by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West
Occupation Duty in Utah, 1879-1880 (By George K. Lisk, formerly sergeant, Troop H, Fifth U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, February, 1925)
In the fall of 1879, H Troop of the Fifth Cavalry left Fort McPherson, Nebraska, proceeded by rail to Rawlins, Wyoming [Territory], and there took wagon train to White River, Colorado. At this place, Agent Nathan C. Meeker, with the blacksmith and two or three citizen employees, were massacred by the Indians. Mrs. Meeker, her daughter Josephine, the blacksmith’s wife and her two little girls were captured and taken away by the Indians. We buried those that were killed. Meeker, himself, had a barrel stave run down his throat and a log chain around his neck. We then pursued the Indians and rescued the women and children after a short fight in which Major Thomas T. Thornburg, First Lieutenant William B. Weir, [former] Sergeant Major Paul F. A. Humme, and several others whose names I do not remember, were killed. We remained there in snow and suffered severely with the cold.
[When we left]…in March of the following spring [1880], the snow was so deep that as we were coming through the mountains we had to cut our way, taking six days to make eighteen miles. We had to put snowshoes on the wheels of the wagon. Striking the high divide, we removed the snowshoes, allowing the wheels to roll over the ground until we again struck snow. In the canyon we replaced the snowshoes and slid along like a sled. Going into camp at night we could not pitch our tents owing to the depth of the snow. Some of the men would dig into the snowdrift, cut the tops of brush and carry them inside for a bed and then covered themselves with blankets and buffalo robes. Others would cut brush and lay it on top of the snow, place their blankets on top of this and cover themselves with their buffalo robes. Over this they would place their shelter tents. This is the way we suffered to open the country for civilization. Coming back to Rawlins—there we took [the] train for Fort D. A. Russell. From there we took wagon train again and marched north to Fort Laramie, Wyoming, and thence to Fort Robinson, Nebraska, where we went into permanent quarters. During this expedition many of the boys went snow blind. This condition would last for three or four days and was very painful.
D. West Coast
By the time white Americans began settling in the area of the Pacific Coast (Washington, Oregon, and California) in the 1840s and 1850s, the Indian population had dramatically declined from the effects of Spanish rule and colonization there. That trend continued between 1850 and 1880, as state and local militias wiped out hundreds of small, loosely organized tribes. The U. S. Army was not involved in this extermination, but in the 1850s and 1860s took action against several Rogue River, Paiute, and other tribes in Washington and Oregon when they resisted the whites’ spoliation of their country. Most of these people were ultimately placed on reservations. Rebelliousness over treaty agreements, however, persisted among one group, the Modocs, leading to full-scale army operations against them in 1873-74. Most of the campaign, which included a high-profile assassination of an army commander during a peace council, took place in the rugged lava country of northern California, during which troops were forced to maneuver over some of the roughest terrain imaginable. The following veterans’ accounts include a perspective of an incident in the Paiute country of southern Oregon, as well as personal reflections of the Modoc War.
A Close Call in Oregon, 1868 (By John M. Smith, formerly of Company C, Twenty-third U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, May 30, 1927)
I served three years from June 12, 1867, to June 11, 1870, in Company C, Twenty-third mounted U. S. Infantry…. On October 15, 1868, I was ordered by my commanding officer, First Lieutenant John W. Lewis, to take eight mules and deliver a load of provisions to a detachment of our command on station at a place called O’wyhee Ferry where they were doing duty as stage guards. The distance was 100 miles from Camp Smith, [Oregon, ] headquarters of the command. My intentions were to make the distance without camping, for the country was infested with [Paiute] Indians who would not hesitate to murder me and take my supplies. Water was scarce in that part of the country, but there was two springs about half way distance between points, and one of these springs was reported to be good water, the other poison.
I arrived at the springs about 1:30 o’clock in the evening and watered the teams and drank some myself. I then started on my way, but had gone but about eight miles when one mule took sick and died. I then decided to go into camp and spend the night there, which I did, and in the morning I left the dead mule’s mate to rustle for itself and proceeded on to the ferry. I arrived there in the evening and remained in camp until the following morning. During the night snow fell to the amount of about fourteen inches, but I made a start. However, I went but a little ways when I decided it best to go back to camp for several days, until the snow was partly gone, and give the team a rest. I started out again on the second day, and when I arrived at the springs on my return trip it was getting late, near sundown, and the wind was getting terribly cold. To my surprise, I was joined here by the mule I had turned loose, and who had stayed here with its dead partner.
My route laid to the north, up over a high land country and all covered with ice and snow. I had no way to tell where the trail was, and the full force of the blizzard struck me squarely in the face and I could see nothing. After a time I was compelled to give up trying to direct the team and got down in the wagon and covered up my head and ears to keep from freezing. I called on the good Lord to direct the course of the team and take me safe and alive into Camp Smith, a distance of about forty-five miles. I don’t know how long I remained down there in the wagon, but after a time I aroused myself to find that the team had turned and was following the back trail toward the springs. I got up and managed to turn them around and head them in what I believed to be the direction of Camp Smith and then I laid down again.
Until this day I have visions of that wagon and team rumbling along over cliffs and rough country. At one time I was sure the wagon was turning over, but in time it righted itself and rumbled on. After a long time, seemingly many hours, I heard a cock crow and knew that I was in the vicinity of Camp Smith, Oregon. I was unable to move, but shortly I heard the familiar challenge of “Who Comes There[?],” and although unable to answer the challenge or move, I knew the good Lord had answered my prayer and I had arrived in camp. The guards stopped the wagon and took me out and carried me into quarters where there was a good big fire going, and I soon recovered from my chill. Until this day I have never reported to my commanding officer, First Lieutenant Lewis, and if by chance these few remarks should come under his notice I ask that he receive my belated report of the trip to O’whyee Ferry, Oregon, in October, 1868….
Scouting during the Modoc War, 1873 (By Oliver C. Applegate, formerly captain, Oregon Militia. From Winners of the West, February 28, 1930)
The 12th day of this month was the fifty-seventh anniversary of a scouting episode which occurred early in the Modoc War, a little over a month after the first fight with Captain Jack’s band of Modocs on Lost River and the massacre of the settlers at the head of Tule Lake which occurred the same day…. The forces in the field were divided at that time. Captain Reuben F. Bernard with his command, consisting of his own troop of the First Cavalry, Captain James Jackson’s troop, Sub-Chief Dave Hill’s Klamath scouts and some other forces, which I cannot now recall, were stationed at or near the southwest corner of Tule Lake, on or near the Land cattle ranch and near the point where Captain John C. Fremont camped in May, 1846. Tule Lake is here about twelve miles wide, the historic lava beds resting on its southern border, and the Modoc stronghold, where the hostiles were encamped, was within four miles, or a little less, of the high volcanic ridge bounding the lake and lava beds on the west, usually known as the High Bluff.
Major John Green, a veteran soldier who had come up from the ranks, was field commander. He with his forces was encamped at the springs at the head of Willow Creek, a tributary of lower Klamath Lake, a place then known as Van Bremmer’s ranch, eleven miles west by a trail winding among the rocks to
the top of the High Bluff, already mentioned, three or four miles west of Captain Jack’s stronghold known later as one of the most remarkable natural fortresses encountered in all the experiences of our army. Frank Wheaton, then lieutenant colonel of the Twenty-first Infantry, a major general in the Civil War, and one of the finest men in the U. S. Army, commanding all the forces in the field, was also at the Van Bremmer ranch with his staff. He was contemplating a plan to surround the Modoc stronghold, Captain Bernard to advance his command from the east and Major Green from the west, moving up on either side on January 16th, so that on the 17th his troops would be near enough, all conditions being favorable, to advance in skirmish order and surround the stronghold, Captain Bernard’s right flank resting on the lake and Major Green’s left flank also touching the lake. The colonel hoped that should the Modocs find themselves surrounded we could open communications with them through our Modoc scouts and perhaps close the war without serious casualties, possibly without any loss of life.
As I have mentioned before, to reach the High Bluff, the distance from Van Bremmer’s by the horse trail was eleven miles through a very rocky terrain, but to reach that point overlooking the Lava Beds with the artillery, etc., on wheels would necessitate a trip of at least twenty-five miles, first north ten or twelve miles to the old emigrant road at the south end of lower Klamath Lake; thence along the old road to a point nearly north of the High Bluff; and thence about fifteen miles through a rugged undulating region, climbing gradually up among the crags without a road. To ascertain whether it was possible to take wagons through this little-known fifteen miles of lava upheavals, a reconnaissance was made over the horse trail to the High Bluff on January 12, 1873. Major John Green with Captain David Perry (in later army life a general [sic]) of the First Cavalry with thirteen men and the famous scout Donald McKay, with five Klamath scouts, left the encampment at about 9 a.m.
I was then a captain of Oregon state troops, having with me at the encampment fifty men of my company, half of them enlisted Klamath and Modoc scouts from my home station at Camp Yainax on the Klamath Indian Reservation. My orders were to remain an hour in camp after Major Green’s departure, and then follow up with a reserve force of thirty men. This I did, taking with me fifteen white men and fifteen Indians of my company, and the regimental surgeon of the state troops. When we reached the second escarpment about three miles west of the High Bluff we heard firing, and, forcing our way down the declivity among the great boulders as rapidly as possible, we rode with the utmost speed up the rugged ascending plain to within a hundred yards of where I could see troops dismounted at the top of the bluff. Dismounting my men and leaving them with the horses, I ran on foot to where Major Green, seated on the ground, was eating his lunch (it was not an exciting day’s work to the old soldier), at the point where the trail begins its descent of the cliff. Captain Perry, Donald McKay, and a few Klamath scouts and soldiers were about him, and a skirmish line of Perry’s men was crawling up to a rocky elevation five hundred yards to the left where the Modocs had a picket station, from which point the Indians had evidently fired on Perry’s men.
Oliver C. Applegate, who served in the Oregon militia at the time of the Modoc War. His recollections provide insightful testimony by an eyewitness of the events. In this picture, taken in 1926, Applegate sports his old officer straps on a buckskin jacket, along with his National Indian War Veteran membership badge and two badges commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of the Battle of the Little Bighorn in that year. Editor’s collection
The Modocs, from their stronghold below, appeared shouting, talking, and sounding the war whoop. They were advancing in diverging lines toward the foot of the bluff. Evidently, they had been informed from their picket station that the opposing force was only about twenty persons, not knowing of the arrival of reinforcements, and they were running to climb the escarpment and attack Perry’s men. At that moment I heard firing at the picket station, saw men dodging among the rocks, and Perry’s men, having driven the Indians from their station, were starting on their return. Running back to my men, I sent Sergeant Pierce, a Confederate veteran, with about two-thirds of the men, to occupy the rim rock on the right of Major Green and Perry, to carefully conceal themselves among the rocks overlooking the cliff. Leaving a few men with the horses, with First Sergeant Neil and the remainder of the men we ran along the rim to the left and reoccupied the rocky elevation from which Perry’s men had driven the Indians; from that point, at intervals of a hundred yards or so, where there were large boulders, were stationed Indians, the line extending down the cliff and well into the lava field at its base. A wounded Modoc whose rifle we picked up passed down the cliff, assisted by the Indians who occasionally appeared from behind the boulders and fired at us, though without effect. The situation was that we held the rim rock for six or seven hundred yards, our men well concealed, and Captain Jack’s main party, diverging, were approaching our approximately fifty rifles. There doubtless would soon have been a serious crisis for the enemy had not a sudden change occurred in the program.
Major Green, having finished his lunch, rode up to my position and said, as nearly as I can recall his words, “Captain, draw out your men and escort us back to headquarters.” We were not out to fight that day it appeared, but to cover Captain Perry’s small detachment sent to examine the rough volcanic region between the High Bluff and the old trail at the south end of lower Klamath Lake, to determine the possibility of getting over it with the artillery, etc., on wheels, preparatory to the plans maturing for surrounding the Modoc stronghold. We had made it safe for Captain Perry’s reconnaissance and he started on his way down toward Klamath Lake, while my command returned with Major Green to camp on the Indian trail by which we came in.
Colonel Wheaton’s plans for the investment of the stronghold I did not yet know, but the next day after this episode I proposed to go into the Lava Beds at night with my company and one other, guided by my Modoc scouts who knew the ground, secure good positions in the lava fields, and the next morning invite attack. The colonel then explained his plans fully to me, saying that if my plan should be successful it would probably be at heavy sacrifice, but that he hoped by his plan of surrounding the Modocs in their stronghold to secure their surrender with little or no loss of life. My plan, if approved by the colonel, would perhaps not have been a success. Colonel Wheaton’s might have succeeded had it not been for a dense fog which prevented the use of the artillery on January 17th, when the effort was made in full force from the east and west. We had forty-one men killed and wounded, and did not dislodge the enemy. We did not know beforehand the awful ruggedness of their position.
Murder of the Peace Commissioners (By Oliver C. Applegate, formerly captain, Oregon Militia. From Winners of the West, January 30, 1926)
During the Modoc War of 1872 and 1873, a truce was declared by the authorities at Washington, and a commission was sent to the headquarters of the army in the lava country south of Tule Lake in northern California. After a month or so had been consumed in communications with the hostile Modocs, mainly through Indian messengers, it was arranged for the commissioners to meet the hostile chief and four of his principal men in the Lava Beds, between the military camp and the Indian stronghold among the rocks, distant from the army camp three-fourths of a mile.
The commission then consisted of Colonel Alfred B. Meacham, formerly superintendent of Indian affairs in Oregon, chairman of the commission; Major General E. R. S. Canby, U. S. Army, department commander; Reverend Ezekiel Thomas, a Methodist minister of California; and Hon. Leroy S. Dyer, U. S. Indian Agent of Klamath Agency, Oregon. The interpreters of the commission were Toby Riddle (since known as Winema), a Modoc Indian woman, a second cousin to Captain Jack, the hostile chief, and her husband Frank Riddle, a Kentuckian. On the part of the Modocs, Captain Jack, chief of the hostile Modocs, a signer of the great treaty of 1864 as Kientpoos; Sconchin John, sub-chief of that band, brother of Old Sconchin, chief of the friendly Modocs then at Camp Yainax on
the Klamath Reservation; Black Jim, half-brother of Captain Jack; Boston Charley and Hooker Jim, headmen of the band. It is true that there were other warriors at hand when the attack was made on the commission whose presence was not authorized.
Captain O. C. Applegate, officer in charge of the Modocs, Paiutes, and Klamaths at Camp Yainax on the Indian reservation, was under detail to assist the commission, and at the request of General Canby brought to the headquarters of the commission at Colonel Alvan C. Gillem’s camp in the Lava Beds the loyal old Chief Sconchin from Yainax, to assist the commission in negotiations, or more particularly to observe while with them the conduct and appearance of the hostiles, and to determine whether or not they were acting in good faith. Meetings were held on successive days at the agreed place in the Lava Beds, Sconchin being present with the commission on two occasions. Before the third meeting, word was received from Camp Yainax that some of Captain Jack’s emissaries were there, probably for the purpose of influencing the old chief’s Modocs to join the hostiles.
The old chief, being greatly disturbed by the news, asked General Canby to return him at once under conduct of Captain Applegate to Yainax, to prevent dissatisfaction among his people. This the general agreed to. The evening before departure, with the few Modocs who had accompanied him from Yainax, Captain Applegate conferred with Colonel Meacham and Mr. Dyer of the commission and they both, being experienced men with Indians, assured Captain Applegate that Captain Jack’s party was coming every day to the council armed and in a morose temper, and they felt that they were risking their lives at every meeting at a place so remote from the camp of the army, and in a rugged terrain where hostile warriors could be easily concealed. Neither General Canby nor Reverend Dr. Thomas seemed fearful of danger, and were bent on continued efforts for peace, and Mr. Meacham and Mr. Dyer were determined to take chances with them at any risk. Captain Applegate took from his pocket a little two-barreled Derringer and gave it to Mr. Dyer, saying: “Put this in your pocket with these cartridges. In some possible emergency it may help you.” Mr. Meacham already had a little pocket pistol, but neither General Canby nor Dr. Thomas would consent to carry arms, even such innocent weapons as these little pocket pistols.
