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NUMBER 48
OCCASIONAL PAPERS
ENGINEER SCHOOL
UNITED STATES ARMY
Narrative of the March of Co. A, Engineers from Fort Leavenworth,
Kansas, to Fort Bridger, Utah, and Return
_MAY 6 TO OCTOBER 3, 1858_
A Contribution to the History of the United States Corps of Engineers
_By_
WILLIAM P. SEVILLE
_Artificer in the Company during the March
Captain, First Delaware Volunteer Infantry
in the Civil War_
Revised under the Direction of the Commandant
Engineer School, United States Army
_By_
First Lieut. JOHN W. N. SCHULZ
_Corps of Engineers_
WASHINGTON BARRACKS, D.C.
PRESS OF THE ENGINEER SCHOOL
1912
Introductory Note
_By_ GILBERT THOMPSON
In the spring of 1858, when the Government met with opposition from the
Mormon community, in relation to the appointment of Mr. Cummings as
Governor of the Territory, and Brigham Young's corps of Danites was
being recruited and drilled for active service, it was decided that a
military force should be sent to the seat of the trouble to maintain
the National authority. The expedition numbered several thousand
men--cavalry, artillery, and infantry.
As the grass along what was known as the "Emigrant Route" had been
almost entirely consumed by the numerous mule and ox-trains which had
passed over the Plains during the preceding year, it was found
necessary to make a new road, from the Platte River to the Green, over
which the Army could march.
To perform this duty with sufficient speed to avoid delaying the
advancing columns, sixty-four selected men, under First Lieut. James C.
Duane and Second Lieut. Edward P. Alexander, were taken from Company A,
United States Engineers, then stationed at the Military Academy at West
Point, N.Y. Leaving a detachment at West Point, the Company started on
this service March 31st, 1858, going by rail and steamboat as far as
Fort Leavenworth, Kans. Here it remained in barracks until fully
equipped to encounter the vicissitudes of the Western Plains. The march
to Utah, proper, was begun the 6th of May, 1858.
Narrative of the March
_May 6_ (Thursday). With bright anticipations of beholding many a novel
and interesting scene, and with high expectations of enjoying the new
and eventful life which was about to open before us, we left Fort
Leavenworth behind on the 6th day of May, 1858. Before us lay a long
march--twelve hundred miles, we were told--across a wild, and, except
for the first two hundred miles, a desert and uninhabited country.
Eight wagons, each drawn by six sturdy mules, drove up in front of our
quarters, and, after receiving their baggage, started for the first
camping ground at Salt Creek, a distance of about four miles. The
wagons were accompanied by a detachment to serve as escort and to pitch
the tents.
The remainder of the Company followed an hour or two later, in heavy
marching order. Except for the observance of discipline, and the order
of our marching, no one would have supposed us to be an organized
portion of the United States Army. We each wore a white felt hat and a
gray or blue woolen blouse, or hunting shirt. There were belt, bayonet,
haversack, canteen, pistol, a large clasp knife--all surmounted by
knapsack and rifle. To we Eastern soldiers this tout ensemble seemed
ludicrous enough.
We pitched our first camp, manifesting considerable delicacy about
taking our meals _al fresco_, and being very particular to select the
driest and softest spots on which to make our beds.
_May 7_ (Friday). Reveille was at an early hour. We stowed our cumbrous
knapsacks with the rest of the baggage in the wagons, and then set out
on our march with lighter bodies and gayer hearts. The day's journey
was only sixteen miles, but the roads were in poor condition from the
breaking up of winter, and to us, unaccustomed to continuous marching,
it seemed an endless distance. Several times during the day we were
obliged to turn ourselves into mules, and assist in pulling the wagons
out of mud holes. The night's camp was at Oak Grove.
_May 8_ (Saturday). The next day we went as far as Ravine Spring, six
miles. We made but a short march, owing to the miserable condition of
the roads.
_May 9_ (Sunday). On the 9th, although Sunday, we made a long march, as
we expected to overtake our provision train, which was some distance in
advance of us. We failed in the undertaking, however, although marching
twenty-one miles.
Where we were encamped, that night, on the Second Branch of Grasshopper
Creek, we could distinctly hear the hungry howl of the prairie wolf, a
new and amusing music to us.
_May 10_ (Monday). The first day of the new week, Monday, the 10th, we
trudged our weary way over twelve and three-quarter miles of muddy,
dreary, rolling prairie, and encamped on Walnut Creek. Here we
discovered the commissary train (of which we have been in search),
consisting of about a hundred and forty wagons.
_May 11_ (Tuesday). Tuesday, the 11th, we remained at Walnut Creek, in
order to better the crossing of the creek and to consolidate the whole
command. Four companies of the Sixth Infantry (Companies G, A, D, and
K) came up in the morning, and the men looked on while we cut away the
banks of the stream and prepared brush to throw into the soft places.
In the afternoon, all crossed the creek and camped together on the far
side.
_May 12_ (Wednesday). We marched sixteen miles, camping four miles
beyond Oak Point. This was the first day the whole command marched
together, and it was plainly evident that the crack marching regiment
was making strong efforts to fill our sick list by fast marching. We
attributed the attempt to outmarch us to their ignorance of the spirit
and personnel that made up Co. A, Engineers.
_May 13_ (Thursday). We went six miles beyond the Fourth Branch of
Grasshopper Creek, a distance of fifteen miles. We had tattoo a little
after sunset, in order to allow a long rest to those who wished it.
_May 14_ (Friday). We reached Vermilion Creek, after a very
disagreeable march of twenty-one miles. The air was raw and cold, and
most of the day a cold wind blew directly in our faces. The roads were
deeply cut with ruts, and the grass was filled with water. The Sixth
was ahead at the beginning, but we passed them on the march; and
although they tried once or twice to regain their position, they failed
to do so.
_May 15_ (Saturday). Another cold day. We marched twenty miles, to the
Big Blue River. Overcoats were worn, and we were glad to keep our hands
in our pockets. About 11 a.m. we were treated to a heavy hailstorm, the
stones coming rattling about our ears as large as marbles.
There is a ghost of a village here, which the residents have the
presumption to call "Palmetto City." It consists of a blacksmith shop,
a tavern, two stores, and five or six log houses; and boasts of a
weekly paper, just large enough to make a good cigar-lighter. Sugar
crackers sell at 35 cents per pound, and whiskey, of doubtful quality,
at 75 cents per quart.
_May 16_ (Sunday). A day of rest for everybody except us. It rained all
day. The Infantry lay in their tents and watched the Engineers at work
with pick and shovel. We went to the river crossing, and employed the
old remedy, brush and digging, to make it passable. After returning to
camp we were each treated to a gill of whiskey, which, we were
informed, it was a part of our duty to drink. Some of the men brought
wood and made a large camp fire, and stood by it to dry themselves in
the rain.
_May 17_ (Monday). The next day we resumed our march, and encamped at
Cottonwood Creek, only eleven and three-quarter miles from the Big
Blue.
_May 18_ (Tuesday). We went on to Turkey Creek, twenty-one and
three-quarter miles. It was quite a warm day, and several of the men
had recourse to the wagons, on account of lameness. Some wolves were
seen prowling about during the march. Lieutenant Alexander fired at one
or two, but the distance was such, apparently, that the animals were
only amused by the whistling of the bullets. Part of the Company
repaired the crossing of the creek this evening.
_May 19_ (Wednesday). The waters of Big Sandy Creek, which we reached
the next day, after a march of twenty-one and a half miles, were very
limpid, an unusual thing in this country. We nearly all took a wash.
_May 20_ (Thursday). We encamped at a place called "West Point on Blue
River," after a march of nineteen and three-quarter miles. Considerable
game was within sight to-day, among which were several antelopes.
Attempts were made to capture some, but we only succeeded in bringing a
wolf into camp.
_May 21_ (Friday). We went to the Little Blue River, twenty-one and
three-quarter miles. The heat to-day was very great. The perspiration
oozed at every pore--and the dust collected on our faces and in our
eyes, filled our noses, and encrusted our lips. Lieutenant Alexander
and Sergeant Pierce saw some buffaloes, and went out to shoot one; but,
provokingly enough, some mischievous Puck was officious enough to turn
them into oxen just in time to disappoint the hunters and to save the
lives of the animals.
_May 22_ (Saturday). We went as far as Little Blue Valley, twenty-one
and a third miles. We overtook an ox-train bound for Salt Lake, and a
difficulty arose concerning our passing them. The place was such that
we could not turn out of the road to pass, and those in charge of the
train did not seem inclined to hurry to a point where we could pass.
Argument was of no avail, and consequently we came into collision. The
battle was to the strong--the quick, furious plunges of the mules
proving too much for the sluggish pulling of the oxen. One of our
wagons got through, and then, by driving the leaders' noses against the
tailboards of the preceding wagons, all our train made its passage
through. One of the teamsters of the ox-train gazed with wild
astonishment at our harmless forge, and asked at last, "Are you going
to take _only one cannon_ with you?"
_May 23_ (Sunday). This turned out to be another day of rest--and, as
nothing could be found for us to do, we had our share in it, too.
Last night we were all awakened by the fury of a severe thunder storm.
The rain fell in torrents, and a little of it made its way into the
tents. The wind blew a perfect tornado. As we expected every minute to
be without a roof over our heads, and could do nothing to avert the
danger, we did the next best thing--sat down and smoked our pipes. The
lightning was blinding, and the flashes followed each other in constant
succession. The loud thunder rattled everything movable around us. But
the storm was too violent to last, and before our pipes were out we saw
the full moon in the sky, and the lunar-bow.
_May 24_ (Monday). Last night we were favored with act two of the play
begun the night before. The wind, hail, and rain raged with a fury not
a whit less severe, but again no damage was done.
We marched to the Second Crossing of Elm Creek, seventeen and a third
miles. The effect of the storm was to render our marching less
comfortable, the roads being very muddy and the grass dripping with
water, so that we were soon wet and muddy up to our knees. We came
across a couple of emigrants, near the close of our march.
_May 25_ (Tuesday). This day brought us to the valley of the Platte
River, after a march of eighteen miles. The valley is level, and about
three miles in width, the river winding along a serpentine course. The
river is nearly a quarter of a mile wide, and from two to twelve feet
in depth, the current being very swift and powerful.
The day closed with a sad accident. A supernumerary teamster of the
commissary train, Thomas B. Smith, of New Jersey, went in bathing, took
cramps, and was carried away by a relentless current to a watery grave.
Fruitless efforts were made to recover the body.
A grave was seen as we descended into the valley; a lonely record of
sanguine expectations and frustrated hopes. A board at the head bore
the inscription, "Miss Susan G. Hale, Mormon; Died 1852, Aged 24
years."
Here first commenced the work of gathering buffalo chips for fuel. We
engaged in the duty somewhat reluctantly, softening the unpleasantness
of it by laughing at each other.
_May 26_ (Wednesday). We reached the long-looked-for Fort Kearney,
marching thirteen and a third miles. Our course lay along the valley,
and the Fort was in sight throughout the march. It first consisted only
of a chimney and a flag-pole, but every mile added something to it. A
large house, we found, was attached to the chimney, and a flag to the
pole, and at last the place grew into several extensive buildings,
flanked about by adobe houses. Inhabitants: Infantry and washerwomen.
Goods for sale: buffalo skins and whiskey. Game: buffaloes and wolves.
Products: prairie grass and cacti. Water very poor.
A mail was distributed among us, and the happy recipients sought shady
nooks in which to have a chat with some loved one, or perhaps to battle
with wind and sand in trying to reply to the epistles received.
_May 27_ (Thursday). We remained in camp on account of about fifty
teamsters of the commissary train striking for higher wages. They were
marched away from the camp, bag and baggage, with the guard at their
rear at _charge bayonets_. The delay was rather fortunate, however, as
it gave an opportunity, both to us and the mules, to recuperate from
the wear and tear of the march.
_May 28_ (Friday). We left Fort Kearney behind, but made only ten and a
half miles, none of us being in the long-march humor. The prairie was
covered with long, dead grass, and some careless individual lighted his
pipe and the prairie at the same time. We soon succeeded in
extinguishing the blaze. But we were not long in camp before we were
turned out by the _long roll_ to do battle once more with the devouring
element; this time our weapons were gunny-bags and blankets, and the
fire was soon thoroughly beaten out.
The command was joined before leaving Fort Kearney by Companies F and I
of the Sixth Infantry. And we left behind at the Fort one of our own
men, Robert Ayres, suffering with inflammatory rheumatism, so that he
could have the advantage of good medical attendance and a comfortable
hospital.
Somebody made a trade to-day whereby we lost our wall tents and were
given bell tents instead. The wall tents were quite comfortable,
although too crowded; the bell tents are more roomy, but less
comfortable.
_May 29_ (Saturday). We encamped on the Platte River, having marched
twelve miles. Wood is so scarce that a party had to swim across the
river for some, floating it back to camp.
_May 30_ (Sunday). This should have been a day of rest. We congratulated
ourselves on our good luck in not having to march, as the day was wet
and chilly. But we crowed too early in the morning, for we were all
turned out to procure wood, which, as yesterday, had to be floated back
from the opposite side of the river, after three hours' work in a
swamp, up to the middle in mud and water.
_May 31_ (Monday). We reached the crossing of Plum Creek, a distance of
fifteen miles. At one time during the march we were gladdened by the
sight of a large lake, with bluffs and headlands extending into it, and
with vessels sailing majestically on its calm bosom; but, sad to
relate, on nearer approach the lake turned into a low fog, the
headlands dwindled into the old, monotonous chain of sand-bluffs, and
the vessels metamorphosed into three or four rusty looking ox-wagons.
_June 1_ (Tuesday). We encamped in Buffalo Bog, so called because it is
a great trail for the buffaloes. Our march amounted to seventeen and a
third miles. As we came into camp a herd of buffaloes was seen on the
neighboring sand hills. The Lieutenant and the Indian hunters went
after them and killed two or three, bringing in the tongues and the
humps, and leaving the remainder for the wolves to pick.
We saw our first real Indians to-day. A chief of the Sioux and his
squaw came into camp this afternoon. They were savage all over--in
their looks, dress, and conduct; and decidedly so in their speech,
which, however, they used very sparingly, talking to us in a sort of
dignified pantomime. The gist of the conversation was, "Something to
eat," and no matter of what we spoke they invariably began their answer
with, "How! How!" and terminated with "Something to eat." It would have
been difficult to distinguish the chief from the squaw, they resembled
each other so closely in looks and dress, were it not that the squaw
never laughed until the chief smiled nor opened her mouth to speak
until first spoken to.
_June 2_ (Wednesday). To-day brought us to Reedy Flat, seventeen and a
half miles. Our camp ground is level and swampy, and full of tall
reeds--hence its name.
Two men are now detailed each morning to start an hour or two before
the command, in order, if possible, to shoot some game; but owing to
the inexperience of our men, they rarely succeed in obtaining anything.
_June 3_ (Thursday). We came to-day to Cottonwood Spring, concluding a
march of seventeen and a third miles. After dark the police detail was
obliged to turn out on a wood hunting expedition, in order to procure
fuel for breakfast. The nearest wood was at least a mile from camp, and
in the search for it there was also, incidentally, found some whiskey,
which two individuals retailed from a rude tent at the moderate price
of one dollar per quart.
_June 4_ (Friday). We went two or three miles beyond O'Fallons Bluff,
nineteen and a half miles altogether. A great variety of flowers decked
the prairie, and many of us amused ourselves by making bouquets.
Some three or four days ago Lieutenant Duane gave up pedestrianism and
took to riding his horse.
_June 5_ (Saturday). We marched again to-day over a flowery plain:
phlox, wall flowers, bachelor's buttons, larkspur, lilies, cacti,
golden dagger, snap-dragons, daisies, and forget-me-nots grew in wild
confusion. We covered eighteen and a half miles. The weather was mild
and beautiful.
_June 6_ (Sunday). We did not march to-day, but no rest was vouchsafed
us. The company was fallen in at fatigue call and divided into working
parties--some roasted coffee, some ground tools, others mended tents,
and the remainder forded the river after wood.
_June 7_ (Monday). We were again en route, and proceeded to North Pond,
sixteen and a third miles. Three or four successive dry days have made
the road very dusty.
_June 8_ (Tuesday). We came to within four miles of the "First
Crossing," journeying nineteen miles. A Sioux village was in sight, on
the opposite side of the river, and we were not long in camp before
some thirty of the villagers paid us a visit, headed by an old,
bow-legged warrior. They all approached with extended hand, exclaiming,
"How! How!"--then wandered about the camp; making observations and
taking anything they found loose, and trading with the men. They never
failed to be near when anything like provisions was produced, and were
not at all backward in telling one they were hungry. We gave some a
little soup, which they liked very much, taking especial care, however,
to avoid the vegetables which it contained. A party of boys among them
amused us by shooting down little ornaments with their arrows,
receiving as reward the ornaments which served as targets. They also
ran several foot races with our little drummer boy, the honors being
divided. The Indians are bold riders, the harness on their horses
consisting only of a Mexican bit and a rawhide bridle. They twist their
feet inside the horses' forelegs, and the animals might as well try to
get rid of their tails as of one of these copper-colored devils.
This evening a party of women came over, with skins and moccasins to
trade. Some of the younger ones were comely looking maidens. One old
squaw, accompanied by two daughters, made a trade with one of the men,
giving a buffalo robe for a double-sized silk handkerchief, blue, with
red and yellow flowers. She no sooner spread it to the breeze than both
daughters besieged her for it, but she turned and ran with her prize,
pursued by the two damsels.
_June 9_ (Wednesday). We made a march of seventeen and a quarter miles,
to the crossing of the South Fork of the Platte River. It was very warm
during the morning, and the soles of our shoes became very smooth from
marching through the dead grass. At noon, though, it commenced raining,
and continued to do so all afternoon and evening. After arriving at our
camp ground we had to wait nearly an hour for the train, which through
some cause had been detained. We kindled a fire and crowded around it,
three or four deep.
The Lieutenant, Dwyer (the wagon-master), and two or three other men
mounted mules last night, took a day's provisions, and started up the
river to seek the crossing here. Finding it, they spent the night with
the old Cheyenne chief, Spotted Tail, who had two or three wigwams at
the crossing. They were entertained in a distinguished manner by his
dusky highness, returning in the morning to the command. But as soon as
our train came within sight to-day the old Chief pulled up his stakes
and "vamoosed the ranch."
_June 10_ (Thursday). We remained in camp, as it was a raw, wet, chilly
day; little was done except to sleep. The Colonel wishes a warm day for
the crossing.
_June 11_ (Friday). The day being no better than yesterday, and there
being no prospect of improvement, we commenced the long-dreaded
crossing. Lieutenant Alexander divested himself of all clothing, except
his shirt and drawers, and entered, leading his horse. We speedily
stripped ourselves, carrying our belts and haversacks around our necks,
our clothes in a bundle on the ends of our rifles. Every two good
swimmers taking between them one of those ignorant of the now useful
art, we trusted ourselves to the mercy of the chilling, madly rushing
current. The water was high, and as cold as ice. It required as much
strength as we could muster to gain a step against the current, and the
sharp stones on the bottom cut our feet painfully, till our legs and
feet became so benumbed with cold as to be insensible to further pain.
As we made a step forward, when the water was but a foot or two deep,
we would sink unexpectedly to the middle, and probably the next step
would take us in to the arm-pits; then the water would obtain such a
force against the body that it required almost superhuman efforts to
keep an upright position. We became dizzy from the rapid current before
getting half way across, and by the time the opposite shore was reached
most of us were pretty well exhausted. One man, Artificer James R.
Kelly, was swept off his feet, but luckily enough I was able to catch
hold of him and bring him ashore.
Our train, while we were crossing, started off in a stampede, and we
had the pleasure of being on one side of the stream and seeing our
wagons carried away over hill and valley, in every direction, on the
other. Fortunately, the mules were safely brought back, although a
little blown; after they were all securely landed on our side of the
river they were the meekest and most humble congregation of mules I
have ever seen.
After we pitched our tents each received a gill of whiskey. Upon
inspection, the losses of the day were found to be one linchpin and one
pair of pantaloons.
_June 12_ (Saturday). We went as far as Rattlesnake Hill, eighteen and
an eighth miles. Several rattlesnakes were seen during the march, and
once or twice our men came near treading on them, but they escaped us
by getting into their holes, or we escaped them by getting out of their
way. The rear guard killed one or two.
We left the old road in the morning and took Bryans. After about two
hours' march we reached Lodge Pole Creek and forded it, our course then
lying through the valley of the creek. There was good grass all through
the valley, and myriads of flowers, but no wood. We were obliged to
burn buffalo chips.
_June 13_ (Sunday). We marched to-day, as the Colonel wishes to get to
a pine country about a hundred miles ahead. We went nineteen and
three-quarter miles, this being the second camp on Lodge Pole Creek.
An order was published prohibiting dogs running at large, either on the
march, at a halt, or in camp--hard on the canines, but they find no
sympathy. Two other orders were published, one obliging the sick to
attend all roll calls--no man has a right to be sick on a
campaign!--the other stating that the Company should fall in at
reveille _under arms_, so that on days when we do not march our weapons
may remain stacked outside, to give the rain a chance to wash them and
to allow the sun to better season the stocks.
_June 14_ (Monday). We marched nineteen miles along Lodge Pole Creek,
the valley of which is one of the most beautiful portions of this
country, requiring only the presence of trees to make it perfectly
charming. Two chains of sand-bluffs skirt the valley, one on either
side, and, toward the close of our march these bluffs began to assume a
rocky appearance.
A curious and interesting novelty was seen by us to-day, an Indian dead
lodge. It was a wigwam, built in the usual manner, the poles covered
with buffalo hides, hair side in, and the opening of the lodge sewed
shut with rawhide thongs. A pole was planted in the center of the tent
and projected through the covering, about eight feet higher than the
door; to the pole was suspended the distinguishing badge of the chief
buried within, composed of painted eagle feathers, ornamented in a very
neat manner with horsehair and beads. The ground around the lodge was
ditched, and the sods piled around the bottom of the skins. About ten
feet from the lodge, in front of the door, was a square patch of earth,
dug up and carefully smoothed, and behind it a small mound of earth and
sods, on top of which were placed two buffalo skulls, bleached white
with the rains; they were arranged facing the lodge, as like two silent
sentinels watching the repose of the dead, and the forehead of each
bore ten red stripes, signifying that the defunct dignitary had borne
his share of the perils of ten war-paths.
Although our curiosity was under the reins of respect for the deceased,
yet we could not resist the temptation of getting just a peep at the
internal arrangements; drawing one or two pegs from the bottom of the
skins, we bent our straining vision into the solemn depth of darkness
that reigned within. Needless to say, the olfactory nerves were first
gratified, but as our eyes became accustomed to the uncertain light we
could discern a shapeless mass, elevated upon crotched poles, and lying
upon a bed of twigs, closely wrapped in skins. From the poles were
suspended the quiver of arrows, the bow, the tomahawk, the pipe, and
the ammunition pouches of the deceased. We carefully closed the lodge
and left the dead to his solitude.
But, sad to relate, when our train had passed, not only the curiosity
of some of the men was excited, but their cupidity also; in less than
five minutes the before sacred resting place was, by heartless and
relentless hands, left in desolate ruin.
_June 15_ (Tuesday). We did not march to-day, on account of an express
being sent to Fort Laramie, about fifty miles from here, to ascertain
if any orders are there for the command, to carry our mail matter, and
to procure a guide to pilot us from Bridgers Pass to Fort Bridger.
Having found that pine wood is available, a wagon was sent out, with a
detail of men, to cut and bring in a load.
The Company was indulged in the luxury of a drill to-day, and
notwithstanding the uneven nature of the ground, and the fact of our
having been so long on the march, our men went through the movements
and maneuvers with remarkable precision.
_June 16_ (Wednesday). We took up the march and went on a distance of
nineteen and a half miles. We encamped again on Pole Creek, which we
crossed once on the march. At one point we reached two high, rocky
bluffs, covered with pine timber, the road ascending about half way to
the top of the bluff on the right of the valley, and forming sort of a
ledge along its almost precipitous side. Some large trees grew over the
road and threw a shade across it. On the left of the road was a deep
chasm, in which, about sixty feet below, ran the creek, thickly shaded
on either side by dense shrubbery. This beautiful spot possessed such
charms for us, coming as we did from the bleak, uninteresting prairie,
that we stopped to rest, and thought ourselves transported into the
regions of fairyland. But our pleasure was short-lived, for this oasis
of the wilderness continued for only a half-mile, when the country
again relapsed into the monotonous sky and prairie, relieved only by
the scanty shrubbery which grew along the creek.
_June 17_ (Thursday). We are again encamped on Lodge Pole Creek, our
day's march amounting to sixteen and three-fifths miles. The valley was
somewhat more rolling than usual to-day. We crossed many ravines and
hills, and once more crossed the creek. No timber is within sight yet.
Antelopes are very numerous here, but so wild that it is almost
impossible to kill any.
_June 18_ (Friday). We marched nineteen and a half miles, and again
encamped on Pole Creek. A small party of men were detailed this morning
to cut wood and bring it to the side of the road where the wagons could
take it up. About the middle of the march we passed two more pine
bluffs, one on each side of the valley, and afterwards emerged upon a
long, level plain, where we came to a full stop before an ominous
looking bog. Two or three wagons tried to cross; but wagons, mules and
all settled down into the soft, black mud; the mules to their bodies
and the wagons to the axle-trees. As the mules could not pull out, and
the men failed in swearing them out, we were obliged to have recourse
to what one of our party termed "main strength and stupidity." By the
use of a little force two of the old settlers were extricated; the
other proved more stubborn in its affection for "mother earth," and as
the mules sat down disconsolately in the mud, we had to send ahead for
the assistance of two or three more teams. We hitched on all the mules,
and ourselves pulled on ropes attached to the wheels--and our labors
and perseverance were finally rewarded with success.
When we reached camp we found an old guide named Duval waiting for us.
He was sent over from Fort Laramie, and had been waiting a day or two
for our appearance. Duval had shot a fine buck antelope, which he
presented to us, and evening found us busily engaged around our camp
fires, cooking our steaks.
_June 19_ (Saturday). We marched eighteen and three-quarter miles,
passing over a level prairie throughout the march. We crossed the creek
once more--we had the pleasure of crossing it seven times
yesterday--and are encamped upon it again, also. As we are now rapidly
approaching its source the creek is growing quite shallow, but the
water is, if anything, purer and colder. Near the close of the march
two or three white clouds were on the horizon, in front and a little to
the left of us. All the firmament, except this one spot, was perfectly
innocent of anything like a cloud, and the objects themselves kept such
a stubbornly immovable position that we began to doubt whether they
were clouds after all. As we approached camp they changed their
appearance not in the least, except that they grew somewhat larger.
When we were encamped a party ascended a bluff nearby and satisfied
ourselves that we were actually in sight of the Medicine Bow Mountains.
This was a new and grand sight to many of us. On our right, far in the
distance, could be descried a long range of mountains, stretching away
as far as the eye could see. Compared with the color of the rolling
prairie, that fills up the expanse between us and the mountains, they
are a dusky black--hence the name, "Black Hills." The appearance is
owing to the density of the pine timber with which the hills are
covered.
Our men shot two antelopes, of which achievement we were all very
proud.
_June 20_ (Sunday). We are now nearly six hundred miles from Fort
Leavenworth. The day was spent in domestic occupations. Groups might be
seen sitting in the shade of the wagons, the only objects which here
afford a shade, engaged in mending the breaches in their breeches and
other clothes. Others were busied in the laundry department. Others,
again, were deep in the mazes of correspondence.
A most magnificent sunset was seen by us this evening. The God of Day
was retiring from our vision, majestically robing himself in the dark,
threatening thunder-clouds which were rapidly spreading over the
heavens. The storm soon interposed its black curtain between us and the
grand spectacle, and darkness reigned where before everything was
bathed in a flood of silvery light.
_June 21_ (Monday). We marched twenty miles, and once more camped on
Pole Creek. Our whole course lay along valleys, so that we obtained but
one view of the mountains.
Several more antelopes were shot to-day. Either game is getting more
plentiful, or else we are improving in the quality of our hunters. The
Infantry are very successful in their hunting excursions.
_June 22_ (Tuesday). We made seventeen miles, and encamped for the last
time on Pole Creek. The Chief Engineer was in a short-cut humor, when
we started out this morning, moved thereto by the guide. We were
marched around three or four bluffs, followed by the entire command,
train and all; and this species of countermarching gave rise to many
forcible expressions of disapprobation. We soon found the proper road,
however, and started anew.
We are encamped this evening within the Cheyenne Pass, at the foot of
the Black Hills. When within about four miles of camp we encountered a
numerous party of Cheyenne Indians, who stood a respectable distance
from us and surveyed us with great timidity. This tribe has given the
Government considerable trouble by its hostile demeanor, and it has
been but a short time since its members were taught one or two
wholesome lessons; hence their caution in approaching United States
troops. However, they followed us to camp, and, seeing nothing
threatening in our behavior, gradually mingled with us and opened the
business of "swap." Before tattoo they became quite sociable, and some
of them entertained us by their dexterity with the bow and arrow, and
showed us the leaves that they mix with their tobacco, to render it
milder and to increase the quantity. We, in return, amused them with
the curious workmanship of our Colt's revolvers and showed them the
mechanism of a watch, which struck them with amazement.
A good joke was circulated this morning, at the expense of one of the
sons of the "Emerald Isle." It appears he was on post as a sentinel,
and the officer of the day, visiting his post in the early hours of the
night, was promptly challenged, "Who comes there?" "Officer of the
Day," was the answer. As that appeared to be the end of the matter, and
as the officer was kept standing, he inquired why the countersign,
which was "Scott," was not demanded. The sentinel replied that he did
not know the countersign was the same for both guards. "Oh, yes,"
rejoined the officer, "the countersign is general throughout the camp."
A short time after, the sergeant of the guard visited the sentinel and
inquired whether the officer of the day had been there. "Yes, shure,"
said Pat, "and he told me that the countersign was 'Gineral' throughout
the camp, and not 'Scott.'"
_June 23_ (Wednesday). We marched seventeen miles to the highest of the
Black Hills, and then encamped. This has been the most interesting
march we have yet had; the road ran through rich, luxurious valleys,
over high hills, through cuts, in deep, dark ravines, winding among
immense rocks and boulders or burying itself in the shady depths of
dense pine woods. In the valleys we saw, long, rich grass, decorated by
countless millions of flowers and wild rose bushes in full bloom. And
upon the hills we beheld curious specimens of nature's skill in
carving, many fantastic figures among the large sandstone rocks
furnishing ample proof of it. Here, too, might be seen the unusual
sight of wild flowers, in all the glory of summer, elevating their
gorgeous heads above a bed of pure snow. The snow we considered such a
novelty, it being the latter part of June, that we indulged in a set-to
with snowballs.
From our camp upon the summit a most magnificent view can be had. On
one side there is a steep descent for about a quarter of a mile, then,
by crossing a stream, one ascends a very steep mountain, thickly
covered with pines. As many of the giants of the forest lie upon the
ground, in decay, as are standing, and the ground is covered by
decomposed vegetable matter to a depth of three or four feet. On the
side from which we came the hills may be seen, one below the other,
some red with sandstone, some white with clay, some green with grass
and shrubbery, and others black with pines. On the third side rough,
ragged, toppling crags are piled, one upon the other, in the wildest
and most picturesque confusion. The fourth side is more charming, if
possible, even than the others; the whole immense valley stretching
far, far away to the Medicine Bow Mountains, the Laramie River winding
across it like a silver thread. This was our advent among the mountain
scenery, and with it we were delighted.
_June 24_ (Thursday). We marched eight and a half miles, descending the
hills to the Laramie River, where we were obliged to make a temporary
halt, this stream being too rapid and deep to ford. It was found
necessary to gain a crossing with our wits and the little paraphernalia
that could be found in the train. Operations were commenced by
unloading some of the wagons and inflating five or six of the pontons,
or cylindrical floats, all that we had. This done, we had to get a rope
across the river. Tying a sash-cord to the end of a two-inch rope, and
enough twine to reach across the stream being tied to the other end of
the cord, a volunteer from the infantry swam over with the end of the
twine in his mouth. The rope was then drawn over, and the tools were
tied to a cord, which ran on the rope with a slip-knot and was drawn
over by the twine. A strong pile was driven into the ground and the
ferry rope made fast to it. We then constructed a raft by lashing the
pontons together, holding them with the wagon tongues and covering
those again with the tailboards for a flooring. Another and heavier
rope, being ready to send over, one of our men, Murphy, taking the end
of the rope itself in his mouth, swam across with it. Tackling was
rigged with blocks on the ferry rope, and to the side of the raft, and
the raft made its first passage, with signal success, the current being
the motive power.
So transportation commenced in earnest, a crew for the raft being
selected from our men and First Sergt. F. W. Gerber taking command.
Throughout the day the voice of the Sergeant could be heard above the
din and uproar of this exciting occasion, shouting in the most
impressive manner, as though implicit obedience could be obtained only
by unheard of severity, "Haul away on the bow!" "Shlack on de shtern!"
"'Way 'nofe!" "Fent off!" and similar incomprehensible expressions.
To-night we are on one side of the river and the Infantry on the other,
our train having been the first to cross.
_June 25_ (Friday). We arose early in the morning and resumed
operations, the Company being divided into parties and distributed
around wherever of the most service. Sergt. James E. Wilson took a
party of the Infantry and rigged up another rope ferry, which did very
valuable service throughout the day, ferrying over the loads of the
wagons, while the wagons themselves were sent over on the first ferry.
An attempt was made to draw the wagons across the stream by a rope; one
was thus launched, but before it reached the middle of the river it
overturned and filled. Only a small portion of the wagon was visible
above the water, and to get it out it was necessary to move the rope
from the tongue to one of the wheels. Four of our men volunteered for
this service (Sergeant Pierce, Artificer Jordan, McGill, and Pat
Murphy) and these worked indefatigably for nearly two hours, in cold
water about five feet deep, their labors being finally rewarded with
success.
Evening found us all safely encamped on the west side of the Laramie
River.
_June 26_ (Saturday). A very beautiful day. Every day since we have
been here the forenoon has been warm and sultry, but at noon a strong
breeze springs up from the south and continues until sunset, when it
ceases.
The Company was again divided into parties to-day, one bringing over
the ropes and rigging upon the raft, and another coiling the ropes and
repacking the wagons. It required the whole day to get things into
marching order again, and night finds us all prepared for an early
start upon the morrow.
Another metallic wagon was added to our train to-day--the
Quartermaster, finding that we can handle pontons with such dexterity,
thought it best to give us the care of them in order to facilitate
matters in case of emergency. The Quartermaster informed us that it had
been his intention to treat the Company with a little of the _aqua
ardente_, but, owing to so much having been expended, both lawfully and
surreptitiously, during the day, the liquor was almost "played out,"
and he could not afford the contemplated treat.
_June 27_ (Sunday). The Eight Fork of the Laramie River was reached and
crossed, and we encamped upon the farther side, after marching sixteen
miles. The country passed over was a level valley, almost barren of
vegetation; small knots of sickly looking grass grew at remote
intervals, and found but a miserable support among the stones and sand.
We soon came to the fork of the river. It is here divided into several
streams, the first six or seven being somewhat shallow and the ground
between soft and boggy; but the last two streams are deeper and more
rapid, the water exceedingly cold, and rushing over long, sharp stones
with alarming rapidity. We had a great deal of trouble getting our
train across, every team having to be doubled. The shouts of the
teamsters, and the struggles of the mules in the mud and water, could
be heard long after darkness had settled upon the busy camp.
We beheld another concourse of Cheyenne Indians assembled upon the
hill, patiently awaiting our arrival. They continued all the afternoon
hanging about the camp, trying to "swap" their goods for lead and
powder. But very little ammunition could they obtain from us; we knew
their hostile, treacherous character too well, and our duty to the
Government better. We traded with the Indians for moccasins,
rifle-covers, knives with bead-worked scabbards, etc.
One of the Indians espied a set of artificial teeth when one of our
men, Horace Sexton, laughed, exposing the gold clasps as he did so. A
group of curious Indians gathered about, peering into his mouth and
chattering to one another, wondering that a white man should have gold
teeth. In order to amuse them, Sexton took the teeth out of his mouth,
whereupon the whole group of redskins retreated from him in terror; nor
could they be induced to approach again, deeming him too familiar with
black art to feel safe in his company.
One of the non-commissioned officers, Sergeant Gerber, wished to
purchase a beautiful white pony that an Indian was riding. He offered
him a handful of silver half dollars (the Indians are very eager to get
hold of silver coins, out of which they make ornaments), but the Indian
shook his head in the negative. Some biscuits and red chalk were added
to the tempting pile of silver, but, after some hesitation, the Indian
still declined the "swap." A new uniform coat was then offered also.
This pleased the Indian wonderfully; turning it over and over, he
surveyed it in every light, admired the yellow chevrons, laughed and
betrayed great eagerness to get possession of the gaudy garment. But
looking once more at his faithful pony, he declined the bargain.
Suddenly, a bright idea seemed to strike him--he wanted the coat, and
proposed to give the owner a squaw for it, which generous offer was of
course declined, amid loud peals of laughter from the bystanders.
A group of Indians had gathered about the forge, gazing at it with
reverential awe. One of them, making a quick motion of his hands, out
from his body, and making an explosive sound with his breath, to
represent the report of a gun, exclaimed, "Smoke wagon," meaning a
cannon. At this moment, Bourcey, the blacksmith, who was fitting on a
mule's shoe, returned with the shoe at the end of the tongs, and,
thrusting it into the fire, began blowing the bellows. It was laughable
to see the stampede among the redskins when they saw this ominous
maneuver--they thought he was going to fire the "smoke wagon."
_June 28_ (Monday). We encamped on Coopers Creek, having marched
fourteen miles. Our road to-day extended along the chain of mountains,
and lay over a hard, gravelly surface, thickly covered with small,
argillaceous stones. We passed a pond this morning, the shores of which
were encrusted with a white, crystallized substance, which, upon
inspection, proved to be magnesia and nitrate of soda. Antelopes were
seen in great number during the march, and two were shot.
At the conclusion of our march we suddenly found ourselves upon the
brow of a high hill, overlooking a magnificent valley about two miles
in length and a mile or more in width. The ground was covered with
rich, luxuriant grass, mingled with patches of wild flowers of every
hue. Two limpid mountain streams meandered across it, their banks
skirted by graceful shrubbery and noble trees. We encamped in this
Eden, and the calm peace that always pervades the mind when amidst the
quiet beauties of wild nature came upon us weary pilgrims. The only
drawback to this beautiful spot was the presence of that little
demon--the mosquito. These insects annoyed us excessively; not a moment
could we rest, but were obliged to keep our bodies continually in
motion, and to burn tarred rope and buffalo chips in the tents.
A bog was discovered here which it was thought would have to be crossed
in the morning, so the Company was turned out to repair it. We were
sent about a mile to cut and carry logs and brush; but after we had
completed the crossing a better and shorter road was found, and our
labor amounted to nothing more than a proof of the powers of endurance
of the invincible sixty-four.
_June 29_ (Tuesday). We marched thirteen miles, to Medicine Bow Creek.
We passed safely over four creeks, and were congratulating ourselves
upon our success when we were stopped short upon the banks of Medicine
Bow or Rock Creek. Here was a doleful sight; the creek was about thirty
yards wide, with a current which rushed over the large boulders on the
bottom with fearful impetuosity. Where it struck a large rock the water
would dash up to a height of five or six feet. A stone, weighing about
thirty pounds was thrown in, and finally rested on the bottom about
three yards downstream from where it first touched the water; and it
would not then have stopped in its onward career had it not been
arrested by coming into contact with a larger stone on the bottom.
All stood surveying these fearful rapids, waiting to see what the first
order would be. It was decided that the Engineers should endeavor to
get across and rig a bridge of driftwood. Several of us instantly
prepared for the undertaking, a place being selected where the stream
was divided by rocks and drift into four separate channels. The first
two were not so swift as the others and we effected a crossing over
them quite safely. The next was more difficult; several had a very
narrow escape in crossing; but many, with the assistance of poles,
succeeded in reaching the island. This was separated from the farther
shore by a single additional channel, which, although narrow, was the
most perilous of all. Three or four of the largest men made their way
across, jumping first into the stream as far as they could, struggling
as they were whirled down by the rushing current, and contriving at
last to get hold of bushes on the far bank and so to drag themselves
out of the water. By the aid of ropes we then managed to get a bridge
of logs over the most dangerous channels, and the Regiment crossed with
perfect safety.