by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
“Frank Grouard and Indian scouts.”
“Advance, Grouard. Scouts stay where you are.”
Believe me, it was a relief to see this well-known scout just then. He asked me how come that I was out here alone, except for the very dangerous company of the ammunition-carrying mule. After we had proceeded a few more miles along the trail, he called my attention to a pony about a hundred yards from the trail. The three scouts fanned out in the direction of the pony, and I saw an Indian mount and disappear in the distance. Then, without further incidents, my escort rode with me in to the camp at Wounded Knee. The troops had made a detour and the captain (Charles S. Ilsley) had sent a few men back to locate me. He told me he would never again entrust me with the care of a mule, especially one carrying such important cargo. I am writing this because I believe Frank Grouard deserves all the credit for my being alive for all these years since December 28, 1890, and I have been informed that his remains rest in sacred ground at or near St. Joseph, Missouri.
A Trooper’s Vignette (By Frank Sturr, formerly of Troop K, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, March 30, 1931)
I was a sergeant of K Troop, Seventh U. S. Cavalry, serving five years in said troop, and mustered out with excellent discharge on May 1, 1892. Took part in the battle in question [Wounded Knee], also the White Clay Creek Fight later, and it was my business to know what was going on among our men, but at no time did I see or hear of any drinking or carousing throughout the whole campaign….
The renegades…were captured by four troops of the Seventh Cavalry and a detachment of E Battery, First Artillery, on December 28, 1890, and we took them into our camp on Wounded Knee Creek and furnished them rations, where they powwowed all that night. A cordon was placed around them with every man in the command on guard. Our officials at once, on the capture, dispatched a messenger into Pine Ridge Agency to notify General Nelson A. Miles, who was in command. General Miles sent out four additional troops of the Seventh Cavalry to join us, with orders to disarm the Sitting Bull renegades [sic—the chief had been killed on December 15], and above all, not to allow them to reach the agency under arms.
About 8:30 on the morning of December 29, 1890, we were ordered to search all tepees and get all the warriors together. When this was accomplished a demand was made for them to turn over their arms. This they hesitated in doing, and all the while the squaws sang and kept up a regular din by beating on tom-toms. Finally the medicine man reached down and took a handful of prairie grass and snow and released same over his head, which apparently was the signal awaited. The Indians at once dropped their blankets, under which their guns had been concealed, and opened fire…. That night we loaded all of our killed and wounded into wagons, together with some seventeen wounded Indians, mostly squaws and children, and made a night march to Pine Ridge Agency. Our wagon train was attacked several times en route by bands of hostile Indians. On reaching the agency, a hospital was established under a splendid physician, Dr. John Van R. Hoff, and the Indian wounded received like medical care as our own troopers.
In the agency there were over 3, 000 Messiah-crazed Indians, and General Miles well knew to allow Sitting Bull’s band to join Chief Red Cloud would be the signal for the whole of the Sioux Nation taking the warpath. Finally, regiments of all branches of service—cavalry, infantry, and artillery, as well as troops of Indian scouts—, began arriving at Pine Ridge from all parts of the country. The First Infantry, from as far distant as California, and our own General [John] Pershing of this period, was there with his Indian scouts. Soon a cordon was thrown around the entire Sioux Nation and gradually closed in the circle until all Indians about the reservation were within. They were then disarmed, with the military rejoicing that their worries were at an end, temporarily at least….
On the Pine Ridge Campaign (By Grant C. Topping, formerly of Troop F, Sixth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, February, 1925)
On November 23, 1890, telegraphic orders were received at Fort Wingate, New Mexico, this post being situated five miles from the station. Colonel Carr was at that time in command of the Sixth U. S. Cavalry…. We embarked immediately and on December 9, 1890, arrived at Rapid City, South Dakota, and were given a leading part in the Sioux campaign. General Miles distributed us along the railroad north of Rapid City and along the [Cheyenne] river on the edge of the Badlands….
From December 15, 1890, to February 2, 1891, we were in the field against the Sioux…. there were deep snows and intense coldness, and this weather seemed to favor the Indians. The men and horses of the Sixth suffered untold misery but no difficulties were too great for the Sixth to overcome. Second Lieutenant John J. Pershing, with Troop A of the Sixth U. S. Cavalry, met the savages at their own game and none were braver against the savage foe than First Lieutenant Augustine T. Blocksom. The trails were hard to find and the Sixth Cavalry performed a feat during this campaign which is still fresh in the minds of the boys who fought at Wounded Knee.
On December 24 a message was received that Big Foot was moving south on the Deep Fork trail. At this time we were on White Horse Creek. A courier from the Seventh U. S. Cavalry…now came into camp being nearly overcome by fatigue and hard riding. “Boots and Saddles” was sounded and Colonel Eugene A. Carr ordered a forced crossing over the [Cheyenne] river…, which was covered by floating ice. No obstacles were too great as we were after the redskins. Those who participated in this charge will never forget it as even the alkaline pools were frozen, the weather being so cold. Christmas morning found us on the pinnacle of one of the highest points in the Badlands, from which we could see the country for miles around.
On December 29 the Battle of Wounded Knee started. Little the world knew, especially the people of the United States, that it was the death blow to the Indians. The Indians finally surrendered and the Sioux campaign or war passed into history. Later, the Sixth Cavalry were left here to guard the Badlands and the Pine Ridge Agency against further uprisings and depredations. I will not state nor attempt to state the exact number of cavalrymen and infantrymen killed in this battle as there is a dispute in regard to the actual number of regulars killed.
The picture is too sad to go into details any deeper. We spent many hours digging ditches and into these we pitched the bodies of the dead Indians. I did not count the number of Indians killed. Our boys were buried to the right of the Pine Ridge Agency and later they were taken up and sent to their respected [respective] people. Being the youngest man at the time of this battle, I do not suppose that there are four comrades left of the F Troop of the Sixth Cavalry. All the soldiers of Troop K of the Seventh were killed with the exception of three [sic—this is an exaggeration, although Troops B and K of the Seventh Cavalry together lost more than thirty men in killed and wounded]. I wish to state here that any comrade of the Sixth Cavalry who reads this article can recollect the Ninth Cavalry. The colored boys deserve a great credit for the work they did and I am here to state as a living witness [that] had it not been for them this letter from me would never have been read by the public and especially those who were in Troop F of the Sixth. Sleeping on snow, a saddle for a pillow and a horse blanket for covering was no snap.
Infantry Operations at Pine Ridge (By Richard T. Burns, formerly of Company D, Second U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, March, 1938)
I was not at Wounded Knee, but close by at Pine Ridge Agency. About the night of November 18 everything was going as usual at Fort Omaha, Nebraska, when orders came for A, B, C, and D Companies of the Second U. S. Infantry, then stationed there, to leave inside an hour, which we did. We left so fast we did not have a sergeant or top sergeant with us and the captain, James Miller, was wild. We boarded the Fremont, Elkhorn and Missouri Special Train and rushed to Rushville, Nebraska, where we unloaded. We had fifteen minutes for coffee and at about 7 p.m. joined up with three troops of the Ninth colored cavalry and made a forced march, taking all night as we halted every few minutes until the cavalry scouts reported all right ahead. Every ti
me we halted, the companies would crowd together. One minute you would be in the center of the company and the next you would be jostled out.
Orders were not to strike a match or speak above a whisper. The boys were all old Civil and Indian war vets but were getting pretty nervous before daybreak and began slipping cartridges into their rifles and the officers warning them not to do so. We could see the campfires and hear the Indians on the bluffs, but got to the agency and took charge. We camped on the hill and the cavalry camped in a hollow. In a day or two the other four companies of the Second Infantry [arrived, along with] the rest of the Ninth Cavalry, the Seventh Cavalry, and E Battery, First Artillery, and F Battery of the Fifth Artillery. Also, one company of the Eighth Infantry with machine guns joined us.
The Seventh and the Ninth cavalry were out every day in squadrons looking for Big Foot’s band and scouting all the way to the Black Hills. Young Man Afraid of His Horses was on a hunting trip and came in peaceably, but they could not locate Big Foot’s band until a squadron of the Seventh Cavalry surprised them at Wounded Knee. A man of the Seventh Cavalry told me two troops dismounted to search the Indians when they threw off their blankets and a hand-to-hand fight started. With the Seventh Cavalry were a howitzer [Hotchkiss] battery and a wagon train and it was a merry-go-round.
December 29 was the fight and the dead and wounded were brought in that night. The wounded were put in tents back of the woodpile and the dead were laid on the ground with blankets over them. There were over seventy-five killed and wounded soldiers. Also, a lot of squaws and papooses were wounded as it could not be avoided in the mix-up. Captain Wallace was among the soldiers killed, and Lieutenant Garlington severely wounded. They buried the soldiers back of the mission schools in a blinding blizzard on New Year’s Day, 1891. While they were burying them, I was on No. 1 Post Main Guard when I heard accoutrements rattling and saw a darker spot on the Chadron, Nebraska, road and turned out the guard. In a few minutes they came into view. They were the First U. S. Infantry. Colonel William R. Shafter and General Nelson Miles were with them. This was the first we saw of General Miles at the agency. The first thing he asked the sergeant of the guard was, “What makes this camp so still?” And the sergeant told him the troops were all to the funeral of the men killed at Wounded Knee. The next question he asked was, “How did they attend?” The sergeant said, “With side arms.” Miles went wild and sent an aide to the cemetery ordering all the men except the actual burying party back to camp. Miles said, “The idea, attending the funeral with only side arms in the middle of a hostile country.”
That day he ordered the Seventh and Ninth Cavalry and Second Infantry out of the agency right into the blizzard and a mile or two out we got lost and had to make camp. The Seventh were separated altogether. A troop would come along and ask if we had seen anymore of their troops, and they were told several troops went by and said they lost the rest of the regiment. One of them camped alongside of us. The Ninth Cavalry went snowblind and had to go into camp somewhere.
Members of Company A, Second Infantry, at Fort Omaha, in 1893. Left to right, standing, Privates Hoffman, Bartel, Phillips, Mitchell, and Corporal Patrick Prendergast. Sitting, with rabbits, Corporal Regan and Private Jenkins. Editor’s collection
Speaking of the Ninth Cavalry, I heard of them [earlier?] marching from the Black Hills to Pine Ridge Agency ninety miles, without stopping. They just got into the camp and unsaddled when a corporal rode in and reported the wagon train was attacked. The Ninth Cavalry (Colonel Guy V. Henry) and the Seventh Cavalry (Colonel Forsyth) went to the rescue immediately, some of the Ninth riding bareback.
Then the fun began around the agency. The Oglala Sioux under Red Cloud and some Cheyennes were under guard at the Pine Ridge Agency. The Brulé Sioux…from Rosebud came down and started a scrap with the Oglalas, thinking they were holding out on them. Then the Pine Ridge Indian Police…made it a three-cornered affair. The cavalry regiments were all out scouting and our companies were laying on the ground, two at each corner of the agency. This was before Wounded Knee. Our colonel, Frank Wheaton, brigadier general from the Civil War, was in command with orders not to fire unless absolutely necessary. It was a rather tough three-cornered scrap, bullets flying all around and the artillery officers begging for permission to fire. In the meantime, Indians were sniping from the bluffs and A and B Companies deployed and ran them off, having a few men wounded and half of our tents were riddled, but no one was in them. There were twelve battles fought in the 1890-1891 campaign, but you never hear anything about it. All newspaper correspondents were ordered to keep out of the war zone, so I guess that is the reason.
Recollections of the Pine Ridge Campaign and Wounded Knee (By August Hettinger, formerly of Company H, Eighth U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, December 30, 1934, January 30, 1935, and February 28, 1935)
During the fall of 1890 there were rumors of an Indian outbreak on the three Sioux reservations located in [South] Dakota. It seems that all through the summer of 1890 Indian…[dissidents] went around among the tribes and spread discontent; some of these complaints were based on facts, but ninety per cent of them were pure fiction. They promised the Indians, among other things, the assistance of the Great Spirit in the extermination of the white man, and as soon as this small feat was accomplished the buffalo were to return automatically in countless numbers. All this meant an easy life to the Indian and, as he is human, he took considerable stock in it…. While none of us soldiers were bloodthirsty, all the reports from the scene of trouble was good news to us, for the reason that we had been stationed at Fort Niobrara, [Nebraska, ] since 1886, when the Eighth Infantry came fresh from the Geronimo Campaign in Arizona.
Only a soldier can realize what we suffered—or thought we did—during the four years in the sand hills of Nebraska, for with the exception of a short summer maneuver there was absolutely no excitement whatever. But the storm finally burst on November 25, 1890, and the Sioux Indian “Messiah Craze” campaign, as it is officially known, was on. As the order came at 9 a.m. to march at 2 p.m., there was sure some excitement in the fort, and to make matters worse—or better—most of the soldiers started a jollification at the canteen. The officers also laid in a supply for strictly private use, but I regret to say a good deal of this private stock disappeared in a mysterious way before the wagon train left the fort. To my own knowledge the quarter master came to me and stated that two of his gallon jugs had been found empty and he asked me to take care of one. I managed to get the one he turned over to me to the Rosebud Agency by putting it in a nosebag and filling it to the top with oats.
Promptly at 2 p.m. the “General” call sounded and we were off; A, B, F, and H companies of the Eighth Infantry, and two troops, my own Captain Daniel T. Wells in command, and Luther Richardson…of the Ninth Cavalry. We crossed the Niobrara River and then left the main road to Valentine, turned sharply to the right, crossed the Minicatosa and climbed the steep bluffs along the north side of the river and followed a dim trail leading straight north across the prairie to the Rosebud Agency, forty miles away. Unluckily, on crossing the Minicatosa, the H Company wagon upset and the boys had the pleasure of seeing their bedding, extra supply of tobacco, stationery, etc., going down the river. Everything was fished out again, but the supplies were ruined; writing paper and postage stamps were at a premium during the coming winter. But the funny part of it was that the teamster of this wagon, a noted character of our company known by the nickname of “Limber,” always bragged that all he needed was a piece of buckskin to drive a six-mule team around a ten-cent piece, and then he upset our bed wagon with all our precious possessions in the river before we were two miles from the fort.
Before we got away from the fort, a little incident happened that nearly landed me in the guardhouse. It seems that at the last moment the department commander decided to organize a battery of one-pounder Hotchkiss [guns] as a part of each expedition, the members of which were to be drawn from the different companies. I was deta
iled to drive the four-mule ammunition wagon. That sure got my goat; here was a likely campaign in sight, for which we had waited for years, and…I was told to drive mules in a different organization. Only a soldier can realize my predicament. The company means everything to a soldier, but as the first sergeant threatened to put me in the guardhouse unless I reported to the quartermaster immediately, I had to go or miss the expedition altogether. The whole incident proved to be a piece of luck afterwards, for the reason that my own company was left at the Rosebud Agency during the campaign, while the two troops of cavalry, the battery of light artillery and Company A of the Eighth Infantry were detailed to go to the assistance of the Seventh Cavalry just before the Battle of Wounded Knee, and by being a member of the battery I got to see the whole show.
The forced march of forty miles from Fort Niobrara to the agency was a heartbreaker to most of the infantrymen, but nevertheless we arrived there at daylight in the morning. It was just bright enough to see Short Bull pull out with about 1, 500 warriors in the direction of Eagle Pass. A forty-mile march is no particular feat for an infantry command to make after they are two or three days on the road, but to make forty miles under heavy packs the first day out can only be accomplished by the American doughboy. In this connection, it may be mentioned that at that time, in 1890, K Company, Eighth Infantry, held the world record—they marched fifty-eight miles in twenty-four hours during the Geronimo Campaign in old Mexico. But this feat was tied by A Company, Eighth Infantry, during the march from the Rosebud [Agency] to the assistance of the Seventh Cavalry when they made fifty-eight miles in twenty-four hours in from twelve to fifteen inches of snow, and in three days and three nights they marched 128 miles.
