Five years a dragoon ('49 to '54) and other adventures on the Great Plains

Front matter

Glass.

Book.

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT

PART i

HAD been raised on a farm until fifteen; had been newsboy and sold papers about the streets of Low ell, Mass.; L^ had been t h r e e ■ years a sailor, including

a whaling voyage, ard learned the daguerreotype business in the gallery of Mr. Plumb on Washington Street, Boston, and became a first-class operator. I was a persistent reader of voyages, travels, campaigns, explorations and history, and novels such as Marryat's, Cooper's, Scott's, etc., and the spirit of adventure was so strong that I determined to enlist in the mounted service, which was sure to place me on the great plains of the West, among Indians, buffaloes, and other big game, and the mountaineers and trappers of whom I had read so much. Fremont's Narrative of 1843-4, and Captain Bonneville's Adventures gave the finishing touches to my inclination. It seemed to me that five years in this kind of field would round out my education, so to speak, and if I lived would then be readv to settle down to something permanently.

^ PtVt^ YFjAUS a DRAGOON'

Having determined npon this course, J presented myself at the recruiting oihco in Boston, giving my occupation as a farmer. Tlio reeruiiing ofTicer, Major Sibley, of the Second Dragoons, thought that 1 was not twenty-one, and by my general appearance not a farmer — did not look like one, and did not dress like a young mail just olf the farm. T told him that I was born on the 29th of Septomber, 1828, hence, this being the l')lii of October, 18-L9, I had a safe margin, of eighteen days. The Major assured me this was probably the least funny business I would ever attempt; "And, mark me, young man," said he, "if you take this step you will regret it only once, and that will be from the time you become acquainted AAith your position until you get out of it; and another thing, a large percentage of men never return to their friends. If you have no friends you ouglit to have, and if for any reason you waiit to hide yourself from the world, try something from which you can free yourself if you so desire. You may come back to-morrow."

I was not pleased at the thought of forcing myself into trouble in spite of the admonition given me, and spent an anxious night, but brushed all aside in the morning, and assured the Major that I hoped he w^ould accept me; and by way of recommending myself, informed him that I was not only a farmer, but had been three years at sea, giving him something of my seafaring experience. He admitted that a man who could stand all of that might have some show as a soldier, and T was accepted.

My descriptive roll said twenty-one years, five feet eleven inches high, dark-complexioned, dark brown hair, gray eyes, weight one Innidred and seventy-five pounds, and in pei'fect health.

I gave a large trunk full of clothes to the recruiting sergeant, who was just my size, and in return he had the iailor fit for me two complete suits of fatigue uniform and an overcoat. I retained a large valise, with its contents — books — with Avhich I would not part until compelled to. I was, therefore, well clothed, and had about one hundred and twenty-five dollars in money, which no one suspected. It proved a great convenience to be able to buy something good to eat for myself and one or two modest greenhorns who had not learned to quench tliirst, subdue hunger, and otherwise obliterate their misery with whiskey.

Unlike the recruits of to-day, the fact that a man would get drunk was no bar to his enlistment, and his moral character was of little interest. Once enlisted, the proper authorities would attend to the rest. Being physically all right, his habits cut little figure. Family trouble, disappointment in love, riots and personal difficulties, making one amenable to the law, often caused men to enlist who proved to be the best of soldiers. In my troop there were men isolating themselves from society for all sorts of reasons. A man drunk would not be enlisted; but however tough looking, if he were sober at the time of presenting himself, and physically able, he would pass. Uniformity of size was not considered. In my troop one man weighed one hundred pounds, and was five feet four, while several were above six feet and weighed from two hundred to two hundred and twenty-five pounds. Endurance was the test; all else was waived.

A few days after enlisting I was sent, with fifteen others, via New York (where as many more joined us) to Carlisle Barracks, Pa., then a school for mounted service g FIVE TEARS A DRAGOON.

recruits — First and Second Dragoons and Mounted Eiflcs — all of which were stationed at various points in the Indian Territory, Texas, New Mexico, or on the Pacific Coast.

At Carlisle there were two troops — A and B. I was assigned to A. Colonel Piiilip St. George Cooke conimianded the post; liieutenant D. II. Hastings was adjutant. There were several West Point graduates hrevot second lieutenants — who were waiting assignment or an opportunity to join the regiment to which already assigned. All of the noncommissioned officers were Mexican War veterans, and at Carlisle because of thoir supposed special fitness to discipline recruits.

It fell to ]ny lot to drill under Lieutenant Beverly Robertson, late major-general in the Confederate Army. He was, to my fancy, a splendid man; gentle, firm, persistent, never seeming to lose patience, yet never yielding to anytliing short of the most perfect' performance possible of the movement undertaken. Carbine and saber drill came in the forenoon, on foot, and mounted drill in the aftei;noon. As a boy, I had good horses to ride. The prediction that I would sooner or later liave my neck brokejii, was believed by most of the careful mothers in my neighborhood, and youngsters were forbidden to ride with that "Lowe boy." This is about the way all bo3^s with energy enough to enjoy life are looked upon.

Horses were kept for use in drilling, and among them a beautiful bay, apparently gentle, bright eyes, long thin neck, fine head, high withers, fine sinewy legs, and standing out by himself a perfect picture of a horse. I chose him when we came to drill, and he was assigned to me. The man in charge of the stable said tliat he would run away, and had thrown several men, but I thought this an attempt to frigliton a recruit. Commencing with mounting bareback, then with saddles and crossed stirrups, and going tlirough the evohitions at a walk, in a few days quite a squad, perliaps tvv^enty, had advanced so that they were, while still riding with crossed stirrups, drilled at a trot, and then at a gentle gallop. At the command "gallop" my horse, in spite of all I could do, ran across the parade-ground, and out towards the town. I could turn him, but could not check his speed. Here and there I went, turning at pleasure, but failing to check him. Finally I turned toward a plank fence, thinking I might istop him there, but the fence did not bother him a bit — over he went, and with scarcely a heart-beat, kept on, going over the fence on tlie other side, and then off like the wind. At last I got headed towards the squad, standing at rest, ran into it and stopped. Lieutenant Eobertson had sent the non-commissioned officers to look for me, but they could scarcely keep in sight. An order was issued forbidding the use of this horse ("Murat") by any of the recruits. Of course, everybody at the post talked about it, and a witty Trishman wrote a parody on "John Gilpin's Eide," in which the recruit and his steed were shown up in humorous style.

The following Sunday^ having invited two friends — Wagner and O'Shea — to breakfast with me at the "Little Brick House'' just out of the post, we had agreed to go direct from the parade-ground when dismissed from inspection. We took no breakfast at mess except a cup of coffee, and saved our appetites for the feast. I had arranged with the man who kept the place to have fried chicken and necessary accompaniments. We looked forward to our ten o'clock breakfast with pleasant anticipations. Wagner was a Kentuckian, about thirty- three years of age and well educated. He had met with business reverses in Louisville, and after going to New York to straighten out his affairs met with so much discouragement he concluded to enlist. He wanted to hide himself from all his friends and have time to think, as he said, without restraint. O^Shea was about twenty-five, came to New York after the Irish riots of 1848. Found himiself among strangers, without money, and believing the Army was the place for him, enlisted. I never knew a handsomer man or more perfect gentlemen. The parade over, we went to breakfast. I sat at the end of the table with my two friends on either side. The breakfast was before us and I about to serve, when in came a noisy band of rufhans, swearing and making themselves generally disagreeable. The leader, or chief bully, six feet two inches high — a giant weighing two hundred and twenty-five pounds — came straight to our table and said: "Here, b'ys, is a foine lay-out; here, Tom, take a leg; here Jimmy, take a wing ; here, Slathery, take the breast that ye 're so fond of," as he proceeded to talvc in his dirty fingers the parts named and pass them to his friends. Not a word was spoken by our party, but about the time the dish was nearly empty, seeing my astonished look, the bully said to me, in a sneering soi't of tone, "Ye 're a foine child, sure." Then I sprang to my feet, drew my saber and went for him with all the venom and fury of which I was possessed — cut and thrust. The fact that the saber had a dull edge, as all sabers had at that time, accounts for his not being killed. His companions tried to save him, and two of them received scars on account of it. My two friends

FIVE TEARS A DRAGOON. H

drew their sabers and vowed to kill any one who interfered, and I pounded the howling wretch nntil he lay prostrate, begging for his life, and I was exhausted. From that day to this I have never ceased to be thankful that I did not kill the poor unfortunate creature, and in my thankfulness he was fully forgiven. A file of the guard came at ^^double quick.'' "The recruits are killing each other/' was the cry. The officer of the day,. Lieutenant Fields, came just as the guard was about to take all hands to the guard-house, and took things coolly. The first move was to send "Big Mit," as he was called, to the hospital, covered from head to foot with cuts and bruises. It took all of his party of ruffians, half-drunk as they were, to c^rry him off. A file of the guard went along, and when "Mit" was deposited in the hospital his friends were confined in the guard-house. Wagner and the man who kept the place explained the affair to Lieutenant Fields, who directed us to stay and get our breakfast and then report to First Sergeant Smart; the sergeant of the guard was to take charge of us until that time, but not to take us to the guard-house without further orders. We were too much wrought up to enjoy breakfast, and I told the lieutenant (the first words I had spoken •during the whole affair) that we would go now. LTnder guard we went, and the story was told in full and written down. The ruffians were also interviewed and did not deny the outrage, but said they had not intended to have any trouble, which was doubtless true, for the same gang had terrorized everybody that came in their way. Every new batch of recruits must be hazed and bulldozed; to resist was to be knocked down, kicked and adorned with a black eye. These three innocent-looking fellows were the first real snags they had stmck. The doctor reported "Mit" not necessarily dangerously wounded, but that he was badly bruised about the head, hands and arms. The adjutant was present with Lieutenant Fields, and wrote a report of the affair. When the whole matter was explained to the commanding officer, the guard was withdrawn from Wagner, O'Shea and myself, and that ended the matter so far as we were concerned.

But I was getting too much notoriety and it troubled me. I had no taste for the sort of heroism growing out of brawls and fights. I had never made intimates easily, and now I shrank from, the curiosity seekers who wanted to O'Shea and myself, and that ended the matter so far as we were concerned.

At Carlisle quite a number of the best behaved men were retained to do regular duty, as in a company. They were called "the permanent party.'' Of course they were liable to be sent away to join some troop in one of the mounted regiments. A large percentage of them were made *T[ance" non-commissioned officers — corporals or sergeants. Some men served there for years. The chances seemed good for all of us to stay all winter, in which case a large garrison would accumulate. I grew depressed at this prospect. But finally an order came to send seventy-four men to Fort Leavenworth for the First Dragoons — sixteen for K, then at Fort Leavenworth, thirty-four for F, then at Fort Scott, one hundred and twenty miles south of Fort Leavenworth, and twenty-four for B, three hundred miles west of Fort Leavenworth, at Fort Kearney.

FIVE 7EAR8 A DRAGOON. 13

It was the rule at Carlisle to send off all the troublesome characters with each batch going to join troops. This was probably the last chance to unload this class before spring, and a dozen or more of them were booked, including my friend "Big Mit^' and his gang. Lieutenant Fields was to go in command of the seventy-four. "Mit" came from the liospital, head bandaged and right hand in a sling. His comrades fell in from the guard-house. When the roll was caUed I found myself, "Big Mit" and one of his comrades of the same name (a smaller but more vicions man) in B Troop. I was not pleased, but said nothing. Wagner, to whom I had ])ecom.e attached (a man so superior that daily association with him was a positive pleasure and a great advantage to me), was assigned to K and O^Shea to B Troop.

We went from Carlisle to Harrisbnrg by rail, thence by canal boat to a point in the Alleghanies where a railroad ran over the mountain, the motive power being a stationary engine on top of it. We marched from where we left the canal boat, over the mountains to St. Johnsberg on the other side, and there took canal boat to Pittsburg, thence by steamboat to St. Louis, where we transferred to another boat, the Haidee, to go up the Missouri Eiver. This, we all hoped, would be our last change, and in a week we should land at Fort Leavenworth.

N'ot far above St. Louis, after several days of hard struggle with the ice, our boat was frozen in at Portland, Missouri: and now we were told that the way the conntry roads then ran, we were three handred miles from Fort Leavenworth. The country was covered with snow and ice. For two weeks we had been on canal and steamboat, with no exercise, and were in no condition to march. From Portland to Fulton wap nineteen miles, over rongh hills, with no place between the two towns to stop, so that we must walk all of that distance the hrst day. A couple of wagons were hired to haul our baggage. A few men rode in the wagons. "Mit" was recovering from his injuries rapidly, but he rode. Wagner and T arrived at Fulton at dark, but many did not get in until very late. The icy roads had exhausted me. The long one-story hotel had a long dining-room table with plenty to eat — a whole prairie chicken for each man — ^but not a mouthful could I eat. I doubled my blanket, spread it on the floor in one corner, took oif my shoes and lay down with all my clothes on, including overcoat. I was too fearfully weary to rest v^eW on the hard oak floor, but was astonished at my improved condition in the morning. I really enjoyed the breakfast.

The second day, from Fulton to Millersburg, was twelve miles. Snow fell all day, but the roads were better, weather milder, and we did not suffer so much. We were scattered about the httle village, myself and half a dozen others at a comfortable brick house with good fireplaces. I asked the good lady for hot water and some towels, and after a delightful bath, put on clean clothes, ate a good 4 o'clock dinner, and slept in a good bed, where every time I woke I could see the bright fire. Oh, how I enjoyed that night! In the morning my troubles had vanished; but how I did hate to leave this good home to launch out again on the ice and snow ! But there was no more trouble from this point to the end of the journey. I was sometimes cold, and endured many inconveniences, but never complained, and was never

FIVE TEARS A DRAGOOX tired after the second day. Wagner, O'Shea and I nearly always closed the day's journey ahead of the others. If we wanted a lunch we bought it. We could buy a pair of homemade woolen socks at almost any farm house, and not a day passed that I did not give one or more pairs to some sufferer.

I do not remember all of our route through the grand old State of Missouri, nor every stopping place. Sonie of them were Fulton, Millersburg, Boonville, Columbia, Marshal], Le>:ington, Tlambrights, Independence and Westport.

At Grinter's Ferry crossing of the Kaw Eiver, the old ferryinan and his wife lived on the south side. He was an old soldier and fond of talking, and while we waited until all c-aught up, he explained that the Military Eoad that we had come into betv/ecn the ferry and W^estport, ran south to Fort Scott, about one hundred mile^ and thence to Fort Gibson and other ^ints south, and after crossing the ferry ran west of north twenty-two miles to Fort Leavenworth.

AYe crossed the ferry tovrards evening, and Mr. Mundy, government blacksmith for the Delaware Indians, furnished us a good supper. And what a managing housekeeper ^Irs. Mundy must have been. Seventy-live hungry men were furnished a supper they could never forget, and not one failed to have plenty. To this day I remember liow delicious the biscuits were, and then we had honey with them; and the venison, ham. and cofTce I Just think of it ! A lot of rough fellows meeting such a feast. I felt sorry for Mrs. Mundy, but there seemed no end to her supplies. Isaac Mundy and his wife were born in Virginia and married there. He was a great hunter ; accidently shot himself, and was buried with Masonic honors at Wliite Church, in Wvandotte Countj, Kansas, February 27, 185S. x\t the request of the Indians he was buried at the foot of the grave of Chief Ketchum. Mrs. Mund}^ raised a good family of seven children — four 'daughters and three sons. All except one married and raised families^ and they are among the best and most prosperous people of Platte County, Mo. Mrs. Mundy is living with her daughter and son-in-law, Hon. Lot W. Ringo, of Weston. She is nearly ninety years old.*

The Mundys accommodated all that they could in the house^ and a lot of us occupied an old storeroom boarded up and down, wide cracks in sides and floor. We shivered, but did not sleep. It was the 24th of December and cold, with plenty of snow on the ground — certainly a dreary Christmas Eve — and a hard freezing night. At midnight we came out and huddled around a big fire until breakfast. Some of the men kept it burning all night. The breakfast was a duplicate of the supper, and the Indian girl who waited on me at both meals, wearing a clean calico dress, looked charming.

This was expected to be our last meal until we reached Fort Leavenworth, but we hoard such good accounts of the fort that there was no complaint, and the pro'spect of any kind of a home kept all in good humor.

Interesting incidents of this trip by rail, by canal boats, by steamboats, and on foot, were numerous, and the opporf unity to study human nature excellent. I had a hundred dollars on leavins^ Carlisle, and do not think there were twenty-five dollars more with the whole party, except what Corporal Wood and Lieutenant Fields had. A few who had

*Mr3. Mundy died a year after this article was published in the JoumQl.

been at Carlisle some time and had been paid off, possessed a dollar or two, and as a canteen could be filled with whiskey for twenty-five cents, there was enough tO' make a good deal of noise and get up a fight once in a while. It was fortunate that there was no more money among fne tough elem.ent (about twenty), who made all the trouble, did nearly all of the complaining, and caused all of the comxplaints from citizens along the road.

As I look back after long 3^ears of experience, I think that no young officer could have managed better than did Lieutenant Fields, with the assistance of Oorporal Wood. He had graduated the previous June from AV^est Point and reported at Carlisle in the fall, hence this was nis first "campaign," and T venture to say that throughout his active Indian campaigns in Texas and elsewhere, his experience as a general in the Confederate army, and in the service of the lOiedive of Egypt after the Civil War, he never had a more trying trip than this. Throughout all of it he showed the utmost good judgment and common sense, with which he was abundantly blessed. Corporal Wood had been a pork packer in liOuisville, where he failed in business. ITe enlisted in the First Dragoons and served through the Mexican War. He had but six months to serve, and wanting to be discharged as far west as possible, was sent out with us. He was a fine clerk ; understood government accounts, and was fully competent to act as commissary and quartermaster for our detachment. It was all plain sailing on canal boats and steamboats, where he managed to give us fairly good meals for the small government allowance, and no man had just cause to complain. He was a determined, lionhearted men, who would brook no nonsense, and on two occasions settled rows and insolent complaints with a cluh. the moral effect of which was to insure quiet, peace and fairly good order. He was that peculiar type of man who -wipuld have commanded as completely as a private as he would as a captain. While gentle and soft of voice, no man could be intimate with him without his consent.

When we took the steamer at St. Louis, Lieutenant Fields said to Wood: "Well, barring accidents, Corporal, we should have little trouble from here to Fort Leavenworth.'^ When we became frozen up at Portland a hard problem was befoTO him. The whole face of the country was covered with snow and ice. As the miserable road* then ran, the distance was estimated to be about three hundred miles to Fort Leavenworth, country thinly settled and towns wide apart. We must be on the road about twenty days, and how was he to subsist us ? Corporal Wood had saved his money during his four and a half years' service, mostly as clerk, and now revealed to Fields the fact that he had considerable, and it was settled that he should furnish the command necessary subsistence, arrange for Lieutenant Fields to give voiichors wherever they would be acceptable, and pay his own money when necessary^ taking proper vouchers for his own protection. He bought a cheap horse, rode ahead each day and made arrangements in town or village or on plantation to feed us — dinner at the end of the day's march, and breakfast, and to furnish the best lodging practicable. We had an abundance of everything that the country through which we passed afforded. Our sleeping accommodations were necessarily poor in some places, on plantations where there was not room in the houses, but the people throughout the journey were very kind, and none of us would have gone hungry if there had been no pay in it. After our arrival at Fort Leavenworth, Wood told me that his vouchers were all paid.

Lieutenant Fields bought a fine horse as we came by Cincinnati, but seldom rode him, nearly always giving a ride to some weary straggler. Some men were always riding in the wagon; probably half of them rode more or less during the trip, and it was noticeable that, while a few rode for want of good shoes, the tough gang, from temporary illness, caused by whiskey, did the most of the riding, while the fellows who made no noise, walked without complaining. Of course, the non-commissioned officers were 'lance,'' made for the trip, chief among them being the acting first sergeant. He had been at Carlisle some time; was believed to have been a deserter from the British army in Canada; at any rate he had been a British soldier, and was an all-around brute— big, burly and noisy. He was quite efficient among toughs, but could be induced to "let up" for a bottle of whiskey. However, I had escaped his special notice, in my quiet way, and had nothing to complain of, but was glad he was going to K instead of B Troop.

And now, on this beautiful Christmas Day, about 8 o'clock, we left the ferry, our kind host and his family, on our last day's march— twenty-two miles to Fort Leavenworth. Up over the Wyandotte hills, past a few Indian cabins, out upon the prairie by the military road; and except that it was sloppy, caused by the melting snow in the afternoon, marching was good. We had been cautioned not

FIVE YEAR8 A DRAGOON.

to stroll on ahead, as we had heretofore been permitted to do, but to keep near together so as to march into the garrison in good order. Edward Brydon was our trumpeter — and perfection in his line — an Irishman by birth, printer by trade, now entering upon his third enlistment, and returning to Troop B, from which he had been twice hon-

SuMFER Place, Looking Northwest (1865).

ora,bly dischargeJ. He had tried to live out of the army, but his good nature and convivial habits broughtl him back. He was loyal to his troop, had served under Captain E. V. Sumner, tlien lieutenant-colonel, commanding Fort Leavenworth, and thought him a great captain; did not know the present captain, and did not expect to find many of his old friends in the troop. 1 liked ^^Old Ned," as he was called, always kind and intelligent. He assured me that B was the best troop in the service. I had occasion to do jiim a few little favors on the trip, which he never forgot, and as we walked along together that day he pointed out the lay of the country, the location of Indian tribes — the Shawnees south of the Kaw Riyer where we crossed, the Wyandottes in the forks of the Kaw and Missouri, the L^elawares west of the Wyandottes and the little band of Muncies just below the Fort where is now Mount MuncJe Cemetery and the Soldiers' Home, and the Kickapoos west of the Fort in Salt Creek Valley. Pilot Knob, standing out a hundred and fifty feet above the plain, five miles south of the Fort, was in sight early in the day, but it took us a long time to get east of it. Six miles south of the post, on high ground, stood a one-room log cabin, and in the door, completely filling it from side to side and top to bottom, like a picture in a frame, stood a big Delaware Indian woman. She smilingly scanned the ranks for some one she knew, when Brydon said: ^'By the holy horn spoons, there 's Indian Mary !" and he went up and shook hands with her. She had from time to time been a servant in some of the officers' families, had grown old in the service, and was well liked.

And now the llag at the Fort was plainly in sight. We crossed Five Mile Creek (in measuring the military road from Fort Leavenworth the starting-point was the flag staff and the creeks and landmarks were spoken of as so many miles from that point), then Three Mile, and up the hill to what is now the head of Broadway, Leavenworth, and on across Two Mile Creek and up the long grade to the top of the Jiill, where the flag was near, little more than a mile away, and tlie buildings plainly in view. Our journey was nearly ended. Half a mile before reaching the post we heard a bugle sounding retreat and Brydon joined ii\, the ranks were closed up, the roll called, and we marched ill good order in front of the commanding officer's quarters, halted, faced the quarters and stood at attention, while Colonel Sumner heard the roll called and saw the names checked off. The men for B Troop stood on the right, Brydon on the extreme ri^ht, and the Colonel recognized him, shook hands, and said: ^'Well, Brydon, you are back again.'^ "Yes, Colonel." "Couldn't keep out?" queried the Colonel. "IN'o, Colonel, I had to come back." "Well," said the Colonel, "I am glad you returned to your old troop."