On the Border with Crook

by John Gregory Bourke

Major Noyes, one of our most earnest fishermen, did not return from one of his trips, and, on account of the very severe storm assailing us that afternoon, it was feared that some accident had befallen him: that he had been attacked by a bear or other wild animal, had fallen over some ledge of rocks, been carried away in the current of the stream, or in some other manner met with disaster. Lieutenant Kingsbury, Second Cavalry, went out to hunt him, accompanied by a mounted detachment and a hound. Noyes was found fast asleep under a tree, completely exhausted by his hard work: he was afoot and unable to reach camp with his great haul of fish, over one hundred and ten in number; he had played himself out, but had broken the record, and was snoring serenely. Mr. Stevens, chief clerk for Major Furey, the quartermaster, was another sportsman whose chief delight in life seemed to be in tearing the clothes off his back in efforts to get more and bigger fish than any one else.

Word came in from General Crook to send pack mules to a locality indicated, where the carcasses of fourteen elk and other game for the command had been tied to the branches of trees. It was not until the 10th of July, 1876, that Louis Richaud and Ben Arnold rode into camp, bearing despatches from Sheridan to Crook with the details of the terrible disaster which had overwhelmed the troops commanded by General Custer; the shock was so great that men and officers could hardly speak when the tale slowly circulated from lip to lip. The same day the Sioux made their appearance, and tried to burn us out: they set fire to the grass near the infantry battalions; and for the next two weeks paid us their respects every night in some manner, trying to stampede stock, burn grass, annoy pickets, and devil the command generally. They did not escape scot-free from these encounters, because we saw in the rocks the knife left by one wounded man, whose blood stained the soil near it; another night a pony was shot through the body and abandoned; and on still another occasion one of their warriors, killed by a bullet through the brain, was dragged to a ledge of rocks and there hidden, to be found a week or two after by our Shoshone scouts.

The Sioux destroyed an immense area of pasturage, not less than one hundred miles each way, leaving a charred expanse of territory where had so lately been the refreshing green of dainty grass, traversed by crystal brooks; over all that blackened surface it would have been difficult to find so much as a grasshopper; it could be likened to nothing except Burke’s description of the devastation wrought by Hyder Ali in the plains of the Carnatic. Copious rains came to our relief, and the enemy desisted; besides destroying the pasturage, the Sioux had subjected us to the great annoyance of breathing the tiny particles of soot which filled the air and darkened the sky.

Hearing from some of our hunters that the tracks of a party—a large party—of Sioux and Cheyennes, mounted, had been seen on the path taken by Crook and his little detachment of hunters, going up into the Big Horn, Colonel Royall ordered Mills to take three companies and proceed out to the relief, if necessary, of our General and comrades. They all returned safely in the course of the afternoon, and the next day, July 11th, we were joined by a force of two hundred and thirteen Shoshones, commanded by their head-chief, “Washakie,” whose resemblance in face and bearing to the eminent divine, Henry Ward Beecher, was noticeable. This party had been delayed, waiting for the Utes and Bannocks, who had sent word that they wanted to take part in the war against the Sioux; but “Washakie” at last grew tired, and started off with his own people and two of the Bannock messengers.

Of these two a story was related to the effect that, during the previous winter, they had crossed the mountains alone, and slipped into a village of Sioux, and begun to cut the fastenings of several fine ponies; the alarm was given, and the warriors began to tumble out of their beds; our Bannocks were crouching down in the shadow of one of the lodges, and in the confusion of tongues, barking of dogs, hurried questioning and answering of the Sioux, boldly entered the “tepi” just vacated by two warriors and covered themselves up with robes. The excitement quieted down after a while, and the camp was once more in slumber, the presence of the Bannocks undiscovered, and the Sioux warriors belonging to that particular lodge blissfully ignorant that they were harboring two of the most desperate villains in the whole western country. When the proper moment had come, the Bannocks quietly reached out with their keen knives, cut the throats of the squaws and babies closest to them, stalked out of the lodge, ran rapidly to where they had tied the two best ponies, mounted, and like the wind were away.[away.]

Besides the warriors with “Washakie,” there were two squaws, wives of two of the men wounded in the Rosebud fight, who had remained with us. As this was the last campaign in which great numbers of warriors appeared with bows, arrows, lances, and shields as well as rifles, I may say that the shields of the Shoshones, like those of the Sioux and Crows and Cheyennes, were made of the skin of the buffalo bull’s neck, which is an inch in thickness. This is cut to the desired, shape, and slightly larger than the required size to allow for shrinking; it is pegged down tight on the ground, and covered with a thin layer of clay upon which is heaped a bed of burning coals, which hardens the skin so that it will turn the point of a lance or a round bullet. A war-song and dance from the Shoshones ended the day.

On the 12th of July, 1876, three men, dirty, ragged, dressed in the tatters of army uniforms, rode into camp and gave their names as Evans, Stewart, and Bell, of Captain Clifford’s company of the Seventh Infantry, bearers of despatches from General Terry to General Crook; in the dress of each was sewed a copy of the one message which revealed the terrible catastrophe happening to the companies under General Custer. These three modest heroes had ridden across country in the face of unknown dangers, and had performed the duty confided to them in a manner that challenged the admiration of every man in our camp. I have looked in vain through the leaves of the Army Register to see their names inscribed on the roll of commissioned officers; and I feel sure that ours is the only army in the world in which such conspicuous courage, skill, and efficiency would have gone absolutely unrecognized.

Colonel Chambers, with seven companies of infantry and a wagon-train loaded with supplies, reached camp on the 13th. With him came, as volunteers, Lieutenants Hayden Delaney, of the Ninth, and Calhoun and Crittenden, of the Fourteenth Infantry, and Dr. V. T. McGillicuddy. Personal letters received from General Sheridan informed General Crook that General Merritt, with ten companies of the Fifth Cavalry, had left Red Cloud Agency with orders to report to Crook, and that as soon after they arrived as possible, but not until then, Crook was to start out and resume the campaign. Courier Fairbanks brought in despatches from Adjutant-General Robert Williams at Omaha, Nebraska, to the effect that we should soon be joined by a detachment of Utes, who were desirous of taking part in the movements against the Sioux, but had been prevented by their agent. General Williams had made a representation of all the facts in the case to superior authority, and orders had been received from the Department of the Interior directing their enlistment. Nearly fifty of the Utes did start out under Lieutenant Spencer, of the Fourth Infantry, and made a very rapid march to overtake us, but failed to reach our wagon-train camp until after our command had departed; and, in the opinion of Major Furey, the risk for such a small party was too great to be undertaken.

Camp was the scene of the greatest activity: both infantry and cavalry kept up their exercises in the school of the soldier, company and battalion, and in skirmishing. Detachments of scouts were kept constantly in advanced positions, and although the enemy had made no attempt to do anything more than annoy us in our strong natural intrenchments, as the camps close to the Big Horn might fairly be designated, yet it was evident that something unusual was in the wind. “Washakie” ascended to the tops of the highest hills every morning and scanned the horizon through powerful field-glasses, and would then report the results of his observations. Colonel Mills did the same thing from the peaks of the Big Horn, to some of the more accessible of which he ascended. The Shoshones were kept in the highest state of efficiency, and were exercised every morning and evening like their white brothers. At first they had made the circuit of camp unattended, and advanced five or ten miles out into the plains in the performance of their evolutions; but after the arrival of fresh troops, under Chambers, “Washakie” was afraid that some of the new-comers might not know his people and would be likely to fire upon them when they charged back to camp; so he asked General Crook to detail some of his officers to ride at the head of the column, with a view to dispelling any apprehensions the new recruits might feel. It fell to my lot to be one of the officers selected. In all the glory of war-bonnets, bright blankets, scarlet cloth, head-dresses of feathers, and gleaming rifles and lances, the Shoshones, mounted bareback on spirited ponies, moved slowly around camp, led by “Washakie,” alongside of whom was borne the oriflamme of the tribe—a standard of eagle feathers attached to a lance-staff twelve feet in length. Each warrior wore in his head-dress a small piece of white drilling as a distinguishing mark to let our troops know who he was.

We moved out in column of twos; first at a fast walk, almost a trot, afterwards increasing the gait. The young warriors sat like so many statues, horse and rider moving as one. Not a word was spoken until the voices of the leaders broke out in their war-song, to which the whole column at once lent the potent aid of nearly two hundred pairs of sturdy lungs. Down the valley about three miles, and then, at a signal from “Washakie,” the column turned, and at another, formed front into line and proceeded slowly for about fifty yards. “Washakie” was endeavoring to explain something to me, but the noise of the ponies’ hoofs striking the burnt ground and my ignorance of his language were impediments to a full understanding of what the old gentleman was driving at. I learned afterwards that he was assuring me that I was now to see some drill such as the Shoshones alone could execute. He waved his hands; the line spread out as skirmishers and took about two yards’ interval from knee to knee. Then somebody—“Washakie” or one of his lieutenants—yelled a command in a shrill treble; that’s all I remember. The ponies broke into one frantic rush for camp, riding over sage-brush, rocks, stumps, bunches of grass, buffalo heads—it mattered not the least what, they went over it—the warriors all the while squealing, yelling, chanting their war-songs, or howling like coyotes. The ponies entered into the whole business, and needed not the heels and “quirts” which were plied against their willing flanks. In the centre of the line rode old “Washakie;” abreast of him the eagle standard. It was an exciting and exhilarating race, and the force preserved an excellent alignment. Only one thought occupied my mind during this charge, and that thought was what fools we were not to incorporate these nomads—the finest light cavalry in the world—into our permanent military force. With five thousand such men, and our aboriginal population would readily furnish that number, we could harass and annoy any troops that might have the audacity to land on our coasts, and worry them to death.