CHAPTER FOUR

Personal Reminiscences of Fort Phil Kearney and the Wagon-Box Fight

By Mr. R. J. Smyth.[24]

“Cherokee, Ia., 6–27–1904.

As I was a member of the Carrington Powder River Expedition of 1866, I take the liberty of sending you a short sketch of happenings about Fort Phil Kearney. Being actively engaged with others for some two years in making the history of that place, I think that the account may be of interest.

I left Fort Leavenworth early in the spring of 1866. At Fort Kearney, Nebraska, we found Col. Carrington and a part of his command, consisting of several companies of the Eighteenth Regular Infantry. Early in April we received some recruits for said command, and in a short time started on what at that time was called the Carrington Powder River Expedition. We followed the overland trail (sometimes called the Salt Lake trail) up the south side of the South Platte River to Julesberg, crossed the river there, then crossed the divide to the North Platte. From here we went to Fort Laramie. From this point we marched west to Mussa ranch, crossed Horse Creek, and followed the Bozeman trail. This was a new road, and a short cut to Montana. After following this trail fifteen miles we struck the North Platte at Bridger’s Ferry. We crossed here in a ferryboat—a large flat boat attached to a large cable rope stretched across the river.

We followed the North Platte River up on the right side to a point opposite to the present site of Fort Fetterman. At this point we left the river and struck across the country, crossing Sand Creek and several other small creeks, among which I now remember the North, South, and Middle Cheyennes. They were then merely the dry beds of what would be quite large rivers at the time of the melting of the snow in the mountains. At a point twenty-two miles east of the Powder River we struck the head of the Dry Fork of the Powder River and followed it down to the river.

There on the west side we found Fort Reno, established by General Conner in ’65 and garrisoned by a few “galvanized soldiers.” The garrison had been greatly reduced by desertions during the winter, the soldiers making for Montana. “Galvanized soldiers” was a name given to captured Rebel soldiers who enlisted in the Union Army to do frontier duty in order to get out of prison, and incidentally to draw pay from Uncle Sam. We laid over here for a few days, and on the fourth of July the Indians stampeded the stock of Al. Leighton, the sutler. The colonel made a detail of soldiers and citizens to go out after the Indians and recover the stock if possible.

It was indeed a laughable sight to see the soldiers trying to ride mules that were not broken to ride—and the soldiers knew about as much about riding as the mules did. We followed the Indians to the Pumpkin Buttes and I am free to say for myself that I was very glad that we did not find them. Had we got in touch with them we would have had the smallest kind of a show to save our hair. The soldiers being mounted on green mules, and being armed with the old Springfield musket, and that strapped on their backs, a very few Indians could have stampeded the mules and, in fact, the soldiers as well.

We, the citizens, had made arrangements that if the Indians attacked us we would stick together and fight it out the best that we could. Jim Bridger, our guide, was with this party. He was an old timer in the mountains. I had two years experience in the mountains and plains prior to this time; the rest of the citizens were good men. We returned to the fort safely but did not recover any of the stock.

A day or two later we left the fort. The first day’s march was a very hard one, thirty-six miles to Crazy Woman’s Fork. This creek was a very fine one, clear, cool, and very rapid. The command was badly demoralized by this long, hot, and dry march, no water between that point and Fort Reno. The soldiers had been paid off a day or two before, many had been drunk, many more thoughtless, and did not provide for water in spite of orders. I saw five dollars paid for a canteen of water on this march. On our arrival at Crazy Woman’s Fort, the commanding officer detailed a guard to keep the soldiers from jumping into the creek and drinking too much water.

We laid over here two days, to repair wagons and bring in the stragglers. Had the Indians been on hand, they could have cleaned up many of the soldiers at this time. From this creek west to the Big Horn the country is very fine; plenty of wood, water, and grass; in fact, a paradise. We traveled west to the forks of the Pineys. The big and little Pineys fork near where we made our camp, sixty-five miles west of the Powder River.

On the twenty-fourth day of July we moved to the place where we established Fort Phil Kearney. The grasshoppers were so thick in the air that day that they nearly obscured the sun from sight.[25] In fact, it did not look bigger than a silver dollar. The fort was built about as you have described it, and from the day that we established it until I left there, in November, ’67, the Indians were very much in evidence and plenty of fighting nearly all that time.

I was a teamster on this expedition, driving an ambulance team. Made several trips to Fort Laramie and to Fort C. F. Smith on the Big Horn. This latter Fort was established by Carrington a short time after the establishment of Fort Phil Kearney, and was a two-company post.

I was with the hay-making party down the Big Piney during a part of the summer of ’66. During one of our trips to the hay field, we were accompanied by a man who represented _Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Weekly_ as an artist. This man rode with me a part of the way. He intended to do some sketching near there but I advised him to stay with our outfit. However, he insisted on stopping by the way. On our return we found him dead, a cross cut on his breast, which indicated that they thought him a coward who would not fight. He wore long, black hair and his head had been completely skinned. Probably it was the work of a band of young Cheyenne bucks; they could cut the scalps into many pieces and thereby make a big show in camp. Was very sorry for this man; he appeared to be a perfect gentleman. His thought was, that if the Indians found him they would not hurt him, as he intended to show them his drawings, and also explain to them that he was not armed.

Later on the Indians got so thick that we had to abandon this hay-making business. The day that we broke camp we had a great deal of fighting with the Indians. I remember a soldier named Pate Smith who borrowed a revolver from me that day. This man was mounted. He rode too far ahead of the outfit, the Indians cut him off. Later we heard from the Crows that the Sioux caught him, skinned him alive. This man was an old volunteer soldier, but what show has a man with the old-fashioned Springfield musket? One shot and you are done.

I was at the Fort at the time of the Phil Kearney massacre and went down with the reinforcements to that sad scene. Our men were all down when we got there, and cut up in the most brutal manner, such as only a red brute would do. We buried them a little east of the fort. They fought a good fight, but were surprised and overpowered. As we approached the scene of action the country was black with Indians to the west.

The officers were clearly to blame for this slaughter; they disobeyed the colonel’s orders, which were to guard the wood train to the fort, and not to engage the Indians unless attacked by them. At a point about two miles west of the fort they left the wood train; crossed the Big Piney Creek; got nearly to the Peno Creek, and were ambushed by about three thousand Indians, and the entire command killed. This band of Indians included all of the different tribes of the Sioux, also Cheyennes, Blackfeet, Arapahoes, and some young renegade Crow bucks. I knew this latter statement to be true, from the fact that one member of Company C, Second Cavalry, had stolen a revolver from me some time before and it was with him in this fight. It was taken from his body by the Indians. Next spring a young Crow came to the fort. I saw the gun under his blanket and took it away from him. If he was in camp on the Big Horn with his people, he could not have got this gun on this field of slaughter. I had been wounded about six weeks prior to this fight and had not reported for duty, but on call for volunteers to reinforce the Fetterman party, reported for duty and went with the command to the scene of the massacre.

You are in error in stating that there was no communication with the outside world during this winter. I made one trip with my ambulance to Fort Laramie. We had an escort of ten cavalry soldiers. We made, I think, three trips after this without an escort, using pack mules, the party consisting of two packers and the mail-carrier, Van Volsey, a very fine man and a brave one, too. Last trip up I saw Indian signs in the dry forks of the Powder River, consisting of the remains of a camp fire, not entirely burned out, and some Indian traps lying around it. I refused to make another trip without an escort. On our arrival at the fort we reported the facts, and demanded an escort for the next trip. But owing to the fact that the stock was in such poor condition on account of the scarcity of food, they could not furnish one mounted.

They persuaded me to take one more trip with Van Volsey, which I foolishly consented to do. On the first day out I got snow blind and on our arrival at Fort Reno requested him to get a substitute in my place. He refused to do so and insisted that I accompany him to Fort Laramie, but after being on the road a short time, my eyes played out entirely. I had to return to the fort and there secured another man to take my place. They made the trip down all right and returning were accompanied by two or three soldiers, who were going to join their commands. They had got nearly to the head of the dry fork of the Powder River when the Indians killed the entire party. We found the bones of the men and mules and some of the mail sacks. We buried the men’s remains there.

During the summer of ’67 life was one continual round of fighting. We lost a great many men, but damaged the Sioux much more than during the previous year. The soldiers had better guns, and were far better Indian fighters. They had learned that it was safer to keep their faces to the Indians, than, as during the previous year, their backs. When you run from an Indian you are his meat.

On the day of the wagon-box fight, accompanied by my partner, I left the fort before daylight. We went to the foot-hills to get some deer. A short time after daylight we discovered a lot of Indian smoke signals on the hills, and decided that we had better get back to the fort. In making our way back we followed the Little Piney down for some distance, and found that the country was full of Indians. We then struck out for the wood train. The Indians had got between us and it. We then went to the wagon-box corral, and got there none too soon.

Your description of the corral is correct as I remember it to be. Its location is about right, except that it was not on an island. I never heard of Little Piney Island, and I do not believe such an island existed there at that time.[26] The wagon boxes were of the ordinary government boxes. They were set off from the wagons, as the wagons were in corral. The intervals between were packed with logs, bales of blankets, clothing, sacks of corn, etc. As to the wagon boxes being lined with iron, you are right. They were not. Up to that time, and during my time on the plains, I never saw wagon boxes so lined. The wagon box that I was detailed to fight in had no such protection, but we had gunny sacks of corn placed on edge two deep on the inside of the box, with a two inch auger hole at the point where the four sacks came together. This made good protection for the body when lying down. As stated in your article, the tops of the wagon boxes were literally torn to pieces with the bullets fired at us by the Indians. Without this protection the fight would not have lasted very long.

There was a surplus of ammunition and guns. I had two Spencer carbines, and two revolvers (six-shot army Colt’s). During the first charge I emptied the carbines and the revolvers less two shots (reserved for myself in case of a show down). The balance of our men must have fired as many shots as I did. The soldier that was in the box with me had a needle gun and a Spencer; also one or two revolvers. And he kept them busy while he lived. This man was an infantry soldier—do not remember his company. He was shot through the head, dying in about two hours after being shot.

Lieutenant Jenness had just cautioned me not to expose my person, and to hold my fire until I was sure of getting an Indian at each shot. He had moved a few feet from my box when he was shot through the head. I think he died instantly. He was a grand, good man, and a fearless officer. I told him to keep under cover. He stated he was compelled to expose himself in order to look after his men.

I got a slight wound in my left hand; a bullet came in through my porthole, which I thought was close shooting for a Sioux.

This fight lasted about four hours, and was very hot from the start. I had been in several Indian fights prior to this time, but never saw the Indians make such a determined effort to clean us up before. They should have killed the entire party. They certainly had force enough to ride over us, but our fire was so steady and severe that they could not stand the punishment.

Our men stood the strain well, held their fire until the bullets would count. In fact, shooting into such a mass of Indians as charged on us the first time, it would be nearly impossible for many bullets to go astray. In all my experience in fighting Indians prior to this time, I never saw them stand punishment so well as they did at this time; they certainly brought all their sand with them. In charging on our little corral they rode up very close to the wagon boxes, and here is where they failed. Had they pushed home on the first charge, the fight would not have lasted ten minutes after they got over the corral.

Many dead and wounded Indians lay within a few feet of the wagon boxes. The wounded Indians did not live long after the charge was over. They would watch and try to get a bullet in on some of our men. We had to kill them for self-protection. Anyway, it was evening up the Fetterman deal. They never showed mercy to a wounded white man, and should not expect any different treatment. I had a canteen of water when the fight commenced, and used most of it to cool my guns.

You state that all of our loss occurred at time of the first charge. This is an error, as the man in my box was shot after he had been fighting nearly an hour. I think that his name was Boyle. Up to the time that he was shot he certainly filled the bill and did his duty, dying with his face to the foe as a soldier should.

I do not try to estimate the number of the Indians, but, as my partner said, “The woods were full of them.” This was the largest gathering of Indians that I ever saw, and the hardest fighting lot that I ever encountered.

When the reinforcements came in sight we took on a new lease of life, and when they dropped a shell over the Indians we knew that the fight was won. Indians will not stand artillery fire. They call it the “wagon gun.” The reinforcements came just in time. One hour more of such fighting would have exhausted our men and ammunition.

As to the Indians carrying off all their dead and wounded, here you are again mistaken, as many of our men carried away with them scalps, etc., taken from the bodies of the dead Indians near the corral.[27] The Indians certainly hauled off all their dead and wounded that they could, but did not expose themselves very much in order to get the dead ones near the corral.

On arrival of reinforcements we immediately retreated to the fort. Captain Powell was the right man to command under such trying circumstances. No better or braver man ever held a lieutenant’s commission than Jenness. As to the Indian loss, I think you have overestimated it. We thought that we had killed and wounded some more than four hundred. However, you may be right in your estimates. We had the opportunity to clean up that number, and we certainly did our best to do so.

After the massacre of ’66 (Dec.) we received reinforcements, as I now remember, four companies of infantry and two companies, L and M, of the 2d Cav. This large additional force, stationed at a four-company fort, and only provisioned for four companies, caused a great deal of suffering during the winter, resulting in much sickness and many deaths from scurvy. Nearly all of us were suffering from this disease. I have never fully recovered from the effect of it.

Colonel Carrington was severely censured by the War Department and many others for the Fort Phil Kearney massacre, and, I think, unjustly. Had Col. Fetterman and Capt. Brown and the other officers in command obeyed his orders, the massacre would not have occurred, not, at least, at this time.

Fetterman and Brown were dare-devil fighters, always anxious for a fight, and took this opportunity to get into one. Capt. Brown, on his “calico” pony, was a familiar figure around this fort—the boys called him “Baldy.” The Indians were very anxious to kill Brown; he was a thorn in their sides. While we to some extent lay the blame of the massacre on Brown and Fetterman, to be honest, we were nearly all partly to blame. We were always harping at the colonel to send a large force out and fight the Indians, but he always insisted on a conservative course. We all thought up to that time that one hundred good men could walk through the entire Sioux Nation. This massacre demonstrated that in a fight in the open the Sioux should not have over five to one of us.

I was well posted in regard to the Carrington Powder River Expedition of 1866 and the history of Fort Phil Kearney from the date of establishment to Nov., 1867, and acquainted with all of the officers and many of the soldiers and citizens. I probably would not have written this little statement of actual history were it not for the fact that in your article you stated that you got some of the record from the only living member of the celebrated wagon-box fight. I am still in the flesh and will pull down the scale at two hundred pounds. In all probability there are others alive, as we all were young men at that time.

The history of the three forts established in 1865 and 1866, well written, would make interesting history, as almost every day was full of stirring events. Quite a number of the citizens in that country at this time were discharged volunteer soldiers and some rebel soldiers also. As a rule, they were hard nuts for the Indians to crack. It was noticeable that they would not take chances fighting citizens that they would take with the soldiers.

After leaving Fort Phil Kearney I went to Cheyenne and followed the Union Pacific R. R. to the finish. Was at Promontory Point in Utah when the Union Pacific and Central Pacific R. Rs. connected; this was one of the mile-stones in the history of the West, and practically solved the Indian problem. The Indians fought hard for this territory. It was the best hunting ground that they had left. There were many half-breeds among them, and they were daring and shifty fighters.

Respectfully yours, R. J. SMYTH”

Footnote 24:

The serial publication of these articles brought me many letters filled with corrections, suggestions, and other material, written by participants in the events described. Among them all none is more graphic and more interesting than this from Mr. Smyth, formerly Teamster with Carrington, which I count it a privilege to insert in this book in his own words.—C. T. B.

Footnote 25:

I have observed similar visitations in other parts of the West years ago.—C. T. B.

Footnote 26:

General Carrington’s map on page 27 shows the island. Mr. Smyth’s recollection is in error here.—C. T. B.

Footnote 27:

Surgeon Horton writes me that the “soldiers brought back to the fort the head of an Indian for a scientific study of Indian skulls!” He afterwards sent it to Washington. He also states that there were a number of dead bodies too near the corral for the Indians to get them during the action. When he and other officers visited the place the next day, after the withdrawal of the Indians, there were no dead bodies to be found, not even the headless one.—C. T. B.