Chapter XV: Sioux War of 1863 (2)

One morning, Captain Mitchell, of the Seventh Iowa Cavalry,
procured an ambulance, and, taking with him a driver named
Anderson, an orderly named Cramer, and seven hospital patients,
started for the plum grove. They arrived at the first grove
about ten o'clock, and, finding that most of the plums had
been gathered, drove on to another grove some three miles
farther up the cañon. They were now about seven miles from
camp, too far to be safe, but, as no Indians had been seen
lately in the country, they did not feel uneasy. At the upper
grove they found two soldiers of the First Nebraska Cavalry,
named Bentz and Wise, who had been sent out by the quartermaster
to look for stray mules, and they had stopped to gather some
plums. As both these men were well armed, Captain Mitchell
attached them to his party, and felt perfectly secure.

Bentz and Wise went up the cañon a little way, and while
eating fruit were suddenly fired on from the bushes by almost
a dozen Indians. At the first volley Bentz had his belt cut
away by a ball, and lost his revolver. The soldiers turned
to fly, but, as they galloped off, another ball entered Bentz'
side, desperately wounding him. They now rode down the cañon,
hoping to rejoin Captain Mitchell's party, but soon saw a body
of Indians riding down the bluff ahead of them, evidently with
the design of cutting them off. Wise told Bentz to ride hard,
at the same time handing him one of his revolvers, to defend
himself in case of emergency. Bentz was very feeble and dizzy,
so much so, indeed, that he could barely sit in the saddle.

Wise was mounted on a superb horse belonging to Lieutenant
Cutler, which he had taken out to exercise, and, seeing that
the Indians would head them off, and that Bentz, who was
riding an old mule, could not keep up, he gave the powerful
brute rein, and shot down the cañon like an arrow. He passed
the intervening Indians in safety, just as three of them
dashed out of a pocket in the bluff and cut off poor Bentz.

Wise saw Bentz knocked from his mule, and, knowing it was
useless to try to save him, left him to his fate, and thought
only of saving his own life. He rode hard for Captain
Mitchell, who was not far distant, but before he could reach
him another party of Sioux headed him off, and he turned and
rode up the bluffs to the flat lands. The Indians pursued him,
and made every effort to kill or capture him, but his fine
horse bore him out of every danger. Three times he was cut
off from the camp, but by taking a wide circuit he managed to
ride around the Indians, and at last succeeded in reaching the
high road above the camp. As many settlers lived on this road,
the Indians did not venture to follow him along it, and he was
soon safely housed in the log-cabin of a frontiersman, and
relating his adventures.

Meanwhile Captain Mitchell, having seen the fate of Bentz and
escape of Wise, made haste to assemble his party, and, lifting
those who were too weak to climb into the wagon, they set off
for the camp. Mitchell and Anderson were the only two of
the party who had arms, but they assured the sick men they
would defend them to the last. Anderson took the lines and
drove, while Mitchell seated himself in the rear end of the
ambulance, with a Henry rifle to keep off the Indians.

They had not gone far before they came upon a large force of
warriors drawn across the cañon, to cut off their retreat.
The bluffs were very steep and high on both sides of them,
and escape seemed impossible; nevertheless Mitchell ordered
Anderson to run his team at the right-hand bluff and try and
ascend it. The spirited animals dashed up the steep bank and
drew the wagon nearly half-way up, when one of the wheels
balked and nearly overturned the wagon. A loud yell from
the savages, at this moment, so frightened the horses that
they sprang forward, and, before they could appreciate it,
they were over the bluff on the level prairie, and flying
toward the camp at the rate of ten miles an hour.

They now began to hope, but had only gone as far as the first
plum grove when they saw the Indians circling around them, and
once more getting between them and the post. Still they hoped
that some soldiers might be in the first grove gathering plums,
or that Wise had reached the post and given the alarm, so that
help would soon come to them. Captain Mitchell fired his
rifle once or twice, to attract the attention of any persons
who might be in the plum grove, but there was no response, and
Anderson drove rapidly on.

The Indians now began to close in upon the ambulance from all
sides. They would ride swiftly by a few yards distant, and,
swinging themselves behind the neck and shoulders of their
ponies, fire arrows or balls into the wagon. Two of the sick
men had already been wounded, and Captain Mitchell, finding it
impossible to defend them while the ambulance was in motion,
the shaking continually destroying his aim, ordered Anderson
to drive to the top of the hill near by, and they would fight
it out with the redskins. Cramer now took the lines, when,
either through fear or because he did not believe in the
policy of stopping, he kept straight on. Captain Mitchell
twice ordered Cramer to pull up, but, as he paid no attention,
he told Anderson to take the lines from him. In attempting to
obey the Captain's order, Anderson lost his footing and fell
out of the wagon. The Captain now sprang forward, put his
foot on the brake to lock the wheels, when a sudden lurch of
the wagon caused him to lose his balance, and he fell headlong
on the prairie. Fortunately, he alighted near a deep gully,
where the water had cut out the bank, and, rolling himself
into it, he looked out and saw Anderson crawling into a bunch
of bushes near by. When these accidents happened,
the ambulance had just crossed over the crest of a little hill,
and, as the Indians had not come over as yet, they did not see
either of the men fall from the wagon. The Captain had only
two revolvers, but Anderson's gun, a Spencer rifle, had been
thrown out with him, and he picked it up and took it into
the bushes.

In a few moments the Indians came up, riding very fast, and
the main body crossed the ravine near where Captain Mitchell
lay. Some of them jumped their horses directly over the spot
where he was concealed, but in a few moments they were gone,
and soon had disappeared behind the neighbouring divide,
leaving the Captain and Anderson to their own reflections.
What to do was the next question. That the Indians would
overtake the ambulance, kill all its occupants, and return,
the Captain had not a doubt. He determined to go down the
ravine, and, calling Anderson to follow, started off. He had
already crawled some distance when, hearing the clatter of
horses' hoofs, he peeped over the edge of his cover, and saw
about seventy-five Indians riding directly up to where he was
concealed. Giving himself up for lost, he lay down, drawing
his revolvers and preparing them for action, for he was
determined not to let the savages have his scalp without
making a desperate resistance. The warriors came up, and,
dismounting within thirty yards of him, began a lively
conversation. The chief walked up close to the brink of the
ravine, and almost within arm's-length of the Captain, and
stood gazing on the ground. Mitchell now saw the chief was
blind of an eye and wore a spotted head-dress; and he knew by
these marks he was none other than the celebrated Sioux
warrior, Spotted Tail. On making this discovery the Captain
levelled both his revolvers at the chief's breast, and was
fully determined to fire. He believed that the loss of five
captains would be a small matter, if by their death they could
secure the destruction of the great leader of the Sioux.
Just as he was about to pull the triggers a loud shout from
the warriors caused Spotted Tail to start forward and run
rapidly up the hill. The ponies were led down the ravine and
the warriors scattered in all directions, seeking cover.
One of them ensconced himself in the ravine not more than
thirty feet from Mitchell. Raising his head so that he could
see out, the Captain endeavoured to ascertain what caused all
the excitement among the Indians. At first he had thought
he was discovered, then that reënforcements from the fort had
arrived, and a battle was about to begin; but now he saw
Anderson was discovered. When the Captain had started down
the ravine Anderson had followed him, and just emerged from
the bushes when the Indians suddenly came up. He had dropped
on the ground, and endeavoured to roll himself back among the
sage-brush, when an Indian saw him and gave the alarm.
The warriors, not knowing how many white men might be in the
brush, with their usual caution, had immediately sought cover.

A hot fire was opened on Anderson's position, and at first he
did not respond at all. A warrior, more bold than discreet,
ventured to go closer to the bushes, when a small puff of
white smoke was seen to rise, a loud report rang out on the
air, and the warrior fell, pierced through the heart. A yell
of rage resounded over the hills, and three more Indians ran
toward Anderson's cover. Three reports followed each other in
rapid succession, and the three Indians bit the dust. There
was now a general charge on Anderson, but he fired so fast and
true that the Indians fell back, carrying with them two more
of their number.

The Captain now felt it his duty to help Anderson, and was
about to open fire with his revolvers, when Anderson, who,
no doubt, expected as much, yelled three or four times, saying
in a sort of a cry, “My arm is broken; keep quiet; can't work
the Spencer any more.” The brave fellow no doubt intended
this as a warning to the Captain not to discover himself by
firing, and he reluctantly accepted the admonition and kept
quiet.

A rush by some thirty warriors was now made on Anderson, and,
notwithstanding his disabled condition, he managed to kill
three more Indians before he was taken. He was overpowered,
however, dragged out of the bushes, and scalped in full sight
of the Captain. He fought to the last, and compelled them to
kill him to save their own lives. Nothing could exceed the
rage of the Indians, and especially old Spotted Tail, as he
saw the body of warrior after warrior carried down the hill,
until nine dead Indians were laid beside Anderson. In his
grief for the loss of his braves, the old chief kicked the
corpse of poor Anderson, and the other Indians came up and
mutilated it horribly.

In a few minutes after the death of Anderson, a mounted party
was seen coming over the hills, and about thirty warriors rode
up to Spotted Tail, and reported that they had captured the
ambulance and killed all who were in it. They exhibited to
Spotted Tail the scalps of all Captain Mitchell's late
companions, except that of Cramer. The ambulance horses were
brought back, each carrying what is known “down East” as a
“noble red man.”

In a few moments the warriors had their dead comrades securely
strapped to ponies, and, mounting their own, set out toward
the Republican. As soon as they were out of sight, and it
became dark, Captain Mitchell started for the camp, where he
arrived about ten o'clock, and told the story of the
“Cottonwood Massacre,” as I have here related it.

Early the next morning I was sent out with a large force to
pursue and, if possible, overtake and punish the Indians.
For two days I followed them hard, and, on the evening of the
second day, came upon a small party as they were crossing a
stream, but in attempting to charge them, they scattered over
the prairie and were soon lost in the darkness. The trail now
divided in every direction, and it would have been impossible
to follow it unless each soldier had pursued some half a dozen
warriors, when it is not likely he would have returned. So we
turned back, and marched for Cottonwood. The bodies of the
dead had been brought in and buried, and everything had been
found as Captain Mitchell had stated.

Private Wise was severely censured for not immediately going
to camp and giving the alarm, but he said he had no idea the
wagon and its sick men had ever left the cañon, for there
were at least one hundred and fifty warriors around it when
he came away, so he thought he might as well rest until
morning before bearing such dismal news as he had to
communicate to his fellow-soldiers.

In 1867 nearly all the Plains tribes of Indians evinced a sullen disposition, and the indications were that the country was on the eve of a prolonged savage war. The cause of this, perhaps, might well be attributed to the encroachments by the whites, upon the great hunting-grounds of the tribes. The transcontinental lines of railway were nearly completed and in their wake followed an immigration from the Eastern states, unprecedented in the history of the nation. President Andrew Johnson appointed a Peace Commission, composed of a large number of the most distinguished men of the country, both military and civil. Their duty was to visit the various chiefs, and endeavour to make such treaties with them as would ensure permanent peace. History shows that so far as the object for which it was created is concerned, it was a stupendous farce. Let it be understood, however, that the failure to accomplish the work intended, was through no fault of the Commission. The fault lies with Congress which neglected to make the necessary appropriations to carry out the stipulations of the treaties. On account of this broken faith on the part of the government there occurred a series of massacres, and a prolonged war, which cost millions of dollars.[62]

One of the stipulations on the part of the Commission was that the Sioux, Arapahoes, and Cheyennes were to surrender that portion of their country along the Big Horn Mountains and territory tributary to them. The Man afraid of his Horses and Red Cloud were very determined in their opposition, and Red Cloud with his entire band withdrew, shortly after commencing his work of mischief. It is a fact that so indignant and enraged were the Indians at the idea of the government depriving them of their favourite hunting-grounds, that a messenger, sent out to induce the chiefs to come in, was badly whipped, insulted, and ordered to go back to where he came from.

Old Major Bridger, the celebrated scout, and Jack Stead,[63] the interpreter of the Commission, had no faith in the propositions of some of the chiefs, notably Black Horse, who agreed to accept the proposition of the Commission and ally themselves with the whites. These chiefs were the representatives of over a hundred lodges; they had been out on a hunt when they met Red Cloud who stated to them that they must join the Sioux and drive the white man back. To their honour be it said, these chiefs kept their word and fulfilled to the letter the pledges to keep the peace which they had given the Commission.

Following the so-called treaty a series of depredations was made by discontented bands of Indians, and culminated in the massacre of troops near Fort Phil Kearny. The following account of this fight is taken from Senate Document No. 13, 1867:—

On the morning of December 21 the picket at the signal station
signalled to the fort that the wood train was attacked by the
Indians, and corralled, and the escort fighting. This was not
far from 11 o'clock A.M., and the train was about two miles
from the fort, and moving toward the timber. Almost immediately
a few Indian pickets appeared on one or two of the surrounding
heights, and a party of about twenty near the Big Piney, where
the mountain road crossed the same, within howitzer range of
the fort. Shells were thrown among them from the artillery in
the fort, and they fled.

The following detail, viz., fifty men and two officers from
the four different infantry companies, and twenty-six
cavalrymen and one officer, was made by Colonel Carrington.
The entire force formed in good order, and was placed under
command of Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel Fetterman, who received
the following orders from Colonel Carrington: “Support the
wood train, relieve it, and report to me. Do not engage or
pursue Indians at its expense; under no circumstances pursue
over Lodge Trail Ridge.” These instructions were repeated by
Colonel Carrington in a loud voice, to the command when in
motion, and outside the fort, and again delivered in substance
through Lieutenant Wands, officer of the day, to Lieutenant
Grummond, who was requested to communicate them again to
Colonel Fetterman.

Colonel Fetterman moved out rapidly to the right of the wood
road, for the purpose, no doubt, of cutting off the retreat of
the Indians then attacking the train. As he advanced across
the Piney, a few Indians appeared in his front and on his
flanks, and continued flitting about him, beyond rifle range,
till they disappeared beyond Lodge Trail Ridge. When he was
on Lodge Trail Ridge, the picket signalled the fort that the
Indians had retreated from the train; the train had broken
corral and moved on toward the timber. The train made the
round trip, and was not again disturbed that day.

At about fifteen minutes before twelve o'clock, Colonel
Fetterman's command had reached the crest of Lodge Trail Ridge,
was deployed as skirmishers, and at a halt. Without regard
to orders, for reasons that the silence of Colonel Fetterman
now prevents us from giving, he, with the command, in a few
moments disappeared, having cleared the ridge, still moving
north. Firing at once commenced, and increased in rapidity
till, in about fifteen minutes and at about 12 o'clock M.,
it was a continuous and rapid fire of musketry, plainly
audible at the fort. Assistant Surgeon Hines, having been
ordered to join Fetterman, found Indians on a part of Lodge
Trail Ridge not visible from the fort, and could not reach
the force there struggling to preserve its existence. As soon
as the firing became rapid Colonel Carrington ordered Captain
Ten Eyck, with about seventy-six men, being all the men for
duty in the fort, and two wagons with ammunition, to join
Colonel Fetterman immediately. He moved out and advanced
rapidly toward the point from which the sound of firing
proceeded, but did not move by so short a route as he might
have done. The sound of firing continued to be heard during
his advance, diminishing in rapidity and number of shots till
he reached a high summit overlooking the battle-field, at
about a quarter before one o'clock, when one or two shots
closed all sound of conflict.

Whether he could have reached the scene of action by marching
over the shortest route as rapidly as possible in time to have
relieved Colonel Fetterman's command, I am unable to determine.

Immediately after Captain Ten Eyck moved out, and by orders
of Colonel Carrington issued at the same time as the orders
detailing that officer to join Colonel Fetterman, the
quartermaster's employees, convalescents, and all others in
the garrison, were armed and provided with ammunition, and
held in readiness to reënforce the troops fighting, or defend
the garrison.

Captain Ten Eyck reported, as soon as he reached a summit
commanding a view of the battle-field, that the Peno Valley
was full of Indians; that he could see nothing of Colonel
Fetterman's party, and requested that a howitzer should be
sent him. The howitzer was not sent. The Indians, who at
first beckoned him to come down, now commenced retreating, and
Captain Ten Eyck, advancing to a point where the Indians had
been standing in a circle, found the dead naked bodies of
Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel Fetterman, Captain Brown, and about
sixty-five of the soldiers of their command. At this point
there were no indications of a severe struggle. All the
bodies lay in a space not exceeding thirty-five feet in
diameter. No empty cartridge shells were lying about, and
there were some full cartridges. A few American horses lay
dead a short distance off, all with their heads toward the
fort. This spot was by the roadside, and beyond the summit of
the hill rising to the east of Peno Creek. The road, after
rising this hill, follows this ridge along for about half or
three-quarters of a mile, and then descends abruptly to Peno
Creek. At about half the distance from where these bodies lay
to the point where the road commences to descend to Peno Creek
was the dead body of Lieutenant Grummond; and still farther on,
at the point where the road commences to descend to Peno Creek,
were the dead bodies of the three citizens and four or five of
the old, long-tried, and experienced soldiers. A great number
of empty cartridge shells were on the ground at this point,
and more than fifty lying on the ground about one of the dead
citizens, who used a Henry rifle. Within a few hundred yards
in front of this position ten Indian ponies lay dead, and
there were sixty-five pools of dark and clotted blood.
No Indian ponies or pools of blood were found at any other
point. Our conclusion, therefore, is that the Indians were
massed to resist Colonel Fetterman's advance along Peno Creek
on both sides of the road; that Colonel Fetterman formed his
advanced lines on the summit of the hill overlooking the creek
and valley, with a reserve near where the large number of dead
bodies lay; that the Indians, in force of from fifteen to
eighteen hundred warriors, attacked him vigorously in this
position, and were successfully resisted by him for half an
hour or more; that the command then being short of ammunition,
and seized with panic at this event and the great numerical
superiority of the Indians, attempted to retreat toward the
fort; that the mountaineers and old soldiers, who had learned
that a movement from Indians, in an engagement, was equivalent
to death, remained in their first position, and were killed
there; that immediately upon the commencement of the retreat
the Indians charged upon and surrounded the party, who could
not now be formed by their officers, and were immediately
killed. Only six men of the whole command were killed by
balls, and two of these, Lieutenant-Colonel Fetterman and
Captain Brown, no doubt inflicted this death upon themselves,
or each other, by their own hands, for both were shot through
the left temple, and powder burnt into the skin and flesh
about the wound. These officers had also often-times asserted
that they would not be taken alive by Indians.

In the critical examination we have given this painful and
horrible affair, we do not find of the immediate participants
any officer living deserving of censure; and, even if evidence
justifies it, it would ill become us to speak evil of or
censure those dead who sacrificed life struggling to maintain
the authority and power of the government and add new lustre
to our arms and fame. . . .

The difficulty, in a “nutshell,” was that the commanding
officer of the district was furnished no more troops or
supplies for this state of war than had been provided and
furnished him for a state of profound peace.