Part 3

“The main camp was pitched in a level wood by a small stream which was one of the branches of the Wabash River; on higher ground about a quarter of a mile across this stream, the militia and a company of rangers had been on duty through the latter part of the night and were prepared for an attack by Indians whom we knew to be in front of us. We supposed them to be a mere scouting party sent out to gather information about our movements. We did not think that they planned anything more serious than to pick off some of our number and to get a few scalps if they could do so without serious risk. Certain it is, we were not prepared for what took place.

“In the gray of the morning, before objects had become distinct at any considerable distance, I was standing near one of the fires conversing with a comrade. Suddenly I saw twenty or thirty painted savages dodging around among the trees in front of us, as if they planned to attack by surprise. Supposing the ones I saw to be the entire party, and thinking it a good chance to bring down one of them and at the same time to alarm the camp, I instantly raised my rifle to my eye, took a quick aim, and dropped the nearest Indian. The smoke had not cleared away from my rifle when a terrific volley was poured in upon us. It was accompanied by appalling yells from a thousand throats. At the same instant I saw Indians springing from behind their covers and rushing down upon us in overwhelming numbers. Instantly, I turned to fly and stumbled over the dead body of the comrade with whom I had been conversing. He had been shot through the temples, and he was the first dead man I saw on that fatal day.

“As we fell back, the militiamen behind us discharged their pieces at the approaching savages; then they turned and fled in the wildest alarm through the little hollow back toward the main camp. Many of them never reached it, for by this time the Indians were firing rapidly from all sides and were following up the advantage with their murderous tomahawks and scalping knives. All the while, they were screeching with such appalling effect that I believe some of our men, who might otherwise have escaped, became bewildered, stupefied, and lost.

“As for myself, I had some very narrow escapes. Although I was a pretty good runner, I had been singled out by an ambitious young warrior, who, in a race of about two hundred yards, had almost caught up with me. With a good reach of his arm, he might have sunk his tomahawk in the back of my head. A glance over my shoulder showed him about to strike, and instinctively I threw myself down to avoid the blow. As fortune would have it, he struck his foot against one of mine and pitched headlong over me. His weapon flew from his grasp. Before he could recover himself, I was upon him, driving my hunting knife through his throat and severing his jugular vein.

“As I again sprang to my feet, I beheld three other savages close at hand, bounding toward me with yells of rage. I had no hope of escaping from them; but still I ran, straining every nerve to its utmost. Fortunately, they were not as fleet-footed as the one I had killed, and to my unspeakable joy, I found that I was outdistancing them. Each Indian carried a gun in his hand, but I had thrown mine away during my first race. This probably gave me some advantage. Seeing that they could not overtake me, they suddenly stopped; one of them took deliberate aim and fired. The ball sung loudly in my ear, the outer portion of which felt as if it were touched with a live coal. A small portion of my ear had been shot away.

“As I neared the creek, I discovered another small party of Indians in front of me. Turning quickly to the left, I crossed the stream at a bend thirty or forty rods higher up; and by making a broad circuit, I came into camp from the right.

“Here I found a scene of the wildest confusion. Two or three hundred women and children were gathered together in a state of excitement bordering on distraction. Some were running to and fro, wringing their hands and shrieking out their terrors; some were standing speechless, like statues of horror, with their hands clasped and their eyes fixed upon the not very distant scene of strife; some were kneeling and calling on Heaven for protection; some were sobbing and groaning in each other’s arms; and several who had swooned from fright lay as if dead upon the ground.

“I did not tarry even to answer the questions that many eager voices put to me but hurried forward to the raging battle. As yet I had no rifle, but I soon supplied myself with one from an old comrade who had been shot through the heart. Thinking I could do quite as well alone as by attaching myself to any company, I hastened to a tree that looked suitable for my purpose. I began to load and fire as fast as possible, and I brought down a savage with nearly every shot.

“I wish I could describe that battle, but I lack the power. As I look back on it now, it seems like a wild, horrible dream, in which whites and savages, friends and foes, were all mixed in mad confusion. They melted away in smoke, fire, and blood, amid groans, shouts, shrieks, yells, clashing steel, and exploding firearms.

“I fired eleven shots and had the grim satisfaction of seeing nine savages go down before my aim; four of them fell within ten feet of me. While I was loading for the twelfth time, a ball struck my right wrist and fractured the bone. I dropped to the ground and bound my wound as well as I could. Finding that I could be of no further use where I was, I started for the rear, feeling weak and faint. I had eaten nothing that morning, which was the case with nearly all of the army. On my way to the center of the camp, I met pale, frightened men running in all directions. Numerous dead bodies, some of them scalped and presenting ghastly spectacles, proved that many of the Indians had been there before me. Wounded soldiers called to me and begged for help and water. But I could do nothing for them, and I hurried on. When I came within sight of the spot where the women and children had been collected, I beheld a large body of Indians busy at their work of slaughter. Turning in another direction, I ran down the road.

“Fortunately, I caught a horse that had lost its rider, and with a good deal of difficulty I succeeded in mounting. There were many fugitives running in the trail ahead of me; and I rode after them, passing some in my flight. In this way I escaped before the order to retreat was given; and I was spared the painful sight of seeing the whole army in flight, with the victorious savages in hot pursuit, butchering at every step.

“I succeeded in reaching Fort Jefferson, twenty-two miles from the battlefield. I fainted as soon as I found myself in a place of safety. The remnant of the army arrived about dark, and nothing was heard that night but sounds of lamentation and woe. Subsequently my arm was amputated. My career as a soldier ended with that disastrous day, in which nearly a thousand gallant men and two or three hundred women and children had been killed or wounded. Oh, woeful, woeful day!”

INDIANA HERALD, April 13, 1864

The ceremony of reburying the remains of the soldiers slain at the site of Fort Recovery during St. Clair’s Defeat took place on September 24. When we arrived there the preceding afternoon, the hotels and many of the private houses were crowded to overflowing. People continued to arrive throughout the night and until noon the next day. The number who attended was variously estimated at from five to seven thousand, and it was impossible to make a closer estimate. Two thousand persons formed a procession. The sons and the grandsons of those who were to be carried to their last resting place were present.

The occasion was one of solemn import. If these bones had heretofore been neglected, it was only through ignorance of the spot where they lay. Now that mere chance had exposed the grave, the citizens were enthusiastically paying that respect which is due from every true and patriotic American. These men died to maintain liberty and the peace and quiet of the fireside. There were some old gray-haired veterans present with recollections of the defeat vividly stamped upon their memories.

The bones were placed in thirteen coffins, representing the thirteen original states. They were buried in one large grave in the village cemetery. Peace to their ashes. Beneath the sod in one common grave lie the bones of officers, soldiers, and citizens. May their memory live in the heart of every American.

INDIANA STATE JOURNAL, September 27, 1851

Transcriber’s Notes

—Silently corrected a few typos.

—Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook is public-domain in the country of publication.

—In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by _underscores_.