On Monday morning, bright and early, on August 8th, 1864, the columns were formed. The General was in an ambulance at the front, and in admiration looking up and down the lines of the soldiers who were so soon to engage the Indians in battle, gave vent to his feelings in words more expressive than elegant: “Those fellows can whip the devil and all his angels.”
General Sully himself was unable to go farther, but when he grasped Colonel Thomas, who was in immediate command, by the hand he said: “You must make some history to-day.”
“Forward!” and the column is marching out, and not a sound is there to indicate that its progress will be impeded, as we enter the narrow gorge, only wide enough for a wagon trail. Almost an hour passes in steadily climbing up the narrow and secluded way, and when near the head of the gulch, from the beautiful stillness of the morning the pandemonium of war broke loose.
The artillery advanced in a gallop, and, in position, soon commenced planting shells among the redskins. This was followed up by the steady advance of the dismounted men, who pressed their lines, and they commenced to fall back. The General, sick though he was, and in the ambulance, could not endure being there when the fight was going on, so he ordered up his horse and, mounting, rode to the front, but nature resisted, and he was obliged to dismount, which he did, and seating himself on a boulder, with his field glass took in the whole situation. Colonel Thomas, who was in command, hearing that the General was on the field, sought him out and said: “I am ready to advance, sir.”
The General, pointing his hand toward a range of hills, said: "Go ahead, you will find the camp beyond those buttes; hold your men well in hand, push the Indians; they will fight for their families; protect your flank, and I will protect the rear.”
The fight went on; the wounded were sent to the rear, and for twelve miles we drove the Indians from point to point, but darkness came on before their camp was reached.
In the bivouac at night the scene was a varied one. At the roll-call there were names not answered, for the unerring arrow and Indian bullet had done its work. At the next muster it would be necessary to mark after some name: “Killed in battle in the Bad Lands August 8th, 1864,” or, “died of wounds received from Indians in battle in the Bad Lands August 8th, 1864,” for there were 109 killed and wounded on this day.
The wounded received proper attention at once, and the other soldiers, well tired out with the day’s fighting and marching, were soundly sleeping and dreaming of home.
There were 8,000 warriors engaged in this battle, and as nearly as could be estimated they lost 350 killed and from 600 to 800 wounded. It was a bloody battle, and the field was named by the Indians Waps-chon-choka.
The Indians, after this decisive battle, broke up into small bands and went in every direction, so that the soldiers, as an army, could not well follow them.