KAS-KI-YEH
_Part I--The Massacre_
In the summer of 1858, being at peace with the Mexican towns as well as
with all the neighboring Indian tribes, we went south into Old Mexico to
trade. Our whole tribe (Bedonkohe Apaches) went through Sonora toward
Casa Grande, our destination, but just before reaching that place we
stopped at another Mexican town called by the Indians "Kas-ki-yeh." Here
we stayed for several days, camping just outside the city. Every day we
would go into town to trade, leaving our camp under the protection of a
small guard so that our arms, supplies, and women and children would not
be disturbed during our absence.
Late one afternoon when returning from town we were met by a few women
and children who told us that Mexican troops from some other town had
attacked our camp, killed all the warriors of the guard, captured all
our ponies, secured our arms, destroyed our supplies, and killed many of
our women and children. Quickly we separated, concealing ourselves as
best we could until nightfall, when we assembled at our appointed place
of rendezvous--a thicket by the river. Silently we stole in one by one:
sentinels were placed, and, when all were counted, I found that my aged
mother, my young wife, and my three small children were among the slain.
There were no lights in camp, so without being noticed I silently turned
away and stood by the river. How long I stood there I do not know, but
when I saw the warriors arranging for a council I took my place.
That night I did not give my vote for or against any measure; but it was
decided that as there were only eighty warriors left, and as we were
without arms or supplies, and were furthermore surrounded by the
Mexicans far inside their own territory, we could not hope to fight
successfully. So our chief, Mangus-Colorado, gave the order to start at
once in perfect silence for our homes in Arizona, leaving the dead upon
the field.
I stood until all had passed, hardly knowing what I would do--I had no
weapon, nor did I hardly wish to fight, neither did I contemplate
recovering the bodies of my loved ones, for that was forbidden. I did
not pray, nor did I resolve to do anything in particular, for I had no
purpose left. I finally followed the tribe silently, keeping just within
hearing distance of the soft noise of the feet of the retreating
Apaches.
The next morning some of the Indians killed a small amount of game and
we halted long enough for the tribe to cook and eat, when the march was
resumed. I had killed no game, and did not eat. During the first march
as well as while we were camped at this place I spoke to no one and no
one spoke to me--there was nothing to say.
For two days and three nights we were on forced marches, stopping only
for meals, then we made a camp near the Mexican border, where we rested
two days. Here I took some food and talked with the other Indians who
had lost in the massacre, but none had lost as I had, for I had lost
all.
Within a few days we arrived at our own settlement. There were the
decorations that Alope had made--and there were the playthings of our
little ones. I burned[12] them all, even our tepee. I also burned my
mother's tepee and destroyed all her property.
I was never again contented in our quiet home. True, I could visit my
father's grave, but I had vowed vengeance upon the Mexican troopers who
had wronged me, and whenever I came near his grave or saw anything to
remind me of former happy days my heart would ache for revenge upon
Mexico.
[Illustration: GERONIMO NANNE OZONE CHIHUAHUA LOCO]
_Part II--Revenge_
As soon as we had again collected some arms and supplies
Mangus-Colorado, our chief, called a council and found that all our
warriors were willing to take the warpath against Mexico. I was
appointed to solicit the aid of other tribes in this war.
When I went to the Chokonen (Chiricahua) Apaches, Cochise, their chief,
called a council at early dawn. Silently the warriors assembled at an
open place in a mountain dell and took their seats on the ground,
arranged in rows according to their ranks. Silently they sat smoking. At
a signal from the chief I arose and presented my cause as follows:
"Kinsman, you have heard what the Mexicans have recently done without
cause. You are my relatives--uncles, cousins, brothers. We are men the
same as the Mexicans are--we can do to them what they have done to us.
Let us go forward and trail them--I will lead you to their city--we will
attack them in their homes. I will fight in the front of the battle--I
only ask you to follow me to avenge this wrong done by these
Mexicans--will you come? It is well--you will all come.
"Remember the rule in war--men may return or they may be killed. If any
of these young men are killed I want no blame from their kinsmen, for
they themselves have chosen to go. If I am killed no one need mourn for
me. My people have all been killed in that country, and I, too, will die
if need be."
I returned to my own settlement, reported this success to my chieftain,
and immediately departed to the southward into the land of the Nedni
Apaches. Their chief, Whoa, heard me without comment, but he immediately
issued orders for a council, and when all were ready gave a sign that I
might speak. I addressed them as I had addressed the Chokonen tribe, and
they also promised to help us.
It was in the summer of 1859, almost a year from the date of the
massacre of Kaskiyeh, that these three tribes were assembled on the
Mexican border to go upon the warpath. Their faces were painted, the war
bands[13] fastened upon their brows, their long scalp-locks[14] ready
for the hand and knife of the warrior who could overcome them. Their
families had been hidden away in a mountain rendezvous near the Mexican
border. With these families a guard was posted, and a number of places
of rendezvous designated in case the camp should be disturbed.
When all were ready the chieftains gave command to go forward. None of
us were mounted and each warrior wore moccasins and also a cloth wrapped
about his loins. This cloth could be spread over him when he slept, and
when on the march would be ample protection as clothing. In battle, if
the fight was hard, we did not wish much clothing. Each warrior carried
three days' rations, but as we often killed game while on the march, we
seldom were without food.
We traveled in three divisions: the Bedonkohe Apaches led by
Mangus-Colorado, the Chokonen Apaches by Cochise, and the Nedni Apaches
by Whoa; however, there was no regular order inside the separate tribes.
We usually marched about fourteen hours per day, making three stops for
meals and traveling forty to forty-five miles a day.
I acted as guide into Mexico, and we followed the river courses and
mountain ranges because we could better thereby keep our movements
concealed. We entered Sonora and went southward past Quitaco, Nacozari,
and many smaller settlements.
[Illustration: NAICHE, HIS MOTHER, HIS TWO WIVES AND HIS CHILDREN]
When we were almost at Arispe we camped, and eight men rode out from the
city to parley with us. These we captured, killed, and scalped. This was
to draw the troops from the city, and the next day they came. The
skirmishing lasted all day without a general engagement, but just at
night we captured their supply train, so we had plenty of provisions and
some more guns.
That night we posted sentinels and did not move our camp, but rested
quietly all night, for we expected heavy work the next day. Early the
next morning the warriors were assembled to pray--not for help, but that
they might have health and avoid ambush or deceptions by the enemy.
As we had anticipated, about ten o'clock in the morning the whole
Mexican force came out. There were two companies of cavalry and two of
infantry. I recognized the cavalry as the soldiers who had killed my
people at Kaskiyeh. This I told to the chieftains, and they said that I
might direct the battle.
I was no chief and never had been, but because I had been more deeply
wronged than others, this honor was conferred upon me, and I resolved to
prove worthy of the trust. I arranged the Indians in a hollow circle
near the river, and the Mexicans drew their infantry up in two lines,
with the cavalry in reserve. We were in the timber, and they advanced
until within about four hundred yards, when they halted and opened fire.
Soon I led a charge against them, at the same time sending some braves
to attack their rear. In all the battle I thought of my murdered mother,
wife, and babies--of my father's grave and my vow of vengeance, and I
fought with fury. Many fell by my hand, and constantly I led the
advance. Many braves were killed. The battle lasted about two hours.
At the last four Indians were alone in the center of the field--myself
and three other warriors. Our arrows were all gone, our spears broken
off in the bodies of dead enemies. We had only our hands and knives with
which to fight, but all who had stood against us were dead. Then two
armed soldiers came upon us from another part of the field. They shot
down two of our men and we, the remaining two, fled toward our own
warriors. My companion was struck down by a saber, but I reached our
warriors, seized a spear, and turned. The one who pursued me missed his
aim and fell by my spear. With his saber I met the trooper who had
killed my companion and we grappled and fell. I killed him with my knife
and quickly rose over his body, brandishing his saber, seeking for other
troopers to kill. There were none. But the Apaches had seen. Over the
bloody field, covered with the bodies of Mexicans, rang the fierce
Apache war-whoop.
Still covered with the blood of my enemies, still holding my conquering
weapon, still hot with the joy of battle, victory, and vengeance, I was
surrounded by the Apache braves and made war chief of all the Apaches.
Then I gave orders for scalping the slain.[15]
I could not call back my loved ones, I could not bring back the dead
Apaches, but I could rejoice in this revenge. The Apaches had avenged
the massacre of "Kas-ki-yeh."
FOOTNOTES:
[12] According to custom he should not have kept the property of his
deceased relatives, but he was not compelled to destroy his own tepee or
the playthings of his children.
[13] Strips of buckskin about two inches wide fastened around the head.
[14] At this time the Mexican Government offered a reward in gold for
Apache scalps--one hundred dollars for warrior's scalp, fifty dollars
for squaw's scalp, and twenty-five dollars for child's scalp.
[15] From the moment the command for war is given with the Apaches
everything assumes a religious guise. The manner of camping, cooking,
etc., are exactly prescribed. Every object appertaining to war is called
by its sacred name; as if, for instance, in English, one should say not
horse, but war-horse or charger; not arrow, but missile of death. The
Indian is not called by his ordinary name, but by a sacred name to which
is subjoined "brave" or "chief" as the case may be. Geronimo's Indian
name was Go khlä yeh, but the Mexicans at this battle called him
Geronimo, a name he has borne ever since both among the Indians and
white men.