Chapter 6

1867: the BORDER

We’d had more practice with our rifles at Baton Rouge than we had first expected.

Under its new commander, the military armory at Springfield, Massachusetts had begun to convert its post-war stores of Model 1861 muskets to breech loaders, using a locking cover that you released to insert a single metal cartridge. While we did not envisage that colored regiments would be among the first units to be equipped with the new rifles, we were, on the other hand, able to take advantage of the excess supply of paper cartridges which soon would be made obsolete by the new metal cartridges. That largess made it possible for us to triple the number of practice firings the regiment could afford. Those were time and resources well spent.

Even so, it turned out that it was not marksmanship but an entirely different skill we’d practiced at Baton Rouge that proved more valuable to our initial assignment in Texas. Instead, the more valuable skill would be our experience with hammer, saw that we had gained while building the regiment’s permanent headquarters camp there.

Except for one company to garrison the headquarters at Baton Rouge, the remaining nine companies of the Forty-first United States Colored Infantry Regiment were to garrison a series of nine outposts on the US-Mexico border. But first we would have to build five of those camps, while four locations already had facilities -- established military forts -- that we would occupy.

Meanwhile, the entire regiment had remained at Baton Rouge in order to observe a formal commissioning ceremony and parade on Christmas Day, eighteen sixty-six, at which time the regiment was formally inducted as an active unit of the United States Army.

On Friday, December twenty-eighth, the nine field companies of the regiment was moved by steamboat down the Mississippi River, to disembark the next day at New Orleans. I was surprised to discover that New Orleans was not at the mouth of the Mississippi River as I had always thought, but was better than a hundred meandering river miles from the open water of the Gulf of Mexico.

At New Orleans we were disappointed not to be granted leave to explore the famous town. Instead, we were transferred immediately to a larger, ocean-going steamship. The new ship had a paddle-wheel on either side of the hull, “amidships” I was told was the proper naval term for their placement. That ship took us down through the river’s delta and into the Gulf of Mexico. However, the ship hugged the shore, sometimes even taking passage along lagoons protected from the open Gulf by narrow, sandy islands. Nonetheless, most of the men marveled at vast expanse of the Gulf. I had seen Lake Erie and Ontario, so the sight didn’t awe me, but I was intrigued by the notion of South America, and Cuba, and other exotic lands being embraced by the same body of water.

Unfortunately, even with the gentle seas, many of the men suffered from seasickness. I was lucky enough to miss that opportunity. Jordie was not.

It took us four days and nights to reach the Texas port of Brazos Santiago, at the mouth of the Rio Grande. There we changed ships again, this time returning to a more common, flat-bottomed, stern-wheel riverboat.

Again, I was surprised to learn that Brownsville was not at the mouth of the Rio Grande, as I had always imagined, but was better than fifty river miles inland. Be that as it may, except for a stop at Brownsville for fueling and provisioning, we continued up the Rio Grande for the next three days, arriving finally at Fort Ringgold. The fort, built in eighteen forty-eight as a supply depot for the U.S. war with Mexico, was some eighty miles from Brownsville, as the crow flies, but was near twice that on the river. Fort Ringgold was situated at the head of practical river boat navigation on the Rio Grande. It would be the staging area for the regiment, stockpiling construction materials for our use in garrisoning the border between Fort Ringgold and Fort Davis, the latter fort located on the San Antonio - El Paso Road, roughly five hundred miles from Fort Ringgold.

The borderline that was to be our assignment ran in a north-northwest direction from Fort Ringgold up the Rio Grande. At San Francisco Creek, some three hundred seventy miles upstream, our line of posts diverged from the Rio Grande itself. At that point, the Rio Grande’s course saw a major bend from the southwest while our line continued in a northwest direction to Fort Davis. I mention this here to clarify later directional references. Despite garrisoning the southern border, our line of posts actually was closer to a north-south line, though on a west-east angle.

Near the midpoint of our line was Fort Duncan, which had been occupied, off and on, since eighteen forty-nine. Forts Ringgold, McIntosh, Duncan, and Davis were well-established, with substantial structures, many of masonry quarry stone. Between the forts, we would be establishing permanent camps about every sixty to ninety miles.

These forts and camps would each be garrisoned by one company of sixty-four enlisted men and its complement of commissioned and non-commissioned officers. From these posts, each company would be responsible for patrolling the adjoining half-circle arc of thirty to forty-five miles, more or less, depending on the final placements of the camps.

The exception to that arrangement was Fort Ringgold. Since the Navy and a contingent of Marines had the responsibility for border patrol along the navigable portion of the Rio Grande, our garrison at Fort Ringgold had only the upriver miles to patrol. For that reason, the Fort Ringgold company would also shoulder the responsibility for quartermaster duties in support of the ox-drawn supply trains delivering provisions and materiel to the other posts.

There would be a nearly constant stream wagons bringing all manner of goods, from construction lumber to sacks of beans, to all of the posts. They would travel in trains of fifteen to thirty ox-drawn, heavy freight wagons. Oxen were slower than mules, but they could pull more weight, needed less water, and did better on the available forage.

For all of us, though, patrolling the border was to be the first concern.

Cross-border raiding -- from both sides of the Rio Grande, -- including cattle and horse rustling, robbery and general thievery, rape, revenge, mayhem, and murder, had been a problem every since Texas had won its independence. Nor had the raiding abated after Texas became a state.

The problem went both ways: Americans, primarily Texans, and Mexicans, generally from the Mexican states of Tamaulipas (tah-mou-LEE-pass), Coahuila (coh-ah-WHEE-lah), and Chihuahua (chee-WAH-wah) would cross the Rio Grande into the others’ sovereign territory with villainous intent.

In like manner and purpose, there were also hostile bands of Indians, primarily Comanche, Apache, and Kiowa, who had occupied ancestral territory that was now claimed by the states of Texas and the Mexican border states. Those native Indians considered the various European ethnic groups and their mestizo descendants to be invaders. With their hereditary homelands extending to both sides of the border, Indians were also aware that pursuit from authorities was usually hampered, though not always deterred, by the constraints of sovereign national boundaries. While there was the rare incursion by federal authorities from both sides, more often it was local law enforcement agents or partisan militias that crossed illegally in pursuit of Indians or to mount retaliatory raids.

While much of the borderlands depredation was in criminal pursuits, many of the groups, especially the Indians, felt they had legitimate grievances that the raiding was intended to redress. However, even some non-native groups sometimes had similar concerns.

Such was the nature of the so-called Cortina War of the late ‘fifties and early ‘sixties, in which Tamaulipas rancher and political strongman Juan Cortina led an irregular militia north across the border on several occasions. His grievances were that Americans were occupying land granted to his family by the Spanish crown and for unjustified attacks on his vaqueros by Brownsville lawmen. To clarify, the term vaquero (vah-CARE-oh) is based on a Spanish word for cow, vaca, and is the Mexican term for cowboy. Vaquero is also the source of the American term, buckaroo.

Raiding of all sorts had increased during the American Civil War years, as both U.S. and Confederate governments moved forces to the eastern battlefields, leaving few if any defenders along the southern border. Both native and non-natives who resided near the border were aware of this minimal border protection. The raiders, both native and non-native, took full advantage.

Now, nearly three years after the end of The War, we were given the assignment of stopping the marauding and cross-border incursions.

Captain Lange drew me aside one evening and, after a few pleasantries, he said to me, “Seneca, most of your success during the war came in three roles. First was as a sharpshooter, what we’re now calling a sniper. Second was as an independent agent operating alone behind enemy lines. The third was as a leader of squads or platoons of scouts interdicting the activities of enemy units or gangs of bushwhackers.”

He frowned just slightly as he said, “The type of scouting that will be required for our current assignment is, to some degree, of a different nature. Scouting here will often be a task of discovery and detection, with the purpose of safeguarding the advance of our detachments in furtherance of particular assignments. Even so, you will still be dealing with bands of raiders much the same as when you were dealing with bushwhackers following the end of the war. With that in mind, the terrain and the opposition forces, whether they’re plains Indians or Mexican or American bushwhackers, as well as the nature of our mission, the size of our force, and the extended area for which we’ll be responsible, will all make for a considerably different set of circumstances than we saw in Georgia and Tennessee.”

I sensed that Captain Lange was preparing me for some sort of bad news, and all I could imagine was that I might be demoted for some unknown reason.

He went on. “Having considered all that, decisions have been made to effect three changes.

“The first is that the portion of the regiment here in Texas will be organized into three field battalions of three companies each, and will be assigned the responsibilities of their three contiguous outposts. In other words, First Battalion will include companies B, C, and D who will be garrisoned at Fort Ringgold and the next two camps we’ll build. Second and Third Battalions will likewise be organized for the remaining six companies and their posts, including Fort McIntosh, Fort Duncan, and Fort Davis.

“Be that as it may, there is a specific development that warrants this revised order of battle: namely, three companies of the Ninth Cavalry Regiment, which I know you’re aware is a colored regiment, will be joining us here on the border. One cavalry company will be garrisoned with each battalion. It’s been planned that their role will be long distance patrol and ready response while the infantry will be assigned the duties of enforcement and monitoring of trouble areas. Each company of the Ninth has two Indian scouts attached, as well, and they will remain under command of the Ninth.”

So far, this made sense and wasn’t particularly troublesome, at least from my perspective. So I reckoned the third change was the one I wouldn’t like.

Lange said, “The third alteration, and the one that will likely effect you more than the others, is that a cavalry lieutenant by the name of Hector Absmeier will be acting as chief of scouts for all designated scouts on this expedition, both infantry and cavalry. You will still be assigned to the Forty-first, but Lieutenant Absmeier will coordinate activities and will be the functional commander of scouts. You will be second to him for infantry scouts and one of the Ninth’s scouts will be his second for the cavalry scouts.”

Now that was a bit of a hodgepodge of uncertain news. While it sounded as if I was being both functionally demoted and unofficially promoted, all in the same action, it didn’t fit with what I had understood of my duties. Beyond the role of trainer, I had not envisioned having a larger responsibility than as one of the non-commissioned officers in the cadre, and a member of a platoon. This needed some clarification.

Anticipating me, probably from seeing the confusion on my face, Lange said, “That probably needs some clarification, at least as regards the scouts. Here’s how it’s intended to work:

“Each scout will remain on the roster and under the direct command of their platoon and company, for both infantry and cavalry scouts. However, unless there is cause that the company commander can cite to the satisfaction of regimental command, the chief of scouts will have functional command of the scout cadre. As a result, in any given mission, individual scouts may be acting under the direction of either the chief of scouts or the company commander, as has been decided beforehand for that mission. However, in most instances, it’s expected that the chief of scouts will be coordinating scout assignments. For that matter, it seems likely that the scouts may simply be assigned to attend to their platoon by the chief of scouts unless the situation warrants otherwise. What I am saying is that, for the most part, we expect the scouts will be acting with their assigned platoon duties while purposeful assignments away from their platoons will be the exception rather than the rule. We want to be able to assemble a force of specialists as emergent events may require.”

“Where does that leave our Indian scouts, Captain?”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me. Regimental command has decided to take advantage of this new battalion structure and to split the Indian scouts into three groups of five, with Sergeant Water working out of Fort Duncan, which will be the center of our line. Corporal Smith will bivouac with First Battalion and Corporal Tail with Third. Second Battalion will hold the center assignment and headquarters will be at Fort Duncan, which will be our tactical command center for all three battalions. Fort Ringgold will continue as regimental administrative headquarters and supply center.”

“And what about me, sir? I had not thought I was to have a larger role beyond the initial training.”

“Well, Seneca, that’s to be a horse of a different color.” Lange smiled, though it bordered on a grimace, and he shook his head as he let out his breath as a sigh. Then he said, “You’ll be designated as a first sergeant, though that’s not an actual rank, just as field battalion is not an actual formation. There’s no change in pay or any other accommodation or designation. You will remain under command of the Forty-first but it’s expected that you will function closely as Lieutenant Absmeier’s second in command for the Forty-first’s scouts.”

“Then not as his aide-de-camp, sir?”

“What? No, no, of course not. For one thing, a Lieutenant doesn’t rate an aide-de-camp. Hell, I don’t rate an aide-de-camp. Technically, you have to be a general to be assigned an aide. Some lower-ranked officers may have aides, but they’re paying for them out of their own pocket, and only with the approval of their commanding officer.” Lange laughed with some mirth. “I can just see a shave-tail lieutenant with an aide-de-camp. He’d be laughed out of the officers’ mess.

“Fact is, Seneca, you’ve displayed leadership skills of which we want to take advantage. I know you’re young, but the men respond to you in spite of that. At the same time, you display a talent for tactical planning. If you keep up the good work, in three or four years you’ll probably earn your first sergeant stripe.”

I could feel the heat of my blush. “That’s very kind of you to say, Captain.”

“It’s not a kindness, Judah, it’s a responsibility. You have the talent, but it’s up to you to put it to proper use.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“I expect you will.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Do you have any questions?”

“Do you know anything about Lieutenant Absmeier, Captain?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, a little, anyway, from a couple of our officers who knew him during the war. Apparently, Absmeier was a sergeant then, serving out here in the far west with Kit Carson. He was on both Carson’s Jicarilla Apache and Navajo campaigns.”

“Sounds like the right kind of experience, sir.”

“It does, up to a point. Both of those Indian campaigns were pretty brutal. It seems the Army wanted to teach resistant tribes a lesson, so Carson was ordered to take harsh measures. I’m sure you’ve heard of the conditions at the Bosque Redondo reservation at Fort Sumner.” Lange looked away and shook his head.

The Bosque Redondo was serving as detention camps for both the Navajo and the Jicarilla Apache who had been defeated by Carson’s forces. The Navajo especially had suffered, losing many members on the forced march across New Mexico Territory from Canyon de Chelly (de-SHAY), the redoubt in Arizona Territory where they had finally been defeated. Once at the Bosque conditions were even worse, with many dying of cold, illness, and starvation.

Looking at me again, he said, “There’s a large faction of both the Army and the federal government, the entire nation, for that matter, who see the Indians as less than human. The very same people who insisted on freeing the coloreds from bondage have no qualms at all about calling for the extermination of all red Indians. But just like some of us have gotten to know some coloreds, we’ve now gotten to know some Indians. Do they seem less than--” His voice cut off and he looked at me with some distress.

With a grimace, Captain Lange said, “I apologize, Judah, for my lapse in courtesy. I plowed right over your own Indian ancestry, despite the fact that I often address you as Seneca.” He shook his head. “What a jumble of uncoordinated parts we humans are, as I so amply demonstrate. Again, my apology, Sergeant.”

“Don’t give it a second thought, Captain. I understood your point. Besides, the only full-blood Indian I’ve known before this posting is my granduncle, and I reckon that he would prove your point that Indians ought not to be thought of as less than human. My Uncle Samuel Cayuga, who is for a large part self-educated, can quote the Old Testament, Greek and French philosophers, as well as Marcus Aurelius and William Shakespeare. At the same time, he taught me most everything I know about scouting, woods-craft, and shooting. In some ways, he might better be described as more-than-human, at least to my prejudiced thinking.”

Lange chuckled. “As well he might be, if even half of what you say is true. But, if I may take my own turn at citing the New Testament, Matthew seven, verse sixteen says, ‘You shall know them by their fruits.’ If your Uncle helped produce you, he must be a fine man indeed.”

I felt the prickly warmth ride over my face again. “Now you truly do embarrass me, sir.”

He chuckled. “Making a true redskin of you, Seneca,” he joshed.

Then his expression became serious. “Lieutenant Absmeier will be arriving with the Ninth, which is expected in about six weeks. Meanwhile, we’ll be sending most of our scout cadre ahead with the telegraph line surveying crew. That will be primarily for your familiarization with the territory, but the scouts will also protect the survey crew. The rest of the regiment, save for Company B, will begin moving west with both telegraph and construction supplies.”

“Will the camp buildings be masonry, sir?”

“Forts Duncan and Davis are already mainly of quarry stone, like Fort Ringgold. The remaining camps will be mostly adobe, though the headquarters building and the officers’ quarters will be lumber construction. There’s a master plan that should work for each camp, if a relatively flat expanse of five acres can be secured.”

“Will the men be making the adobe bricks themselves, sir?”

“The main labor will be hired locals, though if the work can be advanced by the men, then they’ll be expected to pitch in. The lumber construction can be completed while the adobe bricks are drying.”

“When will the survey crew depart, Captain?”

“Monday morning, Sergeant. You have five days to prepare. You’ll have three wagons for supplies; best go talk to the teamsters.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll tend to that right away.” I saluted, which he promptly returned, and I headed for the corrals.

Reeds Water whispered, “They probably want the horses in the barn.”

Nearly a month later, Reeds and I were looking through the weedy growth next to a large cottonwood tree. About two hundred fifty yards in front of us was a low log house which looked to be about twenty feet square. The house was attached at an offset corner to a low log barn maybe half again as large. The occupants of the log buildings were besieged by a band of what Reeds said were Apaches, likely a band of the Lipan clan, who populated this region on both sides of the border. There was sporadic rifle fire, mostly from the buildings, while the Apaches slowly maneuvered closer.

Reeds had counted ten so he estimated their number to be at least twice that. There were sixteen men with us on this advance scouting party. We were probably four or five miles in front of the surveyors who were protected by the other half of the scout cadre, with Jordie in charge.

“What do you reckon?” I asked Reeds.

“Depends. Do you want to attack them or just scare ‘em off?”

“Scare them off? Is there a purpose to that?”

“Sure. It will show ‘em we are not much to be feared.”

“Then we best let ‘em know we’re serious.”

He rocked his head toward our men, hidden in the woodlot behind us, and we both crawled back the way we’d come.

I signaled for the men to gather round, and they assembled from their dispersed positions among the trees and brush.

I said, “There’s a group of Apaches we estimate to be a minimum of twenty in number besieging a log farmhouse and attached barn. It looks like a raiding party bent on plunder, including the horses we could hear in the barn. The farm occupants must have at least four individuals shooting from shuttered windows in both buildings, with others reloading for them. The Apaches are shooting from cover, with none closer to the house than about seventy or eighty yards., though they’re closing in. The Indians appear to be mostly armed with muzzle loading rifles or carbines, but there’s at least one of ‘em using arrows.”