Part 2

“Here I met Captain J. S. Gano, who was unarmed. I handed him the rifle I had gone into the battle with, and I told him that we were defeated and would have to make our escape as speedily as possible. If we escaped, we would need the rifles for subsistence in the woods. While the battle still raged, a group of soldiers had gathered together, but they did little more than present targets for the enemy. The soldiers appeared stupefied and bewildered. At another spot a group of soldiers had broken into the officers’ marquees and were eating the breakfast from which the officers had been called. It must be remembered that neither officers nor men had eaten anything the whole morning. Some of the men were shot down in the very act of eating.

“Just where I then stood, no Indians were visible, although their rifle balls were striking all around. At last I saw an Indian dash for a tree about forty yards off. From this protection he loaded and fired four times, bringing down his man at every shot. He fired too quickly to give me a chance to aim at him. At length I got a range of two inches inside his backbone and blazed away; down he fell, and I saw no more of him.

“A short time later I heard the cry given by St. Clair and his adjutant sergeant to charge to the road. I ran through the disorganized army to where I had left my relative, Captain Piatt, and I told him that the army was broken up and in full retreat. ‘Don’t say so,’ he replied. ‘You will discourage my men, and I can’t believe it.’ I persisted a short time, but finding him obstinate, I said, ‘If you will rush your fate, in God’s name do it!’ I then ran off toward the rear of the army, which was rapidly retreating.

“Piatt called, ‘Wait for me!’ It was no use to stop, for by this time the savages were hardly twenty yards behind me. Being uncommonly active in those days, I soon got from the rear to the front of the troops; but I had great trouble in avoiding the bayonets which the retreating men had thrown down with the sharp points toward their pursuers.

“It has been stated that the Indians followed us for thirty miles, but this is not true. My duty as surveyor led me to mark the miles every day we proceeded on our march, and it was therefore easy to ascertain how far we were pursued. The Indians, after every other fire, fell back to load their rifles and regained the lost distance by running on afresh.

“Even during the last charge of Colonel Darke, the bodies of the dead and dying were shrouded with smoke and in the heavy morning frost looked like so many pumpkins in a cornfield in December. It was on the fourth of November, and the day was severely cold for the season. My fingers became so benumbed at times that I had to take the bullets in my mouth and load from it, while I had the wiping rod in my hand to force them down.”

The map of the battleground is taken from the survey of John S. Houston of Celina. The localities were pointed out to him by Mr. McDowell, who was in the action and who is now living near Fort Recovery. In a letter headed Celina, March 20, 1847, Mr. Houston reported on a conversation with Mr. McDowell.

“Mr. McDowell states that on the morning of the battle he and several others had just gone out to look after their horses when suddenly they heard discharges of musketry and the most hideous yells from the opposite side of the river. Instantly, he rushed to camp where his regiment was preparing for action. He joined them and gallantly charged the enemy. On the retreat he was among those who defended the rear and kept the enemy in check for several miles. The ground was covered with a slushy snow which greatly retarded their progress. After a while many soldiers became so dispirited and hungry—having eaten no breakfast—that they threw down their arms and made their way as best they could among the retreating crowd.

“About this time, Mr. McDowell saw a mother carrying her year-old infant. She was so tired that she was about to fall by the wayside when he took the child and carried it some distance. Afterward, to save her own life, the woman left the child in the snow. The Indians carried it to the Sandusky towns and reared it. Soon after this, McDowell overtook a youth about eighteen years old who was hobbling along, wounded in the leg. McDowell gave him a drink of spirits and a little bread, although he himself had not had time to eat. This refreshed and encouraged the young man; and when a pony came dashing by, McDowell caught it and mounted the young soldier upon it. In this way the youth reached the fort safely.

REFERENCES: A. HIGH GROUND ON WHICH THE MILITIA WHERE ENCAMPED AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE ACTION. B. & C. ENCAMPMENT OF THE MAIN ARMY D. RETREAT OF THE MILITIA AT THE BEGINNING OF THE BATTLE E. ST. CLAIR’S TRACE ON WHICH THE DEFEATED ARMY RETREATED F. PLACE WHERE GENERAL BUTLER AND OTHER OFFICERS WERE BURIED G. SITE OF FORT RECOVERY BUILT BY WAYNE

from Historical Collection of Ohio by Howe.

“At Stillwater Creek, twelve miles from the battleground, the Indians gave up the pursuit and returned to share the booty. ‘Oh!’ said an old squaw who died many years ago on the St. Mary’s River, ‘my arm that night was weary scalping white man.’

“‘Some years ago,’ McDowell said to me (and here his cheeks became moistened with tears), ‘I was traveling in Kentucky to visit a sister I had not seen in many years. When I arrived at Georgetown, I entered my name on the hotel register with the place of my residence—Fort Recovery, Ohio.

“‘After I had been sitting some time at ease before a comfortable fire, a gentleman who had noticed the entry of my name and residence opened a friendly conversation about the place and country. He soon remarked that he was at the defeat of St. Clair, and that if it had not been for the assistance of a young man of Butler’s regiment, he would have been there yet.’

“After a few more questions and replies, both men recognized each other. The gentleman was the youth who had been shot during the retreat and whose life had been saved with McDowell’s assistance. At this discovery their surprise and consequent mutual attachment may be imagined. The gentleman insisted upon taking McDowell home and introducing him to his wife and daughters. He had become a wealthy merchant and gave McDowell a new suit of clothes and other presents which he has carefully preserved to this day.”

In his SKETCHES OF WESTERN ADVENTURE, John A. McClung relates some anecdotes which show the heroism and activity of a young man who was in this action.

“The late William Kennan, of Fleming County, when a young man of eighteen, was attached to the corps of rangers who accompanied the regular force. He had long been noted for his strength and activity. In the course of the march from Fort Washington, he had repeated opportunities to test his astonishing physical powers; and it was universally admitted that he was the swiftest runner in the light corps. On the evening preceding the action, his corps had been advanced a few hundred yards in front of the first line of infantry in order to give reasonable notice of the enemy’s approach. Just as day was dawning, he observed about thirty Indians within one hundred yards of the guards’ fire. They advanced cautiously toward the spot where he stood with about twenty rangers; the other men were considerably in the rear.

“Supposing it to be a mere scouting party, numbering no more than the rangers, he sprang forward a few paces in order to shelter himself in a spot of rank grass. After firing with a quick aim upon the foremost Indian, Kennan instantly fell flat upon his face and proceeded with all possible rapidity to reload his gun. He did not doubt for a moment that the rangers would maintain their positions and support him. The Indians, however, rushed forward in such overwhelming numbers that the rangers were compelled to run. Kennan was in total ignorance of his danger until his captain, who had observed him when he threw himself into the grass, suddenly shouted, ‘Run, Kennan! or you are a dead man!’ Instantly, Kennan sprang to his feet and beheld Indians within ten feet of him; his company was already more than one hundred yards in front.

“Not a moment was to be lost. He darted off with every muscle strained to its utmost. A dozen yelling Indians were close behind him. At first he pressed straight forward to the ford in the creek which separated the rangers from the main army. Several Indians, who had passed him before he rose from the grass, threw themselves in the way and completely cut him off from the other rangers. By the most powerful exertions, he left all of the pursuers behind him, with the exception of one chief who displayed a swiftness and perseverance equal to his own. The circuit which Kennan was obliged to take extended the race for more than four hundred yards. The distance between them was about eighteen feet, which Kennan could not increase nor his adversary diminish. Each runner put his whole soul into the race.

“Kennan, as far as he was able, kept his eye upon the motions of his pursuer, for he was afraid the Indian would throw the tomahawk which he held aloft in a menacing position. At length, finding that no other Indian was immediately at hand, Kennan determined to try the mettle of his pursuer in a different manner. He felt for his own tomahawk but discovered it had slipped out of its sheath while he lay in the grass. His hair almost lifted the cap from his head when he realized he was totally unarmed! Kennan had slackened his pace for a moment, and the Indian was almost in reach of him when he again sprinted forward. Fear lent wings to his feet, and for the first time he saw himself outdistancing the Indian. He had watched the motions of his pursuer too closely, however, to pay proper attention to the nature of the ground before him; and he suddenly found himself in front of a large tree which had been blown down. Brush and other impediments increased the height of the obstacle to eight or nine feet.

“The Indian, who heretofore had not uttered the slightest sound, now gave a short, quick yell as if sure of his victim. Kennan had not a moment to deliberate. He must clear the tree at a leap or perish. Putting his whole soul into the effort, he bounded into the air with a power that astonished himself. Clearing limbs, brush, and everything else, he alighted in perfect safety on the other side. A loud yell of astonishment burst from his pursuer, who had not the hardihood to attempt the same feat. Kennan, as may be readily imagined, had no leisure to enjoy his triumph but dashed into the bed of the creek. With its high banks shielding him from the fire of the enemy, he ran up the stream until he found a convenient place to cross. Soon he rejoined the rangers in the rear of the encampment. He was panting from the fatigue of exertions which have seldom been surpassed, but no breathing time was allowed him. The attack instantly commenced and, as we have already observed, was maintained for three hours with unabated fury.

“When the retreat commenced, Kennan was attached to Major Clark’s battalion which was assigned the task of protecting the rear. This corps quickly lost its commander and was completely disorganized. Kennan was among the hindmost when the fight commenced; but by exerting those same powers which had saved him in the morning, he quickly gained the front and passed several horsemen in the flight. Here he beheld a private of his own company, an intimate acquaintance, lying upon the ground with his thigh broken. In the most piercing tones of distress, the wounded man implored each horseman who hurried by to take him up behind him. As soon as he beheld Kennan coming on foot, he stretched out his arms and called aloud for help. Notwithstanding the imminent peril of the moment, Kennan could not reject so passionate an appeal and carried him for several hundred yards. Horseman after horseman passed them, but each rider refused to take the wounded man.

“At length the enemy was gaining upon them so fast that Kennan saw their deaths to be certain unless he relinquished his burden. Accordingly, he told his friend that he had used every possible exertion to save his life and that he must relax his hold around his neck or they would both perish. The unhappy man, heedless of every remonstrance, still clung convulsively and impeded Kennan’s exertions until the foremost of the enemy, armed with tomahawk alone, was within twenty yards of them. Kennan then drew his knife from its sheath and cut the fingers of his companion. The unhappy man rolled upon the ground in utter helplessness. He was tomahawked before Kennan had gone thirty yards. Relieved of his burden, Kennan darted forward with a speed which once more brought him to the front. Here again he was compelled to neglect his own safety in order to attend to that of others.

“The late Governor George Madison of Kentucky, who afterward commanded the troops who defended themselves so honorably at Raisin River, was a man of amiable temper and unconquerable courage. At that time, he was a subaltern in St. Clair’s army. His health was poor; and now, totally exhausted by the exertions of the morning, he was calmly sitting on a log awaiting the approach of his enemies. Kennan hastily accosted him and inquired the cause of his delay. Madison, pointing to a wound which had bled profusely, replied that he was unable to walk any farther and that he had no horse. Kennan instantly ran back to a spot where he had seen an exhausted horse grazing and caught it without difficulty. Having assisted Madison to mount, he walked beside the animal until they were out of danger. Fortunately, the pursuit soon ceased, as the plunder of the camp presented irresistible attractions to the enemy. The friendship thus formed between these two young men endured without interruption for the rest of their lives. Kennan never entirely recovered from the severe exertions which he had been compelled to make during this unfortunate expedition. He settled in Fleming County where he was a leading member of the Baptist church for many years. He died in 1827.”

The number of Indians engaged in this action can never be ascertained with any degree of certainty. Estimates have varied from one to three thousand. Colonel John Johnston, long an Indian agent in this region, had many opportunities to form a correct opinion on this subject. His statements in a letter of 1846 are worthy of consideration.

“The number of Indians at the defeat of St. Clair must have been large. At that time game was plentiful, and a large number of Indians could have subsisted easily. Wells, one of our interpreters, was there and fought for the enemy. To use his own language, he tomahawked and scalped the wounded, dying, and dead, until he was unable to raise his arm. The principal tribes in the battle were the Delaware, Shawnee, Wyandot, Miami, and Ottawa. A few Indians of the Chippewa and Potawatomi tribes were also present. I had no accurate means of knowing the total number, but it could not have been less than two thousand.”

Some time after the defeat of St. Clair, General Wilkinson, who had become commander of Fort Washington, ordered an expedition to visit the battleground. Captain Buntin, who was with the party, afterward wrote a letter to St. Clair from which the following is extracted.

“In my opinion, those unfortunate men who were captured alive suffered the greatest torture by having their limbs torn off. The women were treated with the most indecent cruelty; stakes as thick as a person’s arm were driven through their bodies. The former I observed while burying the dead; the latter was discovered by Colonel Sargeant and Dr. Brown. We found three carriages whole; the other five were so badly damaged that they were useless. By the General’s orders, we dug pits in different places and buried all the bodies that were exposed to view or that could be found conveniently.

“During this time several small parties were detached—some to protect the main group and others to examine the course of the creek. At some distance in front of the ground occupied by the militia, these parties found a large camp, not less than three quarters of a mile long. They thought it had been the camp of the Indians the night before the action. We remained on the field that night, and the next morning we hitched horses to the carriages and started for Fort Jefferson.

“There is little reason to believe that the enemy carried off the cannons, and it is thought they were either buried or thrown into the creek. I think the latter more probable, but as it was frozen over with thick ice and covered with a deep snow, it was impossible to make a search with any prospect of success. I have mentioned the camp occupied by the enemy the night before the action. Could Colonel Oldham have complied with your orders on that evening, things at this day might have worn a different aspect.”

Mr. McDowell, previously mentioned, was one of those who visited the battleground. He stated that although the bodies were much abused and stripped of everything of any value, they were recognized and interred in four large graves. General Butler was found in the shattered remains of his tent. After he had been wounded, he was carried to the tent; while two surgeons were dressing his wounds, a ball struck one of them in the hip. At that instant, an Indian, who was determined to have Butler’s scalp, rushed in. While attempting to scalp the General, he was shot by the dying surgeon.

In December, 1793, General Wayne arrived with his army at Greenville and sent forward a detachment to the spot of St. Clair’s Defeat. They arrived on Christmas Day and pitched their tents on the battleground. Before the men could make their beds in their tents that night, they had to gather the bones together and carry them out. The next day graves were dug and the bones remaining above ground were buried. Six hundred skulls were among them. The flesh was entirely off the bones, but in many cases the sinews yet held them together. After this melancholy duty was performed, a fortification was built and named Fort Recovery in commemoration of its being recovered from the Indians who had been in possession of the ground since 1791. On the completion of the fort, one company of artillerymen and one of riflemen were left there; the others returned to Greenville.

Henry Howe, HISTORICAL COLLECTIONS OF OHIO (Cincinnati: Published by the state of Ohio, 1908), Vol. II, pp. 223-32.

The terrible battle known as St. Clair’s Defeat was fought on the morning of November 4, 1791, in what is now the northwestern part of Darke County, Ohio, near the Indiana boundary. Early in the preceding spring General St. Clair had received orders to raise and organize an army, to march into the wilderness as far as the junction of the St. Mary’s and the St. Joseph rivers, and to establish a line of military posts from Fort Washington at Cincinnati to the present site of Fort Wayne. The forts were intended to keep the Indians in wholesome dread of the power of the whites and to prevent those fearful depredations which had already done so much to check the advancing tide of civilization. In the execution of these orders, St. Clair surmounted many serious obstacles. After building Forts Hamilton and Jefferson, he reached a branch of the Wabash and encamped there in supposed security on the evening of the third of November. His army numbered between two and three thousand men. Several hundred women and children, the families of the soldiers, traveled with the army.

St. Clair’s great and fatal mistake was in his fancied security. Instead of having a large number of experienced scouts to scour the wilderness far in advance of the main army and to warn him of danger, he marched blindly forward as if passing through friendly territory. The Indians proved themselves more circumspect, for their scouts and runners had not been idle and had brought their leaders intelligence of the whites. To check and punish what they regarded as an invasion of their territory, the Indians collected a great force and marched forward to battle with their enemies. Because of the American commander’s neglect, these dusky sons of the forest were enabled to concoct their plans without suspicion, to arrange their attack without detection, and to carry out their designs with the most terrible effect.

About half an hour before sunrise on the fourth of November, the Indians fiercely attacked the militia posted in front of the main army. The first ranks made a slight resistance and then fell back in wild disorder to the main camp. The overwhelming force of savages, led by their most distinguished chiefs, came rushing on with yells of fury, creating panic and confusion impossible to describe. Then began a desperate fight and a fearful slaughter. Though taken completely by surprise, the brave soldiers seized their arms, rallied under their respective leaders, and stood their ground like heroes. Their first regular fire checked the onset of the foe to some degree, but the Indians were too great in numbers and held too great an advantage to give way permanently. In a short time our gallant soldiers were violently assailed on all sides, and officers and men went down before the deadly rifle fire like leaves before the blasts of autumn wind. Several charges were ordered and made with great spirit. The savages at times gave way before the impetuous charges of their disciplined foes, yet it was only to rally in greater force and to press more fearfully upon some weaker point.

For three hours the battle raged with wild fury, and the ground everywhere was covered with the dead and dying. General St. Clair saw with dismay that the day was hopelessly lost. Four of his own horses had already been killed, his clothes were riddled with bullets, and nearly every officer had been cut down. Under these distressing circumstances, there was but one thing for him to do. He gave the order to retreat.

This retreat, as might have been anticipated, soon became a rout of the most terrible kind. The Indians, finding themselves masters of the field and finding their enemies flying in wild disorder, rushed after the fugitives with yells of triumph. They followed the soldiers for four or five miles, shooting, tomahawking, or scalping all they could overtake. Then the most eager of the savages, satisfied with their morning’s work, gave up the chase and returned to the battlefield to gather the scalps of the dead and dying. Nearly all of the wounded were butchered. Those unfortunate ones who had been taken unharmed were generally reserved for later tortures, and there were enough captives to provide many holidays for the different tribes.

We have thus given a brief sketch of the disaster on that woeful day. The details of that horrifying scene of conflict would fill volumes. This we cannot do. We can, however, piece together a narrative from the records of the actors in that dreadful tragedy. It is our purpose to publish the story of Robert Branshaw, a Kentuckian, who has left behind him an account of what he saw and did on that memorable day.