(Social Life at the Military Posts.)

The social life at the military posts on the frontier, nearly a half century ago, was necessarily very limited. Except at Fort Sill, I served at no post at which more than two companies of troops comprised the garrison, and even in these cases there was not always the full complement of officers, some probably being on detached service, or maybe on leave of absence. As before remarked, Fort McRae was only a one company post, and at no time were there more than three officers, and there were only two officers' wives. There were no social relations outside of the post, and no effort or disposition to form acquaintances. The nearest military post was fifty or more miles away, and the exception to the usual dull routine of life in such an isolated place, was when some fellow officer happened to come our way, enroute to some other post, maybe for assignment to duty or maybe on detached service. Another exception was when the paymaster made his appearance to pay off the garrison, which he did every two months. These were always enjoyable occasions, and we would sit up late and talk about everything of interest at the different posts, or of what may have been seen or heard on the way. This was the most isolated and desolate of all the posts at which I served. It was about twenty miles from the southern overland stage line, and we had to send a messenger from the post for our mail which we did three times a week. Magazines and such reading matter as could be brought by mail helped cheer our lonely lives, so that taken altogether, it was a good deal better than being in the penitentiary.

At Fort Garland, though only two companies were stationed there during my service at the post, there were about the full complement of officers, several of whom were married, and it proved to be an unusually pleasant place socially. There was no formality, and so far as I know this was true at all the military posts on the frontier, except at Fort Craig where my wife was not with me, but on the contrary there was a feeling of mutual interest and sympathy that made it seem like one family. We would meet at some officer's quarters for dinner or luncheon, and maybe at some other officer's quarters in the evening to play a social game of cards, and the officers' wives would make informal visits with each other and maybe spend an hour or so, very much as if they were sisters.

Fort Sill was one of the largest military posts in the service at that time, and there were twenty or more officers there, probably half of whom were married and had their families with them. It will be readily seen that this made quite a social center.

There were frequent military dances or "hops" as they were called in the service. There were also card parties, not always by invitation, but maybe a half-dozen would be talking together, and would decide to drop into some officer's quarters for a game of cards, others were likely to drop in also, so that sometimes there would be quite a crowd of us together to spend the evening. I thought the informality of these meetings added very much to their charm.

There was a good library at this post which was liberally patronized by the officers and their families, and also by the enlisted men.

A jockey club was formed among the officers and a race-course laid out on the flat south of the post, and race meetings were held on Saturday afternoons, which afforded a great deal of pleasure and amusement. In one of these races which was to take place in the course of a month, it was agreed that each officer should ride his own horse. The difference in the weight of the riders it was thought, would be an important factor in determining the results. Major Van de Weyle weighed one hundred and ninety pounds while Mr. Lebo weighed only one hundred and fifteen pounds. They all had good horses and the race was looked forward to with great interest. The major was jollied a good deal about his weight, but he insisted that he would be able to train down, and he would show them what his horse, which was a fine one, could do. The race-course was a mile in length and it was supposed the heavyweights would stand no show, but Captain Walsh, who weighed one hundred and sixty-five pounds, won the race and Major Van de Weyle, who had increased six pounds in weight, came in fourth, in a bunch of seven, who started in the race.

In addition to the social life at the post, the fishing and hunting were good for those of us who cared to indulge in that kind of sport. Both Medicine Bluff and Cache creeks were fine fishing streams, and I found congenial company in one or two of the officers who enjoyed the fishing as much as I did myself. Among those most pleasantly remembered, was a Mr. Pratt, a lieutenant in one of the cavalry companies at the post He was an expert fisherman and a cordial good fellow and I have always thought of our fishing trips with pleasure.

After we left Fort Sill he was detached from his command and put in charge of the educational interests of the Indians.

He became a distinguished officer in this work. When still a lieutenant he established the Indian school at Carlisle, Pa., a well known industrial school, in 1879, and was superintendent until 1904. In 1916, when my wife and I were on our golden wedding trip we met him again at Nye Beach, Oregon, and were pleased to renew our acquaintance after more than forty-five years.

His distinguished services raised him to the rank of brigadier general, and he is now on the retired list of the army.

At Camp Limestone there were three officers and two officers' wives. We had acquaintances at Fort Scott and Girard, who either visited us or made the customary calls. These, with the officers and others who came in the shooting season, made up the social features of the camp.

In those days drinking was far more prevalent, both in the army and out of it, than it is today. I think none but the old people of today can have the correct "view-point" of the difference in which the use of alcoholic beverages was considered fifty years ago and now. At that time it was not considered harmful, but rather commendable, if not taken to excess, as a means of promoting social intercourse, and except at Fort Sill it was to be had at all the post trader's stores at the military posts on the frontier, and at most of them it was on the sideboard or on the mantle over the fire-place, in the officers' billiard room free to those who cared to use it. Of course, even in those days, there were those who talked very energetically if not violently against the use of it and some preachers would even tell you you would go to hell if you drank it. But people don't scare easily, and you would maybe think about it and take another drink, concluding that maybe there is no hell, or if there is you won't go there, or maybe the preacher didn't know anything about it anyway. Since then the scientific medical man has come to the front. He does not try to scare you, but he has some scientific facts which he has fully proven, and tells you about them, among these are: it promotes hardening of the arteries (Arterio Sclerosis); it produces fatty degeneration and other diseases of the liver; it impairs digestion; it interferes with the assimilation of food; it impairs heart action, and has many other injurious effects on the system, such as preparing it for fatal results in pneumonia and most of the acute inflammatory diseases.

He appeals to your reason in place of to your fears, and you are bound to take notice. The result is a vast difference in public opinion regarding its use then and now.

In the army it was used almost exclusively in a social way. There were occasional excesses, but these were not of frequent occurrence and there was one restraining influence; the fear of court-martial.

It will be readily understood that there were so-called "black sheep" in the army as well as in the churches, and in the fraternal orders. In the army, however, there was no hesitancy in getting rid of them, a thing I have seldom known to be done either in the churches or in the fraternal orders, and this was by means of court-martial. No matter what the specific charges may have been, there is generally, if not always added this one: "Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman." This it will be readily seen covers a wide range, and permits thorough investigation of character and the very terms of this charge indicates not only the high character that is expected, but that is demanded of an officer in the service.

I had been in the army nearly seven years with no chance for promotion, and while feeling some doubt as to my success in private life we felt it to be the best thing to leave the service. We decided to live at Girard, Kansas, and came to this place in November of that year.

Two things have particularly impressed me, in looking back over the nearly half century since I entered the service—one is the amazing development of the west, and the other is the wonderful evolution in the practice of medicine and surgery. As an example of the first, take Kansas—not because it is Kansas, but because it is typical of the great west. Population in 1870, 364,399; in 1914, 1,677,106. Wheat crop in 1871, 4,614,924 bushels; in 1914, 180,925,885 bushels. And other crops in proportion. The western half of the state was then practically uninhabited. Today it is the great wheat belt of the country.

When I entered the service people died wholesale from diphtheria, typhoid fever and inflammation of the bowels. Bacteriology, the great searchlight of medicine, as we have it today, was then practically unknown. Today we innoculate against typhoid fever and are immune. Today we operate for appendicitis and inflammation of the bowels practically disappears from our list of diseases. Today we give antitoxin and the child's life is saved. We used to expect pus after a surgical operation and were disappointed if we did not get a so-called "healthy pus." Today the surgeon would be ashamed of it.

Both before leaving the army and since, I have had people refer to our army officers and their families, with some degree of aspersion, saying they were too proud and would not speak to common folk; that they were aristocrats, and much other nonsense. Possibly their isolated condition when I was in the service, gave some color to such accusations, but as far as I can estimate them, if they are an aristocracy, it is an aristocracy of merit; of intellect; of honor; of integrity; of loyalty; of a strong sense of duty and many other worthy qualities that mark them as distinguished from any other kind of aristocracy we have in this country, and I think particularly from our so-called aristocracy of wealth, so often associated with snobbery, and whose daughters so often present the nauseating spectacle, of trading themselves off to some degenerate and profligate descendant of inherited title and giving a million to boot.

Just now, 1918, we hear a great deal about the army and the necessity of increasing its numbers, and much about its officers, but do we ever hear anything about the officers' wives? They may not be of great importance now, but how was it forty or fifty years ago? At that time the great western half of our country was practically unsettled. There were few railroads, and no transcontinental line until 1869. Denver and Santa Fe were considered mere trading posts. There were only two overland stage lines and no settlements of consequence. The military posts were scattered over this vast region, separated from each other by many miles of distance and the ever present danger of attack from Indians. How about the wives of the army officers of that day, who shared with their husbands the dangers and hardships of frontier life? I wish here to pay my tribute to one who shared with me all of the sorrows, and most of the hardships herein related, and many others not considered of sufficient importance to mention. One who seldom complained; whose courage never faltered; whose abiding faith often prompted her to say, "It will all come out for the best in the end."

Thus, we have traveled along life's pathway, with its joys and sorrows, until now we realize that we have crossed the divide, and are going down the western slope. The shadows are growing longer, the valley is not far distant, night is coming on, it will soon be taps and the lights will go out.

Transcriber's Note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
A Table of Contents has been added.