THE THIRD COLORADO AND THE BATTLE OF SAND CREEK
It may be asked why we did not receive protection from the territorial
authorities. The reason for this was that the Territory was without
funds or a military organization. The Governor had repeatedly called the
attention of the General Government to the helpless condition of our
settlements, and asked that government troops be sent to protect them
from the raids of the Indians; but at this time the entire military force
of the nation was employed in suppressing the Rebellion, and little aid
could be given. It is true that the companies of the First Regiment of
Colorado Cavalry were distributed along the frontier, seldom more than
one company in a place. Scattered in this way over a wide extent of
country, they were of little or no use in the way of defense.
Meanwhile, the Indians were in virtual possession of the lines of travel
to the east. Every coach that came through from the Missouri River to
Denver had to run the gauntlet. Some were riddled with bullets, others
were captured and their passengers killed. Instances were known where
the victims were roasted alive, shot full of arrows, and subjected to
every kind of cruelty the savages could devise. Finally, after many
urgent appeals, the Governor of Colorado was permitted to organize a
new regiment to be used in protecting the frontier settlements and in
punishing the hostile Cheyennes and Arapahoes. The term of service was
to be one hundred days; it was thought that by prompt action signal
punishment could be inflicted on the savages in that time. Lieut. George
L. Shoup, of the First Colorado, was commissioned as Colonel of the
new regiment, which was designated as the Third Regiment of Colorado
Volunteer Cavalry. Colonel Shoup had already proved himself to be a
very able and efficient officer. He was afterward for many years United
States Senator from the State of Idaho. From the day he received his
appointment, he proceeded with great activity to organize his command.
Recruiting officers had already been placed in almost every town in the
Territory, and in less than thirty days eight or nine hundred men had
been enlisted. Eight or ten others from El Paso County besides myself
joined the regiment at the first call. Among them were Anthony Bott,
Robert Finley, Henry Coby, Samuel Murray, John Wolf, A. J. Templeton,
Henry Miller, and a number of others whose names I do not now remember.
The recruits from El Paso County were combined with those from Pueblo
County and mustered in as Company G at Denver on the 29th day of August,
1864. Our officers were O. H. P. Baxter of Pueblo, Captain; Joseph
Graham of the same county, First Lieutenant; and A. J. Templeton of El
Paso County, Second Lieutenant. Within a short time after we had been
mustered in at Denver, we marched back through El Paso County and south
to a point on the Arkansas River, five miles east of Pueblo, where we
remained for the next two months, waiting for our equipment. Meanwhile,
we were being drilled and prepared for active military duty.
On the last day of October and the first day of November of that year
there was a tremendous snow-storm all over the region along the eastern
base of the Rocky Mountains. The snowfall at our camp was twenty inches
in depth; at Colorado City it was over two feet on the level, and on the
Divide still deeper. All supplies for the company had to be brought to
our camp by teams, from the Commissary Department at Denver. The depth of
the snow now made this impossible; consequently, in a few days we were
entirely out of food. As there seemed to be no hope of relief within
the near future, our Captain instructed every one who had a home to go
there and remain until further notice. Half a dozen of us from El Paso
County started out the following morning before daylight, and tramped
laboriously all day and well into the night through deep snow along the
valley of the Fountain. For a portion of the way a wagon or two had gone
over the road since the storm, making it so rough that walking along it
was almost impossible. As a result, we were so tired by dusk that we
would have traveled no farther could we have found a place where food
and shelter were to be obtained; but it was eleven o'clock that night
before we could get any accommodations at all, and by that time we were
utterly exhausted. We resumed our tramp the next morning, but I was two
days in reaching my home in Colorado City, twenty-five miles distant.
Two weeks later we were notified by our Captain that provisions had
been obtained and that we should return to camp at once. We had already
been clothed in the light blue uniform then used by the cavalry branch
of the United States Army. Soon after our return to camp we received
our equipment of arms, ammunition, and the necessary accouterments. The
guns were old, out-of-date Austrian muskets of large bore with paper
cartridges from which we had to bite off the end when loading. These
guns sent a bullet rather viciously, but one could never tell where it
would hit. A little later on, our horses arrived. They were a motley
looking group, composed of every kind of an equine animal from a pony to
a plow horse. The saddles and bridles were the same as were used in the
cavalry service and were good of the kind. I had the misfortune to draw
a rawboned, square-built old plow horse, upon which thereafter I spent
a good many uncomfortable hours. If the order came to trot, followed
by an order to gallop, I had to get him well underway on a trot and he
would be going like the wind before I could bring him into the gallop.
Meanwhile his rough trot would be shaking me to pieces. From what I have
said, it will be seen that our equipment, as to arms and mounts, was of
the poorest kind.
The main part of the regiment had been in camp near Denver during all
this time. This inactivity had caused a great deal of complaint among
the officers and enlisted men. For the most part, the regiment had been
enlisted from the ranchmen, miners, and business men of the State, and
it was the understanding that they were to be given immediate service
against the hostile Indians. The delay was probably unavoidable, being
caused by the inability of the Government to promptly furnish the
necessary horses and equipment, as the animals had to be sent from east
of the Missouri River. The horses and equipment were received about the
middle of November. A few days later, under command of Colonel Shoup, the
main part of the regiment, together with three companies of the First
Colorado, started on its way south, towards a destination known only
to the principal officers. The combined force was under command of Col.
John M. Chivington, commander of the military district of Colorado. The
company to which I belonged joined the regiment as it passed our camp,
about the 25th of November, and from that time on our real hardships
began. We marched steadily down the valley of the Arkansas River, going
into camp at seven or eight o'clock every night, and by the time we had
eaten supper and had taken care of our horses, it was after ten o'clock.
We were called out at four o'clock the next morning and were on the move
before daylight. In order that no news of our march should be carried
to the Indians, every man we met on the road was taken in charge, and,
for the same purpose, guards were placed at every ranch.
About four o'clock in the evening of November 28th, we arrived at Fort
Lyon, to the great surprise of its garrison. No one at the fort even knew
that the regiment had left the vicinity of Denver. A picket guard was
thrown around the fort to turn away any Indians that might be coming in,
and also to prevent any of the trappers or Indian traders who generally
hung around there from notifying the savages of our presence.
Soon after our arrival at camp, we were told that the wagon train would
be left behind at this point, and each man was instructed to secure
from the commissary two or three pounds of raw bacon and sufficient
"hardtack" to last three or four days, which he was to carry in his
saddlebags. At eight o'clock that night, the regiment took up its line
of march across the prairie, in a direction almost due north from Fort
Lyon. Each company was formed into fours, and we pushed on rapidly. All
night long it was walk, trot, gallop, dismount and lead. I had had very
little sleep for two or three nights previously, and, consequently,
this all-night march was very exhausting. During the latter part of
the night, I would willingly have run the risk of being scalped by the
Indians for a half-hour's sleep. Some time after midnight, our guide,
intentionally as we thought, led us through one of the shallow lakes
that are so plentiful on the plains of that region. He was understood
to be more friendly to the Indians than to the whites, and perhaps he
hoped our ammunition would get wet, and thus become ineffective in the
anticipated engagement. During the night, in order to keep awake, we
had been nibbling on our hardtack, which in the morning, much to our
disgust, we found to be very much alive.
It was a bright, clear, starlight night; the air was crisp and
uncomfortably cool, as might be expected at that time of year. Just as
the sun was coming up over the eastern hills, we reached the top of a
ridge, and away off in the valley to the northwest we saw a great number
of Indian tents, forming a village of unusual size. We knew at once that
this village was our objective point. Off to the left, between us and
the village, was a large number of Indian ponies.
Two or three minutes later, orders came directing our battalion to capture
the herd. Under command of a Major of the regiment, we immediately started
on the run in order to get between the ponies and the Indian camp before
our presence was discovered. We had not proceeded any great distance
before we saw half a dozen Indians coming toward the herd from the
direction of the camp, but, on seeing our large force, they hesitated a
moment and then started back as fast as their ponies could take them. We
were not long in securing the herd, which consisted of between five and
six hundred ponies. The officer in command placed from twenty to thirty
men in charge of the ponies, with instructions to drive them away to
some point where they would be in no danger of recapture. The remainder
of the battalion then started directly for the Indian camp, which lay
over a little ridge to the north of us. Meanwhile, the main part of
the command had marched at a rapid rate down the slope to Sand Creek,
along the northern bank of which the Indian camp was located. Crossing
the creek some distance to the eastward of the village, they marched
rapidly westward along the north bank until near the Indian village,
where they halted, and the battle began. At the same time our battalion
was coming in from the south. This left an opening for the Indians to
the westward, up the valley of Sand Creek, and also to the northward,
across the hills towards the Smoky Hill River. Before our battalion had
crossed the low ridge which cut off the view of the village at the point
where we captured the ponies, and had come in sight of the village again,
the firing had become general, and it made some of us, myself among the
number, feel pretty queer. I am sure, speaking for myself, if I hadn't
been too proud, I should have stayed out of the fight altogether.
When we first came in sight of the Indian camp there were a good many
ponies not far away to the north of it, and now when we came in sight
of the camp again, after we had captured the other herd, we saw large
numbers of Indians, presumably squaws and children, hurrying northward on
these ponies, out of the way of danger. After the engagement commenced,
the Indian warriors concentrated along Sand Creek, using the high banks
on either side as a means of defense. At this point, Sand Creek was about
two hundred yards wide, the banks on each side being almost perpendicular
and from six to twelve feet high. The engagement extended along this creek
for three or four miles from the Indian encampment. Our capture of the
ponies placed the Indians at a great disadvantage, for the reason that
an Indian is not accustomed to fighting on foot. They were very nearly
equal to us in numbers, and had they been mounted, we should have had
great difficulty in defeating them, as they were better armed than we
were, and their ponies were much superior for military purposes to the
horses of our command.
From the beginning of the engagement our battery did effective work, its
shells, as a rule, keeping the Indians from concentrating in considerable
numbers at any one point. However, at one place, soon after getting into
the fight, I saw a line of fifty to one hundred Indians receive a charge
from one of our companies as steadily as veterans, and their shooting
was so effective that our men were forced to fall back. Returning to
the charge soon after, the troopers forced the Indians to retire behind
the banks of the creek, which they did, however, in a very leisurely
manner, leaving a large number of their dead upon the field. Our own
company, Company G, became disorganized early in the fight, as did many
of the other companies, and after that fought in little groups wherever
it seemed that they could be most effective. After the first few shots,
I had no fear whatever, nor did I see any others displaying the least
concern as to their own safety. The fight soon became general all up and
down the valley, the Indians continuously firing from their places of
defense along the banks, and a constant fusillade being kept up by the
soldiers, who were shooting at every Indian that appeared. I think it was
in this way that a good many of the squaws were killed. It was utterly
impossible, at a distance of two hundred yards, to discern between the
sexes, on account of their similarity of dress.
As our detachment moved up the valley, we frequently came in line of
the firing, and the bullets whizzed past us rather unpleasantly, but
fortunately none of us was hurt. At one point we ran across a wounded
man, a former resident of El Paso County, but then a member of a company
from another county. A short time previously, as he passed too near the
bank, a squaw had shot an arrow into his shoulder, inflicting a very
painful wound. He was being cared for by the members of his own company.
A little farther up the creek we crossed over to the north side, and
then moved leisurely up the valley, shooting at the Indians whenever
any were in sight. By this time, most of them had burrowed into the soft
sand of the banks, which formed a place of defense for them from which
they could shoot at the whites, while only slightly exposing themselves.
Soon after, we joined a detachment which was carrying on a brisk
engagement with a considerable force of Indians, some of whom were hidden
behind one of the many large piles of driftwood along the banks of Sand
Creek, while others were sheltered behind a similar pile in the center of
the creek, which was unusually wide at that point. Our men were posted
in a little depression just back from the north bank, from which some
of them had crawled forward as far as they dared go, and were shooting
into the driftwood, in the hope of driving the Indians from cover. Soon
after I reached this point, a member of the company from Boulder, who
had stepped out a little too far, and then turned around to speak to one
of us, was shot in the back, the bullet going straight through his lungs
and chest. Realizing at once that he was badly wounded, probably fatally
so, he asked to be taken to his company. I volunteered to accompany
him and, after helping him on his horse, we started across the prairie
to where his company was supposed to be. With every breath, bubbles of
blood were coming from his lungs and I had little hope that he would
reach his comrades alive. Just as we reached the company, he fainted and
was caught by his captain as he was falling from his horse. I returned
immediately to the place that I had left and found the battle still going
on. During my absence, our little force had been considerably increased
by soldiers from other parts of the battlefield. It was now decided to
make it so hot for the savages by continuous firing, that they would
be compelled to leave their places of cover. Soon two or three of the
Indians exposed themselves and were instantly shot down. In a short time,
the remainder started across the creek towards its southern bank. They
ran in a zigzag manner, jumping from one side to the other, evidently
hoping by so doing that we would be unable to hit them, but by taking
deliberate aim, we dropped every one before they reached the other bank.
About this time, orders came from the commanding officer directing us
to return at once to the Indian camp, as information had been received
that a large force of Indians was coming from the Smoky Hill River to
attack us. Obeying this order, we marched leisurely down the creek, and
as we went we were repeatedly fired at by Indians hidden in the banks
in the manner I have described heretofore. We returned the fire, but
the savages were so well protected that we had no reason to think any
of our shots had proved effective. At one place, an Indian child, three
or four years of age, ran out to us, holding up its hands and crying
piteously. From its actions we inferred that it wished to be taken up.
At first I was inclined to do so, but changed my mind when it occurred
to me that I should have no means of taking care of the little fellow.
We knew that there were Indians concealed within a couple of hundred
yards of where we were, who certainly would take care of him as soon as
we were out of the way; consequently we left him to be cared for by his
own people. Every one of our party expressed sympathy for the little
fellow, and no one dreamed of harming him.
As we neared the Indian camp, we passed the place where the severest
fighting had occurred earlier in the day, and here we saw many dead
Indians, a few of whom were squaws. At the edge of the camp, we came
upon our own dead who had been brought in and placed in a row. There
were ten of them, and we were informed that there were forty wounded in
a hospital improvised for the occasion. Among the dead I expected to find
the Boulder man whom I had taken to his company, but, strange to relate,
he survived his wound, and I saw him two or three years afterwards,
apparently entirely recovered. The number of our dead and wounded showed
that the Indians had offered a vigorous defense, and as I have before
stated, if they had been mounted, it is questionable whether the result
would have been the same—had they remained to fight.
We reached the Indian camp about four o'clock in the afternoon, the battle
having continued without cessation from early morning until that time. The
companies were immediately placed in position to form a hollow square,
inside of which our horses were picketed. I was so utterly exhausted
for want of sleep and food, as were many others of our company, that I
hunted up a buffalo robe, of which there were large numbers scattered
around, threw myself down on it, and was asleep almost as soon as I
touched the ground. The next thing I remember was being awakened for
supper, about dusk. We were told that we must sleep with our guns in
our hands, ready for use at any moment. Near midnight, we were awakened
by a more than vigorous call of our officers, ordering us to fall into
line immediately to repel an attack. We rushed out, but in our sleepy
condition had difficulty in forming a line, as we hardly knew what we
were doing. In the evening, by order of the commanding officer, all the
Indian tents outside of our encampment had been set on fire and now were
blazing brightly all around us. We heard occasional shots in various
directions, and in the light of the fire saw what looked to be hundreds
of Indian ponies running hither and thither. We saw no Indians, but we
knew that savages in an encounter always lie on the side of their ponies
opposite from the enemies they are attacking. From the number of what
seemed to be horses that could be seen in every direction, we thought
that we should surely be overwhelmed. After forming in line, and while
waiting for the attack, we discovered that what in our sleepy condition
we had imagined to be ponies, was nothing but the numerous dogs of the
Indian camp, which, having lost their masters, were running wildly in
every direction. Nevertheless, it was evident that Indians were all around
us, as our pickets had been fired upon and driven in from every side of
the camp. After remaining in line for a considerable length of time,
without being attacked, the regiment was divided into two divisions,
one of which was marched fifty feet in front of the other. We were then
instructed to get our blankets, and, wrapping ourselves in them, with
our guns handy, we lay down and slept the remainder of the night.
In the Indian camp we found an abundance of flour, sugar, bacon, coffee,
and other articles of food, sufficient for our maintenance, had we needed
it, for a time. In many of the tents there were articles of wearing
apparel and other things that had been taken from wagon-trains which
the Indians had robbed during the previous summer. In these same tents
we found a dozen or more scalps of white people, some of them being
from the heads of women and children, as was evidenced by the color
and fineness of the hair, which could not be mistaken for that of any
other race. One of the scalps showed plainly from its condition that
it had been taken only recently. Certain members of our regiment found
horses and mules in the Indian herd that had been stolen from them by
the hostiles in their various raids during the preceding year. The camp
was overflowing with proof that these Indians were among those who had
been raiding the settlements of Colorado during the previous summer,
killing people, robbing wagon-trains, burning houses, running off stock,
and committing outrages of which only a savage could be guilty; this
evidence only corroborated in the strongest possible manner what we
already knew. Among the members of our regiment, there were many who
had had friends and relatives killed, scalped, and mutilated by these
Indians, and almost every man had sustained financial loss by reason of
their raids; consequently it is not surprising they should be determined
to inflict such punishment upon the savages as would deter them from
further raids upon our settlements. Notwithstanding the fact that this
grim determination was firmly fixed in the mind of every one, I never
saw any one deliberately shoot at a squaw, nor do I believe that any
children were intentionally killed.
About noon of the day following the battle, our wagon-train came up,
and was formed into a hollow square in the center of our camp, the
lines being drawn in, so that if necessary the wagons could be used as
a means of defense. We knew that on the Smoky Hill River, from fifty to
seventy-five miles distant, there was another large body of Cheyennes
and Arapahoes which might attack us at any time. In every direction
throughout the day, many Indians were seen hovering around our camp.
Scouting parties were seldom able to get very far away from camp without
being fired upon, and several of our men were killed and a number wounded
in the skirmishes that took place. During the second night of our stay
on the battle ground, we were kept in line continuously, with our arms
ready for use at a moment's notice. At intervals during the entire night,
there was an exchange of shots at various points around the camp.
I never understood why we did not follow up our victory by an attack
upon the hostile bands camped on the Smoky Hill River, but I assume it
was on account of our regiment's inferior horses, arms, and equipment.
Probably Colonel Chivington, taking this into consideration, thought
his force not strong enough to fight such a large party successfully.
The following day, the command took up its line of march down the Big
Sandy and followed it to the Arkansas River, then easterly, along the
north side of that stream to the western boundary of Kansas. Soon after
we reached the Arkansas River, we found the trail of a large party of
Indians traveling down the valley. They seemed to be in great haste to get
away from us, as they had thrown away their camp kettles, buffalo robes,
and everything that might impede their flight. Realizing that the Indians
could not be overtaken with the whole command, on account of the poor
condition of many of the horses, our officers specially detailed three
hundred of our best mounted and best armed men, and sent them forward
in pursuit under forced march; but even this plan was unsuccessful, and
the pursuit was finally abandoned when near the Kansas line. The term
of enlistment of our regiment had already expired, for which reason the
command was reluctantly faced about, and the return march to Denver begun.
From the time we left the Sand Creek battle ground, it had been very
cold and disagreeable. Sharp, piercing winds blew from the north almost
incessantly, making us extremely uncomfortable during the day, and even
more so at night. Being without tents and compelled to sleep on the
open prairie, with no protection whatever from the wind, at times we
found the cold almost unbearable. The thin, shoddy government blankets
afforded only the slightest possible protection against the bitter winds;
consequently those were fortunate indeed who could find a gully in which
to make their bed. Our march back to Denver was leisurely and uneventful.
We reached there in due course and were mustered out of service on the
29th day of December, 1864. We dispersed to our homes, convinced that we
had done a good work and that it needed only a little further punishment
of the savages permanently to settle the Indian troubles so far as this
Territory was concerned.