by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
The disintegrating skulls of the noble animals were left just where the wolves and coyotes had gnawed the last shred of flesh from them. What a feast the remorseless buffalo slayers spread for these ravenous beasts of prey. I wonder if even their insatiable appetite could devour the superabundance of meat. What must have been the reflections of the Sioux and Cheyennes as they beheld their herds of cattle turned over to the wolves and coyotes. I will never forget my first view of the river toward which we were marching. We felt relieved to see it, for somewhere, at some point of its course, our march would end. But in itself it was a picture of loveliness. I don’t know that the river where it flows over the plains possesses any peculiar attraction, nor that the cottonwood ranks high as to timber value or beauty, but to the men plodding along their weary way, the green trees and the clear water was a most attractive as well as tantalizing spectacle, for though we might look we could not drink from this elysian stream flowing through an elysian region.
I would like to see the Yellowstone now from the same point of view, which cannot be, because I do not know just where we were at the time the rapturous view burst upon our vision, and viewed from a seat in a Pullman car it would present quite a different aspect than when seen from one marching through the heat and dust over an alkaline plain with several hundred men all like himself, weary and thirsty and longing for green trees and clear water. The return march from the Yellowstone to the Missouri was neither wearisome, monotonous, nor dangerous. We had no fear of Indians. We were going home. The days were not so warm and the nights quite cool. I still remember with what a sense of comfort we would spread our blankets or buffalo robe in a clump of bushes or thick weeds and snuggle down in this natural shelter and sleep soundly till the bugle call would rouse us at early dawn. The Josephine was waiting for us. We pushed off and started downstream—not up, but down, which meant a good deal on the Missouri. The current carried us down, aiding, instead of opposing our advance. The nigger was seldom, if ever, called to our aid. The trip was soon ended and we were soon reinstated in our comfortable quarters for the winter of 1873-74, to again enjoy the pleasure of the delightful society of Omaha….
Notes on the Yellowstone Expedition (By John Walsh, formerly of Troop M, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, August, 1924)
[The recent article by William F. Norris of Great Falls, Montana, called] attention to the killing of Veterinary Surgeon John Honsinger of the Seventh U. S. Cavalry and of the death of the sutler [August Baliran] who accompanied the Yellowstone Expedition of 1873. [The author]…makes no mention of Private John H. Ball, who was also killed the same day. Ball was leading an extra horse of his captain’s and was riding some distance off from the command.
After having been missed, a search was made with no success, but on our return a search was made and [we] found his bones, picked clean. All this on the 5th day of August, 1873. Norris says the horse doctor and sutler were buried and the mules allowed to tramp over their graves. Nothing of the kind. They were buried underneath where the 7th U. S. Cavalry band horses were tied to the picket line and I am the soldier that walked post over those horses that night. No tramping over their graves but the band horses. He makes no mention of the engagement at the mouth of the Big Horn, August 11, 1873.
I never knew anything of Norris on that expedition, but I knew Charley Reynolds, a famous scout who was afterwards killed with Custer in’ 76, 25th of June. In the engagement on the 11th of August,’ 73, Custer had a horse shot from under him, his orderly, Private John H. Tuttle was shot through the head and Second Lieutenant Charles Braden was shot through the thigh. The Seventh had to draw him along by hand, 250 miles.
A Buffalo Stampede during the Northern Pacific Survey Expedition, 1873 (By William D. Nugent, formerly of Troop A, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, March 15, 1926)
I will relate…the story of my greatest scare in all of my army life. This occurred on one of the hottest days in September, 1873, after we had completed the survey of the Northern Pacific Railroad at the Musselshell River at the point where the survey met the one from the west. We turned back to cross the divide on our long trail for Fort [Abraham] Lincoln, [Dakota Territory]. As we had [had] two engagements with Indians in passing through this country previous to this, we expected trouble with them again, as soon as we entered the lane. Rumors had increased the number from a few thousand to twenty thousand warriors. Marching o’er the prairies, we saw many animals. We saw wild horses, buffalos, deer, elk, wolves, coyotes, and other animals that frequented that region. On this day we were on a high table land and could see as far as the eye could distinguish an object to the east, south, and west. Our view to the north was limited because it was broken country, rolling hills and plains. We saw a large wagon train, consisting of nearly four hundred [wagons], treading over the plains. It was being driven eight wagons abreast, with ten companies of infantry on the left flank and ten on the right. Six companies of cavalry were in the advance, and two companies were acting as rear guard, with two companies deployed as flankers. It could easily be seen that the commanding officer was on the alert for danger, as every precaution was being used for safety in a country infested with the wily and treacherous Sioux.
I was aroused from the monotony of our march by seeing our advance halting. I saw that something of much interest was taking place as all who had halted were intently looking to the north. Suddenly there came a dull roar to our ears, and everyone was startled and apparently at a loss to account for the sound. Many like myself were just young fellows, and very few knew anything of the plains. Some had had experience in campaigning before, but they were inclined to exaggerate and it was their delight to raise the hair on the recruit’s head. Every second increased the volume of sound. Some thought it was an earthquake, others that it was the end of the world, and still others that it was Sitting Bull and his twenty thousand warriors. In the north, a cloud of dust was rolling high and coming on at express speed. The line of dust seemed to come from all directions, and as it came near we found it was composed of many different sounds, the rattle and clatter of chains and cooking utensils. We now had the solution and all understood what this awful menace was: buffalos by the millions were coming like a cloud before the wind, as far as the eye could see. In that fear-driven, crazy mass of animals was a force as irresistible as a snow slide or an avalanche.
It looked like sure death, as we were in danger of being gored and punctured by the horns of the buffalos and then to be trampled into a shapeless form under their hoofs. Our worn horses could not outdistance this onrushing death for even one mile. Oh, mama, I was sure sick at the stomach. I was like the old owl “that lived in the oak, the more he saw, the less he spoke,” and I sure saw enough. I wished that my brother was there and I was at home. I never told any of my comrades how scared I was, and was sure glad afterwards that they did not know that I closed my teeth together to keep them from chattering.
I saw Colonel Custer with some twenty men advance to possibly one hundred yards in the direction of the oncoming menace, but no thought entered my mind that any efforts that could be put forth by anyone could save us. When the buffalos had approached within one hundred yards of this small bunch of men, the soldiers shot one volley after another in[to] the herd and wonder or wonders happened. The buffalos split, part passing to the right and the rest to the left, passing like a mighty power of destruction and death. This left me surprised, relieved, and happy, but oh how weak. After this, at various times I saw many herds of buffalos, but none that would equal this one great stampede. It hardly seems possible that today they seem to have almost all disappeared, when a few years back the prairies were covered with them. Many a recruit will remember their first buffalo stampede as well as I, although very few will confess that they were as badly scared, and I have waited many years to confess….
Bates’s Fight in the Owl Range, 1874 (By James H. Rhymer, formerly corporal, Troop B, Second U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, March, 1925
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I desire to give you the following account of the Battle of Owl Range, Wyoming Territory, fought by Company B, Second U. S. Cavalry, under command of Captain Alfred E. Bates and Second Lieutenant Frank U. Robinson, with Dr. Thomas McGee as medical officer, on July 4, 1874. We left Camp Brown the night of July 1, 1874, with eight pack mules, but when we arrived at Hot Springs, which is three and one-half miles from Camp Brown, we were ordered to take four of the mules back to the post by Lieutenant General Philip H. Sheridan. We were accompanied by a frontiersman by the name of O’Neil, and also 300 Shoshoni Indians under the command of Washakie, the chief, and Little Humpy, the war chief. Little Humpy had discovered the village of the hostiles [Arapahos], who had been preying upon the settlers in the Wind River Valley, and who had killed Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Richardson the year before.
We traveled all that night, and at the break of day we camped at the head of the Big Wind River, where we laid over, not even building a fire to boil coffee over. The next night we traveled and reached the Little Muddy, where we were treated to a buffalo hunt by the Shoshone Indians. They brought a buffalo near our camp and killed it with arrows, so as not to fire any guns and make any alarm. My bunky, Private James M. Walker, awakened me near morning and said that we were going to strike the Indians about daylight. He had heard Little Humpy tell Captain Bates. He also told me that he was not coming out of that battle alive, which later proved to be the case as he was the first man shot and killed.
We again traveled all night and just at the break of day we were at a point overlooking the village, which was shaped like a large L and which we judged contained about 105 tepees. Our Indians made a noise in getting prepared for battle and thus alarmed the hostiles. We dismounted and number four [i. e., each fourth man] held the horses while our small command of sixty-four men in all attacked the large body of Indians. One great help to us was the friendly Indians under Second Lieutenant Robert H. Young of the Fourth Infantry who ran off the herd. Lieutenant Young was shot through the leg. We charged down to the village using our carbines and revolvers, and the slaughter for a time was great. The Indians now rallied, and we had to retreat back from the village leaving the bodies of Walker and Private Peter F. Engall where they had fallen in the skirmish. The Indians, in the meantime, had captured our mules and medicine and we had to bind up the wounds of our wounded the best we could and retreat. We had six men wounded and two killed. Lieutenant Young was severely wounded.
After being two days and two nights in the saddle and fighting the Indians, we reached Wind River, where we met Company D of the Second U. S. Cavalry, who [sic] had made a forced march, as the report had been circulated that we had been massacred. We finally reached Camp Brown badly exhausted, and I am safe to say if it had not been for the Indians capturing the herd so as to prevent the hostiles from following us, none of us would have escaped. [In 1875, ] Captain Alfred E. Bates was made major [and] paymaster, and afterwards [1899] made General Paymaster of the United States Army.
I consider this one of the greatest battles fought in the West, as the Indians went back to their agency and reported that we had attacked them on their hunting trip and had killed and wounded about 140 Indians [estimated twenty-five killed and perhaps 100 wounded]. It had been this band that had been operating against the settlers and I never saw a village better provided with everything and [in] a better location than the one we had attacked…. We were known as the “Buckskin Company” on account of our dress.
Service at Red Cloud Agency, Nebraska, 1874-1875 (By Lines P. Wasson, formerly of Company K, Ninth U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, February, 1925)
I enlisted in Company K, Ninth U. S. Infantry, on December 13, 1870, and served until December, 1875. While in the army I got the pitiful sum of $13 per month. While we were not in any actual engagements with the Indians, we were constantly on the lookout, expecting every moment to be attacked, especially the last eighteen months of my service. We were stationed at Chief Red Cloud’s agency [Red Cloud Agency], which is [in] South Dakota [sic—Nebraska]…. We were placed here to see that the Indians stayed on the reservation, and that all miners and settlers stayed off the reservation. At that time the gold excitement in the Black Hills was at high pitch, so the miners and settlers were flocking in there by the hundreds. The government was under obligation to the Indians to keep all miners and settlers off the reservation, consequently we had to keep on the go all the time, winter and summer, rain or snow.
I made two trips from Camp Sheridan. One with Captain Anson Mills in command, and the other trip I cannot at present recall the name of the officer in command. Talk about hardships. We sure saw plenty on those trips. In the spring of’ 75 we made a trip that was certainly hard on us. Always plenty of snow, and we had to dig away the snow to get a place for our beds, as we had no tents. We could not make a fire to fry bacon on, for the fear of being spotted by the Indians. Raw bacon and hardtack was all we had, but we thought it pretty good at that time….
With the Third Cavalry in 1876 (By Oliver C. C. Pollock, formerly of Troop M, Third U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, November 30, 1926)
I thought I would give an account of one year’s experience of a buck soldier’s life, a high private in the rear ranks of Company M, Third U. S. Cavalry, from January 9, 1876, to November 20, 1880. I enlisted in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on Saturday morning, November 20, 1875, under the name of John E. Douglass. Was sent to Jefferson Barracks and from there with many other recruits was sent to Fort D. A. Russell [Wyoming Territory]. On January 9, 1876, we were assigned to various companies of the Third Cavalry.
An unidentified corporal of Company K, Ninth Infantry, had this image made at Omaha. He likely saw duty at Camp Robinson, Nebraska, through most of 1876 during the period of principal campaigning of the Great Sioux War. Editor’s collection
On the 20th day of February we left Fort D. A. Russell for a winter’s campaign against Sioux Indians, and arrived at Fort Fetterman on February 28th. The next morning we left for a twenty-six days’ march, the average cold being 26 degrees below zero. We made a forced march that day and night to make a surprise attack upon a band of Indians who were foraging in that country. Early the next morning [March 17, 1876] we attacked the Indian village, which the scouts had discovered, and fought nearly all day, finally destroying the village of 110 tepees. We captured 300 ponies, but unfortunately they were stampeded and we lost two men who were given a soldier’s burial. We returned to Fort D. A. Russell on April 7th.
Then in early May we started on the noted campaign of 1876, in which the government intended to break up the marauding of the Sioux Indians under the capable leadership of Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, supposed to be in the vicinity of the Big Horn Mountains. Brigadier General Alfred H. Terry and his troops were to attack from the north, and Brigadier General George Crook and his troops from the Department of the Platte, from the south. This narrative has to do with the Crook campaign. We were attacked by roving bands of Indian scouts on June 9th, and from then to the time we established our supply camp on head of Powder River, at foot of Big Horn Mountains, we were harassed, our supply of cattle stampeded and lost, the grass around our camps set on fire at night, and thus we got little sleep.
On June 15th, the scouts under Buffalo Bill [sic—Frank Grouard] reported they had found the Indian villages of Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse located at the mouth of Dead Man’s Canyon. We made a forced march of forty-five miles the next day. Then another day, and we marched about ten miles to the head of the canyon. We picketed our horses to graze and expected to make a night attack and surprise the Indians. However, very shortly in came the Crow and Shoshone Indian scouts shouting, “Heap come Sioux.” The hills became a mass of humanity, and the great fight, known as the Battle of the Rosebud, began June 17, 1876. In that fight we lost nine killed and twenty-seven wounded. Among those wounded were Corporal John A. Kirkwood and Bugler [Trumpeter] Elmer A. Snow of Company M, Third Cavalry, Snow being shot through both wrists. Ge
neral Crook decided to attack the stronghold and ordered about one-half of the command under Captain Mills of M Company to proceed down the valley under the leadership of a scout named Frank Grouard. Grouard remarked, “General, I am no coward, nor yet am I [a] fool. I will take your command to where they can go into the village, but I will not go in nor stick my head in where I know I cannot get it out again.” We started down this valley, which proved to be a veritable death trap. Very shortly the firing on the hill ceased, and General Crook believing an ambuscade was being planned, had retreat sounded for the soldiers in the valley, and we gladly obeyed. To this day I have felt that this recall saved a portion of Crook’s command from the fate that Custer met. We now returned to our supply camp on account of lack of ammunition, and here in July we received the dreadful news of the Custer Massacre.
General Crook’s troops bivouacking in the Black Hills during the Sioux Campaign of 1876. Courtesy of Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument
We started on August 5th with fifteen days rations to avenge Custer’s death. We traveled for five days and arrived at the point where the Powder River enters the Yellowstone. Here we found a mass of burning corn and oats, destroyed rations, also what was left of the Seventh U. S. Cavalry and General Terry’s command. The next day we saw Buffalo Bill and his black horse leave on the supply boat. He was sore because Frank Grouard proved he knew the country better than Bill, and Grouard’s advice was taken. We decided to strike out for the Black Hills on half rations rather than to go to Fort [Abraham] Lincoln for full rations. We soon found ourselves in the badlands of Dakota, and it rained twenty-one days out of the first twenty-four days we were out. We often stood up at nights, for to lay down we had to do so in the mud and water. From August 11th to September 9th, we partook of raw horseflesh, partially for substance and partly to quench our thirst. It was decided after a consultation of officers, to ask for volunteers of 150 men with the best horses, under the command of Captain Anson Mills, who had volunteered to take charge, and with Grouard, to make a forced march and find rations in the Black Hills for the rest of the command. They left and on the night of the 8th a scout reported that they discovered an Indian camp, and for the command to hurry forward.
