When I first arrived at Fort Bridger, the volunteer garrison was equipped with Spencer breech-loading carbines. I turned in my muzzle-loading Springfields and equipped my two companies with the Spencers which, of course, had heavy metallic cartridges, Cal. .50. Our equipment consisted of the regular old-fashioned cartridge box for paper cartridges to be carried in tin cases inside the leather boxes, and were wholly unsuited for metallic cartridges. I furnished mounted guards and patrols to the daily Overland Mail, and the metallic ammunition carried in these tin boxes rattled loudly, and were even noisy when carried by men afoot.
So I devised a belt, which the post saddler manufactured out of leather, with a loop for each of the fifty cartridges. The men wore these belts around their waists, and they proved much more comfortable and efficient than any other method of carrying cartridges.
W. A. Carter, the sutler, was going to Washington, and suggested that he procure me a patent. This patent was the foundation of my various subsequent patents, which enabled me to change the method of carrying cartridges, not only in our own army, but in the armies throughout the world, and by which I eventually made an independent fortune.
I remained in command of Bridger until the spring of 1867, when I was ordered to escort Gen. G. M. Dodge, chief engineer of the Union Pacific Railroad, on a recognizance to find a route from the vicinity of Salt Lake, via the Snake River, to some point in Oregon or Washington State for a branch road to the Pacific. We were two months going west of the Rocky Mountain Range via Snake River, and returning through the south pass at the head waters of the North Platte River. We finally abandoned the expedition when we reached Fort Sanders, Wyoming.
General John A. Rawlins accompanied the expedition, on the advice of his physician, he being afflicted with tuberculosis, and was a very interesting companion.
From Sanders I reported to Fort Fetterman, where my regiment established headquarters, after the return of Colonel Carrington's expedition, abandoning the posts of Reno, Philip Kearny, and F. C. Smith. The regular route to Fort Fetterman via Fort Laramie was twice the distance across the mountains, so I took no wagon transportation, but only the men carrying rations. We had a very difficult march, but succeeded in arriving long before the wagons carrying our baggage via Laramie.
I remained at Fetterman during the winter of '67, but in the spring went to Fort Sedgwick, where Colonel Carrington had a large post of seven companies, most of them of his own regiment. These isolated posts were thoroughly cut off from civilization.
I remember a humorous incident that occurred there one day. There being no chaplain or civil authorities for hundreds of miles in any direction, their functions were necessarily sometimes performed by the adjutants of the military posts. One day the adjutant, Lieutenant Carroll Potter, invited Captain Morris and me to go with him across the Platte River to Julesburg, where he said he was going to perform a marriage.
When the ambulance drove up to Potter's porch, Morris and I heard him call "Lizzie, Lizzie, bring me the prayer book." His wife brought the prayer book, and he put it in his coat, asking, "Have you turned down a leaf?"
"Yes, Carroll, I have."