Forty Years at El Paso, 1858-1898

by W. W. Mills

The next day Baylor sent his adjutant to inform me that he could not grant a court martial.

Before my arrest I had written my brother Emmett, who was employed on the overland stage line west of Mesilla, that there would be fighting between the Texas and United States troops, and suggested that he come in and report to the commanding officer at Fort Fillmore. He came, but received no encouragement at Fillmore, and learning of my arrest and being in danger of rebels at Mesilla, he attempted to make his way toward California. He went in the mail coach with a party of six other young men, all well armed.

At Cook’s canyon, about one hundred miles west of Mesilla, they were attacked by a large body of Apache Indians under Mangas Coloradas, “Bloody Sleeves,” and one of the most desperate frontier fights on record ensued. It appears that our friends had time to gain the top of a little hill and build a stone breastwork about two feet high, inclosing a space about twelve feet square. A freighter, Mr. Deguere, who passed the scene a few days later with his wagons, found and buried the bodies and found everywhere the evidences of a terrible struggle. Under a stone, on the top of the wall, he found a pencil note, dated July 23d, 1861, stating that they had been fighting two days; had killed many Indians; that all were now killed or wounded except two; that they were out of water and would try to escape that night. I have visited the scene of this conflict. A tree, not more than ten inches in diameter, about one hundred yards from the fortification, has many marks of bullets evidently discharged from inside the wall. I give a list of the names of these brave men, the extent of whose daring and suffering can never be known in this strange life of ours. They were: Emmett Mills, Freeman Thomas, Joe Roacher, M. Champion, John Pontel, Bob Avlin and John Wilson. All were killed. The Indians who sold their arms and watches in Mexico said that they lost forty warriors in the fight. The newspaper containing this sad account was thrown to me through the window of my prison.

It was about this time that I stood at the door of the guard house and saw Colonel Baylor with less than three hundred poorly armed Texans start on his march to capture Fort Fillmore, then garrisoned by seven hundred and fifty regular troops, the flower of the United States army, and I knew and said that he would succeed. That history is a short one. Baylor took possession of the town of Mesilla unopposed, Major Lynde made a show of attempting to dislodge him, and a skirmish ensued in which Lieutenant McNally, not yet knowing that it was only mimic war, exposed himself and was wounded.

Lynde retreated in good order(?) and that night abandoned the post and fled in the direction of Fort Stanton. A show was made of destroying the stores at the post, but very little damage was done. All was confusion and demoralization. A patriotic quartermaster, Lieutenant Plummer, left some government drafts in his pockets at his quarters. These were sent to Washington indirectly by the rebels, and the money collected.

The command marched, or straggled, to San Augustine Springs, eighteen miles east of Fillmore, where being overtaken by Colonel Baylor with about two hundred men, they surrendered unconditionally without firing a gun. No sooner was the surrender an accomplished fact than the same subordinate officers who had aided to bring it about, some by indifference, some by sympathy and some by treachery, united in charging the whole responsibility upon poor old Lynde.

Major Lynde was dismissed from the service, but was reinstated after the war. He was not treacherous, he was weak, and he was deceived to his ruin and the disgrace of his flag. I have never doubted but that had he been properly supported and encouraged the result would have been different. Of his subalterns some resigned, some joined the enemy and some went into the recruiting and quartermaster’s service, none, so far as I know, except McNally ever did much fighting. I do not censure all of them, but I thought, and still think, that there should have been one among them who would have assumed command, arrested Lynde, and won a colonel’s eagles.

When Colonel Baylor returned to Fort Bliss he sent to me and proposed to release me on parole. I refused to give my parole, and he informed me that I was released from close confinement and given the limits of the post. “But,” said he, “if you attempt to escape to the enemy’s lines I will capture and hang you.”

The secret of my release was that General Canby had arrested at Santa Fe a prominent secessionist, General Pelham, and, placing him in prison, threatened him with the same treatment that I should receive, and Canby was a man of his word.

At the request of my friends, McGarvey, Craig and others, the “limits of the post” were enlarged as to me, so that finally I drifted to the Mexican side of the river. I had been confined about thirty days, in July and August, 1861.