, again, I had not been consulted in regard to my choice in this
matter--a trifling consideration, but still having its due influence. I
had not had opportunities to become acquainted with the family of the
young damsel who thus proposed to link her worldly fate with mine. Her
father’s bank account might or might not be in a favorable condition.
No opportunity had been given me to study the tastes, disposition, or
character of the young lady--whether she was fond of music, literature,
or domestic duties. All these were questions with which I was not
sufficiently familiar to justify me in taking the important step before
me. I did not, however, like certain candidates for office, thrice
decline by standing up, and with my hand pressed to my heart say, “Your
husband I cannot be”; but through the intermediation of Romeo, the
interpreter, who from the first had been highly entertained by what he
saw was an excellent joke on the big chief, and wondering in his own
mind how I would extricate myself without giving offence, I explained
to Mah-wis-sa my due appreciation of the kindness intended by herself
and her young friend, but that according to the white man’s laws I was
debarred from availing myself of the offer, at the same time assuring
them of my high consideration, etc. Glad to get away to duties that
called me elsewhere, I left with Romeo. As soon as we had turned our
backs on the group, I inquired of Romeo what object could have been
in view which induced Black Kettle’s sister to play the part she did.
“That’s easy enough to understand; she knows they are in your power,
and her object is to make friends with you as far as possible. But you
don’t believe anything she tells you, do you? Why, that squaw--give
her the chance, and she’d lift your or my scalp for us and never wink.
Lord, I’ve heerd ’em talk fine too often to be catched so easy. To hear
her talk and abuse old Black Kettle and the rest that I hope we’ve
done for, you’d think that squaw never had had a hand in torturin’ to
death many a poor devil who’s been picked up by them. But it’s a fact,
’taint no two ways ’bout it. I’ve lived with them people too long not
to know ’em--root and branch. When she was talkin’ all that palaver to
you ’bout protectin’ ’em and all that sort of stuff, if she could ’a
know’d that minute that these outside Injuns was ’bout to gobble us up
she’d ’a been the very fust one to ram a knife smack into ye. That’s
the way they allus talk when they want anythin’. Do you know her game
in wantin’ to marry that young squaw to you? Well, I’ll tell ye; ef
you’d ’a married that squaw, then she’d ’a told ye that all the rest of
’em were her kinfolks, and as a nateral sort of a thing you’d ’a been
expected to kind o’ provide and take keer of your wife’s relations.
That’s jist as I tell it to you--fur don’t I know? Didn’t I marry a
young Cheyenne squaw and give her old father two of my best ponies for
her, and it wasn’t a week till every tarnal Injun in the village, old
and young, came to my lodge, and my squaw tried to make me b’lieve they
were all relations of hern, and that I ought to give ’em some grub; but
I didn’t do nothin’ of the sort.” “Well, how did you get out of it,
Romeo?” “Get out of it? Why, I got out by jist takin’ my ponies and
traps, and the first good chance I lit out; that’s how I got out. I was
satisfied to marry one or two of ’em, but when it come to marryin’ an
intire tribe, ’scuse me.”
At this point Romeo was interrupted by the officer in command of the
men detailed to kill the ponies. The firing party was all ready to
proceed with its work, and was only waiting until the squaws should
secure a sufficient number of ponies to transport all the prisoners on
the march. The troopers had endeavored to catch the ponies, but they
were too wild and unaccustomed to white men to permit them to approach.
When the squaws entered the herd they had no difficulty in selecting
and bridling the requisite number. These being taken off by themselves,
the work of destruction began on the remainder, and was continued until
nearly eight hundred ponies were thus disposed of. All this time the
Indians who had been fighting us from the outside covered the hills
in the distance, deeply interested spectators of this to them strange
proceeding. The loss of so many animals of value was a severe blow to
the tribe, as nothing so completely impairs the war-making facilities
for the Indians of the Plains as the deprivation or disabling of their
ponies.
In the description of the opening of the battle in the preceding
chapter, I spoke of the men having removed their overcoats and
haversacks when about to charge the village. These had been disposed
of carefully on the ground, and one man from each company left to
guard them, this number being deemed sufficient, as they would be
within rifle-shot of the main command; besides, the enemy as was then
supposed would be inside our lines and sufficiently employed in taking
care of himself to prevent any meddling on his part with the overcoats
and haversacks. This was partly true, but we had not calculated upon
Indians appearing in force and surrounding us. When this did occur,
however, their first success was in effecting the capture of the
overcoats and rations of the men, the guard barely escaping to the
village. This was a most serious loss, as the men were destined to
suffer great discomfort from the cold; and their rations being in the
haversacks, and it being uncertain when we should rejoin our train,
they were compelled to endure both cold and hunger. It was when the
Indians discovered our overcoats and galloped to their capture, that
one of my stag-hounds, Blucher, seeing them riding and yelling as if
engaged in the chase, dashed from the village and joined the Indians,
who no sooner saw him than they shot him through with an arrow.
Several months afterward I discovered his remains on the ground near
where the overcoats had been deposited on that eventful morning.
Many noteworthy incidents were observed or reported during the fight.
Before the battle began, our Osage allies, in accordance with the
Indian custom, dressed in their war costume, painting their faces in
all imaginable colors, except one tall, fine-looking warrior, who
retained his ordinary dress. Upon inquiring of the chief, Little
Beaver, why this one did not array himself as the others had done, he
informed me that it was in obedience to a law among all the tribes,
under which any chief or warrior who has had a near relative killed
by an enemy belonging to another tribe, is not permitted to don the
war costume or put on war paint until he has avenged the murder by
taking a scalp from some member of the hostile tribe. A war party of
the Cheyennes had visited the Osage village the preceding summer,
under friendly pretences. They had been hospitably entertained at the
lodge of the warrior referred to by his squaw, he being absent on a
hunt. When ready to depart they killed his squaw and destroyed his
lodge, and until he could secure a scalp he must go on the war path
unadorned by feathers or paint. After the battle had been waged for a
couple of hours in the morning, I saw this warrior approaching, his
horse urged to his highest speed; in his hand I saw waving wildly
overhead something I could not distinguish until he halted by my side,
when I perceived that it was an entire scalp, fresh and bleeding. His
vengeance had been complete, and he was again restored to the full
privileges of a warrior--a right he was not long in exercising, as
the next time I saw him on the field his face was completely hidden
under the stripes of yellow, black, and vermilion, the colors being so
arranged apparently as to give him the most hideous visage imaginable.
Riding in the vicinity of the hospital, I saw a little bugler boy
sitting on a bundle of dressed robes, near where the surgeon was
dressing and caring for the wounded. His face was completely covered
with blood, which was trickling down over his cheek from a wound in
his forehead. At first glance I thought a pistol bullet had entered
his skull, but on stopping to inquire of him the nature of his
injury, he informed me that an Indian had shot him in the head with
a steel-pointed arrow. The arrow had struck him just above the eye,
and upon encountering the skull had glanced under the covering of the
latter, coming out near the ear, giving the appearance of having passed
through the head. There the arrow remained until the bugler arrived at
the hospital, when he received prompt attention. The arrow being barbed
could not be withdrawn at once, but by cutting off the steel point the
surgeon was able to withdraw the wooden shaft without difficulty. The
little fellow bore his suffering manfully. I asked him if he saw the
Indian who wounded him. Without replying at once, he shoved his hand
deep down into his capacious trousers pocket and fished up nothing more
nor less than the scalp of an Indian, adding in a nonchalant manner,
“If anybody thinks I didn’t see him, I want them to take a look at
that.” He had killed the Indian with his revolver after receiving the
arrow wound in his head.
After driving off the Indians who had attacked us from the outside, so
as to prevent them from interfering with our operations in the vicinity
of the village, parties were sent here and there to look up the dead
and wounded of both sides. In spite of the most thorough search,
there were still undiscovered Major Elliott and nineteen enlisted
men, including the sergeant-major, for whose absence we were unable
to satisfactorily account. Officers and men of the various commands
were examined, but nothing was elicited from them except that Major
Elliott had been seen about daylight charging with his command into the
village. I had previously given him up as killed, but was surprised
that so many of the men should be missing, and none of their comrades
be able to account for them. All the ground inside of the advanced
lines held by the Indians who attacked us after our capture of the
village was closely and carefully examined, in the hope of finding
the bodies of some if not all the absentees, but with no success. It
was then evident that when the other bands attempted to reinforce our
opponents of the early morning, they had closed their lines about us
in such manner as to cut off Elliott and nineteen of our men. What
had been the fate of this party after leaving the main command? This
was a question to be answered only in surmises, and few of these were
favorable to the escape of our comrades. At last one of the scouts
reported that soon after the attack on the village began he had seen a
few warriors escaping, mounted, from the village, through a gap that
existed in our line between the commands of Elliott and Thompson, and
that Elliott and a small party of troopers were in close pursuit; that
a short time after he had heard very sharp firing in the direction
taken by the Indians and Elliott’s party, but that as the firing had
continued for only a few minutes, he had thought nothing more of it
until the prolonged absence of our men recalled it to his mind. Parties
were sent in the direction indicated by the scout, he accompanying
them; but after a search extending nearly two miles, all the parties
returned, reporting their efforts to discover some trace of Elliott
and his men fruitless. As it was now lacking but an hour of night, we
had to make an effort to get rid of the Indians, who still loitered
in strong force on the hills, within plain view of our position. Our
main desire was to draw them off from the direction in which our train
might be approaching, and thus render it secure from attack until under
the protection of the entire command, when we could defy any force our
enemies could muster against us. The last lodge having been destroyed,
and all the ponies except those required for the pursuit having been
killed, the command was drawn in and united near the village. Making
dispositions to overcome any resistance which might be offered to our
advance, by throwing out a strong force of skirmishers, we set out down
the valley in the direction where the other villages had been reported,
and toward the hills on which were collected the greatest number of
Indians. The column moved forward in one body, with colors flying and
band playing, while our prisoners, all mounted on captured ponies, were
under sufficient guard immediately in rear of the advanced troops.
For a few moments after our march began the Indians on the hills
remained silent spectators, evidently at a loss at first to comprehend
our intentions in thus setting out at that hour of the evening, and
directing our course as if another night march was contemplated; and
more than all, in the direction of their villages, where all that
they possessed was supposed to be. This aroused them to action, as we
could plainly see considerable commotion among them--chiefs riding
hither and thither, as if in anxious consultation with each other as
to the course to be adopted. Whether the fact that they could not fire
upon our advance without endangering the lives of their own people,
who were prisoners in our hands, or some other reason prevailed with
them, they never offered to fire a shot or retard our movements in any
manner, but instead assembled their outlying detachments as rapidly as
possible, and began a precipitate movement down the valley in advance
of us, fully impressed with the idea no doubt that our purpose was
to overtake their flying people and herds and administer the same
treatment to them that the occupants of the upper village had received.
This was exactly the effect I desired, and our march was conducted with
such appearance of determination and rapidity that this conclusion on
their part was a most natural one. Leaving a few of their warriors to
hover along our flanks and watch our progress, the main body of the
Indians, able to travel much faster than the troops, soon disappeared
from our sight in front. We still pushed on in the same direction, and
continued our march in this manner until long after dark, by which
time we reached the deserted villages, the occupants--at least the
non-combatants and herds--having fled in the morning when news of our
attack on Black Kettle’s village reached them. We had now reached a
point several miles below the site of Black Kettle’s village, and the
darkness was sufficient to cover our movements from the watchful eyes
of the Indian scouts, who had dogged our march as long as the light
favored them.
Facing the command about, it was at once put in motion to reach our
train, not only as a measure of safety and protection to the latter,
but as a necessary movement to relieve the wants of the command,
particularly that portion whose haversacks and overcoats had fallen
into the hands of the Indians early in the morning. By ten o’clock we
reached the battle ground, but without halting pushed on, following the
trail we had made in striking the village. The march was continued at
a brisk gait until about two o’clock in the morning, when I concluded
it would be prudent to allow the main command to halt and bivouac until
daylight, sending one squadron forward without delay, to reinforce the
guard with the train. Colonel West’s squadron was detailed upon this
duty. The main body of the troops was halted, and permitted to build
huge fires, fuel being obtainable in abundance from the timber which
lined the valley of the Washita--our march still leading us up the
course of this stream.
At daylight the next morning we were again in our saddles and wending
our way hopefully toward the train. The location of the latter we did
not know, presuming that it had been pushing after us since we had
taken our abrupt departure from it. Great was our joy and satisfaction,
about ten o’clock, to discover the train safely in camp. The teams
were at once harnessed and hitched to the wagons, and without halting
even to prepare breakfast, the march was resumed, I being anxious to
encamp at a certain point that night from where I intended sending
scouts through with despatches to General Sheridan. Early in the
afternoon this camp was reached; it was near the point where we had
first struck the timbered valley, at the time not knowing that it
was the valley of the Washita. Here men and horses were given the
first opportunity to procure a satisfactory meal since the few hasty
morsels obtained by them during the brief halt made between nine and
ten o’clock the night we arrived in the vicinity of the village. After
posting our pickets and rendering the camp secure from surprise by the
enemy, horses were unsaddled, tents pitched, and every means taken to
obtain as comfortable a night as the limited means at our disposal
and the severities of the season would permit. After partaking of a
satisfactory dinner, I began writing my report to General Sheridan.
First I sent for California Joe, and informed him that I desired to
send a despatch to General Sheridan that night, and would have it
ready by dark, so that the bearer could at once set out as soon as
it was sufficiently dark to conceal his movements from the scouts of
the enemy, who no doubt were still following and watching us. I told
California Joe that I had selected him as the bearer of the despatch,
and he was at liberty to name the number of men he desired to
accompany him, as it was a most perilous mission on which he was going.
The exact distance he would have to ride in order to reach General
Sheridan’s headquarters at Camp Supply could not be determined. The
command had occupied four days in accomplishing it, but California Joe,
with his thorough knowledge of the country, and the experience of our
march, would be able to follow a much more direct route than a large
command moving with a train.
He did not seem in the least disturbed when told of his selection for
this errand, so full of danger. When informed that he might name the
number of men to accompany him, I supposed he would say about twelve
or more, under command of a good non-commissioned officer. Very few
persons in or out of the military service would have cared to undertake
the journey with much less than ten times that force, but he contented
himself by informing me that before answering that question he would
walk down to where the scouts were in camp and consult his “pardner.”
He soon returned saying, “I’ve just been talkin’ the matter over with
my pardner, and him and me both concludes that as safe and sure a way
as any is for him and me to take a few extra rounds of ammunition
and strike out from here together the very minnit it’s dark. As for
any more men, we don’t want ’em, because yer see in a case of this
’ere kind thar’s more to be made by dodgin’ an’ runnin’ than thar is
by fightin’, an’ two spright men kin do better at that than twenty;
they can’t be seen half as fur. Besides, two won’t leave as much of
a trail for the Injuns to find. If my pardner an’ me kin git away
from here as soon as it is plum dark, we’ll be so fur from here by
daylight to-morrer mornin’ the Injuns never couldn’t tetch hide nor
har of us. Besides, I don’t reckon the pesky varmints ’ll be so
overly keen in meddlin’ with our business, seein’ as how they’ve got
their han’s tolerable full settin’ things to rights at home, owin’
to the little visit we’ve jist made ’em. I rather s’pect, all things
considerin’, them Injuns would be powerful glad to call it quits for
a spell any way, an’ if I ain’t off the trail mightily, some of them
’ere head chiefs as ain’t killed will be headin’ for the nighest Peace
Commissioner before they git the war paint clean off their faces.
This thing of pumpin’ ’em when the snow’s a foot deep, and no grass
for their ponies, puts a new wrinkle in these Injuns’ scalp, an’
they ain’t goin’ to git over it in a minnit either. Wal, I’m goin’
back to the boys to see if I can borrer a little smokin’ tobacker. I
may want to take a smoke on the way. Whenever you git yer dockiments
ready jist send your orderly down thar, and me and my pardner will be
ready. I’m mighty glad I’m goin’ to-night, for I know Gineral Sheridan
’ll be monstrous glad to see me back so soon. Did I tell yer I used
to know the Gineral when he was second or third lootenant and post
quartermaster in Oregon? That must ’a been afore your time.”
Leaving California Joe to procure his “tobacker,” I assembled all the
officers of the command and informed them that as there was but an
hour or two in which I was to write my report of the battle of the
Washita, I would not have time, as I should have preferred to do, to
send to them for regular and formally written reports of their share
in the engagement; but in order that I might have the benefit of
their combined knowledge of the battle and its results, each officer
in response to my request gave me a brief summary of some of the
important points which his report would have contained if submitted
in writing. With this information in my possession, I sat down in my
tent and penned, in as brief manner as possible, a report to General
Sheridan detailing our movements from the time Elliott, with his
three companies, discovered the trail, up to the point from which
my despatch was written, giving particularly the main facts of our
discovery, attack, and complete destruction of the village of Black
Kettle. It was just about dark when I finished this despatch and was
about to send for California Joe, when that loquacious personage
appeared at the door of my tent. “I’m not so anxious to leave yer all
here, but the fact is, the sooner me and pardner are off, I reckon the
better it’ll be in the end. I want to put at least fifty miles ’tween
me and this place by daylight to-morrer mornin’, so if yer’ll jest
hurry up yer papers, it’ll be a lift for us.”
On going outside the tent I saw that the “pardner” was the scout Jack
Corbin, the same who had first brought the intelligence of Elliott’s
discovery of the trail to us at Antelope Hills. He was almost the
antipodes of California Joe in regard to many points of character,
seldom indulging in a remark or suggestion unless prompted by a
question. These two scouts recalled to my mind an amicable arrangement
said to exist between a harmonious married pair, in which one was
willing to do all the talking and the other was perfectly willing he
should. The two scouts, who were about to set out to accomplish a long
journey through an enemy’s country, with no guides save the stars,
neither ever having passed over the route they proposed to take,
and much of the ride to be executed during the darkness of night,
apparently felt no greater, if as great, anxiety as to the result of
their hazardous mission than one ordinarily feels in contemplating
a journey of a few hours by rail or steamboat. California Joe was
dressed and equipped as usual. About his waist and underneath his
cavalry greatcoat and cape he wore a belt containing a Colt revolver
and hunting knife; these, with his inseparable companion, a long
Springfield breech-loading rifle, composed his defensive armament.
His “pardner,” Jack Corbin, was very similarly arrayed except in
equipment, his belt containing two revolvers instead of one, while
a Sharps carbine supplied the place of a rifle, being more readily
carried and handled on horseback. The mounts of the two men were as
different as their characters, California Joe confiding his safety to
the transporting powers of his favorite mule, while Corbin was placing
his reliance upon a fine gray charger. Acquainting the men with the
probable route we should pursue in our onward march toward Camp Supply,
so that, if desirable, they might be able to rejoin us, I delivered my
report to General Sheridan into the keeping of California Joe, who,
after unbuttoning numerous coats, blouses, and vests, consigned the
package to one of the numerous capacious inner pockets with which each
garment seemed supplied, with the remark, “I reckon it’ll keep dry thar
in case of rain or accident.” Both men having mounted, I shook hands
with them, wishing them God-speed and a successful journey. As they
rode off in the darkness California Joe, irrepressible to the last,
called out, “Wal, I hope an’ trust yer won’t have any scrimmage while
I’m gone, because I’d hate mightily now to miss anything of the sort,
seein’ I’ve stuck to yer this fur.”
After enjoying a most grateful and comparatively satisfactory night’s
rest, the demands of hunger on the part of man and beast having
been bountifully supplied from the stores contained in our train,
while a due supply of blankets and robes, with the assistance of
huge camp-fires, enabled the men to protect themselves against the
intense cold of midwinter, our march was resumed at daylight in the
direction of Camp Supply. Our wounded had received every possible care
and attention that a skilful and kind-hearted medical officer could
suggest. Strange to add, and greatly to our surprise as well as joy,
Colonel Barnitz, who had been carried into the village shot through the
body and, as all supposed, mortally wounded, with apparently but a few
minutes to live, had not only survived the rough jostling of the night
march made after leaving the village, but the surgeon, Dr. Lippincott,
who was unceasing in his attentions to the wounded, reported
indications favorable to a prolongation of life if not a complete
recovery. This was cheering news to all the comrades of Colonel
Barnitz. I well remember how, when the Colonel was first carried by
four of his men, in the folds of an army blanket, into the village,
his face wore that pale deathly aspect so common and peculiar to those
mortally wounded. He, as well as all who saw him, believed his end near
at hand. But like a brave soldier, as he was and had proven himself
to be, death had no terrors for him. When asked by me, as I knelt at
the side of the litter on which he was gasping for breath, whether he
had any messages to send to absent friends, he realized the perils of
his situation, and in half-finished sentences, mingled with regrets,
delivered, as he and all of us supposed, his farewell messages to be
transmitted to dear ones at home. And yet, despite the absence of that
care and quiet, not to mention little delicacies and luxuries, regarded
as so essential, and which would have been obtainable under almost any
other circumstances, Colonel Barnitz continued to improve, and before
many weeks his attendant medical officer was able to pronounce him out
of danger, although to this day he is, and for the remainder of life
will be, disabled from further active duty, the ball by which he was
wounded having severed one of his ribs in such a manner as to render
either riding or the wearing of a sabre or revolver too painful to be
endured. By easy marches we gradually neared Camp Supply, and had begun
to descend the long slope leading down to the valley of Wolf creek, the
stream on which we had encamped three nights when we first set out from
Camp Supply in search of Indians.
With two or three of the Osage guides and as many of the officers, I
was riding some distance in advance of the column of troops, and could
indistinctly see the timber fringing the valley in the distance, when
the attention of our little party was attracted to three horsemen who
were to be seen riding slowly along near the edge of the timber. As yet
they evidently had not observed us, the troops behind us not having
appeared in view. We were greatly at a loss to determine who the three
horsemen might be; they were yet too distant to be plainly visible to
the eye, and the orderly with my field glass was still in rear. While
we were halting and watching their movements we saw that they also had
discovered us, one of their number riding up to a small elevation near
by from which to get a better view of our group. After studying us for
a few moments he returned at a gallop to his two companions, when all
three turned their horses toward the timber and moved rapidly in that
direction. We were still unable to determine whether they were Indians
or white men, the distance being so great between us, when my orderly
arrived with my field glass, by which I was able to catch a glimpse of
them just as they were disappearing in the timber, when whose familiar
form should be revealed but that of California Joe, urging his mule
to its greatest speed in order to reach the timber before we should
discover them. They had evidently taken us for Indians, and well they
might, considering that two of our party were Osages and the others
were dressed in anything but the regulation uniform. To relieve the
anxious minds of California Joe and his companions, I put spurs to my
horse and was soon bounding down the plains leading into the valley
to join him. I had not proceeded over half way when the scouts rode
cautiously out from the timber, and California Joe, after shading his
eyes with his hand and looking for a few moments, raised his huge
sombrero from his matted head, and waving it above him as a signal of
recognition, pressed his great Mexican spurs deep into the sides of his
humble-looking steed, if a mule may receive such an appellation, and
the three scouts were soon galloping toward us.
The joy at the meeting was great on both sides, only dampened somewhat
on the part of California Joe by the fact that he and his comrades had
taken to the timber so promptly when first they discovered us; but
he explained it by saying, “I counted on it bein’ you all the time
when I fust got my eye on yer, until I saw two Injuns in the squad,
an’ forgettin’ all about them Osages we had along, I jumped at the
conclusion that if thar war any Injuns around, the comfortablest place
I knowed for us three was to make fur the timber, and there make a
stand. We war gettin’ ready to give it to yer if it turned out yer war
all Injuns. Wal, I’m powerful glad to see yer agin, an’ that’s sure.”
From his further conversation we were informed that Jack Corbin and
himself had made their trip to General Sheridan’s headquarters without
hindrance or obstacle being encountered on their way, and that after
delivering the despatches and being well entertained in the mean time,
they, with one other scout, had been sent by the General to endeavor to
meet us, bringing from him a package of orders and letters.
While the column was overtaking us, and while California Joe, now
in his element, was entertaining the attentive group of officers,
scouts, and Osages who gathered around him to hear him relate in his
quaint manner what he saw, heard, and told at General Sheridan’s
headquarters, I withdrew to one side and opened the large official
envelope in which were contained both official and personal despatches.
These were eagerly read, and while the satisfaction derived from the
perusal of some of the letters of a private and congratulatory nature
from personal friends at Camp Supply was beyond expression, the climax
of satisfaction was reached when my eye came to an official-looking
document bearing the date and heading which indicated department
headquarters as its source. We had but little further to go before
going into camp for that night, and as the command had now overtaken
us, we moved down to the timber and there encamped; and in order that
the approving words of our chief should be transmitted promptly to
every individual of the command, the line was formed and the following
order announced to the officers and men:
HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE MISSOURI, IN THE FIELD, DEPOT ON THE
NORTH CANADIAN, AT THE JUNCTION OF BEAVER CREEK, INDIAN TERRITORY,
November 29, 1868.
GENERAL FIELD ORDERS NO. 6.--The Major General commanding announces
to this command the defeat, by the Seventh regiment of cavalry, of
a large force of Cheyenne Indians, under the celebrated chief Black
Kettle, reënforced by the Arrapahoes under Little Raven, and the
Kiowas under Satanta, on the morning of the 27th instant, on the
Washita river, near the Antelope Hills, Indian Territory, resulting
in a loss to the savages of one hundred and three warriors killed,
including Black Kettle, the capture of fifty-three squaws and
children, eight hundred and seventy-five ponies, eleven hundred and
twenty-three buffalo robes and skins, five hundred and thirty-five
pounds of powder, one thousand and fifty pounds of lead, four
thousand arrows, seven hundred pounds of tobacco, besides rifles,
pistols, saddles, bows, lariats, and immense quantities of dried
meat and other winter provisions, the complete destruction of their
village, and almost total annihilation of this Indian band.
The loss to the Seventh Cavalry was two officers killed, Major Joel
H. Elliott and Captain Louis McL. Hamilton, and nineteen enlisted
men; three officers wounded, Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel Albert
Barnitz (badly), Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel T. W. Custer, and Second
Lieutenant T. Z. March (slightly), and eleven enlisted men.
The energy and rapidity shown during one of the heaviest
snow-storms that has visited this section of the country, with the
temperature below freezing point, and the gallantry and bravery
displayed, resulting in such signal success, reflect the highest
credit upon both the officers and men of the Seventh Cavalry; and
the Major-General commanding, while regretting the loss of such
gallant officers as Major Elliott and Captain Hamilton, who fell
while gallantly leading their men, desires to express his thanks
to the officers and men engaged in the battle of the Washita, and
his special congratulations are tendered to their distinguished
commander, Brevet Major-General George A. Custer, for the efficient
and gallant services rendered, which have characterized the opening
of the campaign against hostile Indians south of the Arkansas.
By command of
Major-General P. H. SHERIDAN.
(Signed) J. SCHUYLER CROSBY, Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel,
A. D. C., A. A. A. General.
This order, containing as it did the grateful words of approval from
our revered commander, went far to drown the remembrance of the hunger,
cold, and danger encountered by the command, in the resolute and united
effort made by it to thoroughly discharge its duty.
Words like these, emanating from the source they did, and upon an
occasion such as this was, were immeasurably more welcome, gratifying,
and satisfactory to the pride of officers and men than would have been
the reception of a budget of brevets, worded in the regular stereotyped
form and distributed in a promiscuous manner, having but little regard
to whether the recipient had bravely imperilled his life on the
battle-field in behalf of his country, or had taken particular care to
preserve that life upon some field far removed from battle.
The last camp before we reached Camp Supply was on Wolf creek, about
ten miles from General Sheridan’s headquarters. The weather had now
moderated to the mildest winter temperature, the snow having melted and
disappeared.
From this point I sent a courier to General Sheridan soon after going
into camp, informing him of our whereabouts and the distance from
his camp, and that we would reach the latter at such an hour in the
forenoon, when the officers and men of my command would be pleased to
march in review before him and his staff as we finished our return
march from the opening of the winter campaign. Officers and men,
in view of this, prepared to put on their best appearance. At the
appointed hour on the morning of December 2, the command moved out of
camp and began its last day’s march toward Camp Supply. Considering the
hard and trying character of the duty they had been engaged in since
leaving Camp Supply, the appearance of officers, men, and horses was
far better than might naturally have been expected of them. When we
arrived within a couple of miles of General Sheridan’s headquarters, we
were met by one of his staff officers with a message from the General,
that it would give him great pleasure to review the Seventh Cavalry
as proposed, and that he and his staff would be mounted, and take up
a favorable position for the review near headquarters. In approaching
Camp Supply by the route we were marching, a view of the camp and
depot is first gained from the point where the high level plain begins
to descend gradually, to form the valley in the middle of which Camp
Supply is located; so that by having a man on the lookout, to report
when the troops should first make their appearance on the heights
overlooking Beaver creek, the General was enabled not only to receive
timely notice of our approach, but to take position with his staff to
witness our march down the long gradual slope leading into the valley.
The day was all we could wish--a bright sun overhead, and favorable
ground for the manœuvring of troops.
I had taken the precaution to establish the formation of the marching
column before we should appear in view from General Sheridan’s camp,
so that after our march began down the beautifully descending slope to
the valley, no change was made. In many respects the column we formed
was unique in appearance. First rode our Osage guides and trailers,
dressed and painted in the extremest fashions of war according to
their rude customs and ideas. As we advanced these warriors chanted
their war songs, fired their guns in triumph, and at intervals gave
utterance to their shrill war-whoops. Next came the scouts riding
abreast, with California Joe astride his faithful mule bringing up the
right, but unable, even during this ceremonious and formal occasion,
to dispense with his pipe. Immediately in rear of the scouts rode the
Indian prisoners under guard, all mounted on Indian ponies, and in
their dress, conspicuous by its bright colors, many of them wearing
the scarlet blanket so popular with the wild tribes, presenting quite
a contrast to the dull and motley colors worn by the scouts. Some
little distance in rear came the troops formed in column of platoons,
the leading platoon, preceded by the band playing “Garry Owen,”
being composed of the sharpshooters under Colonel Cook, followed in
succession by the squadrons in the regular order of march. In this
order and arrangement we marched proudly in front of our chief, who,
as the officers rode by giving him the military salute with the sabre,
returned their formal courtesy by a graceful lifting of his cap and a
pleased look of recognition from his eye, which spoke his approbation
in language far more powerful than studied words could have done. In
speaking of the review afterwards, General Sheridan said the appearance
of the troops, with the bright rays of the sun reflected from their
burnished arms and equipments, as they advanced in beautiful order
and precision down the slope, the band playing, and the blue of the
soldiers’ uniforms slightly relieved by the gaudy colors of the
Indians, both captives and Osages, the strangely fantastic part played
by the Osage guides, their shouts, chanting their war songs, and firing
their guns in air, all combined to render the scene one of the most
beautiful and highly interesting he remembered ever having witnessed.
After marching in review, the troops were conducted across the plain
to the border of Beaver creek, about a quarter of a mile from General
Sheridan’s camp, where we pitched our tents and prepared to enjoy a
brief period of rest.
We had brought with us on our return march from the battle-ground of
the Washita the remains of our slain comrade, Captain Louis McLane
Hamilton. Arrangements were at once made, upon our arrival at Camp
Supply, to offer the last formal tribute of respect and affection which
we as his surviving comrades could pay. As he had died a soldier’s
death, so like a soldier he should be buried. On the evening of the day
after our arrival at Camp Supply the funeral took place. A little knoll
not far from camp was chosen as the resting place to which we were to
consign the remains of our departed comrade. In the arrangements for
the conduct of the funeral ceremonies, no preliminary or important
detail had been omitted to render the occasion not only one of imposing
solemnity, but deeply expressive of the high esteem in which the
deceased had been held by every member of the command. In addition to
the eleven companies of the Seventh Cavalry, the regular garrison of
Camp Supply, numbering several companies of the Third Regular Infantry,
the regiment in which Captain Hamilton had first entered the regular
service, was also in attendance. The body of the deceased was carried
in an ambulance as a hearse, and covered with a large American flag.
The ambulance was preceded by Captain Hamilton’s squadron, commanded by
Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel T. B. Weir, and was followed by his horse,
covered with a mourning sheet and bearing on the saddle--the same in
which Captain Hamilton was seated when he received his death wound--the
sabre and belt and the reversed top-boots of the deceased. The
pall-bearers were Major-General Sheridan, Brevet Lieutenant-Colonels
J. Schuyler Crosby, W. W. Cook, and T. W. Custer, Brevet Major W. W.
Beebe, Lieutenant Joseph Hall, and myself.
Our sojourn at Camp Supply was to be brief. We arrived there on the 2d
of December, and in less than one week we were to be in the saddle with
our numbers more than doubled by reinforcements, and again wending our
way southward over the route we had so lately passed over.
Before setting out on the last expedition, I had stated to the officers
in a casual manner that all parties engaged in the conduct of the
contemplated campaign against the Indians must reconcile themselves in
advance--no matter how the expedition might result--to becoming the
recipients of censure and unbounded criticism; that if we failed to
engage and whip the Indians--labor as we might to accomplish this--the
people in the West, particularly along and near the frontier, those who
had been victims of the assaults made by Indians, would denounce us in
unmeasured terms as being inefficient or lukewarm in the performance
of our duty; whereas if we should find and punish the Indians as
they deserved, a wail would rise up from the horrified humanitarians
throughout the country, and we would be accused of attacking and
killing friendly and defenceless Indians. My predictions proved true;
no sooner was the intelligence of the battle of the Washita flashed
over the country than the anticipated cry was raised. In many instances
it emanated from a class of persons truly good in themselves and in
their intentions, but who were familiar to only a very limited degree
with the dark side of the Indian question, and whose ideas were of the
sentimental order. There was another class, however, equally loud in
their utterances of pretended horror, who were actuated by pecuniary
motives alone, and who, from their supposed or real intimate knowledge
of Indian character and of the true merits of the contest between the
Indians and the Government, were able to give some weight to their
expressed opinions and assertions of alleged facts. Some of these last
described actually went so far as to assert not only that the village
we had attacked and destroyed was that of Indians who had always been
friendly and peaceable toward the whites, but that many of the warriors
and chiefs were partially civilized and had actually borne arms in
the Union army during the war of rebellion. The most astonishing fact
connected with these assertions was not that they were uttered, but
that many well-informed people believed them.
The Government, however, was in earnest in its determination to
administer proper and deserved punishment to the guilty; and as a mark
of approval of the opening event of the winter campaign, the following
telegram from the Secretary of War was transmitted to us at Camp Supply:
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL SHERMAN, St. Louis, Mo.
WAR DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON CITY, December 2, 1868.
I congratulate you, Sheridan, and Custer on the splendid success
with which your campaign is begun. Ask Sheridan to send forward the
names of officers and men deserving of special mention.
(Signed) J. M. SCHOFIELD, Secretary of War.
It was impracticable to comply with the request contained in the
closing portion of the despatch from the Secretary of War, for
the gratifying reason that every officer and man belonging to the
expedition had performed his full part in rendering the movement
against the hostile tribes a complete success.