Chapter 10: 1873: Fort Davis, Texas

A breathless, colored private found Jordie and me lounging in the early March sunshine behind Janie’s house, awaiting her return from the post bakery, which was usually by two p.m. We’d put on a pot of beans to warm for lunch.

“Major Bliss wants to see you and Sergeant Tipton, on the double, First Sergeant,” the young man blurted out.

Major Zenas Bliss, a brevet Lieutenant Colonel during The War, was one of a succession of officers who had acted as post commandants since Colonel Mackenzie had been transferred to the Fourth Cavalry. Lieutenant Colonel Shafter had served for several months, then been transferred to Washington, then back to command Fort Davis for two months, then he was transferred to Fifth Army District at New Orleans. Fifth Army District, commanded by General Phil Sheridan and General Winfield Scott Hancock, covered Louisiana and Texas.

And here in west Texas, Fort Davis’s commanding officers -- colonels, majors, even a captain -- came and went every month or two. The speculation was that one or more of the Texas forts might be shut down and we were being managed from Brigade HQ at Fort Richardson until those things were decided. It made as much sense as anything else about the Army.

Major Zenas Bliss had served on the Texas frontier before The War and had formed the first unit of Black Seminole scouts. He had also earned one of the recently-created formal decorations for “bravery in battle above and beyond the call of duty,” the Medal of Honor, which cited his actions at the Battle of Fredericksburg.

“What’s it about, Private?” I asked, buttoning my blouse while Jordie was tying his brogans.

“Not sure, First Sergeant. Alls I knows is one a’ your’ses scouts came tearin’ in a little while ago, then a few minutes later the Major called for a runner. That was me.”

“Good enough, Private, we’ll double-time it. You can return to your post.”

“Very good, First Sergeant.” He turned and sprinted off as Jordie and I put on our belts, grabbed our slouch hats from their shelf the house, and hastened toward HQ.

Major Lange had been transferred to Fort Stockton in January to be the adjutant there and I had been serving as acting chief of scouts for the regiment, pending other arrangements. I reported directly to the camp commander; this month, it was Major Bliss.

At headquarters we were sent directly into the Major’s office. There we found Indian Scout Sergeant John South, in trail-dusted buckskins, seated on the floor against a wall, a water bucket and dipper at his side. Also present, besides Major Bliss, were the Twenty-fourth’s A Company commander, Captain Jacob Smith, as well as both of his platoon lieutenants.

“First Sergeant,” Bliss immediately began as he returned our salutes, “Sergeant South brings word that Colonel Mackenzie, leading a company of the Fourth Cavalry from Fort Richardson, along with a company of the Twenty-fifth Infantry have got themselves caught in a canyon in the Guadalupes with only one way out and that way controlled by a mixed group of Comanche and Kiowa warriors. They’re out of food and water, and low on ammunition. The hostiles have the high ground on the canyon rim. However, our men have shelter at the base of the canyon walls and are out of sight of the hostile tribesmen on either rim, but those Indians control the canyon mouth.” He looked to me. “You know the Guadalupes, don’t you Becker?”

“Yes, parts of it, sir.”

Bliss turned toward South. “Fill him in, Sergeant South.”

South nodded to me. “Seneca.”

“John.” I nodded in turn. “What else?”

He wiped his dirt-crusted eyes with his sleeve, then said, “Both companies have taken heavy casualties. We went out there as a mixed force, with the intent of finding these raiders and then using the cavalry to drive them into am infantry trap. But the table was turned.” He looked down and shook his head. “It was my fault. They lured me in with a trail that seemed to show they’d entered the canyon and then purposely concealed their real tracks -- but it was just bait. They hadn’t gone that way, except to lay a false trail. I took the bait and led the infantry into the canyon.

“That was the infantry. But the cavalry was out in the flats, running a sweep, so they were several miles off when the shooting started. The raiding party was up on the rim and they caught us in the open at the box end of the canyon. Before we got under cover, they’d killed four men, and wounded six others with their first volley.

“Eventually, the cavalry came looking for us, and suffered the same fate. We’re down to about seven in ten still able to fight, a dozen men will have to be carried out, and there’s no wood for stretchers or travois.

“We’re protected by the overhang of the rocks, but it doesn’t allow us a sight line to return fire without being fully exposed to the opposite rim. We had all but some hardtack left and maybe three day’s short ration of water when I left. That’s the long an’ short of it, First Sar’nt.” Finishing his report, South just shook his head with chagrin and looked toward the floor.

Over the years, the Indian scouts had learned to speak a style of army English best suited to tactical discussions. As a result, scouts’ reports provided a fairly brief description of a battlefield. Still, I had a few questions and clarifications in my mind.

“No trees for stretchers?”

“Barren sand, save for afew patches of brush. But not enough to provide forage for the animals.”

“What’s the strength of the hostiles?”

“Forty to sixty, it’s hard to say. We have them well outnumbered, but they could maybe wipe out most ever’body in escaping the canyon.” He shook his head. “I’m guessin’ their number based on their rate of effective fire during the ambuscades of the infantry and then the cavalry. I’d say more about sixty.”

“Arms?”

“Mix of repeaters and single-shot breech-loaders, different calibers of each.”

“Ammunition supply?”

He shrugged. “They don’t seem to be wasting any powder with idle shooting.”

“Any signs of bows being used?”

“A few arrows came down; three or four men, maybe.” That made me wonder if there were warriors without firearms or just some who liked the old ways. A bow allowed slightly faster reloads than a single shot, breech-loading Springfield.

“Besides having an advantage over the canyon bottom, are they in defensible positions if attacked from other quarters?”

“They might be behind cover, but I don’t expect so. The canyon rock is mostly smooth, water-worn, and don’t show much in the way a’ crags, or defiles, or broken-off pieces. What I might guess is that they are lying on bare rock on the rim. It was like that where I climbed out, but that was night and I didn’t see much more. If a company got up there, likely all would be fightin’ in the open.”

“Do they know you escaped?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t reckon so. I went out slow and quiet, up the canyon wall, in an exposed cleft, but it was after midnight. Even at night I’d been seen, I could still have been seen from the other rim if they’d been lookin’. After that, I was on foot and could have been run down by mounted men, so no, I think I got away clean.” He chuckled. “I thought I might have to run all the way here, but at mid-day yesterday I found one of our horses that the cavalry must ‘a lost when they charged the canyon. I think that mare was on her way back here, just not in a hurry, like she was after I found her.”

“How far from here to the canyon?”

“Eighty, eighty-five miles.”

“Could you make a drawing of what the canyon looks like, from above, like a map?”

“I reckon,” South said, climbing to his feet. “Major, can I trouble you for paper an’ pencil?”

I turned to Jordie. “Find out how many Army and Indian scouts are on post.”

Jordie went to attention facing the Major, then left the office. The officers crowded around the desk as South began to draw on the paper.

He narrated as he drew. “The main problem is this narrow entrance. It’s barely wide enough for two men on foot, shoulder to shoulder, the pack mules sometimes scraped through. That narrow part goes on for twenty, thirty yards. And it twists, so a man on horse back can’t take it at a gallop. Back here, the canyon opens up some, but stays narrow, though more like thirty or forty feet wide, with the walls undercut, so there’s cover from the shooters at the top and shelter from the sun. At the back end, it opens up about half again as much.”

“You dug for water?” Captain Smith asked.

“We did, sir. It was still bone dry at five feet. It was cooler, but not at all damp.”

A lieutenant pointed to some converging lines and asked, “What’s this, Sergeant?”

“That’s where I crawled out, Lieutenant. It looks like a springtime or rainstorm water fall, a narrow groove in the rock.”

“Could the others escape that way?” the other lieutenant asked.

“Some, maybe, sir, but not with their carbines, unless they wanted to attract attention with the clatter of ‘em against the rock. I came out with nothin’ but my knife and hatchet, and wore them across my belly. To go up the chimney, you have to press your feet against one side and your back against the other. It’s in plain view from the other rim. Makin’ the smallest noise would catch the ear a’ the men on the opposite rim. And the wounded couldn’t make it, for certain.”

I asked, “Could someone get back in that way?”

“I can,” South quickly replied. “At night.”

Bliss said, “You’re worn out, Sergeant. You need rest.”

“Sir, I led them into that ambush. I’ll help get ‘em out.”

Bliss gave me a questioning look. I shrugged and nodded in return.

“Very well, Sergeant South,” Bliss said, “but you’ll follow First Sergeant Becker’s orders without hesitation.”

“I will, sir.”

The Major said, “Captain Smith will take Company A as a relief column. How long will it take you to get there, Captain?”

“The men are trained to thirty-mile marches, sir, and the weather is still cool, so I’d say, if we leave at first light, we should be there Friday at noon, maybe sooner. We’ll need at least two ambulances for the wounded, Major.”

“You can have one ambulance, I can’t give you more than two mules. Carry materiel for stretchers and travois on the ambulance. Load it with food and water for Colonel Mackenzie’s force.”

South said, “Beggin’ your pardon, Major, but there’s good water an’ springtime grass a mile or so from that canyon.”

Bliss said to Smith, “Then take some oats for the horses, instead of the extra water.

“Yes, sir.”

Then Bliss looked at me. “Becker, you and an advance party of scouts will take the available mounts and proceed at you best speed. Do what you can to provide relief until the column arrives. When will you leave?”

“Within the hour, Major.”

Forty minutes later, just past one-thirty, nine of us rode out. Besides South, there were three more Indian scouts, including the Pawnee Scout Corporal, Many Hands, and three scouts from the Twenty-fourth Colored Infantry.

Jordie and I had gulped down some beans at Janie’s and she gave us some crullers -- sugar-covered fried yeast-bread pastries -- to carry along. Then she kissed each of us on the cheek as we left. Jordie gave me an odd look, but Janie had gotten into that habit back at Christmas. I’d have missed it, I realized, if the ritual had not been observed as we left.

It was an easy trail through low mountains and broken country, with few serious deviations, and even easier ponce we reached flat country. We passed some wild-looking longhorn cattle along the way, and saw one ranch-house in the distance. Otherwise we saw no one and the only fresh tracks were those left by John South that morning.

I proposed that we rest from eight o’clock that evening until midnight, then ride until four am, then take another four-hour break. Daylight was still short, that early in the year, and I didn’t want us to waste the long night in camp. In any case, all of us were anxious to relieve our comrades, and there was no objection to my plan.

We stood two-man, one-hour watches, though I took South’s rotations so he could rest.

The next day, during daylight, we rode for four hours and rested for two. By noon the following day, Wednesday, we could see the Guadalupes rising in the distance. At around thirty miles out, I called a halt so that our dust wouldn’t be visible to our quarry. We walked the next ten miles at a measured pace, leading the mounts, then settled down to await nightfall.

The moon was just in its first quarter, and it would set by midnight. We started out walking at full dark, then held ten miles out until moonset, then moved to a mile from the first upthrust.

We squatted to talk, our horses held behind us.

Our plan was for South to return, unseen, to the beleaguered troops before sunup. Then, over the daylight hours, the rest of us would reconnoiter the enemy’s positions.

I looked around the squad to see if there were any questions.

Many Hands said, “They’ll see the dust from the infantry.”

I nodded and asked South, “Any guess as to what the raiders will do?”

He shrugged. “Probably turn tail and run. It’s what I’d do.”

Jordie observed, “So the group you came out to stop will end up still bein’ at large.” From their reactions it was clear no one seemed to like that prospect.

I thought for a minute, then said, “If we could get the infantry up here during the night, maybe we could spring our own trap.”

Jordie asked, “Wha’cha have in mind?”

“Get them to chase us into an ambush by the infantry.”

South looked skeptical. “How do you see that workin’?”

“First off, it would probably only draw off a portion of ‘em, but that’s better than nothin’. Jordie will take two men and’ go find a good spot for the relief column to set up an ambush.”

One of the infantry scouts said, “What’s wrong with that last arroyo we crossed?”

South nodded. “That might work. Do it right and it will be just like the trap they set for us,” he chuckle, “jes with lower walls.”

Our trail had crossed an eight-foot deep arroyo with steep sandy sides at the site of a big curve in the stream bed, with steady flow of early spring runoff. Infantry could easily hide beyond the rim on the south side and then shoot right over our heads as we led our pursuers into the ambush. Even if we only got eight or a dozen, it was better than letting the whole group escape to continue raiding.

I nodded. “That arroyo might be a good spot. Jordie, you and your men look it over and decide. If not, find somewhere else. Then I want you, Jordie, to head back up the trail to intercept the infantry, convince them to come in after dark. Oh, and have ‘em take the cover off that ambulance an’ leave ‘em both a couple miles back” I shifted my gaze. “Many Hands, go with Jordie to find the ambush, then come back here and tell me or whoever I send, what you decided and how to coordinate our timing, but I’d like to set things off at daybreak tomorrow.”

Many Hands seemed uneasy. “One thing bothers me. Why is this raiding party hangin’ around here? Seems like they’d have tired of this game days ago.”

South grunted. “It seemed odd to us, too. Once we were sheltered in the wall undercuts we were safe from their fire and they couldn’t get to our horses. That narrow entrance stopped them from attacking us head-on as much as it kept us from escaping, so it was a standoff.”

“Except for not having enough food or water,” Jordie observed.

Many Hands still sounded skeptical. He grunted, then said, “So they’re waitin’ for you to die a’ thirst?”

South shook his head. “No. We talked about it and we think they want the Colonel’s horse. It’s a gold-colored palomino with sturdy configuration, a truly handsome animal. He told us he’s had Indians stalk it before.”

“So why not just put the horse out in the open and shoot it? Then the raiders would go away.” Jordie demanded.

I said, “Or just turn it loose and let the Indians have the damn horse?”

South replied, “The horse was only a guess. They might a’ had it in for Colonel Mackenzie, himself, or were hopin’ we’d provide ‘em with a shootin’ gallery when we got desperate for wate, or maybe they anted our guns. There’s really no way a’ tellin’. An’ by the time we thought a’ that horse,” South explained, “I was set to go for help, and the Colonel decided to hold out for a few days to keep the raiding party here so that we might still deal with them in some fashion.”

Jordie said, “Rather than let most of ‘em get away, maybe we should just bring the infantry up here and take ‘em on direct-like.”

South said, “Most of ‘em would still escape into the mountains. They won’t stand and fight, that doesn’t suit their purpose. They’re raiders, not a war party. They won’t face you. They only fight from an advantage, and only if there’s plunder to be had.”

I mumbled, “We need to take that advantage away from them.”

South shrugged. “You’ll likely get a few of ‘em.”

It was quiet then, so I asked, “Anything else?” No one spoke. I turned to South. “You need help gettin’ back in there?”

He shook his head. “Best on my own.”

“Okay, then. Tomorrow morning listen for gunfire just before sunrise or thereabouts. Give it a minute, then, if the Colonel’s a’ mind, he can maybe advance on the narrows and catch some of ‘em from behind, but come careful, ‘cause I’m not sure how many we’ll draw away. We’ll watch ‘em, come daylight today and figure it out. An’ if we can’t go tomorrow -- not today, but tomorrow --, then the next morning.”

South nodded.

I grasped his shoulder. “Good luck, John.”

He gripped my other shoulder. “You, too,” he said, then slipped away in the darkness.

I looked at Jordie. “Watch out for elephants.” He slapped my shoulder, then he and Many Hands and a couple of the infantry scouts went off opposite the direction South had gone.

I said to the others, “I’ll take first watch and I’ll kick anybody who snores.”

Except for a lookout on the highest bench, most of the raiders were on the lowest levels of the canyon rim, of which there were three or, in places, four levels, each set back from the one below it. Many Hands and I were on a middle tier, close in against the wall of the next level, so the high lookout we saw go up there wouldn’t see us, but we could still see many, perhaps most, of the raiders. We even had a view of their camp, in an adjoining canyon, where several of them were now resting, apparently after a night on watch

Our view of the canyon bottom, where Colonel Mackenzie was trapped, was practically nil, as that canyon was so narrow, especially from our distance. The one spot we could see showed us a few of the horses, including what must have been Colonel Mackenzie’s palomino. However, our distance was too great, even with binoculars, to judge the animal’s qualities, other than its pale gold coat with darker mane and tail.

Many Hands and I had climbed up here just at dawn, arriving even before their lookout, who didn’t show up until after sunrise. After watching to establish the morning routine of the raiders, Many Hands and I took turns napping in the shade of the rock wall that rose above us.

The rock surfaces were of a gritty, reddish stone, worn smooth by water and wind. There were few sharp edges, and those mostly in the form of a few deep, narrow cracks. The configuration of the precipices was such that the lower sections were undercut, providing cover from a view from the rim. The rim, too, curved toward the canyon rather than having a sharp top edge. That feature made it impossible to reach a point to see straight down into the canyon, at least not without falling off. On the other hand, the narrow, twisting sections of canyon would give views to the narrowest portions of the canyon floor from places on the rim that were above or below the various curves. The view there would be looking along the line of short sections of the canyon rather than cross-wise. It was the easiest kind of shooting gallery. One man with plenty of ammunition could hold back an army.

Just before noon, we saw what appeared to be two messengers making their way from one man to the next on either side of the canyon. From the men on watch, about a half at a time went down to the camp where they gathered in a group to listen to two men.

Many Hands commented, “Two leaders, one Kiowa, one Comanche.”

After the first group was dealt with, they returned to their watch positions and spread the word to the others. One man climbed up to the high lookout. Assuming all the Indians were thus accounted for, there were about fifty-five of them.

I had to give them credit for their tactics so far, as they’d taken on a group of trained infantry and cavalry that, together, had been twice their number. They had taken advantage of a defeat-in-detail approach, dealing with only half their opposition at a time. But now they had the tiger by the tail.

As I watched their gathering, I was reminded of another animal “tale” I’d heard from some Black Seminoles, this one from southern Mexico, where monkeys are sometimes hunted for food. To capture a monkey, a small hole is cut in a coconut and nuts and fruit inserted into the hollow interior. The coconut is tied down so that it can’t be carried off. A monkey will discover this prize and reach in the hole to grasp the treats inside. But then it’s not able to withdraw its fist which, enclosing the bait, is too large to pass back through the hole. Typically, the monkey is too stubborn to release the bait and thus is easily dispatched for the stew pot.

I thought perhaps we might be dealing with a similar situation now, and the raiders wouldn’t let go of what had become the bait.

I suppose their original plan had been to wait the troopers out while starvation and thirst weakened them. But now I wondered if the days and nights sitting atop rock walls had reached the limits of boredom, at least for a party of Indian raiders. Some important planning seemed to be taking place, but we could only guess.

On watch, the largest group of the raiders were just outside the canyon entrance, eleven in number. Three men watched the pony herd, grazing near the canyon mouth where they had their camp. Another eighteen men were posted along the first rim above the canyon. That would allow for a similar number to be on watch at night, plus the leaders and a daytime lookout.

Many Hands and I stayed on watch until nightfall, discussing the possibilities. Much, however, depended on the raiders’ planned actions.

The pre-dawn hour saw the raiders -- their entire force, save for the pony herd guards -- gathering at the mouth of the canyon. They gave every appearance of preparing an attack into the canyon. Could they be that desperate?

I had joined our watch for that interval specifically to look for just such activity. In anticipation, we’d formulated a somewhat risky plan.

Jordie had joined us shortly after midnight, assuring us that the infantry was setting up along the arroyo they’d scouted. Now the only problem was to get the raiders to chase us there.

The problem was that the raiders were afoot and seemed intent on prosecuting their attack on the trapped regulars in that fashion.

However, if we stayed on foot and ran off, some, if not all of the raiders, would mount their horses to chase us, catching up well before we could reach the cover at the arroyo wall.

On the other hand, if we attacked mounted on our horses, the raiders would lag too far behind us for a real chase.

Many Hands proposed, “Three of us will drive their ponies off, the other five attack and escape on foot, leading them to the trap.”

Fifty-five against five were not the sort of odds that seemed to favor success.

Nonetheless, we chose the fastest runners, which included, Jordie, Many Hands, and me. All of us were in buckskins and moccasins, armed with the single load Springfield carbines, and each of us had a six-shot Army Colt, plus a belt with hatchet and knife and cartridge case. We divested ourselves of other equipment, and left it in our saddle packs, including the cartridge box and its reloads, keeping a few in hand. However, as a last resort, I did slip my bow over my shoulder and bring a half dozen arrows in a flat quiver. Many Hands did the same.

Our horses were picketed well away from the area and the three men that were to drive off the pony herd went off to saddle up. Their drive at the raiders’ mounts would be our signal to begin.

For the five of us left, our initial attack would be all of us taking an aimed shot at the Indians, and then an immediate fall-back of twenty running paces., reloading as we ran. At that point we would all turn and fire once more, then repeat that run-and-fire pattern once more. After that, it was all running. If necessary, we could drop the carbines, hopefully unnoticed, to be recovered later.

Many Hands, Jordie, me, and a scout from Company B would all take our first shot at the two leaders, now clearly identified as the two men haranguing the other raiders. After that, all five of us had designated zones of fire to prevent duplication of targets.

On our bellies, we elbowed our way closer, coming to rest in the prone firing posture in a rough line, at ten foot intervals. We were about thirty yards from the raiders, our only cover the dark ground and brush. Our positions were less visible due to the contrasting glow of the dawn sky behind us, not yet bright enough to illuminate the shadowy terrain in which we were concealed, but with enough brightness so that the dark ground was further obscured.

Rather than the expected sound of galloping horses, the first indication of our raid on the Indians’ mounts was instead an exchange of gunfire and a cry of pain.

I immediately called, “Open fire!” and we let fly as one. The leaders both fell, as did twomore of the raiders before they took cover and began to return fire.

We knew it would take them a minute or two to catch on to the small size of our force, and our first retreat was timed to take advantage of that delay. We ran, crouched, to our second position before the raiders decided to charge us. As soon as they were on their feet, we fired our second volley, firing once, then retreating when they again took cover, to take our third position.

Our withdrawal had been on an east-southeast line; however, our goal was nearly due south and close to a mile distant. After our third volley, we changed our direction to due south. With our now only added weight, all of us had decided to hide them in the brush at our third position, taking advantage of our changing line of withdrawal, hoping to draw the raiders away from that spot. Our change in direction had been planned to keep the raiders slightly confused; using it to help hide our rifles was simply incidental.

Though we’d plugged our ears with shreds of cotton sacking, we were confident the raiders had not, so we knew we could not depend on them hearing us running away. Therefore, we had to run upright to be seen and to take the occasional shot from the revolvers which were now in our hands. We took turns, shooting one round each at our pursuers, until we were sure they were following. Then we ran no more that three steps in a line before altering our direction to make it harder for them to hit us with their shooting; we ran like a band of confused rabbits.

I was running behind the others, watching for stragglers, when I felt a sharp pain stab deep into my left thigh. It made me stumble and I went down, face-first, into a woody shrub.

In a trice, Jordie was kneeling next to me and the others were near us, now crouched and returning measured fire.

Jodie asked, “How bad?”

“Feels like it went deep in my left leg.”

“Can you run or walk?”

“Help me up, we’ll find out.”

I rose easily enough, though each movement stabbed deep into my hip.

Many Hands called, “Unless you want more a’ that, we need to move out.”

Jordie tugged on my arm and I started out at an uncertain, but pain-generating pace. The fiery strokes seemed to shoot up into my head, but I began running at close to the pace we’d made before. I realized I’d let my breathing get away from me and I started pacing my breaths. All the while Jordie supported me as I stumbled along.

Many Hands asked for my pistol and offered me his. “One left,” he warned.

Being infantrymen, we probably spent more time moving about on our feet than the Indians, who were more in the line of light cavalry. Plus we moved with weighty pack loads, especially the scouts, who routinely practiced fast-paced, twenty-mile hikes with fifty-pound loads. -- fifty pounds as a convenience, because that was the weight of the sacks of rice and beans that were shipped to us. In any event, we could have outpaced the Indians had we wanted to, but our purpose was to keep them interested in us. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I awaited the next piecing jab of fire.

Sooner than I expected, the arroyo came into view. We jumped down into it. I fell, of course, but Jordie and Many Hands helped me up. Then we ran the ten yards to the far bank and crouched under it in the shadows where the stream was flowing. Jordie shouted, “Captain, there may be forty or fifty of ‘em,” to alert Captain Smith to not spring the trap too soon.