The War of 1864

by Eugeine Ware

  Down at Julesburg station was a great quantity of shelled corn. There had been an intention of trying to put the stages to running on the Salt Lake trail, in which event a large amount of shelled corn would be necessary. So there were stored at Julesburg station many thousand bushels of shelled corn. As the stage line on the Salt Lake trail was not yet restored, via Fort Laramie, we confiscated and took what we wanted, giving vouchers for it, which were honored and paid by the Government; so that we had hay and corn for our horses.

  On the 15th of September 1864, we were busy at work, as busy as bees, when, under an escort, along came Major Fillmore of the army, and paid us off. We had not been paid since back in the spring sometime, and there was no money left in the company. The boys were in the habit of lending to each other, so that the members of the company always went broke about the same time. Now that Major Fillmore had paid us up the boys felt better, but there was nothing they could buy. All that they could do with their money was to play cards for it or send it home. Those who wanted to send home money notified us, and the money was put in separate envelopes and duly sealed, for we had plenty of sealing-wax, and I wrote my name across the back of the envelopes as a witness to the amount which was put in. After all the money which the boys desired to send home had been fixed up, Lieutenant Brewer waited until a train and escort were going down, and he took the money down as far as Fort Kearney, where it could be safely turned over to a responsible express company.

  It is interesting to note, as illustrating the conditions of the times, that there were issued to us, as a company, so many quills for pens, and so much red sealing-wax, and so much tape, as stationery supplies for the company. No mucilage was issued, because that had not yet become a matter of scientific manufacture, but the druggist sold gum-arabic in the cities; and as for us, we made boiled paste from flour. Our muster-rolls used to come in sections, and we boiled the flour, pasted them together, and then with some smooth piece of hot iron, would iron down the junction smooth; we had no difficulty.

  There was but very little sickness in our company. There were sick civilians from time to time who needed attention, and our application for a post surgeon was granted.

  There was sent to our post a doctor named Wisely. My recollection is that he came down from Denver to us, but the first thing I knew of him he appeared at the post, and went directly to work on some of the sick who were there, and he was a very satisfactory doctor. His title was Acting Assistant Surgeon. He was thoroughly and loyally devoted to his profession, didn't know anything or talk anything but medicine and surgery, stayed with the boys carefully and attentively, drank no whisky, played no cards, and was in fact as satisfactory an army surgeon as I ever saw. He had a peculiar face. His nose was the most grotesque and disproportionate nose that I ever saw on a man. It was more than a nose – it was a combination of beak and snout. The boys, quickly catching onto these things, started to speak of him as Dr. Snout; but Dr. Wisely would have received no permanent nickname had not one of the boys one day called him Dr. Nosely. This appellation stuck. The Doctor received it good-naturedly, and we always after that called Dr. Wisely, "Dr. Nosely."

  Our dogs here were a great benefit to us, and much society. Captain O'Brien ever and anon would direct me to go over into the hills with my field-glass, and see what I could see. The Captain was wide awake, and always on the alert. His natural mental and physical activity were so reinforced by nature that he had to be doing something or saying something at all times, and this made him so exceedingly valuable as an army officer. The Captain desired himself to get acquainted with all the lay of the country south of us, and desired that I also should; so I frequently, after the work of the day was almost over, say a couple of hours before dark, would whistle up the dogs and run my horse over into the hills. I could make a good deal of a reconnoissance in a couple of hours. The wolves were exceedingly plenty, and we could always find one. These reconnaissances were generally accompanied by a wolf-hunt; that is, the dogs would go after a wolf, and if they went in anywhere near the direction I desired to go, I followed them a reasonable distance. The ground rolled considerably, and the plateau was a good deal broken.

  On one of these occasions after I had got about four miles south of the post, seeing nothing and starting west, the dogs jumped up a wolf which I kept up with, my horse going at full speed. Going down an incline at a rapid gait, my horse stepped into something where there had been an old hole. He was going as fast as he could run. He about turned a somersault and when I gathered myself up I felt as if I were all broken to pieces. I was stunned. In a few minutes I was able to sit up. My horse was much strained, and stood still. I began to feel of myself all over to see whether I had broken any bones. I could with difficulty get my breath, and things were in a good deal of a whirl. I sat there as much as ten minutes, collecting myself together. I saw the fresh-made dirt where the horse had stepped. I finally made up my mind that although I had bounded and rolled considerably, I was still intact. I marked the place where I was sitting, and got up and with some degree of pain and effort, was able to walk to my horse, and I made an examination of him. In the meantime the dogs and wolf were out of sight. I walked around and led the horse, and came to the conclusion that he was pretty badly shaken up, but had no broken bones. I then measured the distance from where I had landed, back to the hole. It was thirty-two feet. I walked slowly, leading my horse back towards the post. He limped some little, and I finally succeeded in mounting him and we went back to the post slowly, leaving the dogs to take care of themselves. I was a week getting over it. The prairie-dogs would dig holes; then the badgers would dig down and eat the prairie-dogs; and then the wolves would dig out the badgers, and leave dangerous holes.

  The Captain, when he made his explorations, generally killed a wolf, and he often got an antelope. We could get an antelope with our dogs almost any day if we took the time. In the breaks among the hills we often lost a wolf on account of the fact that a wolf would disappear over a ridge, and by making a flank movement would get out of sight, and stay out of sight of the dogs. We acquired a tramp dog that some one had lost. He was a genuine Virginia stag-hound. He ran by smell and not by sight, and he would go along the trail yelping at every jump. We called him "Bugler No. 2." We had lost "Bugler No. 1." The greyhounds ran by sight, and when the wolf eluded their sight they stopped, and were unable to proceed in the right direction. They could outrun Bugler, so he followed in the rear yelping, and if at any time the dogs were puzzled Bugler would follow right off on the trail, and lead the other dogs to the point where they could see the wolf. Then they would dash on ahead, and if they could keep sight of the wolf they could catch him; and if they lost him again Bugler would find him again, so that "Bugler No. 2" became as valuable an addition to our pack as was his predecessor.

  Chapter XXIV.

  The Hermitage – "Old Bill" – Elder Sharpe – Colonel Shoup – The Devil's Dive – Attleboro Jewelry – Lieutenant Williams – Trip to Laramie – The Head Wind – Bridger – The Glee Club – Albert Sidney Johnston

  WHILE I was pretty well bunged up over the fall from my horse, above mentioned, General Mitchell was going up and down the road with an escort making reconnoissances and plans for the reлstablishment of trade and travel. Captain O'Brien sent me down to Beauvais ranch with a communication and a report concerning things at our post. While there I met the Lieutenant Talbot who shot at the telegraph poles down at Fort Kearney, as before described. Also there was with him Major Armstrong, the chief inspector of the cavalry of the Western army; also Lieutenant Rankin, Aide-de-Camp. Beauvais ranch was about 25 miles east of Julesburg and about 15 miles south of Ash Hollow, and was at what was called the "Old California Crossing."

  I concluded that I wanted another horse, and Rankin had a nice large horse, jet black all over, with curly mane and tail. Rankin told the history of this horse briefly as follows: When Rankin was in the army invading Kentucky and Tennessee, they had made a raid upon Andrew Jackson's old Her
mitage farm, and had taken away all the stock that was there, and this horse, captured there, was turned over to the Government. As it was customary then, horses were appraised by the quartermaster and sold. The purchasers at these sales generally were officers who needed a remount, and Rankin had bought this horse, and had kept it as one of his horses all of the time. A pretty good horse could be bought for $100, and a very fine horse could be bought for $200. 1 asked Rankin to sell me this black horse. Rankin, being at headquarters, had no scouting to do; the horse had been having no more work than was necessary to promote its health, mere exercise, and was plump and full of life. He was an exceedingly showy animal, and a very large one, and a very strong one. Rankin did not very much like to sell the horse, but as I had been recently paid off, he consented to let me have it for $300, and I believe that it was the best horse that I ever rode or ever saw in the cavalry service. I called him "Old Bill," and had him all through the balance of my time, took him into civil life, and finally buried him, many years after the war, with pomp and ceremony, and planted a grape-vine over his grave. He was the most intelligent horse I ever saw, and he got so he would come when I called him, and understood every duty which he was called upon to perform. I did not like him at first as well as I did later on. He was a horse that seemed to be wanting to keep his mind active. When he was tied up by a halter-strap, he immediately began to pick the knot, and it was almost impossible to tie him with a knot which he could not untie, if he were given a little time. He was in some respects a fighting, vicious animal. When turned out with other horses he soon made them all know that he was king. He loved to chase wolves and antelope as much as rider or dogs did, and for durability he had no superior.

  On September 25, 1864, we noticed a train coming down Lodgepole. There were about a half-dozen wagons; it was a Mormon train. General Mitchell had ordered us, at the Julesburg post, to let no train go east to Fort Kearney that did not have a hundred armed men in it, because the Indians had been seen around Cottonwood Springs, and had been doing great depredations east of there. So we held up this Mormon train. In it was an Elder named W. H. Sharpe. He was a very bright, quick-witted, companionable sort of man. We directed him where to camp down by the river; he came on up and got into conversation, and finally invited Captain O'Brien and me to go down and take supper with him. As a matter of curiosity we went, and were introduced to the other members of his party. We had no more than become acquainted than he began to talk Mormonism to us, and started missionary work. He told a great deal about the beliefs of the Mormons, and explained how they were sent to reclaim the lost tribes of Israel, which, as he stated, were the Indians of North America, and he gave me a copy of the old, original Mormon Bible, and desired me to read it, which I promised to do when I had time.

  Several small trains under escort came down to Julesburg from Denver. It was several days before we could send them through solidly with a hundred armed men. One evening I took Elder Sharpe out, together, with one of our sergeants, and had a jack-rabbit and antelope chase in which he participated with great pleasure. While we were riding out over the arid desert watching the dogs, I asked him what he was going to go back at this time of the year for. He said: "My first and original wife is a most estimable woman, and lives in Baltimore. I joined the Mormon faith, and married a second wife; my first wife would not go to Salt Lake with me, so I go back to Baltimore every fall to see her." He says: "I have business for the church which takes me back, and I use the occasion to go and see her, and see if I cannot get her finally to come out to Salt Lake." He spoke of her in the very highest terms, and said that she was misguided in her views, and influenced by her relatives; that they both thought a great deal of each other, and he hoped to finally persuade her to live in Salt Lake City. He was a very nice gentleman to all appearances. He refused cigars, and drank no liquor of any kind.

  Finally a train with a hundred armed citizens was organized, and strung out on the road. Captain O'Brien gave them a very rigid inspection, gave them a speech as to what to do when Indians appeared, and how to march, and off they went. Sharpe was with us five days. I have never seen him since, nor have I ever heard of him, but in spite of his foolish creed, I took a good deal of a fancy to him.

  While he was there Colonel Shoup of the Third Colorado Cavalry came on down escorting some travelers, who afterwards went into the train of which I have just spoken. Colonel Shoup was a rollicking gentleman. One evening he had a fine silk buffalo-robe which I offered to buy. He said that he would play "freeze-out poker" for it. He valued it at $50, and would take one-fifth of the chips; so Captain O'Brien and I and two civilians took hold. Captain O'Brien won the buffalo-robe. Then one of the civilians, who thought he was a very fine poker-player, put out a $25 silver watch, as watches then sold, and put it up, and we took $5 apiece in it, and I won the watch. This watch made me a supernumerary watch; I sold the new one to one of the sergeants in the company at what the poker game had cost me, $15. The next time I met Colonel Shoup he was Senator from Idaho, but it was many years afterwards. Since that time his marble statue has been placed in the Hall of Fame in the rotunda of the National Capitol in Washington.

  The train of which I spoke, started out on September 29th with more than a hundred armed men. They were a jolly lot. Elston and a detachment were sent down ahead of the train to where it would pass a very bad piece of road, a few miles east of Julesburg; there was at this point a very bad arroyo coming in from the south, and the hills of the plateau protruded north to the river-bed, obliterating the valley at that point. This place at the arroyo went by the name of "The Devil's Dive." When the train had passed that, it reached open country, and could see where it was going. These scouts of ours who went ahead, ran onto some questionable characters who were camped alongside of the river. One of them was an Indian who was called Shah-ka, another was a half-breed by the name of Frank Solway, and another half-breed by the name of Joe Jewett, of whom I have spoken before. These were arrested, and turned over to this train to be taken down to Omaha. Such matters as these, of which I have spoken, were merely diversions; the work went on steadily all the time at the post, and the sod was being piled up and winter quarters were being established. We had no doors or windows yet for the company quarters, and the men hung up blankets. To our repeated calls for clothing we got no response. October came, and the men were wearing their July and August uniforms, now quite ragged, and the nights chilly.

  At last, about October 10, 1864, in a train which was being escorted west, there were some mule trains that stopped at our post and left us a hundred uniforms, rations enough to last until the next summer, a lot of bridles and repairs, a lot of ammunition, half a dozen good tents, a few pistols and carbines, and a good supply of howitzer ammunition. But in this whole supply there was only one barrel of whisky. The men had not had any for a very long time, and as the Irishman said, "What is a quart of whisky among one?" The first thing we did was to have that barrel of whisky rolled into the place where Captain O'Brien and I were bunking, and we issued to the men a good jigger all around, and got everything braced up. We were now ready to spend the winter as soon as we could get some doors and windows for our quarters. Through the efforts of General Mitchell the stages began to run again with light escorts, two or three and sometimes as many as six together, so that the stage service was again on its feet, and they went past crowded full, going to Denver and the west; but they were not permitted to go separately, nor up Lodgepole. The stages always stopped at our post. We knew most of the drivers, and we generally took an inventory of the passengers by name, and their destination, and where from, and this the passengers were always ready to give. Through this means I met a good many people whom I afterwards met again, and I made many acquaintanceships which were preserved for years, Among others was a man and his wife and daughter who had been out in the mountains. He was from Attleboro, Massachusetts, and was engaged in making what was then called, "Attleboro jewelry." This Attleboro jewelry was plated in a way that the
stuff looked very fine, but the gold was so thin that it soon wore off. In fact, it used to be said that the wind would wear the gold off from Attleboro jewelry. I asked this man how it was he could put the gold on so thin, and this is the way he explained it. He said they took a piece of brass, as soft as it could be made, and say three inches wide, six inches long, and an inch thick; upon this brass there was a film of adhering precipitated gold. Then this block was run through a machine, and rolled down and continually rolled until it was quite thin, and from this rolled plate the jewelry was made.

  On October 13, 1864, there appeared at our post quite a train of mule teams going through to Denver, and in that party was Lieutenant Williams, the Provost Marshal General of the department. Mr. Williams was a very brave young Lieutenant of about twenty-seven. He had with him an orderly with an extra horse, and he also had a very fine ambulance. He was going up to Fort Laramie for the purpose of making some arrests, with the directions that when he got through with that he should inspect the military posts on his return. On his arrival at Julesburg he had an order from headquarters directing me to take a sergeant and eight men, and escort him to Fort Laramie, a distance of 175 miles and back. We were exceedingly busy at the time that Lieutenant Williams came, and we persuaded him to wait for several days. We sent him out on a wolf-hunt, and he remained with us until the noon of October 18th. We had to get the men fitted with their new clothing, and get equipment in order, and have the horses shod that were to go on the trip. I did not like to make the trip; it was too small a number of men to go through so dangerous a country. The weather was not good; the trip was a long one of 350 miles, and we were busy getting winter quarters; but I said nothing and got ready. We did not get off until noon of the 18th.