by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
I took a good rest and heard Lieutenant Scott shout, “Bravo.” I soon caught the horses, led them as far up the shallow water at the head of the island until I struck the water too deep to wade, then turned toward the landing. I was riding Higgins’s horse and just as soon as he struck the deep water he turned over backwards. I tried several times to guide the horses to the opposite bank, but while I found them willing to swim back towards Captain Nowlan’s side, but across to Lieutenant Scott’s landing, no siree. The lieutenant, seeing my predicament, waved his hand and shouted, “All right, take them wherever you can.” And that was just what I was obliged to do.
Fourteen Years in the Army, 1881-1895 (By Ernst A. Selander, formerly of Troop C, Fifth U. S. Cavalry, and Troop F, Second U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, October, 1925)
Two young men, the writer of this, Ernst A. Selander, and G. Wyman, left Omaha, Nebraska, in the spring of 1881 to seek their fortunes further out West, signing up as laborers for a railroad gang to obtain their transportation. When the train arrived at Sidney, Nebraska, we left it and in skirmishing around we observed the U. S. flag waving at Fort Sidney, in close proximity to the town. As we were about broke, Wyman suggested that we enlist. We enlisted on February 3, 1881, in Captain Emil Adams’s Troop C, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. As ex-clothing clerks our first experience was rather strenuous. Besides the regular drill, horseback and otherwise, as rookies we were put to digging trenches for water pipes for a new water system, and shoveling coal from the railroad cars for our quarters, and hauling sand to fill in ground for new stables and the like, until our hands were blistered.
In December, 1882, we removed 500 Cheyenne Indians from Fort Sidney, Nebraska, overland to Pine Ridge Agency, South Dakota [sic—Dakota Territory]. This was a rather hard trip due to the inclement weather, from 20 to 30 below zero and the snow being at places two feet deep on the level. Fuel was scarce, only what little was taken along. No buffalo chips—everything snowed under. We had to shovel the snow away before we could put our Sibley tents up. These tents were just then issued to the cavalry, were in the shape of an Indian tepee, held twelve men, and had a sheet-iron stove in the center. After the stove had been burning a while, everything was mud and slush, and in the morning our gloves and boots were frozen. About the third day out from the post, a government teamster killed a papoose by accident. It fell off the wagon and he drove over it and crushed it. This put the redskins in an ugly mood. When we started out they seemed to possess only a few old Springfields, but after this accident happened, and at night in the camp, there were plenty of good Winchesters in evidence which had been hid in the squaws’ blankets. That night a chain guard was put on by the captain, as the odds were too uneven, fifty-five soldiers to about 400 bucks. But the old story of the Indian, if he didn’t have the advantage he didn’t fight [pertained, ] and in due time we reached Pine Ridge Agency, South Dakota, plus some frozen ears, fingers, and toes [sic].
In the summer of 1883, Troop C participated in an expedition against riot and labor troubles at Omaha, Nebraska. We, the regulars, had a good time and never any trouble, while on the other hand the state militia was despised. This was due to the fact that a militia soldier, being excited, had run his bayonet without provocation through an old inoffensive citizen. We actually had to guard the militia and take them to their meals by company. From July to November, I was escort to President Chester Arthur, Lieutenant General Phil Sheridan, and others through the Yellowstone National Park, the Switzerland of America. This was quite an outing, and Captain Edward M. Hayes with Company G went along as guard to the president. We employed three complete pack trains, a colored chef and assistant. A large 300-pound range was carried by a large pack mule. Last, but not least, two large mules were each carrying a large wicker basket on each side containing choice liquid refreshments. Among these was some hospital brandy bottled in 1865. The country was infested by quite a lot of rattlesnakes. Caught some with sixteen rattles.
In the fall of 1885 and 1886 I was on detached service in Oklahoma Territory, being then stationed at Fort Reno, Indian Territory, ejecting boomers over the line at Caldwell, Kansas, and over the line into Texas. Later I played cowboy for the government, herding and driving out cattle left by the cow barons. Indian Territory was at that time not open to settlers. I was discharged on February 2, 1886, from the post hospital at Fort Reno with character “Excellent,” having had a severe fall from a horse six weeks previous to the expiration of my term of service. I left Fort Reno in February, 1886, for Caldwell, Kansas, nearest railroad terminal being 110 miles distant, in an open farm wagon, taking the place of the stage, drawn by four balky condemned government horses. After leaving the post, it started to snow, obliterating the few broken roads. We got stuck several times and had to pull the wagon, as well as the balky horses, out. The ice was not safe to cross on the Cimmaron River, as the water was of a brackish consistency and the ice full of air holes, so we had to draw the wagon across by hand, tying a rope to the tongue, and we led the horses over singly.
We got lost on the prairie in a snow storm about twenty miles out from Caldwell and had to camp in the open and the snow without any fire. There were three of us, namely, the driver, a soldier discharged for consumption, and myself. The soldier was going to his home in Wisconsin and there regain his health. We kept warm by tramping around the wagon in a circle and huddling together in the wagon alternately. As soon as we laid down, the coyotes sneaked up to our horses and tried to nip at their heels. I had my private .45 Colt, and as soon as I dropped some coyotes the live ones would devour their dead comrades. Next morning at daybreak, we found our bearings and arrived at Caldwell, Kansas, about 9 a.m., stiff as a poker and had to be lifted off the wagon. A good hot lemonade with a stick in it, and a good hot breakfast later on, made us forget our hardships. From Caldwell, Kansas, I left for Germany, the home of my parents, taking treatment with eminent surgeons for the injuries to my back received in the service. After one year’s sojourn, I enlisted again at Baltimore, Maryland, and was upon request assigned to Troop F, Second Cavalry, under Captain Samuel M. Swigert. My old ailment asserted itself again and horseback riding got unbearable. I transferred in April, 1888, to the then-organized hospital corps at Fort Walla Walla, Washington [Territory]. After a few months as hospital attendant, I was detailed to drive the four-mule hospital ambulance on an expedition with the Fourth Cavalry and Fourteenth Infantry through the Cascade Mountains in Oregon. On this trip, for weeks we had nothing but rain, and our clothes were soaked and we slept in wet blankets. I used to sleep in the ambulance, and as the top leaked I used to ditch the one side and put gunnysacks on the top to keep dry.
On November 30, 1891, I was appointed acting hospital sergeant, Hospital Corps, U. S. A., and assigned to Fort Sherman, Idaho, where I was discharged at expiration of my term of service, February 29, 1892, with character “Excellent.” I reenlisted March 1, 1892, and participated in an expedition against Coeur d’Alene mining outbreaks at Wardner, Wallace, Burke, Idaho, and other mining towns and camps from July 12th until November, 1892. Was again on detached service accompanying troops through northern Idaho guarding mines and railroad property during the miners’ strike, from July 7, to September 19, 1894. As my old ailment was getting unbearable, I applied for my discharge February, 1895, and was granted same after three month’s furlough, May 31, 1895, under General Order 80 of 1890.
Fifth Cavalry Service (By Charles M. Hildreth, formerly of Troop A, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, April, 1925)
I enlisted for cavalry service in New York City, February 7, 1882, and went by way of Jefferson Barracks, St. Louis, to join my regiment, Fifth U. S. Cavalry, with headquarters at Fort Sidney, Nebraska, and after four months was again moved to Fort Washakie, Wyoming [Territory], where we remained until May, 1885, when the Fifth was ordered from the Department of the Platte to the Department of the Missouri, with headquarters at Fort Riley, Kansas. Our stay there, however, was short, only about two weeks, and we
were again moved to Indian Territory, as the Indians down there were getting restless, as the government had ordered the cattlemen to vacate in order to open up the country to settlement. After camping at different places, my troop took station at Camp Supply, I. T., where we remained until July, 1893, when our regiment was ordered to Texas, with headquarters at Fort Sam Houston, where I took my discharge May 6, 1895. Personally, I never really participated in any engagements with hostile Indians, although we were constantly in close touch with them on different reservations in Wyoming, Nebraska, Indian Territory, and Kansas….
One day while guiding a government wagon across Wind River in upper Wyoming in January, 1884, my horse broke through the ice, and let me tell you I thought my time had surely come, as we both struggled out of the icy river and finally to the shore and to the camp. After I got a change of clothing and a hot cup of coffee, I seemed to be all right, but when I got back to the fort I was taken down with a fever which landed me in the hospital for six weeks. In June of that same year my horse fell with me under him, injuring my left leg so that I was obliged to hobble around on crutches for at least four weeks. Also, while stationed at Camp Supply, I. T., and while at pistol practice one morning, my horse slipped and fell with me under him of course. They picked me up and carried me to the hospital where I lay with a plaster cast on my leg for three weeks, and remained in the hospital for seven weeks.
While stationed at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, in 1894, I was again sent to the hospital and underwent three operations. The first was for fistula, second for piles, and the third for another fistula, and [I] was carried on the sick report of my troop for 142 days. The above relates to some of the hardships common to soldiers of the regular army, and now I want to relate a little regarding some of the pleasant incidents we experienced.
An unidentified private of cavalry in full dress with saber, ca. 1886, probably at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Note helmet to his left with brass eagle, yellow horsehair plume, and cords. Editor’s collection
While stationed at Fort Washakie, Wyoming, in the latter part of August, 1883, President Arthur and a party of officials, including Robert T. Lincoln, Secretary of War; Lieutenant General Phil H. Sheridan; Senator George G. Vest of Missouri; Colonel Michael V. Sheridan; [retired] Colonel Anson Stager, and other dignitaries whose names I cannot now recall, made a trip into that country on a fishing, hunting, and sightseeing trip, as well as of inspection. Two troops of the Fifth were detailed as escorts, and Troop A particularly established a courier line. The president’s party was all mounted on cavalry horses, and camp equipage and supplies for men and animals was transported by pack mules, three trains of sixty mules for each train. Courier camps were established about every fifteen miles and placed in charge of a non-commissioned officer and three privates at each station.
Being a corporal at the time, I was placed in charge of a station on a small creek near a cattle ranch of a man by the name of Eugene Amoretti. The next camp from mine was fifteen miles away, called Camp Bishop, on Denoir Creek, a small branch of Wind River. At this camp the party tarried for three days as there was good hunting and fishing. I carried the first mail and dispatches that arrived at my camp for the presidential party, and made the trip in two hours, although the trail in some places was very rough and dangerous. That night Colonel Sheridan came over to our camp and wanted some of the boys to go over and entertain the president with songs and camp lore. What we gave them must have pleased the president, for he laughed and applauded us most heartily. I remember I concluded the entertainment with a comical song entitled, “When McCarthy Rules the State.” The last refrain of that song stated, “We will paint the White House green, when McCarthy rules the state,” and it seemed to please the president greatly, so much so that I was obliged to repeat the song. I returned to my station that night, and that was the last I ever saw of the president and his party, as they soon went on over into the Yellowstone region….
An Incident at Fort Abraham Lincoln in 1884 (By Archibald Dickson, formerly of Company C, Third U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, April 30, 1935)
I enlisted in Philadelphia February 7th, 1882, and after three months as a recruit at David’s Island, New York Harbor, was promoted to high private in the rear rank and sent with fifty others to Fort Ellis, Montana, and assigned to Captain James A. Snyder’s Company C, Third U. S. Infantry. Next I was sent on detached service for one year (1884) to the Ordnance Department, Fort Abraham Lincoln, Dakota Territory.
I was detailed to carry the mail in the morning and to herd cattle in the foothills in the afternoon. I was supplied with a good horse, a Colt’s revolver, and a web belt with fifty rounds of cartridges. On July 4th, 1884, I took the cattle out to the grazing grounds as usual and about 3 o’clock in the afternoon I noticed a cloud of dust arising in the distance, but as the weather was very dry I thought but little of it at first, but soon discovered it was a bunch of Indians running away from Standing Rock Agency, and I knew it was up to me to get my cattle and myself under cover as quickly as possible. There was a small path of timber near, and I had not more than made the woods when a band of about fifty Sioux, crazy with whiskey, which they must have got in some way in Bismarck, came riding by shooting and yelling like the wild men they were. It sure made me feel creepy, and after they were well out of sight I began to round up my cattle and found that one was missing.
I reported to Captain James A. Rockwell, then in charge of the Ordnance Department, and he complimented me on saving all of the cattle but one, and said it was better to lose one cow than my scalp. He telegraphed to the agency for them to take care of the Indians, and about a week later there was a band of bucks and squaws camped not far from the woods in which I had lost the cow, and this band had my cow cut up into jerked beef. They evidently had been scouting through the timber and found it.
I have always been glad that band of drunken Sioux did not see me that day, or I would not be here now to tell this story.
Reminiscences of an Eighth U.S. Cavalryman, 1883-1888 (By Frederick C. Kurz, formerly corporal, Troop E, Eighth U.S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, March 30, April 30, and May 30, 1931)
I enlisted in the fall of 1883 in Milwaukee, and after being transported with a consignment of others to Jefferson Barracks, near St. Louis, went through the usual recruiting service of setting-up exercises, manual of arms, and bareback riding around a bull ring conducted by that cock-eyed drill sergeant you all perhaps remember, who used not very polite language whenever one of us accidentally fell off the horse, or dropped a gun while drilling. After about four weeks of this tormentation, a bunch of more than 100 were sent to San Antonio, Texas, which was the headquarters of the Eighth Cavalry. There were only a few troops of the Eighth actually stationed there, most of the other troops being distributed amongst the different forts along the Rio Grande, some at Ringgold, others at Fort McIntosh, near Laredo; Fort Brown, Camp Del Rio, and Fort Clark. The last mentioned was the headquarters of the Nineteenth Infantry and also contained four troops of the Eighth Cavalry, E, F, G, and L Troops, and later on Troop K was added.
The writer, with sixteen other recruits, was assigned to E Troop. Fort Clark was about 135 miles west of San Antonio and fifteen miles from the nearest Southern California Railroad, and about the same distance from the Rio Grande. During the first year of my service I had considerable malarial fever, also yellow jaundice, all no doubt due to the poor army rations, for we only had beans, black coffee, no milk at any time, nor any kind of vegetables or potatoes. However, we chipped in $2.00 every two months from our pay (which was $13.00 per month, less 12 ½ cents deducted by the government for the National Soldiers Home) towards a mess fund. With this we secured Irish potatoes, onions, and a few canned goods, which gave us a little variation from our everyday army grub. We had to do quite a lot of scouting and border duty along 1884 and 1885, and those dusty alkali trails and roads were hard on the eyes, as well as the throat and lungs, whenever we were ordered out to march and in camp. Ou
r food on these trips was usually salt pork and hardtack. The salt pork was nothing like our present bacon, and the hardtack was full of little black bugs, a sort of weevil. We used to dip the hardtack in water first, so as to let the little fellows creep out before eating. The hardtack was of a grayish color, no doubt from age, and we often wondered if it was not [leftover] remnants of the War of the Rebellion.
The Indians, Mexicans, cattle and horse thieves, and general bad men in those times were very active in this party of the country, and we were kept on the march scouting along the border of the Rio Grande most of our time, also protecting the railroad to a certain extent, and there were no bridges of any sort, and we had to cross rivers the best way we could. Our trips used to take us west of the Pecos River toward El Paso and we had some camps at Meira Springs and Eagles Nest. During that time, Mrs. [Lily] Langtry, an actress, passed through Eagles Nest, which was a jerkwater station of the Southern California Railroad, and she admired the wild and rugged scenery around there during the time the train stopped, so the Southern Pacific named the place Langtry in her honor. The place consisted of an eating house, a water tank and section house, also a grocery store and Roy Bean’s saloon. Our main camp was about 1, 000 yards from this place on a bluff over the Rio Grande, and we had a sweeping view of the surrounding country. Whenever we alternated with some of the other troops after leaving Fort Clark, we had to cross the Devil’s River and later on the Pecos River.
I will never forget the first time we had to do guard duty behind our six-mule teams in going down the canyon to the crossing of the Pecos. The road was hewn in solid rock, more of a trail, and down about 600 feet deep—very steep—and I was often fearful, with my heart almost in my throat when I saw the wheels of our wagon within a few inches of the rim of the trail, almost ready to topple over. The driver was in those times riding the left mule next to the wagon, the other four mules ahead being guided by him with a jerk line. This line consisted of a single broad belt leading to the front mules two abreast. By certain pulls and jerks, these leaders knew and were guided where to go. Of course, these mules were broke and trained and were generally very sure-footed.
