A WINTER EXPEDITION--HERDS OF BUFFALO--WOLVES--BLIZZARDS--A TERRIBLE
NIGHT--FINDING THE BODIES OF ELLIOTT'S PARTY--THE ABANDONED INDIAN
CAMPS--PUSHING DOWN THE WASHITA--THE CAPTURED CHIEFS--EVANS'S
SUCCESSFUL FIGHT--ESTABLISHING FORT SILL--"CALIFORNIA JOE"--DUPLICITY
OF THE CHEYENNES--ORDERED TO REPAIR TO WASHINGTON.
A few days were necessarily lost setting up and refitting the Kansas
regiment after its rude experience in the Cimarron canyons. This
through with, the expedition, supplied with thirty days' rations,
moved out to the south on the 7th of December, under my personal
command. We headed for the Witchita Mountains, toward which rough
region all the villages along the Washita River had fled after
Custer's fight with Black Kettle. My line of march was by way of
Custer's battle-field, and thence down the Washita, and if the
Indians could not sooner be brought to terms, I intended to follow
them into the Witchita Mountains from near old Fort Cobb. The snow
was still deep everywhere, and when we started the thermometer was
below zero, but the sky being clear and the day very bright, the
command was in excellent spirits. The column was made up of ten
companies of the Kansas regiment, dismounted; eleven companies of the
Seventh Cavalry, Pepoon's scouts, and the Osage scouts. In addition
to Pepoon's men and the Osages, there was also "California Joe," and
one or two other frontiersmen besides, to act as guides and
interpreters. Of all these the principal one, the one who best knew
the country, was Ben Clark, a young man who had lived with the
Cheyennes during much of his boyhood, and who not only had a pretty
good knowledge of the country, but also spoke fluently the Cheyenne
and Arapahoe dialects, and was an adept in the sign language.
The first day we made only about ten miles, which carried us to the
south bank of Wolf Creek. A considerable part of the day was devoted
to straightening out matters in the command, and allowing time for
equalizing the wagon loads, which as a general thing, on a first
day's march, are unfairly distributed. And then there was an
abundance of fire-wood at Wolf Creek; indeed, here and on Hackberry
Creek--where I intended to make my next camp--was the only timber
north of the Canadian River; and to select the halting places near a
plentiful supply of wood was almost indispensable, for as the men
were provided with only shelter-tents, good fires were needed in
order to keep warm.
The second day, after marching for hours through vast herds of
buffalo, we made Hackberry Creek; but not, however, without several
stampedes in the wagon-train, the buffalo frightening the mules so
that it became necessary to throw out flankers to shoot the leading
bulls and thus turn off the herds. In the wake of every drove
invariably followed a band of wolves. This animal is a great coward
usually, but hunger had made these so ravenous that they would come
boldly up to the column, and as quick as a buffalo was killed, or
even disabled, they would fall upon the carcass and eagerly devour
it. Antelope also were very numerous, and as they were quite tame
--being seldom chased--and naturally very inquisitive, it was not an
unfrequent thing to see one of the graceful little creatures run in
among the men and be made a prisoner. Such abundance of game
relieved the monotony of the march to Hackberry Creek, but still,
both men and animals were considerably exhausted by their long tramp,
for we made over thirty miles that day.
We camped in excellent shape on the creek and it was well we did, for
a "Norther," or "blizzard," as storms on the Plains are now termed
struck us in the night. During the continuance of these blizzards,
which is usually about three days, the cold wind sweeps over the
Plains with great force, and, in the latitude of the Indian
Territory, is weighted with great quantities of sleet and snow,
through which it is often impossible to travel; indeed, these
"Northers" have many times proved fatal to the unprotected
frontiersman. With our numbers the chance of any one's being lost,
and perishing alone (one of the most common dangers in a blizzard),
was avoided; but under any circumstances such a storm could but
occasion intense suffering to all exposed to it, hence it would have
been well to remain in camp till the gale was over, but the time
could not be spared. We therefore resumed the march at an early hour
next morning, with the expectation of making the south bank of the
main Canathan and there passing the night, as Clark assured me that
timber was plentiful on that side of the river. The storm greatly
impeded us, however, many of the mules growing discouraged, and some
giving out entirely, so we could not get to Clark's "good camp," for
with ten hours of utmost effort only about half a day's distance
could be covered, when at last, finding the struggle useless, we were
forced to halt for the night in a bleak bottom on the north bank of
the river. But no one could sleep, for the wind swept over us with
unobstructed fury, and the only fuel to be had was a few green
bushes. As night fell a decided change of temperature added much to
our misery, the mercury, which had risen when the "Norther" began,
again falling to zero. It can be easily imagined that under such
circumstances the condition of the men was one of extreme discomfort;
in truth, they had to tramp up and down the camp all night long to
keep from freezing. Anything was a relief to this state of things,
so at the first streak of day we quit the dreadful place and took up
the march.
A seemingly good point for crossing the Canadian was found a couple
of miles down the stream, where we hoped to get our train over on the
ice, but an experiment proving that it was not strong enough, a ford
had to be made, which was done by marching some of the cavalry
through the river, which was about half a mile wide, to break up the
large floes when they had been cut loose with axes. After much hard
work a passage-way was thus opened, and by noon the command was
crossed to the south bank, and after thawing out and drying our
clothes before big fires, we headed for a point on the Washita, where
Clark said there was plenty of wood, and good water too, to make us
comfortable till the blizzard had blown over.
We reached the valley of the Washita a little before dark, and camped
some five or six miles above the scene of Custer's fight, where I
concluded to remain at least a day, to rest the command and give it a
chance to refit. In the mean time I visited the battle-field in
company with Custer and several other officers, to see if there was a
possibility of discovering any traces of Elliotts party. On arriving
at the site of the village, and learning from Custer what
dispositions had been made in approaching for the attack, the
squadron of the escort was deployed and pushed across the river at
the point where Elliott had crossed. Moving directly to the south,
we had not gone far before we struck his trail, and soon the whole
story was made plain by our finding, on an open level space about two
miles from the destroyed village, the dead and frozen bodies of the
entire party. The poor fellows were all lying within a circle not
more than fifteen or twenty paces in diameter, and the little piles
of empty cartridge shells near each body showed plainly that every
man had made a brave fight. None were scalped, but most of them were
otherwise horribly mutilated, which fiendish work is usually done by
the squaws. All had been stripped of their clothing, but their
comrades in the escort were able to identify the bodies, which being
done, we gave them decent burial. Their fate was one that has
overtaken many of our gallant army in their efforts to protect the
frontiersmen's homes and families from savages who give no quarter,
though they have often received it, and where the possibility of
defeat in action carries with it the certainty of death and often of
preceding torture.
From the meadow where Elliott was found we rode to the Washita, and
then down the river through the sites of the abandoned villages, that
had been strung along almost continuously for about twelve miles in
the timber skirting the stream. On every hand appeared ample
evidence that the Indians had intended to spend the winter here, for
the ground was littered with jerked meat, bales of buffalo robes,
cooking utensils, and all sorts of plunder usually accumulated in a
permanent Indian camp. There were, also, lying dead near the
villages hundreds of ponies, that had been shot to keep them from
falling into our hands, the scant grazing and extreme cold having
made them too weak to be driven along in the flight. The wholesale
slaughter of these ponies was a most cheering indication that our
campaign would be ultimately successful, and we all prayed for at
least a couple of months more of cold weather and plenty of snow.
At the Kiowa village we found the body of a white woman--a Mrs.
Blynn--and also that of her child. These captives had been taken by
the Kiowas near Fort Lyon the previous summer, and kept close
prisoners until the stampede began, the poor woman being reserved to
gratify the brutal lust of the chief, Satanta; then, however, Indian
vengeance demanded the murder of the poor creatures, and after
braining the little child against a tree, the mother was shot through
the forehead, the weapon, which no doubt brought her welcome release,
having been fired so close that the powder had horribly disfigured
her face. The two bodies were wrapped in blankets and taken to camp,
and afterward carried along in our march, till finally they were
decently interred at Fort Arbuckle..
At an early hour on December 12 the command pulled out from its cosy
camp and pushed down the valley of the Washita, following immediately
on the Indian trail which led in the direction of Fort Cobb, but
before going far it was found that the many deep ravines and canyons
on this trail would delay our train very much, so we moved out of the
valley and took the level prairie on the divide. Here the traveling
was good, and a rapid gait was kept up till mid-day, when, another
storm of sleet and snow coming on, it became extremely difficult for
the guides to make out the proper course; and fearing that we might
get lost or caught on the open plain without wood or water--as we had
been on the Canadian--I turned the command back to the valley,
resolved to try no more shortcuts involving the risk of a disaster to
the expedition. But to get back was no slight task, for a dense fog
just now enveloped us, obscuring all landmarks. However, we were
headed right when the fog set in, and we had the good luck to reach
the valley before night-fall, though there was a great deal of
floundering about, and also much disputing among the guides as to
where the river would be found Fortunately we struck the stream right
at a large grove of timber, and established ourselves, admirably. By
dark the ground was covered with twelve or fifteen inches of fresh
snow, and as usual the temperature rose very sensibly while the storm
was on, but after night-fall the snow ceased and the skies cleared
up. Daylight having brought zero weather again, our start on the
morning of the 17th was painful work, many of the men freezing their
fingers while handling the horse equipments, harness, and tents.
However, we got off in fairly good season, and kept to the trail
along the Washita notwithstanding the frequent digging and bridging
necessary to get the wagons over ravines.
Continuing on this line for three days, we at length came to a point
on the Washita where all signs indicated that we were nearing some of
the villages. Wishing to strike them as soon as possible, we made a
very early start next morning, the 17th. A march of four or five
miles brought us to a difficult ravine, and while we were making
preparations to get over, word was brought that several Indians had
appeared in our front bearing a white flag and making signs that they
had a communication to deliver. We signaled back that they would be
received, when one of the party came forward alone and delivered a
letter, which proved to be from General Hazen, at Fort Cobb. The
letter showed that Hazen was carrying on negotiations with the
Indians, and stated that all the tribes between Fort Cobb and my
column were friendly, but the intimation was given that the
Cheyennes and Arapahoes were still hostile, having moved off
southward toward the Red River. It was added that Satanta and Lone
Wolf--the chiefs of the Kiowas--would give information of the
whereabouts of the hostiles; and such a communication coming direct
from the representative of the Indian Department, practically took
the Kiowas--the village at hand was of that tribe--under its
protection, and also the Comanches, who were nearer in to Cobb. Of
course, under such circumstances I was compelled to give up the
intended attack, though I afterward regretted that I had paid any
heed to the message, because Satanta and Lone Wolf proved, by
trickery and double dealing, that they had deceived Hazen into
writing the letter.
When I informed the Klowas that I would respect Hazen's letter
provided they all came into Fort Cobb and gave themselves up, the two
chiefs promised submission, and, as an evidence of good faith,
proposed to accompany the column to Fort Cobb with a large body of
warriors, while their villages moved to the same point by easy
stages, along the opposite bank of the river--claiming this to be
necessary from the poor condition of the ponies. I had some
misgivings as to the sincerity of Satanta and Lone Wolf, but as I
wanted to get the Kiowas where their surrender would be complete, so
that the Cheyennes and Arapahoes could then be pursued, I agreed to
the proposition, and the column moved on. All went well that day,
but the next it was noticed that the warriors were diminishing, and
an investigation showed that a number of them had gone off on various
pretexts--the main one being to help along the women and children
with the villages. With this I suspected that they were playing me
false, and my suspicions grew into certainty when Satanta himself
tried to make his escape by slipping beyond the flank of the column
and putting spurs to his pony. Fortunately, several officers saw
him, and quickly giving chase, overhauled him within a few hundred
yards. I then arrested both him and Lone Wolf and held them as
hostages--a measure that had the effect of bringing back many of the
warriors already beyond our reach.
When we arrived at Fort Cobb we found some of the Comanches already
there, and soon after the rest of them, excepting one band, came in
to the post. The Kiowas, however, were not on hand, and there were
no signs to indicate their coming. At the end of two days it was
plain enough that they were acting in bad faith, and would continue
to unless strong pressure was brought to bear. Indeed, they had
already started for the Witchita Mountains, so I put on the screws at
once by issuing an order to hang Satanta and Lone Wolf, if their
people did not surrender at Fort Cobb within forty-eight hours. The
two chiefs promised prompt compliance, but begged for more time,
seeking to explain the non-arrival of the women and children through
the weak condition of the ponies; but I was tired of their duplicity,
and insisted on my ultimatum.
The order for the execution brought quick fruit. Runners were sent
out with messages, by the two prisoners, appealing to their people to
save the lives of their chiefs, and the result was that the whole
tribe came in to the post within the specified time. The two
manacled wretches thus saved their necks; but it is to be regretted
that the execution did not come off; for some years afterward their
devilish propensities led them into Texas, where both engaged in the
most horrible butcheries.
The Kiowas were now in our hands, and all the Comanches too, except
one small band, which, after the Custer fight, had fled toward the
headwaters of the Red River. This party was made up of a lot of very
bad Indians--outlaws from the main tribe--and we did not hope to
subdue them except by a fight, and of this they got their fill; for
Evans, moving from Monument Creek toward the western base of the
Witchita Mountains on Christmas Day, had the good fortune to strike
their village. In the snow and cold his approach was wholly
unexpected, and he was thus enabled to deal the band a blow that
practically annihilated it. Twenty-five warriors were killed
outright, most of the women and children captured, and all the
property was destroyed. Only a few of the party escaped, and some of
these made their way in to Fort Cobb, to join the rest of their tribe
in confinement; while others, later in the season, surrendered at
Fort Bascom.
This sudden appearance of Evans in the Red River region also alarmed
the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, and their thoughts now began to turn to
submission. Food was growing scarce with them, too, as there was but
little game to be found either in the Witchita Mountains or on the
edge of the Staked Plains, and the march of Carr's column from
Antelope Hills precluded their returning to where the buffalo ranged.
Then, too, many of their ponies were dead or dying, most of their
tepees and robes had been abandoned, and the women and children,
having been kept constantly on the move in the winter's storms, were
complaining bitterly of their sufferings.
In view of this state of things they intimated, through their
Comanche-Apache friends at Fort Cobb, that they would like to make
terms. On receiving their messages I entered into negotiations with
Little Robe, chief of the Cheyennes, and Yellow Bear, chief of the
Arapahoes, and despatched envoys to have both tribes understand
clearly that they must recognize their subjugation by surrendering at
once, and permanently settling on their reservations in the spring.
Of course the usual delays of Indian diplomacy ensued, and it was
some weeks before I heard the result.
Then one of my messengers returned with word that Little Robe and
Yellow Bear were on their way to see me. They arrived a few days
later, and, promptly acceding to the terms, promised to bring their
people in, but as many of them would have to come on foot on account
of the condition of the ponies, more time was solicited. Convinced
of the sincerity of their professions I gave them a reasonable
extension, and eventually Yellow Bear made good his word, but Little
Robe, in spite of earnest and repeated efforts, was unable to deliver
his people till further operations were begun against them.
While these negotiations were in progess I came to the conclusion
that a permanent military post ought to be established well down on
the Kiowa and Comanche reservation, in order to keep an eye on these
tribes in the future, Fort Cobb, being an unsuitable location,
because too far to the north to protect the Texas frontier, and too
far away from where it was intended to permanently place the Indians.
With this purpose in view I had the country thoroughly explored, and
afterward a place was fixed upon not far from the base of the
Witchita Mountains, and near the confluence of Medicine Bluff and
Cash creeks, where building stone and timber could be obtained in
plenty, and to this point I decided to move. The place was named
Camp Sill-now Fort Sill--in honor of my classmate, General Sill,
killed at Stone River; and to make sure of the surrendered Indians, I
required them all, Kiowas, Comanches, and Comanche-Apaches, to
accompany us to the new post, so they could be kept under military
control till they were settled.
During the march to the new camp the weather was not so cold as that
experienced in coming down from Camp Supply; still, rains were
frequent, and each was invariably followed by a depression of
temperature and high winds, very destructive to our animals, much
weakened by lack of food. The men fared pretty well, however, for on
the rough march along the Washita, and during our stay at Fort Cobb,
they had learned to protect themselves materially from the cold. For
this they had contrived many devices, the favorite means being
dugouts--that is, pits dug in the ground, and roofed over, with
shelter-tents, and having at one end a fire-place and chimney
ingeniously constructed with sod. In these they lived very snugly
--four men in each--and would often amuse themselves by poking their
heads out and barking at the occupants of adjacent huts in imitation
of the prairie-dog, whose comfortable nests had probably suggested
the idea of dugouts. The men were much better off, in fact, than
many of the officers, for the high winds frequently made havoc with
our wall-tents. The horses and mules suffered most of all. They
could not be sheltered, and having neither grain nor grass, the poor
beasts were in no condition to stand the chilling blasts. Still, by
cutting down cottonwood-trees, and letting the animals browse on the
small soft branches, we managed to keep them up till, finally even
this wretched food beginning to grow scarce, I had all except a few
of the strongest sent to Fort Arbuckle, near which place we had been
able, fortunately, to purchase some fields of corn from the
half-civilized Chickasaws and Choctaws.
Through mismanagement, as previously noted, the greater part of the
supplies which I had ordered hauled to Arbuckle the preceding fall
had not got farther on the way than Fort Gibson, which post was about
four hundred miles off, and the road abominable, particularly east of
Arbuckle, where it ran through a low region called "boggy bottom."
All along this route were abandoned wagons, left sticking in the mud,
and hence the transportation was growing so short that I began to
fear trouble in getting subsistence up for the men. Still, it would
not do to withdraw, so I made a trip to Arbuckle chiefly for the
purpose of reorganizing the transportation, but also with a view to
opening a new route to that post, the road to lie on high ground, so
as to avoid the creeks and mud that had been giving us so much
trouble. If such a road could be made, I hoped to get up enough
rations and grain from the cornfields purchased to send out a
formidable expedition against the Cheyennes, so I set out for
Arbuckle accompanied by my quartermaster, Colonel A. J. McGonigle.
"California Joe" also went along to guide us through the scrub-oaks
covering the ridge, but even the most thorough exploration failed to
discover any route more practicable than that already in use; indeed,
the high ground was, if anything, worse than the bottom land, our
horses in the springy places and quicksands often miring to their
knees. The ground was so soft and wet, in fact, that we had to make
most of the way on foot, so by the time we reached Arbuckle I was
glad to abandon the new road project.
Finding near Arbuckle more fields of corn than those already
purchased, I had them bought also, and ordered more of the horses
back there to be fed. I next directed every available mule to be put
to hauling rations, having discovered that the full capacity of the
transportation had not yet been brought into play in forwarding
stores from Gibson, and with this regulation of the supply question I
was ready to return immediately to Camp Sill. But my departure was
delayed by California Joe, who, notwithstanding the prohibitory laws
of the Territory, in some unaccountable way had got gloriously tipsy,
which caused a loss of time that disgusted me greatly; but as we
could not well do without Joe, I put off starting till the next day,
by which time it was thought he would sober up. But I might just as
well have gone at first, for at the end of the twenty-four hours the
incorrigible old rascal was still dead drunk. How he had managed to
get the grog to keep up his spree was a mystery which we could not
solve, though we had had him closely watched, so I cut the matter
short by packing him into my ambulance and carrying him off to Camp
Sill.
By the time I got back to Sill, the Arapahoes were all in at the
post, or near at hand. The promised surrender of the Cheyennes was
still uncertain of fulfillment, however, and although Little Robe and
his family had remained with us in evidence of good faith, the
messages he sent to his followers brought no assurance of the tribe's
coming in--the runners invariably returning with requests for more
time, and bringing the same old excuse of inability to move because
the ponies were so badly off. But more time was just what I was
determined not to grant, for I felt sure that if a surrender was not
forced before the spring grass came, the ponies would regain their
strength, and then it would be doubtful if the Cheyennes came in at
all.
To put an end to these delays, Custer proposed to go out and see the
Cheyennes himself, taking with him for escort only such number of men
as could be fairly well mounted from the few horses not sent back to
Arbuckle. At first I was inclined to disapprove Custer's
proposition, but he urged it so strongly that I finally consented,
though with some misgivings, for I feared that so small a party might
tempt the Cheyennes to forget their pacific professions and seek to
avenge the destruction of Black Kettle's band. However, after
obtaining my approval, Custer, with characteristic energy, made his
preparations, and started with three or four officers and forty
picked men, taking along as negotiators Yellow Bear and Little Robe,
who were also to conduct him to the head-waters of the Red River,
where it was supposed the Cheyennes would be found. His progress was
reported by couriers every few days, and by the time he got to the
Witchita foot-hills he had grown so sanguine that he sent California
Joe back to me with word that he was certain of success. Such
hopeful anticipation relieved me greatly, of course, but just about
the time I expected to hear that his mission had been achieved I was
astonished by the party's return. Inquiring as to the trouble, I
learned that out toward the Staked Plains every sign of the Cheyennes
had disappeared. Surprised and disappointed at this, and discouraged
by the loneliness of his situation--for in the whole region not a
trace of animal life was visible, Custer gave up the search, and none
too soon, I am inclined to believe, to save his small party from
perishing.
This failure put a stop to all expeditions till the latter part of
February, by which time I had managed to lay in enough rations to
feed the command for about thirty days; and the horses back at
Arbuckle having picked up sufficiently for field service they were
ordered to Sill, and this time I decided to send Custer out with his
own and the Kansas regiment, with directions to insist on the
immediate surrender of the Cheyennes, or give them a sound thrashing.
He was ordered to get everything ready by March 1, and then move to
the mouth of Salt Creek, on the North Fork of the Red River, at which
place I proposed to establish a new depot for feeding the command.
Trains could reach this point from Camp Supply more readily than from
Arbuckle, and wishing to arrange this part of the programme in
person, I decided to return at once to Supply, and afterward rejoin
Custer at Salt Creek, on what, I felt sure, was to be the final
expedition of the campaign. I made the three hundred and sixty miles
from Sill to Supply in seven days, but much to my surprise there
found a despatch from General Grant directing me to repair
immediately to Washington. These orders precluded, of course, my
rejoining the command; but at the appointed time it set out on the
march, and within three weeks brought the campaign to a successful
close.
In this last expedition, for the first few days Custer's route was by
the same trail he had taken in January--that is to say, along the
southern base of the Witchita Mountains--but this time there was more
to encourage him than before, for, on getting a couple of marches
beyond old Camp Radziminski, on all sides were fresh evidences of
Indians, and every effort was bent to strike them.
From day to day the signs grew hotter, and toward the latter part of
March the game was found. The Indians being in a very forlorn
condition, Custer might have destroyed most of the tribe, and
certainly all their villages, but in order to save two white women
whom, it was discovered, they held as captives, he contented himself
with the renewal of the Cheyennes' agreement to come in to Camp
Supply. In due time the entire tribe fulfilled its promise except
one small band under "Tall Bull," but this party received a good
drubbing from General Carr on the Republican early in May. After
this fight all the Indians of the southern Plains settled down on
their reservations, and I doubt whether the peace would ever again
have been broken had they not in after years been driven to
hostilities by most unjust treatment.
It was the 2d of March that I received at Camp Supply Grant's
despatch directing me to report immediately in Washington. It had
been my intention, as I have said, to join Custer on the North Fork
of the Red River, but this new order required me to recast my plans,
so, after arranging to keep the expedition supplied till the end of
the campaign, I started for Washington, accompanied by three of my
staff--Colonels McGonigle and Crosby, and Surgeon Asch, and Mr. Deb.
Randolph Keim, a representative of the press, who went through the
whole campaign, and in 1870 published a graphic history of it. The
day we left Supply we, had another dose of sleet and snow, but
nevertheless we made good time, and by night-fall reached Bluff
Creek. In twenty-four hours more we made Fort Dodge, and on the 6th
of March arrived at Fort Hays. Just south of the Smoky Hill River, a
little before we got to the post, a courier heading for Fort Dodge
passed us at a rapid gait. Suspecting that he had despatches for me,
I directed my outrider to overtake him and find out. The courier
soon turned back, and riding up to my ambulance handed me a telegram
notifying me that General Grant, on the day of his inauguration,
March 4, 1869, had appointed me Lieutenant-General of the Army. When
I reported in Washington, the President desired me to return to New
Orleans and resume command of the Fifth Military District, but this
was not at all to my liking, so I begged off, and was assigned to
take charge of the Division of the Missouri, succeeding General
Sherman, who had just been ordered to assume command of the Army.