Part 1

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ON THE TRAIL OF DESERTERS

_A Phenomenal Capture_

_By_ Captain Robert Goldthwaite Carter U. S. ARMY

WASHINGTON, D. C. GIBSON BROS., PRINTERS, 1920

On The Trail of Deserters.

The year of 1871 had been so full of incidents and far reaching results for the Fourth Cavalry and its new Colonel, Ranald S. Mackenzie, that it is somewhat difficult to go back into the dim vistas of that period and select the one incident, or absorbing event which would be either of greatest magnitude or afford the most thrilling interest--

This capture of ten deserters, however, under circumstances of more than ordinary importance, since it is believed to be the record capture ever made in the Military Department of Texas, or, perhaps for that matter, of any Military Department in the United States--came about as closely in touch with the writer's life as almost any other experience he ever had while serving as an officer of that regiment--including, as it did, terrible exposure, and unavoidable hardships and privations--

Like all of the other Cavalry regiments in our Army, which were then doing about three fourths of all the active, effective work--the work that disables or kills--in the subjugation of the savage tribes in the United States, driving them into Indian reservations, and rendering it possible for the frontier border to be settled, and civilization to be advanced to a point where it could feel safe from raids and bloody incursions, the Fourth U. S. Cavalry, notwithstanding its high morale and almost perfect state of discipline--had its share of desertions--

Was Mackenzie a "Martinet"

Mackenzie was not a West Point "martinet", as that term is generally understood in our Army--but, from four wounds he had received, three in the Civil War, and one that year in the campaign against Quan-ah Parker, the Una-ha-da Comanche Chief--and almost criminal neglect of his own health, in his intensity of nature and purpose in prosecuting these arduous Indian campaigns--he had become more or less irritable, irascible, exacting--sometimes erratic, and frequently explosive--

This much may be said, however, it is certain that notwithstanding his physical condition, and his mental temperament resulting therefrom, he never sought to inflict an injury or punishment upon anybody unnecessarily--never became a petty or malicious persecutor, hounding a man into his grave--and when it became evident to him as well as to others that he had done any of his officers or men an act of injustice, nobody could have been more open, free and frank in his disavowal of that act, or quicker to apologize and render all the reparation possible in his power-- This applied to any and all down to the last Second Lieutenant and private soldier in the regiment--

One man never knows another so well, even intimately--as when he is thrown closely in contact with or lives and sleeps and eats with him-- The writer had done all with Mackenzie during a greater part of this period of 1871--having been his Post Adjutant twice--during Gen. Sherman's inspection in May, at the time of the massacre of Salt Creek Prairie, and prior to our Expedition of that year, and his Field Adjutant on his entire campaign in his abortive attempt to strike Kicking Bird's band of Ki-o-was before he could be stampeded into the Fort Sill Reservation--from May 1st until Oct. 3--I had got to know him very well--

Causes for Desertion

Both officers and men had been under a terrific high-keyed pressure--a very great mental and physical strain, almost to the breaking point; were tired and dispirited because the results and the hard work performed, had not justified their expectations and because they could not then see any immediate relief from the performance of such exacting duty-- The pace had been a little too fast even for the Fourth Cavalry-- Much of the spirit and enthusiasm for such unremunerative work was at a very low ebb-- While it had not yet approached a complete discouragement, it was a condition of supreme disgust and contempt at the methods employed-- They felt that with the Government at Washington nullifying and rendering most of their hard labor abortive, that success in those long, weary and extremely exhausting Indian campaigns was not so much dependent upon their absolute loyalty to duty and perfect willingness to sacrifice themselves when necessary in achieving results, as upon the paralyzing acts and influence of the "Indian Ring" in Washington and the ever changing political cesspools of a politically ridden country-- They wanted to see the tangible results or fruits of such terribly hard service and to feel that such hardships, privations and sacrifices as they had experienced, had not been in vain or wasted by a gang of cold blooded, unscrupulous plunderers and grafters remote from the scene of these border activities. We have but recently passed through a similar experience with the same class--in fact are doing it now. Like "_death_ and _Taxes_," we have them with us always, especially in time of wars-- It is then the vultures abound-- It is then we have the jelly-fish, spineless slackers, the pussy-foot pacifists--conscientious objectors, chicken hearted shirkers--and--"let George do it" fighters--coming down to the secret renegades--traitors, and Bolshevist anarchists and bomb throwers-- They have always been the curse of this Nation--the natural result,--as a rule--of the "Melting Pot" that does not melt--breeding a lot of mongrel curs and hybrids that should no longer be a part of our American life. It is feared they will always be with us--

Thus they reasoned--and the propaganda poison spread. These were some of the contributing, but not all of the real causes that led to what soon became almost an epidemic of desertions in the regiment-- The last snow storm in which they had floundered and wallowed into Fort Richardson, seemed to have destroyed the last atom of patriotic ardor and martial enthusiasm among even some of the best of our Indian scrappers-- The loss of Quan-ah Parker's village in the snow, sleet and hail of that black, awful night on the solitary plateau of the "Staked Plains", when the entire command came so near perishing, and the swiftly moving mass of fleeing panic-stricken Indians was "so near, and yet so far"--had taken nearly all of the gimp, snap, and live-wire spirit out of our hitherto bold Fourth Cavalry warriors-- Following this--the terrible monotony of the life--without amusements or recreations of any kind--no athletics or competitions; no libraries--infrequent mails; no hunting except a few men selected on account of their being expert shots (no ammunition then being issued by the Government for that purpose); no theaters or concerts; nothing but the dreary monotonous grind of guard and police duty--detached service, and the rather questionable pleasure they got out of some saloons and gambling hells which generally landed them "broke" and subjects for the guard house and disciplinary measures and more forfeiture of pay, hard labor or other punishment-- These were the causes for the desertion epidemic. During this period of unrest and discontent, however, on account of the conditions described, there were few courts martial, nearly all corrective or disciplinary measures being applied by the Troop Commanders through the First Sergeants, under proper restrictions or limitations by the Colonel-- "Knock downs" and "drag outs" were not infrequent, and at no extra expense to the Government-- Sometimes the victim of an unfortunate "jag" was got under control by a 24 hours sojourn in the "orderly room", a "dip" in a water hole near by, the "boozer" being thrown in a few times "by order", or, if he became too obstreperous, abusive or insubordinate--a "sweat box"--a "30 pound log on a ring", or a "spread eagle on the spare wheel of a caisson" was resorted to to fully control the habitual drunk, shirker or malingerer, all with the knowledge of and under the direct or indirect supervision of the Commanding Officer--

On the 29th of November it was reported that ten (10) men had deserted from one troop ("B"), and Mackenzie, thoroughly aroused now by the frequency of these wholesale desertions--took immediate and decisive action.

Rock-Ribbed Orders vs. Elastic Verbal Instructions

About dark on this day Mackenzie sent in great haste for Lawton and the writer and told us the situation; that he was going to send us out on this special trip in pursuit of deserters and to get ready as soon as possible. He would have a written order for us in a few minutes-- We were generously informed that while it was not our turn on the detached duty roster for this service, yet--so and so was too sick--another had a cold--still a third was inefficient, and would never get results--and a fourth could not stand the gaff of a "Norther"--etc., etc.--_all so comforting and soothing_ (?)-- We were, therefore, "It"-- We were to report to him in 30 minutes. We were each to select any Corporal in the regiment to accompany us-- A black, and ominous "Norther" was brewing and it was then beginning to be bitter cold-- We reported within the time given with our Corporals--and the following official order was placed in the writer's hands.

HEADQUARTERS FORT RICHARDSON, TEXAS, _November 29th, 1871._

SPECIAL ORDERS NO. 280

(_Extract_)

* * * * *

V. Second Lieutenant _R. G. Carter_, 4th Cavalry, with a detail consisting of two non commissioned officers and eleven privates of that Regiment, mounted, fully armed and equipped, furnished one day's rations and sixty rounds of ammunition per man, will proceed at Retreat this day, in pursuit of deserters under the _verbal instructions_ of the Commanding Officer of the Post. The A. C. S. will turn over to _Lieut Carter_, the sum of ($250) Two hundred and fifty dollars, subsistence funds, for the purchase of subsistence for the men of his detail-- The A. A. Q. M. will turn over to _Lieut Carter_, the sum of ($300) three hundred dollars, Quartermaster's funds, for the purchase of forage for the public animals.

By Command of Colonel RANALD S. MACKENZIE, (Signed) W. J. KYLE, 1st Lieut. 11th Infantry, Post Adjutant. Lieut R. G. CARTER, 4th Cavalry--

The money was turned over to us by the Post Adjutant--Lawton receiving the same amount--and then turning to both of us--Mackenzie said: "In addition to those orders, I wish to give you special instructions for your guidance in this most important duty you are going on-- I shall not expect you to follow them implicitly but to be guided by circumstances arising at the moment--and which, being on the spot, you will know how to deal with better than anybody else--and to use your best judgment and wisest discretion at all times-- You are to keep one Corporal with you all the time, taking him into your confidence so far as you may deem it necessary for your success. You are to go in different directions-- Lawton is to go on the Decatur road--while you (the writer) are to follow the Weatherford road-- You are to cover all of the intermediate settlements near and beyond those towns, seeking at all times the assistance of the Civil authorities and holding out to them the prospect of the Government reward ($30) for the apprehension and delivery to you of each deserter-- The towns should only be entered at night and then with a deputy sheriff or other civil officer-- It should be systematically and thoroughly searched-- Should you find that these deserters have headed for the railroads, and you have traced them that far--and it becomes necessary, drop your detachment, leaving it in charge of one non-commissioned officer, while you take the other with you, continuing the pursuit, even if it leads to Galveston and New Orleans, or, even to New York"--and then, hesitating somewhat--he added--pitching his voice to a high key, and as was his habit--snapping the stumps of his amputated fingers--"_I don't want either of you to come back until you have accomplished results-- I want these men brought back and punished_-- Obey the _Civil Laws_ and if they are not violated and you stick to the spirit of your instructions, I will cover all of your acts with a '_blanket order_.'" The writer suggested that Lawton and himself, and the Corporals whom we might select to remain with us wherever we went--should go in citizens clothes, since, if we had to "cut loose" from our detachments, we would be able to co-operate more effectively with the Civil Authorities when we might be acting as detectives about the large towns, especially at night-- To this Mackenzie readily agreed, saying that it was an excellent and practical suggestion-- He included this idea in his instructions-- The writer had been at an immense conscript and draft rendezvous during the Civil War--among the worst classes of "substitutes" and "bounty jumpers"--ever known in the history of our Army-- They were deserters from every Army and Navy of the world; had come over here for the huge bounties paid under our vicious conscript laws--only to desert--re-enlist and repeat the method again and again-- We frequently mingled with them in citizens clothes--got their plans, and either thwarted them or caused their arrest and punishment; On one occasion the execution of two for desertion.

We thought that these instructions were very lucid and certainly were very wide sweeping--enough so to satisfy the most exacting soldier-- It looked like a winter's job had been cut out for us--and secretly in our hearts--we wished the trail might lead through the places he named. Visions of Galveston, New Orleans and "Little Old New York" loomed up very large--and alluring, for neither of us had visited those attractive "burgs" and elysiums of pleasure--for a long time--but the conditional, or "_If_" clause in this interview caused us to dubiously shake our heads--with feeling of hope, it is true, but not of elation--and not unmixed with some dread and apprehension for the future, hardly knowing what was before us in this, to us, most novel frontier adventure-- It was now nearly dark, and wishing Mackenzie "Good Night", and stepping out into the gloom of approaching night to face the drizzle of a gathering "Norther," we (Lawton and the writer) shook hands and separated, both busily chewing the cud of reflection, inwardly cursing our reputed Civil War efficiency that had led to our selection for such "beastly" service, and industriously trying to digest and assimilate these most elaborate and elastic, carte blanche instructions the "Old Man" had given us-- While we felt that in a measure, we were free lances--all freebooters, with nobody to say "Yea or Nay", our own Commanding officers with no one to disturb our independence of thought and action (and with such limited means of communication at that period and under such conditions, one can easily see that no such limitations could be imposed as are placed to-day), we also realized the terrible responsibility so suddenly thrust upon us, and the great risks we ran in dealing with determined men wrought up to such a desperate pitch as they were by alleged acts of injustice--and hard and fast conditions under which they were serving-- All this aided, as we felt these men might be, by other equally bad gun-men--all over and down through that country wherever we might trail them.

I had selected Corporal John B. Charlton of Troop "F" for my _civilian_ companion-- I considered him one of the best non-commissioned officers in the regiment-- While he had a free, rollicking, reckless, dare devil spirit about him--he was easily controlled, and perfectly amenable to discipline-- He was a very handsome, intelligent, active, energetic man of about 24 years of age--and was on his second 5 years enlistment--his first having been in the Fifth Artillery-- He was fully six feet--spare, sinewy, straight as an arrow--an athlete--one of the best riders, shots and hunters, and all round soldiers in the regiment-- He had a straight nose--strong chin and steel-blue eyes, the glint of which, when he was aroused--looked dangerous when squinting down the sights of our old Spencer Carbines-- He reminded me of that free, rollicksome--"devil-may-care" d'Artagnan, one of the "Three Musketeers"-- He probably had a past like many other enlisted men who entered the regular army after the Civil War-- If so, for obvious reasons, we never pried into that past. He entered into the spirit and novelty of this new adventure with commendable zeal, energy, spirit and enthusiasm-- I felt that I knew my man perfectly, and that, under all circumstances, he would prove absolutely loyal to all duty and be faithful to whatever trust I reposed in him--

We were all well mounted, well armed, and had one good, well trained pack mule to carry our grub-- We both had guides, the one assigned to the writer being William Rhodes, a rancher, who had been driven in to the shelter of the post by Indians, a very quiet, sturdy, honest and reliable man who knew the country fairly well within a radius of 40 miles, but beyond that his knowledge was no better than my own or any other man in the detachment, besides being one more man to feed and care for after he had got beyond his bailiwick as a post guide-- I never took another guide beyond a 50 mile radius.

The Pursuit--A Howling "Norther"

At 7:15 we made the start--the writer taking the Weatherford stage road across the prairie, a mere trail-- The "Norther" broke with full force, with alternate snow, rain, hail and sleet--a heavy gale driving it into our faces-- We left the trail and rode into several freighters' camps, where they had sought shelter in the timber, at great risk to our lives--to search for the missing men but without learning anything-- They had immense roaring fires which could be seen for a long distance, but so great was their fear of Indians, that we found them up and ready, rifle in hand--and behind their wagon bodies--determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible-- It was hard to tear ourselves away from these huge fires--and plunge across the interminable prairies in the teeth of the increasing gale-- We were none too warmly clothed-- The men and horses--hardly recovered from their year's hard work--were beginning to show the effects and wear and tear of such a frightful storm. Believing that we should all perish if we continued the ride all night, and Rhodes, the guide, agreeing with me--upon his informing me that his brother had a ranch only a mile or two off the road, directions were given to him to head for the ranch by the shortest line so that we could secure the needed shelter-- After a fearful struggle over several miles of an open stretch of prairie, breasting into the teeth of one of the worst blizzards ever recorded in Texas, we reached the ranch, the men and horses almost exhausted, and completely coated with ice-- The ranch proved to be a low, one story log house, with several out-buildings--a ramshackly horse shed and corn crib-- It was midnight-- Several dogs announced our approach, and Rhodes aroused his brother-- Ordering the men to unsaddle, blanket the horses with their saddle blankets, and to "tie in" under the "lee" of the buildings, the men to occupy the horse shed--Rhodes, the Corporals and the writer stalked into the shelter of the "shack"-- There was but one room with a large stone fire place-- Rhodes piled on the logs-- The room had two beds in it-- He and the writer, stripping off our outer frozen clothes, and hanging them up to dry in front of the blaze--occupied one bed--his brother, wife and infant child were in the other, while the two Corporals, with several large ranch dogs, curled up in their blankets on the open hearth-- It was a "wild and wooly" night--when the baby wasn't crying the dogs were sniffing, growling, whining or whimpering over being disturbed by such an influx of strangers-- We wore out the night with little or no sleep-- When day broke it was found that the storm was still raging although the wind had somewhat abated-- Feeding the horses liberally from Rhodes' corn cribs, for which we paid him generously--and after a hasty breakfast, we saddled up and started across the prairie to find the road-- The country was one sheet of glare ice-- Our horses were smooth shod-- At the road we met Sergeant Faber of Troop "A" with a small detachment returning from some duty and going into Fort R. We learned from him that the deserters had been seen the night before in Weatherford, which was but a few miles away-- We skated, slid and floundered along through the ice crust, a horse going down now and then until we reached a creek about one-half mile from W---- when the command halted and was placed in bivouac, concealed by heavy chaparral-- Corporal Charlton was directed to get ready to accompany the writer at dark and afoot for a thorough search of the town and to begin to assume his role--

The Search--Amateur Army Detectives--The Corporal's Joke

We struck the town under cover of darkness, and proceeded to "comb" it, both heavily armed and with no insignia of rank on or about our citizens clothes or any indication that we were of the army-- "Now, Corporal, you are to preserve your incognito-- You are to deal with your Commanding Officer as though we are simply two friends or acquaintances on a night's drive through the 'slums'; there are to be no--'Yes, Sir!' or--'No, Sir!'-- No deference is to be paid--him-- Don't forget your part! You are to be simply--'Green',--and the other party is to be plain 'Brown'-- Have your guns handy, and at a given signal be prepared for a quick pull on the trigger-- These are all the instructions necessary, except that you are under no circumstances to be separated from me for a moment--and watch me all the time for signals"-- Charlton straightened up--saluted--replied--"Yes, Sir"! and that was the last recognition of rank the writer got during this adventure--