Conditions Prior to the Indian Raids; The Frontier Line; Savages on the Warpath; Custer’s Fate; General Forsythe’s Predicament.
Before setting down the narrative of the Dull Knife Raid, or any other, it is not amiss to relate something of the conditions that prevailed prior to those events.
In 1878, and for ten years prior to that time, the most of the plain Indians had been on the war-path for some reason or another. To give an idea of the size of the country which was the scene of their endeavors, it is well to outline the frontier as it existed then. Civilization was supposed to have terminated its advance at the Saline, Solomon and Cottonwood rivers, though a few straggling settlers had established themselves on the Little Walnut, and White rivers, with a colony at Council Grove. Beyond that line the domination of the white man was supposed to cease, and it was not the Indian’s fault that it did not. He did his best to have it do so, but the result was far from successful from his point of view. Beyond the line above mentioned there existed only the Indian, the buffalo and a few venturesome spirits who formed the trains that forced their way overland to Colorado and the Black Hills, or endured the more hazardous undertaking of making the long march to California in 1849. They were, indeed, venturesome, for to undertake such a trip, one took his life in his hands, and the result was that many of them paid the penalty for their daring. Not only were they harassed by the Indian tribes they encountered on their way, but privations beset them on all sides and starvation often traveled with them to their sorrow. At any moment such a wagon train as they conducted was liable to attack from savage bands, and there then occurred a fight for life. Nor were all those attacks engineered by the Indian alone. The Mormans did their share of the dastardly work under the guise of the Indian. This statement may appear a trifle strong, but it is proved beyond all doubt that John D. Lee with a gang of cut-throats perpetrated the Mountain Meadow massacre, with all the ferocity and butchery of the most savage of tribesmen. He did his work too well, and endeavored to cover up his tracks by making it appear that it was the work of the Indian. He not only murdered the members of the train, but mutilated the dead bodies of the slain after the fashion of the Indian. He and his accomplices then looted the train, and what they could not carry away, they destroyed. The world was well rid of such a man when he was shot off his own coffin lid to pay the penalty of his crimes, though in his death he did not make compensation for one per cent of all the butcheries he had committed. To return to the thread of the narrative, all that scope of country lying between the western boundary of settlement and the foot hills of the Rocky Mountains, was estimated by competent judges to contain about fifteen hundred square miles of territory. It was the grazing ground in 1870 for about three million buffalo. The fighting forces of the Indians roaming that huge tract of country at the time was approximately six thousand, five hundred men of different tribes, not to say anything about the number of squaws who followed in their wake dealing death to the cripples and mutilating the dead. At that time, each lodge had on an average of about 125 or 150 ponies for use in their raids. Taking all these things into consideration, one must come to the conclusion that there was a formidable force to contend with, especially as the Indian mode of fighting was not governed by the laws of civilized warfare. To protect the settlers from the destructive raids of these tribes, the Government had erected a line of forts manned with an insufficient force for the work at hand. The list of such forts comprised, Ft. Hays, Ft. Wallace, Ft. Harker, Ft. Larned, Ft. Dodge, Camp Supply, and Ft. Elliot. As I said, they were poorly garrisoned, as the best men they had, had been called away to fill vacancies in the regiments used in the Civil war, and their places were supplied by raw recruits, or old soldiers who had re-enlisted for want of something else to do. To add to their inefficiency in Indian warfare, they knew nothing of the topography of the country in which they were expected to serve. One can imagine what a predicament they would be in on the first occasion of their engagement with the natives of the plains, and an example will be shown presently. I do not wish my reader to think for a moment that I want to say anything derogatory of the valor of the American soldier. His reputation for bravery established on scores of battle fields, is too well founded to be shaken by anything I might say to the contrary. But this I will venture to state, namely, that when he came face to face with the Indian mode of warfare in a country of which he knew practically nothing, he was confronted by a set of circumstances over which he had no control, and all the military training of former years was of little value to him. This is true both of officers and privates. Bitter experience has proved that both officials and men in the ranks were in the same predicament as regards the best mode of meeting the wily Indian on his own ground. To give the proof of this assertion I shall mention two cases, one briefly and the other at greater length, to bring into full view what these men had to contend against.
In the first case, the disaster to Gen. Custer proves the correctness of my contention. Gen. Custer was a man with a national reputation for valor and military experience, yet he allowed that wily old Indian chief, Sitting Bull, to inveigle him into following him and his band into the valley of the Little Big Horn where he turned upon him with all the savagery of which the Indian nature is capable, and not only defeated, but totally annihilated his command. No, not a living man was left to tell the tale of the disaster.
In the second case which I will present to the reader, I shall show not only the inefficiency of a man trained in any other school than that of the “plains,” to fight the Red Man on his native heath, but will bring out some of the characteristics of the Indian’s mode of procedure.
Gen. G. A. Forsythe was the man whose military reputation as a commander was second to none in the service of Uncle Sam, a man in whom Gen. Phil. Sheridan placed the greatest confidence, a man with whom the same Gen. Sheridan took counsel in any matter requiring military strategy. To show the General’s esteem of this man’s skill, and at the same time show his appreciation of his worth, Sheridan took him with him, to Germany to view the manoeuvres of the Franco-Prussian war. The above will give the reader an indication of the character of the man who met with so much ill success when fighting the Indians.
In 1868 Gen G. A. Forsythe was located temporarily at Ft. Wallace, having gone to that point for supplies. While there, daily reports were brought to him of the numerous depredations committed by the Indians along the railroads. The last report to reach him brought the unpleasant announcement that two freighters had been murdered and their stock driven off. This was too much. The Indian seemed to be committing all manner of misdeeds with seeming impunity, and he decided that he must put an end to such a state of things and at the same time punish the guilty ones for past misconduct. With this purpose in view, he gained permission from Gen. Sheridan to organize an expedition against them. The license was granted and with forty-seven scouts, among whom was Surgeon Moore and Lieut. Beecher, he set out about the tenth of the month of ——, in a north-westerly direction to overtake the savages. In the inception of this expedition he made one grave mistake for which he paid dearly in the near future. He took along provisions for only ten days, on pack mules. He had no ambulances, nor wagons. In the case of an engagement he did not have men enough, nor sufficient quantity of supplies, to meet the requirements of a cattle round-up, much less an undertaking of the kind he had in view. He set forth in high spirits, for he did not realize the magnitude of the undertaking he had mapped out for himself, nor the danger into which he was rushing. The weather was favorable and the country rather level, so there was nothing to impede his rapid progress. On the fifth day out, some of the scouts discovered a few Indians. Their trail was picked up and as they progressed it became plainer, which showed that they were nearing the vicinity of the foe. On the fifth evening out, they went into camp in a small valley in the northwest corner of the state of Kansas, and not far from the eastern line of Colorado, just where a small stream called the Arickaree flows into the Republican river. In that little stream was a small island covered with scrubby timber. It could not be exactly called an island, as the water flowed on one side of it only, and at a depth of only about a foot, while the other channel was absolutely dry and filled with coarse grass and brush. As they were all weary with the long march already made, they lay down in their blankets to secure a good rest, little thinking what the next day had in store for them. About daylight, the next morning, some of the scouts heard a commotion among the horses and jumped up to see what was wrong. They discovered the Indians in the act of endeavoring to stampede the horses, and they gave the alarm. As soon as the scouts saw the situation, they opened fire upon the redskins and drove them away. The shooting was a signal for all to rise. They realized that danger was near, and they did not have long to wait until it was present. In less than an hour’s time, between five and six hundred Chyenne warriors appeared on the hill side, painted and decked out in all the paraphrenalia of a full-fledged war party under the leadership of Roman Nose who at that time was the Bonoparte of the Chyenne tribe.
It seems that the Indians had been keeping close watch on the movements of the little parties of scouts, and as they were now about eighty or a hundred miles from their base of supplies, thought that if they could stampede the horses, they would be able to secure the band as an easy prey. When they failed to make way with the horses and mules, their next move was to open fire upon the men, which they did without delay. This turn of affairs was so sudden and unexpected that the General seemed to lose his head, and stood there in profound amazement. While the General was in this state of uncertainty as to what to do, with his men exposed to the Indian fire, Jack Stillwell, a boy of nineteen, without any regard for formality of ceremony, yelled out, “Why in blazes don’t you go over on that island?” The General took the advice so freely and informally given by his subordinate, and all broke on the run for the shelter of the pseudo-island. They arrived there, but not before several of them were wounded in the dash in which several of the horses were killed, or crippled. The scouts utilized the dead horses as breastworks and poured such a hot fire into the Indians that they withdrew to the shelter of the hills. The scouts employed their time in digging rifle pits, as they were sure that the Indians were not going to give up the fray without another effort to wipe out the little band. It was only a very short time until the Indians were seen coming down the hillside with intensified ferocity due to their first repulse, howling warwhoops from six hundred lusty, savage throats, and adding to the din by beating tomtoms. It was a sight to send a chill to the stoutest heart to see them wildly flinging their arms in the air to the accompaniment of their thunderous yells, the rumbling of the flying horses as they descended upon the little band, in their mad career. At their head rode Roman Nose encouraging his followers and urging them on to deeds of valor with shout and gesture. One may imagine the chill that crept over many a heart at such a terrifying spectacle, but it was not time to show the white feather, as they could expect no quarter from the blood-thirsty band coming upon them with all the intensity of a whirlwind of fury. When the Indians were within rifle shot, the scouts opened upon them with a fusilade of bullets, with deadly effect. Many a horse was tumbled to the earth and many an Indian bit the dust, either entirely killed, or mortally wounded. The savages returned the fire with but little effect as the scouts were entrenched behind the dead horses, or in their rifle pits. On they came undaunted by the first shock of battle. They advanced almost to the bank of the little stream that flowed between the half-island and the main land. There Roman Nose was seen to reel and fall from his saddle, shot through his body. Another chieftain, I shall not say more daring than the others, but more favored by good luck, succeeded in fording the little stream and advanced to the very bank of the sand bar, or island, before he fell riddled by the bullets of the desperate little band. The continuous fusilade of bullets poured into the serried ranks of the Indians at such close range, together with the loss of their leaders impelled the savages to retreat to the hills once more. This they did accompanied by a shower of bullets that emptied many a saddle before the retreating savages were out of danger. They disappeared behind the hills, but not with the intention of giving up the fight, as they considered their plans for massacreing the little band to be too well laid to be set aside on account of the two repulses they had already received. They waited till afternoon to make a third and final assault upon the island. On they came again, but with the same result as before. They were driven back before the galling fire of the besieged. Determined to continue the fight at all hazards, they kept themselves out of range of the rifles of the islanders, but maintained a desultory fire which had no effect upon the men entrenched in the rifle pits. They then spread themselves out and rode around the island in a circle, but out of range of the guns of the entrapped soldiers. It was plainly their intention to starve the scouts to death or into submission, which was all the same to them.
In the meantime the situation on the island was far from pleasant. Though they had defended themselves with desperate valor, the members of that heroic little band did not escape from all injury. The dead numbered a score, among whom was Lieut. Beecher, a nephew of the renowned Henry Ward Beecher. Among those seriously wounded was Surgeon Moore, who was lying at the point of death, and General Forsythe, with a bullet through his leg and his scalp creased with another leaden missile.
The situation was critical in the extreme. Their food was gone, and the only substitute they had was the flesh of the dead horses that lay around them. From these they cut pieces of flesh which they ate raw, as there was no opportunity for cooking it. This stayed their hunger for a time, but it was a poor substitute at best. They lacked, also, for want of water, for, although the stream lay within a few feet of them, to reach it was impossible, for, if a man showed his head but for a moment he was greeted with a shower of bullets that made him seek cover without delay. The exigency of the situation made them inventive, and as they were almost desperate from want of water, they had recourse to a very slow method of digging down to the water level in order to secure even a scant supply. They cut open a canteen in such a way that it would serve the purpose of a shovel, and with this crude implement went to work to scoop up the sand to such a depth as would bring them to the object of their search. Their patience and persistence was rewarded better than they expected. Not only did they obtain sufficient to meet their immediate needs, but also plenty to bathe the General’s wounds. As far as the dead were concerned, to bury them could not be thought of, as even the movement of a branch would be a signal for a dozen or more bullets which would drive them back to the shelter of their defenses. Though the Indians seemed to realize the predicament of the beseiged, they did not have the temerity to make a final dash to complete the work of butchery they had originally planned. Their first, second, and third attempts had cost them too dearly, and they were content to hover near with the intention of cutting their foe to pieces if they should make an attempt to escape. They waited patiently, apparently secure in their conviction that the beseiged would eventually make a dash for liberty, and if such were to occur they would descend upon the stricken little band and with one fell swoop annihilate them completely. Their long desired wish was never accomplished. Intent upon the final destruction of the whites, they neglected to bury their own dead, not only because they were too busily engaged, in watching the besieged, but principally because they did not care to risk the danger of adding to the already too long list of their fellow tribesmen who had recently gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds. Moreover, the approaching night would give them a better opportunity to secure the bodies of their slain without incurring any risk of being sent to join them in the land of their forefathers.
Night fell, and with it came a cessation of hostilities. It must not be concluded that the Indians had abandoned the fight, for they did not, but kept a wary eye upon that little island, knowing that delay would surely put the palefaces in their possession. Nor did they make any venture to attack the stronghold of the enemy under cover of darkness. That was not the Indian’s way of conducting his warfare. The hour favorable for the Indian raid is just about dawn, when they expect to find the enemy asleep, when they fall upon their unsuspecting victims and butcher them unmercifully. As for the little band on the island, they put in a most miserable night. An enemy could not wish them more discomfort than what they experienced. Tired, hungry, surrounded by their dead companions, they were not in a condition to find comfort in a situation where they were surrounded by their mortal enemies who, they thought, would take advantage of the darkness to crawl up to the very edge of their retreat and do them to death without mercy. However, in spite of such unpleasant conditions, the besieged kept up some show of cheerfulness. Morning found them far from depressed though the situation had not changed for the better. One wag, in spite of the fact that death might be lurking in his path, cheerfully remarked, “Well, boys, I guess I shall have to rustle some mule meat for the General’s breakfast. I suppose he will like a change of diet as he had only horse meat yesterday.” It was this spirit of mirth amid trying surroundings that kept the little band alive and ready during the long days of imprisonment that followed.
STARVING ELK
The next evening did not bring any change in their environments. The day had been spent very much like the preceding one, except there were no direct assaults upon the island. In the meantime the General’s leg had become badly swollen, and inflammation had set in. Whilst bathing it, one of the boys discovered the bullet close to the surface, and with the General’s permission performed a surgical operation with a pocket knife and removed the shapeless mass of lead. In order to keep the inflammation down as much as possible, the embryo surgeon continued the application of cold water to the affected part, which was somewhat efficacious. With the condition of the camp in such a demoralized condition, the outlook did not appear very promising. Even though the Indians should leave, which was not very likely, the situation would not be relieved to any great extent, as the General could not travel without the aid of a horse, and just then all the horses were dead, or had been stampeded. Things were beginning to assume a desperate aspect. Their food supply was about reduced to nothingness as the horse flesh on which they had been subsisting was no longer available as it was fast becoming tainted. This told them only too plainly that their stay upon the island was to be of short duration, and the prospect of relief from the outside world was very slight. Their only hope, and that a forlorn one, was to cut their way out through the ranks of the hostile Indians, and even the prospects of success in such a venture were not very alluring. Though they might succeed in breaking through the red cordon that held them prisoners on the island, the hope of reaching Fort Wallace could hardly be thought of in their enfeebled condition. It would amount to this, that they would have to fight their whole way back to the fort without so much as a cracker or a drink of water to sustain them on the way. It is hardly possible to imagine a body of men in such straitened circumstances keeping up, and even fighting against hope for delivery. After reviewing the situation from all its different angles, and with the desperation that urges a drowning man to grasp at a straw, the General saw but one way, and that one indicated very meager chances of success, namely, to call for volunteers who would endeavor to make their way to the Fort and bring assistance. Immediately, upon the proposal being made, S. E. Stillwell, better known by the name of Jack, and another scout named Pierre Truedell, expressed their willingness to make the attempt. It was sad enough to have to admit the failure of the expedition and report the news of the disaster, especially when they had started out with high hopes of success, but it was a measure that had to be taken if any relief was to be expected.
It was a perilous undertaking fraught with all manner of hardships. Danger lay all around them, and whether they would reach the end of their journey, or be taken prisoner and tortured by the Indians, they did not know, but brave at heart, they feared not, but set out to do their best or perish in the attempt to bring succor to their beleaguered companions. That same evening they stole forth from the camp and crossed the little stream, taking with them the best wishes and prayers of their fellow scouts for success. If ever men prayed fervently and expressed sincere wishes, it was on that occasion. No sooner had they crossed the stream than their difficulties began. As soon as they had crossed the water, they found their shoes filled with sand and water, and they were compelled to stop and empty them as well as they could. Then they started on their perilous undertaking in earnest. They did not know at what moment they would encounter some of the lurking foe and be compelled to fight for their lives. They did not dare to walk upright, but got down on all fours and crawled along over the sloping hillsides like dry land terrapins. Slowly, carefully, they wound their way among the dead Indians that littered the plain. Painfully they picked their way with tedium through the sullen foe, at times making haste as best they could in their stooping position, at times lying flat upon the ground while some restless Indian kept guard and patrolled his beat upon the hillside. During one of those unavoidable delays, Stillwell took time to change his shoes from which he had not been able to entirely remove the sand, and which were hurting his feet on that account, for a pair of moccasins which he removed from the feet of a dead Indian he encountered in his slow progress. After creeping like an infant on all fours or worming themselves along on their stomachs for over a mile they decided to risk standing up and in this manner increasing their speed, as they felt certain they were outside of the circle of Indians who were keeping watch on the little band of their comrades on the island. Their conclusion about their position relative to the savages proved correct. When they had gone far enough to permit them to risk whispering to each other, Truedell complained that his feet were hurting him on account of the quantity of sand in his shoes. As there was no dead Indian near who had no further use for moccasins, he adapted himself to the necessity of the case and removed his shirt. This he tore into bandages in which he wrapped his feet. They were well aware of the fact that there was no time to be lost in their mission, as every moment of unnecessary delay meant hardship, suffering and danger to their companions recently left behind. They strode on at a greater speed than before, but did not feel safe in talking in their natural tone of voice until they had put several miles between themselves and their starting point. Daylight found they still trudging hastily on, but the light compelled them to seek shelter in a friendly canyon, as the Indians would be sure to find their trail sometime during the hours of light and likely set out to overtake and kill them. Into the canyon they crawled and sought the shelter of the most secluded nook they could find. They then sat down to take a much needed rest. Fortunately for them, they had taken the precaution to bring with them some of the horse meat. They had matches but did not dare risk lighting a fire as the smoke would attract the attention of the Indians and bring them down upon them post-haste. They contented themselves with making the best of a bad situation and ate the horse meat raw. Then they turned over and went to sleep. Nightfall found them on their way again with renewed energy and determination. They felt that the loss of a whole day on their journey meant added sufferings to their companions, but such delay was unavoidable if they wished to reach the Fort alive. On through the darkness they went, now running, now stumbling over the uneven ground, but doggedly moving forward with unceasing ardor. Daylight found them far from the canyon where they had spent the preceding hours of sleep. The only shelter that presented itself to their view was a dry buffalo wallow. Into this they crawled and spent the remaining hours of the day in sleep if possible, or reflecting on their trying difficulties. They had neither food nor water. It had been hours since they had taken the last sup of water, and they suffered acutely. Their lips were beginning to swell and they found talking difficult. Hunger, too, added to their discomfort, but there was no relief at hand. They had to make the best of a bad situation and hope for the best. They were willing to suffer the pangs of hunger and thirst, if they could only bring relief to their beleaguered friends. Night came at last, and they dragged themselves out of the wallow to make the last desperate effort to complete their journey. Hungry and thirsty they plunged into the darkness. Their progress was impeded owing to their weakened condition, but on and on they went, staggering and stumbling along, half mad with thirst, and tormented by hunger. Morning found them in a pitiable condition. Weary and wan they seemed as the morning sun showed them that they were not yet within sight of the fort they sought. Half maddened with suffering they were ready for anything. Truedell shot a rabbit, more by accident than design, and this they fairly tore to pieces and ate raw. They were too ravenous to wait until they could build a fire to cook it. On they went again, until they came to a buffalo hunter trail leading to the Fort. Footsore and weary they dragged themselves along till almost exhausted they found their way into Fort Wallace. They sought Colonel Bankhead’s quarters where they delivered to him the news of the disaster that had befallen the ill-fated expedition. This first and most important duty done, they then sought the canteen where they found everything that was necessary to satisfy their pressing wants. Relieved of the excitement of the journey, tired and worn in every member, conscious of the fact that they had done their share in forwarding relief to their friends still in distress, they sought convenient bunks and were soon dead to the world in deep repose.
The next night after Stillwell and Truedell had left the island, the General deemed it a prudent move to send two more scouts on the same mission. He feared that, perhaps, some misfortune had overtaken the first emissaries, and if such were the case, the report of the disaster would never reach the Fort, nor would succor come to him and his command. He called for two more volunteers who would be willing to try to elude the hundreds of savage eyes that were glinting with hate on the courageous little band, and watching every movement that took place in their primitive defense. No sooner had he issued the call than two volunteers offered themselves for the perilous undertaking. They realized the danger they would dare, but as they then stood, there would hardly be more peril in their efforts to break through the encircling foe, than there would be if they remained inert upon the island with starvation staring them in the face, and a band of bloodthirsty Indians ready to pounce upon them at the very moment they showed signs of distress.
If they did not go, total annihilation awaited them; if they did go, there was some slight chance of being liberated from their present predicament. With the odds against them, they were willing to do their best. The two courageous volunteers for the second effort were A. J. Pliley who now lives in Kansas City, and Jack Donovan. They set out in about the same manner as their two companions did on the night before, and were very successful in eluding the foe. Things went well with them until the second day. Perhaps their first success in eluding the Indians made them over-bold, but the fact remains that they were followed by a band of Redskins who discovered their trail. On the second day out on their mission they experienced a great scare. They were lying in a dry buffalo wallow when Pliley heard a noise. He peered carefully over the edge of the wallow and discovered in the distance, about half a mile away, a band of about thirty warriors coming directly towards the spot where they were lying concealed. He turned to his companion and said, “Jack, I guess it is all up with you and me. There are about thirty Indians coming straight for this wallow.” “Well,” replied Jack, “if that is the case, I am not going to trade even; I want two for one.” They were certainly in a dreadful predicament. Surrounded as they knew they would be by those relentless warriors, they determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible. They knew the process only too well. They could see already that band of warriors riding around the wallow in a circle, shooting at them on the run, or perhaps, even making a rush of it to overpower them by weight of numbers, and murder them heartlessly. Perhaps, they might make them prisoners, to be reserved for future torture. Carefully keeping an eye upon the oncoming band, Pliley kept his friend informed of their movements. It would not do to expose themselves too soon, as there might be some hope that the Indians had not discovered their actual whereabouts. On they came, and the two men spontaneously reached for their weapons to defend themselves. Nearer and nearer they came, and the besieged made ready to give them an opening salutation of welcome. A little nearer they approached and then they halted. They cast a scanning glance over the surrounding country, and apparently they were satisfied that their intended victims had eluded them. Then they turned their ponies and rode away in the direction whence they came. With a sigh of relief, the two men put back their guns, and felt that they were safe for the present. That night when they set out again, they hastened their steps as rapidly as possible, knowing that the foe was on their trail. Stumbling along in much the same condition of hunger and thirst as the two former scouts had done, they reeled into the Fort the same evening as Stillwell and Truedell. It was needless to say that there were heartfelt congratulations expressed when those four scouts met at Fort Wallace.
The band of Indians seen by Pliley and Donovan, were undoubtedly a part of the Roman Nose contingent. They had discovered the trail of the men shortly after their escape from the island and pursued them with the determination to overtake them and put them to death, but all to no purpose. They little knew how close they came to being successful in their efforts, especially as at one time they were within about forty rods of them as they lay in the dry buffalo wallow. Apparently they became discouraged in their efforts and gave up the chase.
Having received the message delivered by the four men, it did not take Colonel Bankhead long to call out every available man and horse, to fit out ambulances, and wagons laden with provisions, and make whatever preparations were necessary to relieve the wants of the distressed.
When the Indians knew that the messengers had eluded them and had likely reached the Fort in spite of all the measures they took to forestall such an event, they thought prudence the better part of valor and withdrew their forces from the neighborhood of the island. They foresaw that relief would come to the brave defenders of the little sand bar in a very short time, and as they had such small success with a small band, they felt that they would hardly be able to contend with a greater force which would be certainly sent out for their relief.
Once the relief corps got in motion, it did not let the grass grow under its feet. Their progress was necessarily slower than that of the expedition on account of the baggage they were carrying, and, also, because they had to exercise the greatest care in marching for they knew not at what time they would encounter a band of hostile Indians. The journey to the locality of the disaster occupied several days. They were rather surprised to find the nearer they approached their destination the less the presence of Indians was noted. When they drew up in sight of the island, not a savage was to be seen or heard of.In the interim of the departure of the scouts for relief, the prisoners’ on the island suffered acutely. Around them lay the dead bodies of some of their companions whom they did not dare to venture out to bury. They were rapidly decomposing and the atmosphere was laden with the nauseating smell that accompanies such a condition either of animal, or man. Added to this was the number of dead horses, which added to the intensity of the malodorous smell. The wounded suffered more and more as inflammation set in or increased. Their condition was pitiable as very little could be done to relieve their sufferings. Above all this, they had to endure the pangs of hunger, which every day grew more and more irksome. It was a sad spectacle that the eyes of the relief corps beheld when they came upon them first. Hardly able to raise their weakened bodies from a recumbent position, the wounded endeavored to give a cheer at the sight of their deliverers, but it was such a mockery of cheer that it was enough to bring tears to the eyes of many a veteran. Those who had not been wounded, and they were few, lent a willing hand to the administration of medical assistance to their stricken companions. They felt so overcome with joy themselves that they could hardly express themselves in the intensity of their happiness. But their newly-arrived fellow scouts and soldiers knew by their looks the depth and sincerety of their feelings of gratitude, and felt happy to be able to reach them before death had overtaken the whole band.
The first duty to be attended to by the relief party, was the burial of the dead. Delay would have been dangerous and, perhaps, fatal, as they were, as mentioned above, badly decomposed. They performed the sad duty over the remains of their former companions with all the reverence that their circumstances would permit. Next, they had to look after the wants of their General. He had been suffering intensely from the wound in the scalp and in the leg. They administered such remedies as they had, which produced some relief. The rest of the wounded were attended to in much the same fashion, each one receiving what attention could be given them. When all this had been done, they made ready to set out for the fort. It was a slow journey, but in time they reached their destination where proper remedies soon restored them to fighting condition again.
The expedition of Gen. Forsythe, which he insisted on making against Roman Nose and his band, terminated in dismal failure. It had cost the lives of several valuable and experienced men, and marred to some degree the reputation for success which he had hitherto gained. Nevertheless, the lesson bore fruit. It taught the American people at large, and General Forsythe in particular that all the knowledge of Indian warfare is not taught at the military academy at West Point. In fact, it was impressed upon the minds of several who were in a position to profit by the lesson, that the “University of the Plains” was far better adapted to produce men who would be successful in that mode of fighting than any of the academies established for the purpose of instructing the neophyte in the art of conducting warlike manoeuvres.
The writer is indebted to S. E. Stillwell, better known to his friends as “Jack,” for the information regarding the battle of Arickaree, in which he played so prominent a part. His feat, alone, of bearing the message from Gen. Forsythe to Fort Wallace was sufficient to win him undying fame. In such high esteem was he held by those to whom he lent his services, that Gen. Phil. Sheridan characterized him as being the bravest and most daring young man he ever knew, and he knew a multitude of them. He was, later on, the trusted and boon companion of Buffalo Bill, “Col. W. Cody,” in fighting the Indians on the plains. At one time, later on, he was Police Judge of the City of El Reno. This position he retained until he was appointed United States Commissioner at Anadarko, Okla. This position he resigned and went to the North Plate, Neb., where he died and was buried within a day’s ride of the battle ground of the Arickaree. While he was filling the office of Commissioner at Anadarko, the writer frequently spent hours with him chatting over the events of former days upon the plains. During one of those visits, he ventured to inquire of the Commissioner if he thought he himself had killed Roman Nose. He replied that he did not know, but after taking a few puffs of his cigarette, he naively remarked that if he did not, it was attributable to his aim and not to his intention as he gave him his undivided attention from the time he came within range of his rifle until he fell from his horse. He paused then and took a few more puffs, and closed the subject by remarking, “perhaps, some of the other boys did it.”
