CHAPTER XXIII. THE CAREER OF GERONIMO

This fighting man was for many years feared and hated. He was not a docile person, and his tribe did not tamely submit to kicks and curses—the treatment meted out to his more gentle red brothers in California and Arizona. They were despised, trodden under foot, cast aside; not so with the Apaches and Geronimo. It required more than two years’ labor on the part of hundreds of our cavalry to catch him, and when he surrendered there were but seventy-four in his band.

Now that everything regarding the Indian is being made public, I deem it important that the true history of Geronimo be set forth.

In 1905 this chief published the story of his life. His book is a remarkable production, and gives the Indian point of view, which is rare indeed.[[43]]

Mr. Barrett, who wrote the story at Geronimo’s dictation, had much trouble with the War Department. Officers objected to the narrative, and he was compelled to secure permission from President Roosevelt. Even then the War Department advised against publication.

The history of the Apaches dates from the time of Coronado, who is supposed to have penetrated their country in 1541–’43 when he marched north in search of the fabled “seven cities of Cibola.” There is no record of the Apaches, or any other Indians for that matter, beginning hostilities against the Spaniards. After Coronado, the Spaniards and the Apaches were at war for three centuries. The Spaniards pursued their usual policy in dealing with these people, and the latter returned an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. Geronimo and his people had abundant cause for their hatred of the Spaniards. It was a different story in Arizona and northern Mexico from that of California and central Mexico. Today the California Indians are paupers, and the gentle Aztecs have long since perished, but the sturdy Apaches remain and live in more or less prosperity on their several reservations.

GERONIMO
Photographed at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, about 1905

Geronimo says he was born in Arizona in 1829.[[44]] On the death of his father, Mangus-Colorado became chief of the Bedonkoke Apaches, to which band the subject of this sketch belonged. When a half-grown boy, Geronimo assumed the care of his mother, and in 1846 he joined the council of the warriors. Soon after this he married Alope and three children were born during the next few years. In 1858, when he was twenty-nine, his band went into Mexico to trade. One afternoon while Geronimo and the other men were returning from a visit, they were met by crying women and children who told them that the Mexicans had attacked the camp—a peaceful camp—and had massacred the men and most of the women and children. Geronimo lost his aged mother, his wife and his three small children.

They decided to retreat to Arizona and as the Mexicans were searching for survivors in order to kill them, the remaining Apaches traveled all night. The mourning period, according to Indian etiquette, prevented Geronimo, who had lost more relatives than anyone else, from eating or speaking. He traveled two days and three nights without food and did not open his mouth until the third day. I quote from his book:—

“Within a few days we arrived at our own settlement. There were the decorations that Alope had made—and there were the playthings of our little ones. I burned them all, even our tipi. I also burned my mother’s lodge and destroyed all her property.

“I was never again contented in our quiet home. True, I could visit my father’s grave, but I had vowed vengeance upon the Mexican troopers who had wronged me, and whenever I came near his grave or saw anything to remind me of former happy days, my heart would ache for revenge upon Mexico.”

The Apaches collected arms and supplies. Geronimo visited other bands of his tribe, and in the summer of 1859, a year later, a large force (on foot) entered Old Mexico. They went light, and without horses, for strategic reasons. Knowing the country thoroughly—every water-hole, mountain and valley—they could trail unobserved. On horseback they must follow certain known trails, whereas on foot the band could scatter, travel singly and meet at a common rendezvous. It was well-nigh impossible to follow unmounted Apaches, as all the military reports admit. They invariably scattered and sought the most inaccessible, waterless mountain ranges.

Geronimo acted as guide, and near Arispe eight men came out from the village and were killed by the Apaches. The next day the Mexican troops attacked. Geronimo says that in one part of the field four Indians, including himself, were charged by four soldiers and in the final fight, two of the Indians were killed and the four troopers were slain, two of them by Geronimo himself.

The art of trailing was developed among the Apaches and Comanches more than among other Indians on this continent. Possibly a few Delawares might be excepted. The success of Geronimo’s operations, as well as those of his able lieutenants, Cochise, Naiche, Mangus-Colorado, was chiefly due to the fact that the trail was to them an open book. As an illustration of the skill of the desert Indians in this respect, I would cite the case of Pedro Espinosa, who, when nine years old was captured by the Comanche and for years lived with the Comanches and Apaches. Colonel Dodge says of him that he was a marvel even to the Indians themselves, and relates this incident:

“I was once sent in pursuit of a party of murdering Comanches, who had been pursued, scattered, and the trail abandoned by a company of so-called Texas rangers. On the eighth day after the scattering, Espinosa took the trail of a single shod horse. When we were fairly into the rough, rocky Guadalope Mountains, he stopped, dismounted, and picked up from the foot of a tree the four shoes of the horse ridden by the Indian. With a grim smile he handed them to me, and informed me that the Indian intended to hide his trail. For six days we journeyed over the roughest mountains, turning and twisting in apparently the most objectless way, not a man in the whole command being able to discover, sometimes for hours, a single mark by which Espinosa might direct himself. Sometimes I lost patience, and demanded that he show us what he was following. ‘Poco tiempo,’ he would blandly answer, and in a longer or shorter time, show me the clear-cut footprints of the horse in the soft bank of some mountain stream, or point with his long wiping-stick to most unmistakable ‘sign’ in the droppings of the horse. Following the devious windings of this trail for nearly a hundred and fifty miles, scarcely ever at a loss, and only once or twice dismounting, more closely to examine the ground, he finally brought me to where the Indians had reunited.”

On another occasion, the Indians had fired the prairie to hide their trail. The officer in despair went to camp. Espinosa, after working over the ground carefully on his hands and knees, blew away the light ashes until sufficient prints were found to show the direction of the trail. He was compelled to make several circuits, covering a total of six or seven miles, and after weary hours spent in this work, the troops were able to pursue and capture the Indians. Espinosa and the Apaches once found a trail after dark by feeling of the ground with their fingers. This remarkable man, at the outbreak of the Civil War, was selected to carry dispatches from Union men in San Antonio to Colonel Reeve. He was captured and shot to death. The account presented by Dodge of Espinosa is very interesting and indicates that this unknown man in Plains knowledge was far in advance of the white scouts of which we have heard so much. The Apaches recognized that their only weakness lay in their trail, and they tried by every means to conceal it.

The next few years Geronimo led several expeditions into Mexico, sometimes being defeated, on other occasions returning with much plunder and many scalps. During his career as a fighting man he was wounded seven times. Once, he was left for dead, on the field.

In 1861 the Mexicans attacked an Apache winter village, killing men, women and children.

In 1864, while raiding in Mexico, Geronimo’s people captured a mule pack train. Some of the mules were loaded with mescal—an intoxicating drink of the Mexicans. The Apaches began drinking this and Geronimo, fearing the consequences, poured out all of the liquor. On this occasion he captured a herd of cattle, drove the cattle to Arizona, killed them, and dried the meat for winter use.

Geronimo emphasizes in his book something unknown to the general public. Many outlaws, both Americans and Mexicans, stole cattle and committed robberies during these troublous years and the blame was always placed on the Apaches. In spite of all that has been said, the latter were not without their virtues, as the following anecdote attests.

In 1883 two young men from the East, while prospecting in the mountains, saw an old Apache and a young man, apparently his son. In attempting to retreat to camp, one of the white men fell and broke his leg. The old warrior examined the broken limb, removed the shirt of the uninjured youth, tore it up and carefully bound the broken member. Then the old warrior, indicating the direction with his finger said: “Doctor—Lordsburg—three days,” and silently rode away.

Up to 1870 the Apaches had had little trouble with the white people, although in 1841, according to testimony presented by Mrs. Jackson, they had abundant grounds for hostility.[[45]]

It was not until the 30th of April, 1871, that the real trouble began, The massacre at Camp Grant, in Arizona, of several hundred friendly Apaches, men, women and children, brought on hostilities.

Beyond question, this and several subsequent raids on the part of white people, were responsible for the attitude of Geronimo, Victorio and Cochise. In 1873 and again in 1880 there was hard fighting in Mexico. In 1884 Geronimo was head war chief, and fought his heaviest engagements. How many men were killed in these actions is not stated.

In the early sixties United States troops invited the Apache chiefs into a tent under promise, Geronimo states, that they were to be given a feast. Geronimo says: “When in the tent they were attacked by soldiers. Our chief, Mangus-Colorado, and several other warriors, by cutting through the tent, escaped; but most of the warriors were killed or captured.” Heavy fighting followed. Such Apaches as spoke English visited the officers and advised them where were located camps they sought, and while the soldiers hunted for these camps, Geronimo and his warriors, “watched them from our hiding-places and laughed at their failures.”

In 1863 the favorite chief, Mangus-Colorado, was put in the guardhouse. He had been told by General West that he would be protected if he made peace. As the old chief entered he said: “This is my end.” During the night some one threw a stone through the window and struck him in the breast. He sprang up, and as he did so the guard shot and killed him.

In the seventies the United States troops sent for Victorio and Geronimo. As soon as they entered the camp they were taken to headquarters and tried by court-martial. Victorio was released and Geronimo was put in chains, remaining in shackles four months.

For the next ensuing years there was considerable fighting, the Apaches being afraid to trust the United States authorities and the frontier element anxious that the Apaches be exterminated. Our troops occasionally defeated the Indians but were more often repulsed. General Crook took away the Apaches’ cattle and horses, and as few of the Apaches were horse Indians, preferring to fight or hunt on foot, and as the cattle were an incentive to thrift and industry, this action of General Crook’s was not a severe blow to the Indians.

The General followed the Apaches into Mexico and held an interview. I quote Geronimo’s description of what occurred.[[46]]

“Said the General: ‘Why did you leave the reservation?’

“I said: ‘You told me that I might live in the reservation the same as white people lived. One year I raised a crop of corn, and gathered and stored it, and the next year I put in a crop of oats, and when the crop was almost ready to harvest, you told your soldiers to put me in prison, and if I resisted to kill me. If I had been let alone I would now have been in good circumstances, but instead of that you and the Mexicans were hunting me with soldiers.’

“He said: ‘I never gave any such orders; the troops at Fort Apache, who spread this report, knew that it was untrue.’

“Then I agreed to go back with him to San Carlos.

“It was hard for me to believe him at that time. Now I know that what he said was untrue, and I firmly believe that he did issue the orders for me to be put in prison, or to be killed in case I offered resistance.”

POMO WOMAN WEAVING A TWINED BASKET, CALIFORNIA

On the return march, the Indians left General Crook’s command and fled. Geronimo became “a bad Indian” in every sense of the word. He says: “We were reckless of our lives, because we felt that every man’s hand was against us. If we returned to the reservation we would be put in prison and killed: if we stayed in Mexico they would continue to send soldiers to fight us; so we gave no quarter to anyone and asked no favors.”

The American troops in one action killed seven children, five women and four men. Again, three Apache children were slain. Later, all Geronimo’s family was captured.

Naiche, son of the famous fighting chief, Cochise, fought for years with Geronimo and surrendered when further resistance was useless.

The end came suddenly. Geronimo, driven from one side of the American-Mexican border to the other, found no rest for his band, and told Captain Lawton’s scouts that he would surrender to General Miles under certain conditions. When Geronimo met General Miles, the interpreter said, “General Miles is your friend.” Even in so critical a situation his grim humor asserted itself. Geronimo retorted, “I never saw him, but I have been in need of friends. Why has he not been with me?”

According to the narrative of the Indian chief and other witnesses, Geronimo was to live with his family and be supported by the Government, under certain restrictions. “I said to General Miles: ‘All the officers that have been in charge of Indians have talked that way and it sounds like a story to me; I hardly believe you.’

“He said: ‘This time it is the truth.’”

Geronimo gave up his arms saying:

“‘I will quit the warpath and live at peace hereafter.’”

“Then General Miles swept a spot of ground clear with his hand and said:

“‘Your past deeds shall be wiped out like this, and you will start a new life.’”

It is unfortunate that when the Apaches were taken East, not only the hostiles but also a few friendlies and some who had helped the troops, were also deported. They were imprisoned in Florida, and Geronimo made to labor sawing large logs. One or two of the warriors committed suicide. After some years the prisoners were removed to Fort Sill. Geronimo often complained that the Government did not keep the terms of the Miles surrender. I have never heard that General Miles tried to right this wrong. If he did, I stand corrected.

Geronimo did not see his family for two years—contrary to the terms of the surrender.

The foregoing sums up in a brief way the career of Geronimo. Under similar circumstances any white man of spirit and independence, and who was not a coward, would become “a bad Indian.” After many appeals by the Board of Indian Commissioners, the Indian Rights Association and others, these Apache prisoners were removed to their ancient homes. About seventy elected to remain near Fort Sill, Okla., and have been given farms.

Practically all of them are doing well—industrious and capable.