Jerome A. Greene
Page 25
It seems that when the police got Sitting Bull outside the house his followers surrounded him. The warrior called for help and Catch-the-Bear and Strike-the-Kettle fired at the police. Both Bull Head and Shave Tail, on either side of him, were mortally wounded, but they killed their prisoner as they fell. Red Tomahawk lived to become a Sioux chief and is such today [1924]. Fechet’s men rounded up the prisoners, putting Sitting Bull’s body on a wagon, with two of his wives, and escorted all to Fort Yates, where the chief was buried in the post cemetery….
The Flying Squadron [did not take part in the action at Wounded Knee on December 29, 1890, but] spent the remainder of the winter in the field, bringing Indians into the reservation posts and making sure that there were no further outbreaks. Concerning Lieutenant Crowder, his commander then, Mr. Connelly has only words of high praise. “He was the best drill master I ever saw in the army,” he said. “He was a splendid officer, and though he might have been nervous, as the rest of us were when we charged Sitting Bull’s warriors, he led his men gallantly. He was a fine officer.”
Arrest and Death of Sitting Bull (By Matthew F. Steele, lieutenant colonel, U. S. A., retired. From Winners of the West, February 28, 1937)
One of the officers who led two troops of Eighth Cavalry through a cold December night in 1890 to arrest Sitting Bull is still alive. He is Lieutenant Colonel Matthew F. Steele, retired, of Fargo, North Dakota. He believes he is the only officer yet living of those who rode from Fort Yates to Sitting Bull’s village on Grand River to support the Indian police and help take Sitting Bull to Fort Yates. He described their arrival at the village in a letter to the Smithsonian Institution:
“We found the Indian police besieged in one of Sitting Bull’s cabins by his followers, their ammunition exhausted. We drove Sitting Bull’s band away and found lying dead in front of the cabin, as I recall, about twelve dead Indians, Sitting Bull’s body among the dead. Red Tomahawk handed me Sitting Bull’s tobacco pouch, which he had taken off his body. In inspecting his other cabin, where I found his two squaws and his grown son (the latter flat on the floor under a feather bed), I noticed a portrait of the old man in a deep gilt frame on the wall. I forbade the three or four troops that were with me to touch anything in the room. But suddenly I saw one of the extra policemen, whose brother, a regular policeman, lay dead outside, snatch the portrait down and smash the frame with his Winchester and punch a hole through the canvas. He was crying over the death of his brother. I grabbed the portrait from him.
“We took Sitting Bull’s body and his squaws back to Fort Yates with us, and I took the portrait and tobacco pouch. A day or so later, I saw Major James McLaughlin, the Indian agent, and told him I had those articles and should like to keep them if his squaws would sell them to me. A couple of days later, I saw McLaughlin again, and he said the women said I might have the things for two dollars. I gave him two dollars for them and I have the picture and the pouch yet. I expect to give them to the state museum at Bismarck or to a museum in Fargo some day.”
Two Letters Regarding Fort Yates and Sitting Bull’s Death, 1890 (By George B. DuBois, Troop F, Eighth U. S. Cavalry, introduced by George Thomas, formerly of Troop I, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, March 30, 1935)
I was telegraph messenger at Fort Leavenworth for several months at the time that Captain Edward S. Godfrey was a member of the Tactical Board of the School for Officers of the Infantry and Cavalry at that post, and remember having seen him a number of times while I was a member of I Troop of the Fifth Cavalry under command of Captain John B. Babcock, who was also a member of the Tactical Board…. I am taking the liberty of sending to you two letters that were written to me from Fort Yates, North Dakota, on the dates of December 3rd, 1890, and December 18th, 1890, by Sergeant George B. DuBois, F Troop, Eighth Cavalry, then stationed at Fort Yates. The original letters, of which these are true copies, were saved by me until June 14th, 1932, when I placed them and eight others in keeping of the State Historical Society of Colorado, in Denver. They are now on exhibition in that institution.
Sergeant George B. DuBois was my buddy at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri, in 1888, but we became separated when he was sent to F Troop of the Eighth Cavalry and I was sent to M Troop of the Fifth, at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas (M Troop was merged into I Troop in 1890), Captain John B. Babcock, commanding. DuBois and I corresponded regularly from the time we were separated until we were discharged from the service and I still have his photograph as one of my prized possessions. Captain George D. Wallace of K Troop of the Seventh U. S. Cavalry was on detached service in 1888 and was in command of C Company of Recruits at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri. That is where I knew of him.
Captain John B. Babcock’s troop of the Fifth was in the battalion that served under Lieutenant Colonel George B. Sanford at Pine Ridge during the “Messiah” Campaign, and that is why I know something about it. After my discharge from the army (three years act), I went back to my home town, Chicago, and entered the postal service and served Uncle Sam until my retirement. I have forty-one years of government service to look back on….
[DuBois’s first letter]
Fort Yates, N. Dakota,
December 3rd, 1890
Dear Friend Thomas:
I still have possession of my black curls, but I have an idea that I came as near losing them as I could, and still have them. Last Sunday night there was great excitement at the post. The two troops were ordered to saddle up our horses and be ready for a dash at any moment. I have since been informed, by a friend who works in the Interior Department, that had the troops gone out there would have been another Custer affair. I don’t know why we did not go out. You know the enlisted men are kept as ignorant as possible. We are fortunate in being at a storm center of trouble, but we will only go out when a larger force arrives. If they ever come. If we have any trouble, I think it will come on next Saturday, the ration day of the Indians. If Sitting Bull comes in at that time, he will be arrested, and F Troop will do the job.
It was reported on Monday that Bull was at the agency. We saddled up in no time and rode to the agency at a gallop. But it was a false alarm. Bull was not there. The troop rode around about half a mile and came back to the post.
It was snowing yesterday, and we were ordered to mount our horses but did not leave the post. It is my opinion that we will ride around the post every day to throw the Indians off their guard, then when Sitting Bull does come to the agency we will make a dash and take him prisoner.
I have not seen the famous Ghost Dance, nor do I believe any one here has done so, even if the press does say so. An Associated Press reporter was the closest that any one has been, and he was about five hundred yards from the dancers. He took a snapshot with a Kodak which he gave to our photographer to develop. The picture shows the Indians dancing around a pole in a large circle. There was one lone tepee forty yards away. I suppose it was the medicine man’s wigwam. Old Bull [Sitting Bull] and two or three others are shown standing between the tepee and the dancers. The Indians did not know that a picture was being taken of the dance, or it would have gone hard with the poor fellow.
The dance at Sitting Bull’s camp is thirty-eight miles from here and the Indians will not allow anyone to come within five hundred yards of it. The Indian scouts of the post have been made to cut their hair so that they will not be mistaken for the Sioux. The Indians at the dance will not allow the scouts to come near them. Buffalo Bill and Doctor [Frank] Powell (White Beaver) were here last week, and Buffalo Bill was going to bring Sitting Bull in to the post. He started for the dance, but when he got to within fifteen miles of it he got bluffed out. He came back without scalp or glory and has gone away now. I suppose that the newspapers will say he had a long talk with the Indians and tell all about the dance. I am personally acquainted with some of the chief dancers, and I would like to see the dance (from behind a big rock).
If the troops do not bother them, I do not look for any trouble, but if they interfere then look fo
r something serious. It will take most of the Army to whip them because they are better off now than they ever have been, and are supplied with more arms than anyone thinks for. Besides, there are plenty of cattle in the country to feed them. I don’t think there will be trouble till next spring if the authorities leave them alone. There are a lot of troops at Mandan. It is sixty miles from here, but we may expect them at any time. Our wagons stand packed with ten days’ rations, tents, and other equipment, all ready to hook the mules to them. They stood with the harness on all night Sunday, together with the horses for the Gatling and Hotchkiss guns. F Troop takes the Hotchkiss and Corporal McCarthy (you remember him as our gunner), G Troop, handles the Gatling gun.
I will let you know as soon as I take a scalp or eat an Indian’s liver for breakfast.
George B. DuBois,
Sergeant, F Troop,
Eighth Cavalry.
[DuBois’s second letter]
Fort Yates, North Dakota,
December 18th, 1890
Dear Friend Thomas:
I have enough to tell you to keep me writing for a week, but will condense as much as possible and give you the news. You will know by this time that the fight was fought and Old Sitting Bull has gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds, together with eleven of his braves that I know about. Also five Indian police have gone under.
The plan laid out was for the forty Indian police to go to the camp of Sitting Bull (thirty-eight miles from Yates) at daylight on Monday morning. They were to arrest Sitting Bull, throw him in a wagon, then meet the two troops on the road, and we were to keep off the hostiles. We started from Fort Yates at twelve o’clock on Sunday night and by sun-up we were about three miles from Sitting Bull’s camp. It turned out that of the forty Indian police that were to be there with a wagon, only eighteen showed up, and they had no wagon.
But they were brave men and they went into the camp. They brought the old man out of his cabin, then they had a white elephant on their hands. Sitting Bull let out a cry for help. His followers came rallying around him. One Sioux Indian shot Bull Head (the chief of the police) in the leg. As he did this, Bull Head turned and shot Sitting Bull in the head, and as Bull was falling, Red Tomahawk shot Sitting Bull twice, one of these shots going near or through the heart. The fighting became hand-to-hand. It must have been awful. The hostiles soon drove the Indian police into Sitting Bull’s cabin. The battle raged until the ammunition began to run short. The police called for a volunteer to go and bring the soldiers. Hawk Man volunteered and made his way to the corral adjoining the cabin, where he found Sitting Bull’s best pony with only a piece of rope around its neck. When he got to the bars of the corral, he found that the bars were so tight that he could not lower them.
Red Tomahawk ran out of the cabin and let the bars down for him. Hawk Man began to whip the pony before he mounted, he was so excited, but he managed to crawl on in some way and dashed off to meet us. If those Indians were not brave, I don’t know who was. The bullets must have rained around them. Hawk Man met us about two miles from the camp. When he met us, there were exciting times. Captain Fechet, who was in command of the two troops, would have turned back, but the other officers insisted that we must go and rescue the police, and he agreed.
I then got a command to take my squad (No. 1) and move as skirmishers five hundred yards in advance in front of the troops, and ride at a gallop. It was ticklish job and none of the officers dared come up. I moved off till I came to a bluff. It was about a thousand yards from the Indian camp and in full view. Then you should have heard the red devils yell. It was awful. I halted till the troops came up. F Troop was dismounted, thrown out on a skirmish line, and commenced firing. The Hotchkiss on the hill was firing over our heads. The Sioux were soon driven from the brush and they disappeared like magic. The Indian police ran up a white flag, and while they came to us the Sioux Indians made their escape. We went down to the creek on a skirmish line and hunted all around. We found only one buck in the brush and made short work of him.
The Indian police had their blood up. One of them would have killed a kid about six years old. I knocked his pistol up and talked him out of it. The scenes around the camp were awful. I saw one fellow go up to Old Bull and cut him across the face with an ax. One cut him with a knife till his own squaw wouldn’t know him. The dead looked horribly cut and shot. The blood and brains lay around in all shapes. There were broken guns covered with blood. The commander ordered the camp to be made so that the men and horses could be fed. I was ordered out with my squad (two corporals and nine privates) for picket duty. We had a hard time of it.
Corporal Ford was playing hide and seek with an Indian on a hill-top. Neither one was hurt. I had a hard time for myself. One buck came riding in toward camp. I thought he was an Indian police[man], as he had a white kerchief the same as the police all wore. When he got to within four hundred yards of our camp, he stopped. It seemed as though the whole of our men started shooting at once, but the Indian spurred his pony and dashed in my direction. He did not see me until he got within five hundred yards of where I was. As he turned away, I let him have it. The first two shots were misses, but at the third shot he threw up his hands and a riderless pony galloped over the plains.
The Indian police went out with a wagon and brought in a dead Indian. While I was on picket duty, the troops cooked dinner and ate it all up. I had nothing to eat or drink, nor did any of my eleven men or horses. They were afraid to stay there any longer so we started out for Oak Creek. We got there just at dark. We had traveled seventy-five miles since midnight the night before, but the funny thing that was of the most interest to me was that I had nothing to eat. We had no wagons nor any bedding. Few of the boys slept at all, as they had one blanket and a saddle blanket each.
At midnight that night two companies of infantry joined us. They had supplies and our buffalo coats. We managed to warm up a little, but not enough to sleep very much. The next morning we pulled into Fort Yates. You bet I was glad to hit the spring bunk a lick once more. I haven’t seen any account of it yet, but you will have the true story. I have not written the soldier rumors. Just what I saw myself and what the Indian police told me themselves. So I know what I am talking about.
Bull Head, the man who shot Sitting Bull, is in the hospital. He has a shattered arm and leg. The doctor thinks he will pull through all right [Bull Head subsequently died]. The five Indian police that were killed were buried with military honors yesterday. The whole garrison turned out to the funeral. We are liable to go out at any minute to round up the others. That was what we might have done, but the officers thought it was too big a job to tackle. Most of our boys have some relic of Sitting Bull. I have a knife and a bag of medicine. The troop has the Holy Shirt that Old Bull said was bullet proof. He did not have it on at the time that he was killed.
George B. DuBois,
Sergeant, F Troop, Eighth
Cavalry
Scouting for Sioux in 1890 (By John Rovinsky, formerly Eighth U. S. Cavalry and Seventh U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, October, 1925)
I served two enlistments, in Troop B, Eighth U. S. Cavalry, stationed at Fort Meade, South Dakota, and in Company B, Seventh U. S. Infantry, stationed at Fort Logan, Colorado. In 1890, we of the Eighth U. S. Cavalry were stationed at Fort Meade, South Dakota, with Colonel Elmer Otis in command. I was all through the Sioux Indian campaign of 1890-91, as Troops A and B, under Captain Almond B. Wells, later raised to major, were sent out against the Indians. We took the field early in the spring, and after several days’ march came to the town of Oelrichs, South Dakota, where we made our camp. For a time it was severely cold and we had to sleep on the bare ground, often times amid downpours of rain, hail, and snow. We had no tents or shelter of any kind, and several times we awoke in the morning to find ourselves covered with snow. We stayed at Oelrichs the greater part of the summer guarding that town and patrolling the country for hostile Indians. We next camped at Battle Creek, close to Cheyenne River, and fr
om there we scouted the country along the Cheyenne.
On one of our scouting trips, which were composed of ten soldiers and a noncommissioned officer, we came to an abandoned house known as Dailey’s Ranch. We passed this place several times, and on one occasion a rancher came out and warned us that Indians were sneaking around in the thicket beyond the Cheyenne. We continued on but for a few yards, when the Indians began firing on us. Sergeant Ohorn, who was in command, gave orders to dismount and return fire. We dismounted, tethered our horses, and opened fire into the brush where the Indians were concealed. The firing on both sides soon ceased, and a courier was sent to inform the commanding officer of the engagement with the redskins. The whole command soon arrived, but the major did not believe the savages had fired on us and placed Sergeant Ohorn under arrest. He later released him when the ranchers testified to the fact that the Indians had begun the skirmish.
Swedish immigrant Sopphus Borresen joined Troop H, Eighth Cavalry, at Fort Meade, South Dakota. Borresen wore full dress while posing on horseback in ca. 1890-91. Editor’s collection
We now received news of the Battle of the Wounded Knee, of the killing of Sitting Bull, with orders to concentrate and close in on the Indians if they failed to obey orders to go back on the reservation. The Indians, however, started for the Pine Ridge Agency, and we followed them, pitching camp near the agency. General Miles reviewed all the troops, after which we returned to our winter headquarters at Fort Meade. We had been here but shortly when the Chinese who ran the laundry near here came running into the fort and said that several Indians had driven them out of their homes. The commanding officer sent three of us, including a sergeant, to arrest them. The Indians were drunk, and we arrested them and brought them to the guard house. Just as the sergeant of the guard proceeded to open the prison door, one of the Indians seized an axe and raised it to hit me over the head. The sergeant grasped the axe and after a short struggle took it away from the Indian and shoved the two Indians into jail.