Indian Fights and Fighters: The Soldier and the Sioux

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

Everybody expected that Henry would die, but die he did not; perhaps it would be better to say die he would not. And he had no physique to back his efforts, only an indomitable will. He never completely recovered from that experience. He lost the sight of one eye permanently, and to the day of his death was liable to a hemorrhage at any moment, in which there was grave danger of his bleeding to death.

He took a year’s leave of absence, and then came back to duty. In 1877, when his troop was ordered to the front in another campaign under Crook against the redoubtable Sioux, he insisted upon accompanying them. He had been out an hour or so when he fell fainting from the saddle. Did they bring him back? Oh, no! He bade them lay him under a tree, leave two or three men with him to look after him, and go ahead. He would rejoin them that night, when it became cooler and he could travel with more ease! What he said he would do he did. A trooper rode back to the post on his own account and told of his condition. An order was sent him by the post commander to return. Henry quietly said he would obey the first order and go on. He remained with the troop for six weeks, until finally he was picked up bodily and carried home, vainly protesting, the doctor refusing to answer either for his eyesight or for his life if he stayed in the field any longer.

V. The Buffalos and Their Famous Ride

Thirteen years after that Henry was commanding the Ninth Cavalry, with headquarters at Fort McKinney. The Ninth Cavalry was a regiment of negroes. From the overcoats which they wore in Wyoming in the winter they were called the “Buffalos,” and sometimes they were facetiously referred to as “Henry’s Brunettes.” Whatever they were called, they were a regiment of which to be proud.

In 1890 occurred the last outbreak of the Sioux under the inspiration of the Ghost Dancers, which culminated in the battle of Wounded Knee. Troops from all over the United States were hurried to the Pine Ridge Agency as the trouble began. On the 24th of December Henry and the “Brunettes” were ordered out to the former’s old stamping ground in the Black Hills on a scouting expedition. It was bitter cold that Christmas Eve, but, thank God! there was no blizzard. Fifty miles on the back of a trotting horse was the dose before them. They rested at four A.M. on the morning of Christmas Day. Some of the garments the men wore were frozen stiff. They had broken through the ice of the White River in crossing it. How the men felt inside the frozen clothing may be imagined. Eight miles farther they made their camp. They did not have much of a Christmas celebration, for as soon as possible after establishing their base at Harney Springs they went on the scout. They hunted assiduously for several days, but found no Indians. These had gone south to join their brethren concentrated about the agency. One day they rode forty-two miles in a vain search. They got back to camp about seven o’clock. At nine a courier from the agency fifty miles away informed them of the battle of Wounded Knee, and that five thousand Oglala Sioux were mustering to attack the agency.

“Boots and Saddles!” instantly rang out, and the tired troopers mounted their jaded horses again. This time the camp was broken for keeps, and tents were struck, wagons packed to abandon it. It was a bitter cold night. There was a fierce gale sweeping through the valley, blowing a light snow in the faces of the men wrapped to the eyes in their buffalo coats and fur caps. They pushed steadily on in spite of it, for it was Henry’s intention to reach the agency in the dark in order to avoid attack by the Indians.

It was thought advisable, therefore, to leave the wagon train under an escort of one company and press forward with the rest. The men arrived at the agency at daybreak, completing a ride of over ninety miles in less than twenty hours. Fires were kindled, horses picketed, and the exhausted men literally threw themselves on the ground for rest. They had been there but a short time when one of the men from the escort came galloping madly in with the news that the wagon-train was heavily attacked, and that succor must be sent at once. Without waiting for orders, without even stopping to saddle the horses, Henry and his men galloped back over the road two miles away, where the escort was gallantly covering the train. A short, sharp skirmish, in which one man was killed and several wounded, drove back the Indians, and the regiment brought in the train.

It was ten o’clock now, and as the negro troops came into the agency, word was brought that the Drexel Mission, seven miles up the valley, was being attacked, and help must be sent immediately. There were two regiments of cavalry available, the Seventh and the Ninth. For some unexplained reason, the Ninth was ordered out. In behalf of his men, Henry made protest. They must have a little rest, and so the Seventh was despatched, and was soon hotly engaged. Two hours later a messenger reported that the Seventh, in the valley where the mission was situated, was heavily attacked by the Indians, who had secured commanding positions on the surrounding ridges. Unless they could be relieved, they would probably be overwhelmed. Again the trumpet call rang out, and the tired black troopers once more climbed into their saddles and struck spurs into their more tired horses, galloping away to the rescue of their hard-pushed white comrades. The ridges were carried in most gallant style, and after some sharp fighting the Indians were driven back. The Seventh was extricated and the day was saved.

In thirty-four hours of elapsed time, the Ninth Cavalry had ridden one hundred and eight miles—the actual time in the saddle being twenty-two hours. They had fought two engagements and had rested only two hours. Marvelous to relate, there wasn’t a sore-backed horse in the whole regiment. One horse died under the pressure, but aside from that and their fatigue, horses and men were in excellent condition.

That was probably the most famous ride ever performed by troops in the United States. For it Henry was recommended for a further brevet, as major-general—the sixth he had received.