by Dee Brown
On the first day of the month Captain Ten Eyck, commanding post, also assumed command of the 2nd Battalion, replacing Captain Haymond. In his official record of events for August, Ten Eyck wrote: “Stockade around garrison completed early in this month and the entire force of the garrison was employed, officers and men laboring incessantly on the public buildings necessary for the preservation of the stores, and our company quarters. Our steam sawmill was put in operation during the month.”2
The shortage of officers led to a combination of duties for all. Lieutenant Bisbee commanded E Company and also served as post adjutant and 2nd Battalion adjutant. Lieutenant John Adair commanded C Company and also performed the duties of regimental adjutant and acting adjutant general for the Mountain District.
As Phil Kearny was simultaneously headquarters for a district, regiment, battalion, and post, the paper work even in that day was immense. Before the month was scarcely begun, Colonel Carrington transferred four enlisted men into the combined headquarters tent for various duties—Private Dominic St. Geiger, Archibald Sample, Horace Van Kirk, and Thomas Maddeon. Sample eventually became the colonel’s orderly, and played an important role in the Fetterman Massacre. Maddeon was an excellent gunsmith, but he preferred action in the field rather than the duties of regimental armorer. He would die in the Massacre.
The first day of August saw the departure of two of Carrington’s most experienced officers, Captain Haymond and Lieutenant Phisterer. The entire staff turned out to bid them farewell as they departed for Laramie with the mail escort.
Very early on the third day, Captains Nathaniel C. Kinney and Thomas Burrowes had their respective companies, D and G, ready for the march north to open a new post on the Big Horn River. Carrington spared them a few horses for scouting and dispatch duties, and also one of the mountain howitzers. As ranking captain, Kinney would be in command. The new post by orders from Washington was to be called Fort C. F. Smith, in honor of the Mexican War hero, and was to be located some ninety miles northwest of Fort Phil Kearny.
Carrington ordered Jim Bridger to act as chief guide, but insisted that Old Gabe return to Phil Kearny as soon as the new fort was located. The colonel also sent Jim Beckwourth along to assist Bridger in gathering information from Crow tribes in the north. As Beckwourth was married to several Crow squaws and claimed to be a tribal chief, Carrington hoped to learn through him the Crows’ “disposition toward the whites and the occupation of the route, and to induce them, if possible to communicate with Red Cloud quietly, and learn the disposition of himself and the Sioux of the Tongue River valley.”3 Military intelligence work against an Indian enemy, the colonel had discovered, was exceedingly difficult. He did not know what his enemy was doing, and it troubled him.
The two companies moved out with a line of wagons belonging to civilian trains which had been camped for several days along the Pineys, awaiting this well-armed escort. “Jim Bridger was our pilot,” one of the wagon drivers recalled afterward. “He was a quiet familiar figure about the camp. … He would ride ahead across the untraveled country and return to the train at noon, or sometimes not until nightfall, when we had made camp. He rode a quiet, old flea-bitten, gray mare, with a musket across his saddle in front of him and wore an old-fashioned blue army overcoat and an ordinary slouch hat. He was very quiet in camp and I never saw him ride as fast as a slow trot.”4
August saw the high tide of 1866 emigration over the Montana Road, with wagons trains rolling past Phil Kearny almost every day. Several drivers had tragic stories to tell of surprise Indian attacks along the route. In terse military language the post records reveal what was happening: “Train under H. Merriam as captain left Phil Kearny for Montana. Lost two men killed by Indians between Forts Laramie and Phil Kearny, viz. Geo. M. Moore of Georgetown, III. and P. G. Carr of Charlestown, III.”5 On the same day, August 6, another train was listed as having lost fifteen men killed and five wounded between Laramie and Phil Kearny.
The sturdy stockade of Phil Kearny was always a welcome sight for these harassed travelers. “Stopped below the fort,” George W. Fox recorded in his diary for August 8. “I was up to the parade ground. They were mounting guard. They have a good band, 30 members. The music sounded well; something like civilization. … A captain [Ten Eyck probably] went down and saw the men and guns and we were permitted to go on. Had to have 60 armed men. The fort is just building; the garrison is in tents. … We left the fort at 11, crossed 2nd Piney fork, 50 ft. wide, 2 ft. deep, swift and rocky.”6
As George Fox indicated, the post band which “sounded something like civilization” never failed to surprise and delight travelers passing through this wild country. The band was also highly prized by the fort’s occupants. “We had the fine music of our splendid band … which played at guard-mounting in the morning and at dress-parade at sunset, while their afternoon drills and evening entertainments were in strange contrast with the solemn conditions that were constantly suggestive of war and sacrifice of life.”7
Rumors had been flying about all year that as an economy move the Army would abolish regimental bands, and reports from The Adjutant General’s office now began to confirm this drastic action. No direct orders had been received from Washington, but in fearful anticipation of losing the 18th Regimental Band, an anonymous correspondent signing himself “Dacotah” addressed an urgent letter about this time to the Army and Navy Journal:
Concerning the subject of Army bands, we can but consider it small economy to deprive the regiments of their bands. … What soldier is there who does not take the greatest pains with his musket, put an extra polish to his plates and bootees, knowing he will march to “Dress parade” to the sound of music … it adds to the pleasures of the soldiers, it gives them amusement and enjoyment, when otherwise they might look to the card-table or whisky-bottle for excitement, and it gives them an esprit de corps and a life to the command that it never felt without it.8
If put to a choice, the men and women of Fort Phil Kearny undoubtedly would have voted for a cut in rations over elimination of their beloved band. The noncombatants, confined as they were to the stockade, regulated their lives around its performances.
As there was yet no floored building for holding party dances, recreation was at a premium, and when the band was not making music on the parade, the post’s single croquet set was in constant use by women and children on the smooth green turf.
At least eleven married couples lived within the stockade: the Carringtons, Bisbees, Hortons, Wands, and Currys on officers’ row, and six others among the enlisted men and civilian employees. Frank Fessenden afterward recalled that there were eleven children, six girls and five boys. Adding a domestic cast to this assemblage were two colored servants: the Carringtons’ faithful George, and Mrs. Wands’ maid, Laura.
The post’s only pets were Mrs. Horton’s spotted fawn, given her by the ill-fated Louis Gazzous, and Jimmy Carrington’s pony, Calico. Both were destined for violent ends, the fawn from drinking paint, Calico from Indian arrows in the Fetterman Massacre.
Early in August—before the first attacks were made on the timber trains—Colonel Carrington granted permission for a picnic to be held at Piney Island. This would be the last opportunity for women and children to leave the eight-foot walls of their stockade. The food was a delightful treat, dainties being furnished by Judge Jefferson T. Kinney, who had recently arrived at the fort and purchased the sutlership. (Kinney was a former Utah territorial judge, dismissed by President Lincoln during the war. Because of clashing temperaments and differing political viewpoints, he and Carrington soon grew to dislike each other. After the Fetterman Massacre, Kinney’s criticism of Carrington did much to undermine the colonel’s reputation.)
“Choice elk steaks, furnished by the timber choppers, and suitable accessories, supplied a delightful meal, and no Indian disturbed the pleasure,” wrote Margaret Carrington. “The bill of fare was not printed, but canned lobster, cove oysters, and salmon were a very fair first course; an
d associated with the game, were jellies, pineapples, tomatoes, sweet corn, peas, pickles, and such creature comforts, while puddings, pies, and domestic cake, from doughnuts and gingerbread up to plum cake and jelly cake, with coffee, and Madame Cliquot for those who wished it, and pipes and cigars for the gentlemen, enabled everybody to satisfy desires.”9 After the simple rations of the fort, Judge Kinney’s catering seemed more like a banquet than a picnic.
Only a day or so following this outing, the Sioux made their first strike at a timber train. Along the road about four miles southwest of the fort, a war party sent a shower of arrows into a loaded train. One of the civilian drivers panicked, cut his mules loose, mounted one and headed for the fort. Rifle fire from the train’s guard meanwhile had alerted Captain Ten Eyck, and he sent out a mounted platoon from Company H under Corporal George Phillips. The corporal proved to be a good Indian fighter; he recovered the mules, killed one Indian, wounded another. Ten Eyck recorded the incident in his usual terse style: “A party of troops had an engagement with Indians four miles from post. Indians attempted to stampede mules from teams coming from timber. One Indian killed and one mortally wounded.”10 Corporal Phillips had got his first Indian. Four months later the score would be evened when the Indians killed George Phillips in the Fetterman Massacre.
Although Carrington was pleased with the work of Corporal Phillips, he was determined to secure his wood trains against further attacks. Uninterrupted movement of timber from Piney Island was vital to construction of the fort. Wagons and mules must be protected, drivers taught to defend themselves with a minimum of guard forces.
“The system adopted in the management of my wood train,” he explained afterward, “guaranteed protection whenever there was due conformity to orders. The train, varying from twenty-four to forty wagons, went in two parallel lines, about three hundred feet apart, after leaving the mill-gate until they reached the pinery, with mounted pickets on either flank, especially on the crest of Sullivant Hills with orders, upon an Indian alarm, for the front wagons to turn in, left and right, and halt; and all other wagons to move on the trot or run; the mules to pass within each wagon in advance, thus making an instant corral.”11
As an added security measure, a permanent lookout was established on Pilot Hill, just across Little Piney east of the fort. From this point observers could obtain unobstructed views of the country for several miles in all directions. A simple system of flag signals was devised for communicating with a watch within the fort:
Flag out of sight: “All quiet.”
Flag raised and still: “Attention.”
Flag waved, three times from vertical to right: “Small party on Reno road.”
Flag waved three times from vertical to left: “Small party on Big Horn road.”
Flag waved five times from vertical to right: “Large party on Reno road.”
Flag waved five times from vertical to left: “Large party on Big Horn road.”
Flag waved three times from right to left: “Indians.”
Flag waved around the head: “Train attacked.”
Flag raised and carried in a vertical position around the picket defense: “The attack.”12
The Sioux, however, refused to relax their pressure. As if in amused defiance, they began using flags themselves, and on sunny days from every hill there seemed to be a continuous flashing of their mirror signals. On the 13th they made a quick dash at another wood train, which happened to be guarded by Corporal Phillips’ platoon, and this time Phillips’ first sergeant, Alexander Smith, had to rush to the corporal’s rescue. Alex Smith claimed two dead Indians that day, but his life also was destined for forfeit in the Massacre.
This constant vigilance kept timber moving from Piney Island into the fort in a steady stream, the tall trees furnishing 30-inch boards without knots or blemishes. Many of the planks coming off Engineer Gregory’s saws would fit into a wall so neatly that no chinking was necessary. By mid-August, shingles were needed for roofing buildings, and these were rived from bolts sawed by hand. Determined to beat the cold autumn weather which would soon be upon them, Quartermaster Brown organized a series of all-night shingle bees, but even these efforts could not supply demand, and earthen roofs had to be used on several structures.
Meanwhile the hostile Indians seemed to have shifted their main efforts back to the Reno road. On the 12th they raided a civilian train camped for a Sunday rest near Powder River, driving off cattle and horses. Lieutenant Kirtland led his mounted detachment in pursuit, recapturing some of the cattle but none of the horses. On the 14th two civilians were killed within four miles of Reno, and three days later the Indians boldly entered that fort’s corral, driving off seventeen mules and seven of Kirtland’s precious cavalry mounts. None was recovered.
During this breathing spell at Fort Phil Kearny, three civilians who were to play important parts in the Fetterman Massacre arrived at the post. They were James Wheatley, Isaac Fisher, and John “Portugee” Phillips. When they were offered quartermaster employment by Lieutenant Brown, they decided that as the season was growing late they would defer their mining ventures until the next year and remain at the fort for the winter. Wheatley had brought his beautiful nineteen-year-old wife and two young sons from Nebraska, and post records for August show that he asked for permission to erect a building just outside the stockade for keeping a civilian mess. The building was constructed shortly afterward alongside the Bozeman Trail, with ready access to the main gate of the stockade, and no doubt young Mrs. Wheatley served as cook in this family business venture.
On August 22, the first mail in three weeks came through from Laramie, and there was welcome news indeed in a telegram which had been dispatched August 11 by General Cooke: “Two companies of 2nd Cavalry have been ordered to assist in the protection of the road. You are authorized to enlist not to exceed fifty Indian scouts. Pay and allowance of cavalry soldiers. Let them use their ponies if you can’t do better. Be very cautious. Don’t undertake unnecessary risky detachments.”13 A second telegram dated August 9 stated briefly that “reinforcements have left St. Louis. Colonel Carrington must use his judgment about establishing Fort C. F. Smith at present.”14
Also in the mailbag was a surprise letter from Fort Reno:
August 20, 1866
Col. H. B. Carrington,
Commanding Mountain District:
DEAR COLONEL: I am on my way through the district as assistant inspector-general of the department, and will be at your post as soon as cavalry escort ordered to join me reaches here in about one week.
The mail going up will carry from General Cooke authority for you to suspend establishing the extreme west post (C. F. Smith) if you think from the condition of Indian affairs it is expedient. He telegraphed me at Laramie to consult with you about it, and since coming within the theater of Indian troubles I am of the opinion that there is no sufficient reason for longer delaying the establishment of that post, but, on the contrary, it should be established without further delay.
I think there is no danger on the route to parties well organized and that do not straggle, but that the greatest caution will be necessary both on the route and at the posts till the Indians are thrashed.
W. B. HAZEN
Bvt. Brig. General,
Asst. Inspector,
Dept. of the Platte15
Carrington no doubt was pleased that the general agreed with his plan to open Fort C. F. Smith, but he must have reflected on the slowness of communications which inhibited co-ordinated planning, and the fact that during the forthcoming week construction must be delayed somewhat in order to put Fort Phil Kearny into spit-and-polish condition for the visit of the veteran Indian fighter and West Pointer, General William Babcock Hazen.
In the mail also were the first personal letters any of the men had received since leaving Fort Kearney, Nebraska, in May. Many letters had gone through error to the 1st Battalion in Utah and had been forwarded from there. A few scattered newspapers from
New York were ten weeks old, but were welcomed nonetheless. The frontier soldier’s forum for complaints, the letters column of the Army and Navy Journal, not long afterward contained this significant contribution from an anonymous correspondent of the 2nd Battalion: “The common report is that Ben Holladay* throws out all papers as worthless. However true this may be, I know that very few papers reach these outposts. I think there should be some remedy, as without a regular mail, and deprived of our newspapers, we will be unable to keep posted in the affairs of the outside world.”16
General Hazen arrived on the 27th, escorted by a mounted detachment of Lieutenant Kirtland’s Reno company rather than by the expected 2nd Cavalry company from Laramie. The general could not explain the cavalry’s delay, but he was an optimistic man and assured Carrington that the two companies of cavalry should be reporting any day, and that a regiment of infantry could be expected from St. Louis in a matter of weeks. (No cavalry reached Fort Phil Kearny to join the permanent garrison until November, and then only one company. The infantry regiment never arrived.)
Hazen spent three days inspecting the fort and pinery, expressed his satisfaction over Carrington’s progress, and was most complimentary about the solid eight-foot stockade. “The best stockade I have seen,” he said, “excepting one in British America built by Hudson Bay Company.”17
On the 29th Hazen announced that he would be departing the following day to inspect Fort C. F. Smith, and would require an escort troop. Had Carrington been able to foresee the future he might not have been so generous, but as he had been assured of the arrival of two companies of cavalry, he ordered the best horseman among his lieutenants, James Bradley,† to collect twenty-six picked men of the mounted infantry. The colonel also assigned one of his two remaining scouts, James J. Brannan, to act as guide for the general’s escort. (Carrington of course could not foresee that the promised cavalry would be delayed until November and that Hazen would retain Bradley’s escort for almost two months at a time when Fort Phil Kearny was critically short of officers and mounted men.)
