The Indians' Last Fight; Or, The Dull Knife Raid

by Dennis Collins

Conditions Prior to the Indian Raids; The Frontier Line; Savages on the Warpath; Custer’s Fate; General Forsythe’s Predicament.

Before setting down the narrative of the Dull Knife Raid, or any other, it is not amiss to relate something of the conditions that prevailed prior to those events.

In 1878, and for ten years prior to that time, the most of the plain Indians had been on the war-path for some reason or another. To give an idea of the size of the country which was the scene of their endeavors, it is well to outline the frontier as it existed then. Civilization was supposed to have terminated its advance at the Saline, Solomon and Cottonwood rivers, though a few straggling settlers had established themselves on the Little Walnut, and White rivers, with a colony at Council Grove. Beyond that line the domination of the white man was supposed to cease, and it was not the Indian’s fault that it did not. He did his best to have it do so, but the result was far from successful from his point of view. Beyond the line above mentioned there existed only the Indian, the buffalo and a few venturesome spirits who formed the trains that forced their way overland to Colorado and the Black Hills, or endured the more hazardous undertaking of making the long march to California in 1849. They were, indeed, venturesome, for to undertake such a trip, one took his life in his hands, and the result was that many of them paid the penalty for their daring. Not only were they harassed by the Indian tribes they encountered on their way, but privations beset them on all sides and starvation often traveled with them to their sorrow. At any moment such a wagon train as they conducted was liable to attack from savage bands, and there then occurred a fight for life. Nor were all those attacks engineered by the Indian alone. The Mormans did their share of the dastardly work under the guise of the Indian. This statement may appear a trifle strong, but it is proved beyond all doubt that John D. Lee with a gang of cut-throats perpetrated the Mountain Meadow massacre, with all the ferocity and butchery of the most savage of tribesmen. He did his work too well, and endeavored to cover up his tracks by making it appear that it was the work of the Indian. He not only murdered the members of the train, but mutilated the dead bodies of the slain after the fashion of the Indian. He and his accomplices then looted the train, and what they could not carry away, they destroyed. The world was well rid of such a man when he was shot off his own coffin lid to pay the penalty of his crimes, though in his death he did not make compensation for one per cent of all the butcheries he had committed. To return to the thread of the narrative, all that scope of country lying between the western boundary of settlement and the foot hills of the Rocky Mountains, was estimated by competent judges to contain about fifteen hundred square miles of territory. It was the grazing ground in 1870 for about three million buffalo. The fighting forces of the Indians roaming that huge tract of country at the time was approximately six thousand, five hundred men of different tribes, not to say anything about the number of squaws who followed in their wake dealing death to the cripples and mutilating the dead. At that time, each lodge had on an average of about 125 or 150 ponies for use in their raids. Taking all these things into consideration, one must come to the conclusion that there was a formidable force to contend with, especially as the Indian mode of fighting was not governed by the laws of civilized warfare. To protect the settlers from the destructive raids of these tribes, the Government had erected a line of forts manned with an insufficient force for the work at hand. The list of such forts comprised, Ft. Hays, Ft. Wallace, Ft. Harker, Ft. Larned, Ft. Dodge, Camp Supply, and Ft. Elliot. As I said, they were poorly garrisoned, as the best men they had, had been called away to fill vacancies in the regiments used in the Civil war, and their places were supplied by raw recruits, or old soldiers who had re-enlisted for want of something else to do. To add to their inefficiency in Indian warfare, they knew nothing of the topography of the country in which they were expected to serve. One can imagine what a predicament they would be in on the first occasion of their engagement with the natives of the plains, and an example will be shown presently. I do not wish my reader to think for a moment that I want to say anything derogatory of the valor of the American soldier. His reputation for bravery established on scores of battle fields, is too well founded to be shaken by anything I might say to the contrary. But this I will venture to state, namely, that when he came face to face with the Indian mode of warfare in a country of which he knew practically nothing, he was confronted by a set of circumstances over which he had no control, and all the military training of former years was of little value to him. This is true both of officers and privates. Bitter experience has proved that both officials and men in the ranks were in the same predicament as regards the best mode of meeting the wily Indian on his own ground. To give the proof of this assertion I shall mention two cases, one briefly and the other at greater length, to bring into full view what these men had to contend against.

In the first case, the disaster to Gen. Custer proves the correctness of my contention. Gen. Custer was a man with a national reputation for valor and military experience, yet he allowed that wily old Indian chief, Sitting Bull, to inveigle him into following him and his band into the valley of the Little Big Horn where he turned upon him with all the savagery of which the Indian nature is capable, and not only defeated, but totally annihilated his command. No, not a living man was left to tell the tale of the disaster.

In the second case which I will present to the reader, I shall show not only the inefficiency of a man trained in any other school than that of the “plains,” to fight the Red Man on his native heath, but will bring out some of the characteristics of the Indian’s mode of procedure.

Gen. G. A. Forsythe was the man whose military reputation as a commander was second to none in the service of Uncle Sam, a man in whom Gen. Phil. Sheridan placed the greatest confidence, a man with whom the same Gen. Sheridan took counsel in any matter requiring military strategy. To show the General’s esteem of this man’s skill, and at the same time show his appreciation of his worth, Sheridan took him with him, to Germany to view the manoeuvres of the Franco-Prussian war. The above will give the reader an indication of the character of the man who met with so much ill success when fighting the Indians.

In 1868 Gen G. A. Forsythe was located temporarily at Ft. Wallace, having gone to that point for supplies. While there, daily reports were brought to him of the numerous depredations committed by the Indians along the railroads. The last report to reach him brought the unpleasant announcement that two freighters had been murdered and their stock driven off. This was too much. The Indian seemed to be committing all manner of misdeeds with seeming impunity, and he decided that he must put an end to such a state of things and at the same time punish the guilty ones for past misconduct. With this purpose in view, he gained permission from Gen. Sheridan to organize an expedition against them. The license was granted and with forty-seven scouts, among whom was Surgeon Moore and Lieut. Beecher, he set out about the tenth of the month of ——, in a north-westerly direction to overtake the savages. In the inception of this expedition he made one grave mistake for which he paid dearly in the near future. He took along provisions for only ten days, on pack mules. He had no ambulances, nor wagons. In the case of an engagement he did not have men enough, nor sufficient quantity of supplies, to meet the requirements of a cattle round-up, much less an undertaking of the kind he had in view. He set forth in high spirits, for he did not realize the magnitude of the undertaking he had mapped out for himself, nor the danger into which he was rushing. The weather was favorable and the country rather level, so there was nothing to impede his rapid progress. On the fifth day out, some of the scouts discovered a few Indians. Their trail was picked up and as they progressed it became plainer, which showed that they were nearing the vicinity of the foe. On the fifth evening out, they went into camp in a small valley in the northwest corner of the state of Kansas, and not far from the eastern line of Colorado, just where a small stream called the Arickaree flows into the Republican river. In that little stream was a small island covered with scrubby timber. It could not be exactly called an island, as the water flowed on one side of it only, and at a depth of only about a foot, while the other channel was absolutely dry and filled with coarse grass and brush. As they were all weary with the long march already made, they lay down in their blankets to secure a good rest, little thinking what the next day had in store for them. About daylight, the next morning, some of the scouts heard a commotion among the horses and jumped up to see what was wrong. They discovered the Indians in the act of endeavoring to stampede the horses, and they gave the alarm. As soon as the scouts saw the situation, they opened fire upon the redskins and drove them away. The shooting was a signal for all to rise. They realized that danger was near, and they did not have long to wait until it was present. In less than an hour’s time, between five and six hundred Chyenne warriors appeared on the hill side, painted and decked out in all the paraphrenalia of a full-fledged war party under the leadership of Roman Nose who at that time was the Bonoparte of the Chyenne tribe.

It seems that the Indians had been keeping close watch on the movements of the little parties of scouts, and as they were now about eighty or a hundred miles from their base of supplies, thought that if they could stampede the horses, they would be able to secure the band as an easy prey. When they failed to make way with the horses and mules, their next move was to open fire upon the men, which they did without delay. This turn of affairs was so sudden and unexpected that the General seemed to lose his head, and stood there in profound amazement. While the General was in this state of uncertainty as to what to do, with his men exposed to the Indian fire, Jack Stillwell, a boy of nineteen, without any regard for formality of ceremony, yelled out, “Why in blazes don’t you go over on that island?” The General took the advice so freely and informally given by his subordinate, and all broke on the run for the shelter of the pseudo-island. They arrived there, but not before several of them were wounded in the dash in which several of the horses were killed, or crippled. The scouts utilized the dead horses as breastworks and poured such a hot fire into the Indians that they withdrew to the shelter of the hills. The scouts employed their time in digging rifle pits, as they were sure that the Indians were not going to give up the fray without another effort to wipe out the little band. It was only a very short time until the Indians were seen coming down the hillside with intensified ferocity due to their first repulse, howling warwhoops from six hundred lusty, savage throats, and adding to the din by beating tomtoms. It was a sight to send a chill to the stoutest heart to see them wildly flinging their arms in the air to the accompaniment of their thunderous yells, the rumbling of the flying horses as they descended upon the little band, in their mad career. At their head rode Roman Nose encouraging his followers and urging them on to deeds of valor with shout and gesture. One may imagine the chill that crept over many a heart at such a terrifying spectacle, but it was not time to show the white feather, as they could expect no quarter from the blood-thirsty band coming upon them with all the intensity of a whirlwind of fury. When the Indians were within rifle shot, the scouts opened upon them with a fusilade of bullets, with deadly effect. Many a horse was tumbled to the earth and many an Indian bit the dust, either entirely killed, or mortally wounded. The savages returned the fire with but little effect as the scouts were entrenched behind the dead horses, or in their rifle pits. On they came undaunted by the first shock of battle. They advanced almost to the bank of the little stream that flowed between the half-island and the main land. There Roman Nose was seen to reel and fall from his saddle, shot through his body. Another chieftain, I shall not say more daring than the others, but more favored by good luck, succeeded in fording the little stream and advanced to the very bank of the sand bar, or island, before he fell riddled by the bullets of the desperate little band. The continuous fusilade of bullets poured into the serried ranks of the Indians at such close range, together with the loss of their leaders impelled the savages to retreat to the hills once more. This they did accompanied by a shower of bullets that emptied many a saddle before the retreating savages were out of danger. They disappeared behind the hills, but not with the intention of giving up the fight, as they considered their plans for massacreing the little band to be too well laid to be set aside on account of the two repulses they had already received. They waited till afternoon to make a third and final assault upon the island. On they came again, but with the same result as before. They were driven back before the galling fire of the besieged. Determined to continue the fight at all hazards, they kept themselves out of range of the rifles of the islanders, but maintained a desultory fire which had no effect upon the men entrenched in the rifle pits. They then spread themselves out and rode around the island in a circle, but out of range of the guns of the entrapped soldiers. It was plainly their intention to starve the scouts to death or into submission, which was all the same to them.

In the meantime the situation on the island was far from pleasant. Though they had defended themselves with desperate valor, the members of that heroic little band did not escape from all injury. The dead numbered a score, among whom was Lieut. Beecher, a nephew of the renowned Henry Ward Beecher. Among those seriously wounded was Surgeon Moore, who was lying at the point of death, and General Forsythe, with a bullet through his leg and his scalp creased with another leaden missile.

The situation was critical in the extreme. Their food was gone, and the only substitute they had was the flesh of the dead horses that lay around them. From these they cut pieces of flesh which they ate raw, as there was no opportunity for cooking it. This stayed their hunger for a time, but it was a poor substitute at best. They lacked, also, for want of water, for, although the stream lay within a few feet of them, to reach it was impossible, for, if a man showed his head but for a moment he was greeted with a shower of bullets that made him seek cover without delay. The exigency of the situation made them inventive, and as they were almost desperate from want of water, they had recourse to a very slow method of digging down to the water level in order to secure even a scant supply. They cut open a canteen in such a way that it would serve the purpose of a shovel, and with this crude implement went to work to scoop up the sand to such a depth as would bring them to the object of their search. Their patience and persistence was rewarded better than they expected. Not only did they obtain sufficient to meet their immediate needs, but also plenty to bathe the General’s wounds. As far as the dead were concerned, to bury them could not be thought of, as even the movement of a branch would be a signal for a dozen or more bullets which would drive them back to the shelter of their defenses. Though the Indians seemed to realize the predicament of the beseiged, they did not have the temerity to make a final dash to complete the work of butchery they had originally planned. Their first, second, and third attempts had cost them too dearly, and they were content to hover near with the intention of cutting their foe to pieces if they should make an attempt to escape. They waited patiently, apparently secure in their conviction that the beseiged would eventually make a dash for liberty, and if such were to occur they would descend upon the stricken little band and with one fell swoop annihilate them completely. Their long desired wish was never accomplished. Intent upon the final destruction of the whites, they neglected to bury their own dead, not only because they were too busily engaged, in watching the besieged, but principally because they did not care to risk the danger of adding to the already too long list of their fellow tribesmen who had recently gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds. Moreover, the approaching night would give them a better opportunity to secure the bodies of their slain without incurring any risk of being sent to join them in the land of their forefathers.