On the Border with Crook

by John Gregory Bourke

All through the Superstition Mountains, we worked as carefully as we had worked in the more northern portion on our trip to MacDowell, but we met with less success than we had anticipated; on the morning of the 15th of January, after a toilsome night-climb over rough mesas and mountains, we succeeded in crawling upon a small rancheria ere the first rays of the sun had surmounted the eastern horizon; but the occupants were too smart for us and escaped, leaving three dead in our hands and thirteen captives—women and children; we also captured the old chief of the band, who, like his people, seemed to be extremely poor. Three days later we heard loud shouting from a high mountain to the left of the trail we were following. Thinking at first that it was from some hostile parties, Major Brown sent out a detachment of the scouts to run them off. In about half an hour or less a young boy not more than eight years old came down to see the commanding officer, who had halted the column until he could learn what was wanted. The youngster was very much agitated, and trembled violently; he said that he had been sent down to say that his people did not want any more war, but were desirous of making peace. He was given something to eat and tobacco to smoke, and afterwards one of the pack-mules was led up and its “cargo” unloaded so that the cook might give the ambassador a good stomachful of beans always kept cooked in a train. The Apache was very grateful, and after talking with the scouts was much more at his ease. He was presented with an old blouse by one of the officers, and then Major Brown told him that he was too young to represent anybody, but not too young to see for himself that we did not want to harm any people who were willing to behave themselves. He could return in safety to his own people up on the hill, and tell them that they need not be afraid to send in any one they wished to talk for them, but to send in some grown persons. The boy darted up the flanks of the mountain with the agility of a jack rabbit, and was soon lost to view in the undergrowth of scrub oak; by the time we had ascended the next steep grade there was more shouting, and this time the boy returned with a wrinkled squaw, who was at once ordered back—after the usual feed—one of our people going with her to tell the men of the band that we were not women or babies, and that we could talk business with men only.

This summons brought back a very decrepit antique, who supported his palsied limbs upon one of the long walking-canes so much in use among the Apaches. He too was the recipient of every kindness, but was told firmly that the time for fooling had long since gone by, and that to-day was a much better time for surrendering than to-morrow; our command would not harm them if they wanted to make peace, but the country was full of scouting parties and at any moment one of these was likely to run in upon them and kill a great many; the best thing, the safest thing, for them to do was to surrender at once and come with us into Camp Grant. The old chief replied that it was not possible for him to surrender just then and there, because his band had scattered upon learning of our approach, but if we would march straight for Grant he would send out for all his people, gather them together, and catch up with us at the junction of the Gila and San Pedro, and then accompany us to Camp Grant or other point to be agreed upon.

We moved slowly across the mountains, getting to the place of meeting on the day assigned, but there were no Indians, and we all felt that we had been outwitted. The scouts however said, “Wait and see!” and sure enough, that evening, the old chief and a small party of his men arrived and had another talk and smoke with Major Brown, who told them that the only thing to do was to see General Crook whose word would determine all questions. Every man in the column was anxious to get back, and long before reveille most of them were up and ready for the word for breakfast and for boots and saddles. There was a feeling that so far as the country south of the Salt River was concerned, the campaign was over; and though we saw no men, women, or children other than those captured by us on the way, all felt that the surrender would surely take place as agreed upon.

When we started up the dusty valley of the San Pedro not one of the strangers had arrived, but as we drew nigh to the site of the post, it seemed as if from behind clusters of sage brush, giant cactus, palo verde or mesquite, along the trail, first one, then another, then a third Apache would silently join the column with at most the greeting of “Siquisn” (My brother). When we reported to Crook again at the post, whither he had returned from MacDowell, there were one hundred and ten people with us, and the whole business done so quietly that not one-half the command ever knew whether any Apaches had joined us or not. With these Indians General Crook had a long and satisfactory talk, and twenty-six of them enlisted as scouts. From this point I was sent by General Crook to accompany Major Brown in a visit to the celebrated chief of the Chiricahua Apaches, “Cocheis,” of which visit I will speak at length later on.

We rejoined the command at the foot of Mount Graham, where General Crook had established the new post of Camp Grant. It offered many inducements which could not well be disregarded in that arid section; the Graham Mountain, or Sierra Bonita as known to the Mexicans, is well timbered with pine and cedar; has an abundance of pure and cold water, and succulent pasturage; there is excellent building-stone and adobe clay within reach, and nothing that could reasonably be expected is lacking. There were twelve or thirteen companies of cavalry concentrated at the new camp, and all or nearly all these were, within a few days, on the march for the Tonto Basin, to give it another overhauling.

I do not wish to describe the remainder of the campaign in detail; it offered few features not already presented to my readers; it was rather more unpleasant than the first part, on account of being to a greater extent amid the higher elevations of the Sierra Ancha and the Matitzal and Mogollon, to which the hostiles had retreated for safety. There was deeper snow and much more of it, more climbing and greater heights to attain, severer cold and more discomfort from being unable to find dry fuel. There was still another source of discomfort which should not be overlooked. At that time the peculiar disease known as the epizoötic made its appearance in the United States, and reached Arizona, crippling the resources of the Department in horses and mules; we had to abandon our animals, and take our rations and blankets upon our own backs, and do the best we could. In a very few weeks the good results became manifest, and the enemy showed signs of weakening. The best element in this campaign was the fact that on so many different occasions the Apaches were caught in the very act of raiding, plundering, and killing, and followed up with such fearful retribution. Crook had his forces so disposed that no matter what the Apaches might do or not do, the troops were after them at once, and, guided as we were by scouts from among their own people, escape was impossible. For example, a large band struck the settlements near the town of Wickenburg, and there surprised a small party of young men, named Taylor, recently arrived from England or Wales. All in the party fell victims to the merciless aim of the assailants, who tied two of them to cactus, and proceeded deliberately to fill them with arrows. One of the poor wretches rolled and writhed in agony, breaking off the feathered ends of the arrows, but each time he turned his body, exposing a space not yet wounded, the Apaches shot in another barb. The Indians then robbed the ranchos, stole or killed all the cattle and horses, and struck out across the ragged edge of the great Bradshaw Mountain, then over into the Tonto Basin. Having twenty-four hours the start of the troops, they felt safe in their expedition, but they were followed by Wesendorf, of the First Cavalry; by Rice, of the Twenty-third Infantry; by Almy, Watts, and myself; by Woodson, of the Fifth; and lastly by Randall, of the Twenty-third, who was successful in running them to earth in the stronghold on the summit of Turret Butte, where they fancied that no enemy would dare follow.

Randall made his men crawl up the face of the mountain on hands and feet, to avoid all danger of making noise by the rattling of stones, and shortly after midnight had the satisfaction of seeing the glimmer of fires amid the rocks scattered about on the summit. He waited patiently until dawn, and then led the charge, the Apaches being so panic-stricken that numbers of the warriors jumped down the precipice and were dashed to death. This and the action in the cave in the Salt River Cañon were the two affairs which broke the spirit of the Apache nation; they resembled each other in catching raiders just in from attacks upon the white settlements or those of friendly tribes, in surprising bands in strongholds which for generations had been invested with the attribute of impregnability, and in inflicting great loss with comparatively small waste of blood to ourselves.

In singling out these two incidents I, of course, do not wish in the slightest degree to seem to disparage the gallant work performed by the other officers engaged, each and all of whom are entitled to as much credit as either Randall or Brown for earnest, intelligent service, gallantry in trying situations, and cheerful acceptance of the most annoying discomforts. No army in the world ever accomplished more with the same resources than did the little brigade which solved the Apache problem under Crook in the early seventies. There were no supplies of food beyond the simplest components of the ration and an occasional can of some such luxury as tomatoes or peaches; no Pullman cars to transport officers in ease and comfort to the scene of hostilities; no telegraph to herald to the world the achievements of each day. There was the satisfaction of duty well performed, and of knowing that a fierce, indomitable people who had been a scourge in the history of two great nations had been humbled, made to sue for peace, and adopt to a very considerable extent the ways of civilization.

The old settlers in both northern and southern Arizona still speak in terms of cordial appreciation of the services of officers like Hall, Taylor, Burns, Almy, Thomas, Rockwell, Price, Parkhurst, Michler, Adam, Woodson, Hamilton, Babcock, Schuyler, and Watts, all of the Fifth Cavalry; Ross, Reilley, Sherwood, Theller and Major Miles, of the Twenty-first Infantry; Garvey, Bomus, Carr, Grant, Bernard, Brodie, Vail, Wessendorf, McGregor, Hein, Winters, Harris, Sanford, and others, of the First Cavalry; Randall, Manning, Rice, and others, of the Twenty-third Infantry; Gerald Russell, Morton, Crawford, Cushing, Cradlebaugh, of the Third Cavalry; Byrne, of the Twelfth Infantry, and many others who during this campaign, or immediately preceding it, had rendered themselves conspicuous by most efficient service. The army of the United States has no reason to be ashamed of the men who wore its uniform during the dark and troubled period of Arizona’s history; they were grand men; they had their faults as many other people have, but they never flinched from danger or privation. I do not mean to say that I have given a complete list; it is probable that many very distinguished names have been omitted, for which I apologise now by saying that I am not writing a history, but rather a series of reminiscences of those old border days. I would not intentionally fail in paying tribute to any brave and deserving comrade, but find it beyond my power to enumerate all.

There was one class of officers who were entitled to all the praise they received and much more besides, and that class was the surgeons, who never flagged in their attentions to sick and wounded, whether soldier or officer, American, Mexican, or Apache captive, by night or by day. Among these the names of Stirling, Porter, Matthews, Girard, O’Brien, Warren E. Day, Steiger, Charles Smart, and Calvin Dewitt will naturally present themselves to the mind of any one familiar with the work then going on, and with them should be associated those of the guides, both red and white, to whose fidelity, courage, and skill we owed so much.