CHAPTER TWO

Ex-Trooper Towne on the Rosebud Fight

I am afraid that any attempt on my part to comply with your request will be a very feeble attempt to describe to you the Battle of the Rosebud, which took place on June 17th, 1876. There are many men living who participated in that battle who can describe more fully and more comprehensively than I the details of that day. However, I will do my best.

On the 16th day of June, 1876, General Crook with his command was camped on the Tongue River awaiting the arrival of three hundred Crow and Shoshone Indians to be used as scouts, under Frank Gruard, a noted scout of the Indian country, it being Crook’s intention thoroughly to scout the whole country from the Powder and Tongue Rivers north to the Yellowstone, and to co-operate with the other columns in the field under Custer, Terry, and Gibbon.

At about five P.M. on the afternoon of June 16th the three hundred scouts came into our camp, and shortly afterward General Crook gave orders to the command to prepare for a night march. Extra ammunition and extra rations were issued, and at about eight P.M. we broke camp and mounted into the saddle to commence our march into the Indian country, which was overrun by the Oglalas, Brulés, Unkpapas, and Miniconjous, the four most powerful tribes of Sioux Indians on the plains, for it is to be remembered that the whole Sioux Nation had left their reservations and was then on the war-path.

General Crook had, on the morning of the 16th, sent out scouts to find and report any Indian signs that might be found. Numerous signs were found which indicated that a large party of Indians had recently passed that way going in a northerly direction, with the evident intention of joining those from the Brulé agency on the Yellowstone. It was General Crook’s purpose to cut them off. Thus the forced march of the night of the 16th.[63]

After a long and tiresome journey of all night, about seven A.M. of the 17th Indians were seen on the hills to our front and left who were evidently watching our movements. It was reported to General Crook by the scouts that we had gotten into a country that was completely alive with hostile Indians and that we were near an immense Indian camp.

General Crook at about 7.30 A.M. went into camp with the intention of making another night march and, if possible, overtake their camp the next day. As we had been in the saddle all night, men and horses needed a few hours rest.

After going into camp we unsaddled and put our horses to graze, but first hobbling them to prevent any stampede that might be attempted. While we were putting our horses to graze the whole range of hills in our front became literally alive with Indians, and at the same time the Crow and Shoshone Indians with us commenced their warlike preparations by daubing themselves with war paint and riding their ponies in a circle one behind the other, and at the same time singing their war songs.

After riding in this manner a short while, the circle broke and the whole group of Indian scouts charged up the hill toward their enemies. It is a well known fact that the Sioux and Crow Indians were enemies toward each other at that time. I have seen the Crow Indians shoot buffalo and let them lie where they fell, not even undertaking to remove the hide, because, they would say, “Sioux Buffalo no good,” which indicated that as the Sioux Indians were their enemies, so were the buffalo found in the Sioux country their enemies also. Everything in the Sioux country was an enemy to the Crow Indian.

While our Indians were making their charge upon the Sioux, General Crook gave orders to saddle up, for well he knew that a battle was on hand. After we had saddled and formed in line, my troop, F, Third Cavalry,[64] was placed on the left flank of the command, and it with two other troops were detailed as skirmishers and were ordered to make a flank movement to our left and gain the hills, where we dismounted, leaving each fourth trooper to hold the horses. We then formed the skirmish line on foot, which was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Royall.

At this time I witnessed a most daring act by a bugler by the name of Snow, who was carrying a despatch from General Crook to Colonel Royall. General Crook was stationed on one of the hills to our right, near the center of the line,[65] where he could view all that was taking place. Wishing to send an order to Colonel Royall, he directed his orderly, Bugler Snow, to carry it with all haste. The most direct route was down a steep hill and across a level plain and then up another hill, where Colonel Royall was. All chances of reaching there alive were against him.

When I saw him he was coming as fast as his horse could carry him, while two Indians were after him with the intention of capturing him. Seeing that they could not capture him, they finished the game by shooting at him, and proved their good marksmanship as poor Snow fell from his horse, shot through both arms, but he delivered his orders all right.

After remaining on the skirmish line for perhaps two hours, we were ordered to fall back and remount our horses to take a new position (our horses were held in check in a ravine), as it was impossible to hold our present position against such overwhelming odds. I must say that I never saw so great a body of Indians in one place as I saw at that time, and I have seen a great many Indians in my time. It seemed that if one Indian was shot five were there to take his place. If we had remained in our first position we would all have been killed, and I consider that we retreated in the right time.

I had not gone more than one third of the distance from our position to where the horses were when I overtook three other soldiers of my own troop carrying a sergeant by the name of Marshall, who had been shot through the face. I knew that time was precious and none to lose. I could not give them the cold shoulder by passing them without giving a helping hand. Glancing back, I saw the hostiles coming over the hill. I said to the others, “Quick, here they come!”

At that instant my comrades, to save themselves, dropped the wounded sergeant and hastened to their horses. The sergeant, seeing that I was the only one left, said:

“Save yourself if you can, because I am dying. Don’t stay with me.” I replied:

“Dave, old boy, I am going to stay right here with you and will not desert you.”

Grasping him with all my strength, I carried my comrade until it was useless to carry him any farther, for he was dead. I then laid him down and left him and hurried to get away.

I don’t think that I had gone more than ten yards when I was surrounded by about twenty or more of the most murderous looking Indians I ever saw. You can talk of seeing devils; here they were in full form, painted in the most terrifying manner, some with their war bonnets adorned with horns of steers and buffalo. It was enough to strike terror to anyone’s heart.

I knew that my time had come, I knew that I would be taken prisoner. I fought, but it was fighting against terrible odds. There I was down in that ravine, alone and in the midst of a lot of murderous savages.

Taking my carbine from me and throwing a lariat over my head and tightening it about my feet, I was helpless. This was all done in an instant, while I struggled and fought in vain, until I was struck on the head with something which rendered me unconscious and caused me to fall. As I went down a bullet struck me in the body.

I think that when the bullet struck me I regained my consciousness, because I realized I was being dragged at a lively pace over the ground by a pony at the other end of the lariat. It was, I think, the intention of the Indians either to drag me to death at the heels of the pony or after getting me away to torture me in some other manner.

They captured one other comrade of mine by the name of Bennett, of L Troop, Third Cavalry, and completely cut him in pieces. His remains were buried in a grain sack.

After I was dragged in this manner for some distance, my captors were charged by one of the troops of cavalry, and to save themselves from capture abandoned me and made their escape. Thus was I enabled to regain my liberty.

I was immediately sent to the field hospital, and three days later I, with eighteen other wounded men, was sent to the post hospital at Fort Fetterman. You ask in your letter did I get a medal of honor for trying to get my sergeant away. I am very sorry to say that I did not, although I do think that even at this late day had I some one who would speak a good word in my behalf I think that my case would be taken up and that I might get one.[66]

I receive a very small pension for the wound received in this Indian battle, and that is all my recompense.

Hoping that this narrative of my experience in the Battle of the Rosebud may be of interest, I have the honor to remain,

Yours sincerely, PHINEAS TOWNE.

St. Louis, Mo.

Footnote 63:

Trooper Towne is in error here; there was no night march, according to Captain Bourke. See his “On the Border with Crook.” See also “War Path and Bivouac,” by Finerty.—C. T. B.

Footnote 64:

This troop was commanded by Lieutenant Reynolds, and was in Henry’s battalion.—C. T. B.

Footnote 65:

Crook was right in the fighting; his horse was shot under him.—C. T. B.

Footnote 66:

The official records show that Marshall was killed and Towne wounded in the battle. If this account falls under the eye of any one in authority, I trust an investigation may be made, and that the medal may be awarded, if it has been earned.—C. T. B.