Part IV
Soon afterwards the six women in the fort took in Sarah Morris; they took care of her until passage could be arranged on one of the southbound boats. Life again soon returned to its normal. Soon summer would be coming on; the Frontier Scout noted that the landscape was “like a Lybian desert when a simoon is raging.” Even so the health of the garrison was improving quickly, Surgeon Herrick reported that the scurvy cases had dropped from 50 seriously ill to just 11 convalescents.Now outside the fort, more and more Indians started to appear, they were assembling for a grand parley, the one General Sully had arranged for in mid-July. They were made up mainly of Yanktonais and Tetons. With them they brought news of a possible attack on the Fort Rice. This was troublesome news because up river the hostile Indians started a war and were attacking the steamboats. Then the steamboat Cutter had docked at Fort Rice the 29th of June. They reported the death of one of their crewmembers that was killed in a fierce attack by hostile Indians. Then later that same day the St. Johns arrived with a very much similar story; they had been attacked just below Fort Berthold; the first mate had been shot and killed from a riverbank ambush. Also in the same ambush a deck hand had been badly wounded, and a shot had almost taken the head off of the pilot, but just grazing his forehead.
With this news the officers and men of Fort Rice took the new as warnings of thing to come. So they took up their arms, and kept up an alert guard, they drilled regularly, and on the last day of June they assembled for a rigid inspection.
A blast of hot wind brought in the month of July soon followed by thunderous thunderstorms, which turned the earthen roofs of the fort to dripping mud. Over in the small quarters where Patrick and Elizabeth Cardwell lived, Surgeon Herrick was busy delivering the Cardwell’s baby; the next morning Herrick announced to the post that the first white child had been born in the fort. “May she prove a perfect trump,” declared the Frontier Scout, and so the 1st U.S. Volunteers began a celebration, which lasted, clear through the Fourth of July holiday.
On July 3rd details worked all day at decorating the stockade and all the gates. Using garlands of green willow fronds, which they twined over rails and post. Carl Muller, the regimental artist, painted they words “4th of July” and “Peace” above entrance arch to the post, and then decorated it with red white, and blue stars.
The Forth of July drew cloudy and cool; one 12-pounder howitzer boomed the 13 salutes. Then at 9:30 a.m. the entire regiment along with Company “G” of the 6th Iowa Cavalry formed for review on the plateau in front of the fort. For just a few moments the sun broke through the dark clouds, shimmering on the metalwork of the muskets. After a short speech by Colonel Dimon, the sports of the day began. The winners received money prizes. The sports consisted of foot races; blindfold wheelbarrow races, sack races, horse races. And on the parapet watching all the fun and events were the ladies of Fort Rice, all except Elizabeth Cardwell, who was still recovering from childbirth, and was in her quarters.
After the celebration ended, the regiment held a mock dress parade, which was organized by Drum-Major Conrad Badenhop. One soldier wore a three-foot high buffalo cap, another soldier a pair of flannel drawers. Some men carried crutches, and others crossbows; all were streaked with Indian war pain. The Frontier Scout reported, “The lines were formed as straight as a Virginia rail fence.” “The parade terminated by a march on the commissary, and every man taking a drink. The 13 guns of evening shook the dirt roofs of Fort Rice, and the sun set on the happiest Fourth of all time.”
The celebration was to soon ended, for on July 9th when the regiment awoke to the new day, they learned that Elizabeth Cardwell had passed away in the night, then a short hours later her baby too passed away. Pity and sorrow soon enveloped the fort. Captain Adams wrote in the Frontier Scout, “Thus has passed away the young mother and her infant like a dream of morning, Green be the grass above them. Carl Muller has painted a beautiful headstone for the mother and child. It is really tasteful and does his head and heart great credit.”
Her husband was so grief stricken it was such a sad site to behold also very grief stricken were the five ladies of the fort, Mrs. Galpin the Teton wife, and the other four white women, Mrs. Yarbrough, Mrs. Kruger, Mrs. Larned, and a Miss James. The officers and men of the 1st U.S. Volunteer Infantry and the 6th Iowa formed in a solemn procession to honor Elizabeth Cardwell, just as she had been a member of their regiment.
For several days the mood of the fort was ever so subdued, it seemed that whenever speech was necessary they talked in very quiet tones. There was none of the usual raillery among the men as they went about their daily details. The death of Elizabeth and her child had affected them more deeply than any of the previous losses of their comrades.
The men of the 1st found themselves unable to mourn the lost of their beloved Elizabeth for long, events were quickly unfolding around them. For in the second week of July, numerous bands of Indians started gathering on both sides of the river, awaiting the arrival of General Sully. Approximately three hundred lodges were encamped by July 13th. General Sully and his column arrived and encamped on the plain just east of the river. The men of the 1st U.S. Volunteers were happy to see that General Sully had brought up with him two extra companies of the 4th U.S. Volunteers. So word quickly spread throughout the fort that the 1st U.S. was soon to be mustered out before the end of the summer.
On July 16th, General Sully held his first all day council with the Indians; the general invited Colonel Dimon to attend also. The ceremonies began with the usual tradition of smoke to the Great Spirit, with General Sully taking three puffs from the peace pipe, and saying, “All my friends are my brothers”. General Sully then handed the peace pipe to Colonel Dimon, who also took three puffs. When General Sully looked around the council he was please to see sitting among the other tribes was the Hunkpapas (Sioux).
General Sully thought of the Hunkpapas to be the most suspicious and the most warlike of the Sioux Nation. General Sully took special care to win over the few representatives who had come to the Council at Fort Rice.
During the first day of council the Hunkpapas told General Sully that 130 more Hunkpapas lodges of their people were waiting west of the river to see if General Sully was setting a trap for them. As soon as General Sully heard this he immediately declared that he only wanted peace.
The council ended for the day late in the afternoon, so General Sully’s party crossed the river to return to the fort for dinner. Again with Col. Dimon’s inexperience showing, he displayed his talent for messing thing up: he had previously arranged for the forts howitzer to fire a salute as soon as the ferryboat reached the landing. The result was disastrous for Sully’s Council for Peace, because when the Hunkpapas herd the howitzer, the alarm was sounded and they scattered. The next day General Sully wrote to General Pope, telling him of the affair, “At the time 130 more lodges were on their way. When I landed the fort fired a salute. The Advance, seeing this, thought they were firing on them, gave the alarm, and the whole party scattered. The red man is a hard animal to deal with, and very uncertain.”
On July 22nd, General Sully relieved Colonel Dimon of his command because of the incident of firing the salute with the howitzer. Even though he admired Dimon for the excellent appearance of the Fort, so the general issued a general order praising the regiment for it’s splendid behavior during the hard winter. General Sully announced that Colonel Dimon was being transferred to the states, on an important mission and well-deserved furlough, and on that same day Lieutenant-Colonel John Patte of the 7th Iowa Cavalry replaced him as commander of Fort Rice. Colonel Dimon’s booming gun had a far reaching affect, which was to be learned two weeks later, that the frightened Hunkpapas had hurried back to their camp, and began spreading the story that General Sully had massacred all the Indians who had gathered for Council and smoke at Fort Rice. The story soon found its way to the ears of the tribal leader his name known then to few white men, Sitting Bull, who hated all whites. The news of what had happened at Fort Rice reinforced Sitting Bull’s hatred for the whites. Long before the incident at Fort Rice, Sitting Bull was advocating war to the death against all whites, which he thought of as invaders, of their Sioux country.
Sitting Bull organized a Great War party and started out for Fort Rice. Sitting Bull and The-Man-That-Has-His-Head-Shaved lead more than one thousand hostile Sioux in a mighty assault upon the hated whites at Fort Rice. Early on the morning of July 28th, the men of Fort Rice had their first look at the enemy. It all started about 7:00a.m. When a civilian who worked for the sutler had stepped outside the store which was at the northwest corner of the fort he saw several mounted warriors, painted for battle, and in pursuit of one of the post’s Yanktonai police. A moment later, near the sawmill just south of the fort, Private Andrew Burch was startled to see a red-painted Indian in hot pursuit of Private James Hufstudler. Private Burch and Hufstudler along with a third private named Brown were guarding the horse herd. Each of the men were mounted and separated by a considerable distance from one another.
Private Burch spun his horse forward, but the Sioux warrior had already shot private Hufstudler with an arrow and was beating him over his head with the bow, private Burch fired his revolver, and the warrior dashed off toward the post cemetery, joining three other hostels.
“I ran them up a hill some 400 yards,” Private Burch said later, “and shot at him five times with my revolver, but did not hit him. I should if my horse had not been frightened by his war rigging. His pony was hung with red tassels: he himself had a red blanket around his waist, his shoulders were naked and painted red, his hair was hanging loose, two feathers fluttering in it. He had a rifle or shotgun in a fringed covering hanging on his back and in one hand his bow and arrow. His horse was streaked off with red paint over his haunches. When he ran behind the hill, I pursued him to the top and saw over the hill 25 or 30 Indians-they kept pretty well concealed, as I could see only their heads.”
Fort Rice was in full alarm, men of both companies, 1st U.S. Volunteers and 4th U.S. Volunteers poured out the north gate, and dashing out the south gate of the fort was Captain Moreland and a platoon of Iowa cavalrymen riding to aid the horse herders. Captain Moreland got there too late to save the horses: when Private Brown went to assist Burch, more Sioux sprang from concealment and swept the herd away.
Captain Moreland and his troopers galloped off in pursuit of the enemy, swinging around a hill where Private Burch and Private Brown were observing the 25 or so Indians. Just as soon as the Sioux saw the cavalry pursuing their friends, they leaped on their horses in pursuit of Captain Moreland’s troops, to aid their friends, “they went yelling like barking dogs,” Burch said. “As they whipped across the Creek they struck their ponies with their leather whips fastened around their wrist. Their horses went with the swiftest kind of a run into the fight. I saw three unhorsed, and I thought Captain Moreland shot them himself, as he was fifty feet in advance of his men and firing.”
Private Burch and Brown heard the crackle of musketry coming from the West Side of the fort. The action had flowed beyond them, having a moment to observe the horizon, which now was fully lit by the summer morning sunlight. In an arc sweeping from north to west to south, every hill was covered with mounted Sioux; every horse and warrior was painted for battle.
When Lieutenant Colonel Patte discovered that the Fort was surrounded. He rode out a few yards from the fort too the plains just west of the stockade, observing the situation; he calmly began deploying his troops. He then dispatched a messenger to Captain Moreland with the orders to pull back, to fight and stand closer to the Fort, he then sent Company “D” of the 4th Regiment to reinforce the cavalry and too form a left wing. He sent Company “A” of the 4th marching northward on the double-quick to form a right wing.
Then into the center he sent the four veteran companies of the 1st. The howitzers were manned and ready up in the bastions. Then Lieutenant Colonel Pattee ordered the two 12-pounders from the parade ground and had them rolled outside and unlimbered in front of the fort gates.
Lieutenant Colonel Patte’s following orders were short and too the point, Hold your positions, doesn’t pursue. Because he knew that if his men held their positions and did not break formation and panic, the hostiles had no chance against his outnumbered men because of their superior firepower of rifles and howitzers.
And so the fight for Fort Rice raged on for another three hours, with the battle lines at times stretching for as much as two miles. With so many rounds being spent in the battle, Captain Adams ordered into action his reserve cavalry, as bearer’s of ammunition, the men had to used the nose feeding bags of their horses to transport the rounds to their comrades on the battle lines. The Indians too found themselves running out of arrows, and soon would have to brake off the fight.
The battle came down to the superb horsemanship of the Indians who was inspired by Sitting Bull, and the dismounted soldiers, who were following Lieutenant-Colonel Patte’s fine example of calm courage, refusing to yield even sew much as an inch of ground. One soldier later said after the fight, “When the Indian ponies ran, they went so fast, they seemed to lie out entirely straight.” In the early stages of the battle, the Sioux were rushing at full speed right up to the battle lines being held by the soldiers, some of the Indians even standing on the backs of the ponies while firing their arrows, some stabbing and slashing with their lances and tomahawks.
But as soon as the howitzers had begun firing, this brave act of daring by the Indians soon diminished and became less frequent, and with much gratefulness to the soldiers, the attackers soon would withdraw, seeking cover behind the nearby hills. It seemed that just as Lieutenant-Colonel Pattee had predicted their firepower would soon make the difference. For not even the strong medicine of Sitting Bull could prevail against such devastating fire power, To the Indians it appeared that living demons shrieked from the big guns of the white soldier.
By late morning the Sioux withdrew from the soldier’s musket range and by noontime the Sioux had vanished completely from view of the fort. Lieutenant-Colonel Patte had ordered roll call, and the casualties were reported. Only one man was reported as dead, Private James Hoffman, died from arrow and gunshot wounds in one of the early stages of the battle. Private Hufstudler, was struck by an arrow in the first of the fighting, and was not expected to live. Also there were three other serious arrow casualties, and numerous cuts and bruises, so Surgeon Yeomans was kept busy until the late afternoon.
While the battle was still raging the Sioux had removed all their dead and casualties from the field of battle, so it’s uncertain how man Indians were killed or wounded. It was thought their casualties were quite high because of the numbers being carried off. No one could say for certain how many hostile Sioux there really was 1,000, 1,500, 2,000-and uncertain if indeed they would return. As soon as the fighting broke off Lieutenant-Colonel Pattee inspected the condition of his howitzers himself, and ordered out a strong guard, and waited for a return attack.
About midnight some nervous sentinels reported strange sounds coming from outside the stockade, so the officer of the guard ordered a general alarm. Drums started their rattle, bugles started blaring, and officers were shouting their commands. Every company was formed with arms to the ready in ten minutes of the alarm being sounded. Lieutenant-Colonel Patte displaying his calmness walked up to one of the bastion howitzers and instructed the gunners to fire some fireballs high over the prairie. In a few moments the plains were illuminated for several hundred yards out away from the fort. There was no sign of movement, the only sounds they heard was the chug of the howitzers and the explosion of their shell. At around 2:00 a.m. Lieutenant Colonel Pattee ordered his men back to their bunks.
Up until the last day of July small bands of Sioux still remained in the vicinity of the fort, only showing themselves on distant hills, occasionally making half-hearted forays, always well out of range of the howitzers. Sitting Bulls medicine it seems told him that the time was not right for riding the Dakotas of the white man, as quickly as they arrived they disappeared.
One can only conjure up what the effects of Sitting Bulls medicine would have been if Colonel Charles Dimon had been in command of Fort Rice. He would likely have pursued the Sioux as he would have pursued the confederates. If that were to have been the case, Sitting Bull would not have had to wait for George Armstrong Custer. He would have won his reputation a full decade earlier with the massacre of Fort Rice in 1865.
In August the wind was hot and blowing dust at Fort Rice. But still the men of the 1st U.S. Volunteers were talking more and more of their chances of being mustered out before autumn. Captain Adams grew homesick enough to write a poem to his wife:
In this region, magnificent, chilly and gloomy.
I sit all alone like dis-crowned Montezuma
O roll round ye months with a swift revolution
That brings from celibacy glad absolution
The habits of anchorites, others may choose them,
But give me my wife to repose in my bosum.”
The Frontier Scout reflecting the mood of its readers wrote, “When will deliverance come for the 1st U.S. Volunteer Infantry? How long, O Lord, How long?” Editorial compared Fort Rice to a Siberian Exile then grew rhapsodical about home. “How the heart dilates at the thought of home. War is over. The soldier grows restless. He feels as if he was in an empty theater after the play is over.”
An anonymous contributor from the ranks, who was a former member of the 18th Mississippi, began a series of reminiscent sketches of his career as a Confederate soldier. He remembered more about the girls than the battles, “The amaranths, water-lilies, and magnolias thrown in beautiful profusion among us.” The girls along his route of March were so pretty, he declared, “that to be smacked to death by their tine hands would alone be the quintessence of human happiness.”
He recalled being in Winchester, Virginia, in June 1861, just before the Battle of Manassas. “O never shall I forget the sweet and winning smiles of Winchester’s fair daughters. O sweet were the hours we whiled away while basking in the sunshine of their merry and enchanting smiles as their fingers played on the piano-forte, accompanied by their melodious voices, some spirited and martial air. So sweet was the, that now even here amidst the wild, barren, bell-shaped hills of fruitless Dakota. I think with unmeasured delight of the fair damsels of Winchester, of the Old Dominion.”
Hay was ripening in the fields down by the river bottoms, so extra details were sent out to mow and stack it; they harvested more than 300 tons. When the hay was brought in, hunting parties were organized to hunt antelope and buffalo; soon fresh meat became plentiful. They also enjoyed vegetables from the post gardens, such as green corn, turnips, and radishes. There were so many rats, games of wager were invented to kill them, and they were so bad they overflowed from the storerooms to the barracks. Then Private Hufstudler died from his lingering wounds to his lung from the Sioux arrow.
With the coming of each evening wolves would gather and howl until dawn, which to the Indians was the come of cold moons ahead. But still there was no sign or news of them being mustered out.
General Sully returned to Forth Rice on August 23rd, from the North with his expedition; they reported they encountered no hostels, didn’t seek out any either. General Sully had planned their summer’s march as a show of force to the Indians, which was meant to help maintain the uneasy peace all along the Missouri River. Surgeon Herrick was with the General, and was welcomed back by the men of the 1st U.S. Volunteers, he had many tales of the Canadian half-breeds he ran into along the way back while on the expedition from Fort Berthold.
“They are half civilized, a mixture of Scotch, English, French, Irish, and Indian blood. They carry their priest with them, families and fiddles, hunting and curing meats and hides by day, dancing and singing at night.” Surgeon Herrick was surprised to meet to find a French nobleman among the Canadians, he called himself Viscount M. Hyacinthe de Balazic, who had given his address as 10 Cit’e Antin, Paris. Surgeon Herrick found himself fascinated with these Red River carts that these hunters used to hunt with, the vehicles were made entirely of wood with wrappings of rawhide.
“The hub is cut from a small tree with an auger hole through it, in which the axle is thrust without grease or other lubricating material, and as they go screeching, squeaking, squalling, and making most unheard of noises over these broad, desolate prairies. It does not require very great stretch of imagination to believe that we are listening to the weepings and wailings of the sprits of the damned.”
The following day the mail arrived from Fort Sully, within a matter of minutes after the mail pouch was opened the 1st U.S. Volunteers were celebrating the good news that they had been hoping for all summer long. A Wisconsin regiment was already en Route from St. Louis to relieve them. As soon as the relief arrived, the 1st would start for Fort Leavenworth to be mustered out of service.
With the anticipation of the mustering out orders, companies “B” and “K” had been ordered down from Fort Union and Berthold to Fort Rice where they had been stationed since spring. On the last day of August Company “B” and “K” finally met up with the rest of the regiment on the Big Horn, there they held a celebration in honor of the regiment rejoining.
Each and everyday thereafter officers and men of the 1st Regiment awoke at Fort Rice with happy expectations. Because they had the word of General Sully that they would not have to endure another winter of death in the Dakota’s. “The men,” General Sully commented in a letter written on September 14th, “have such a perfect fear of staying up here another winter I verily believe many of them would die of fear alone should sickness break out among them as it did last winter.”
A few days later the officers of Fort Rice gave General Sully a farewell dinner, and then he departed with his expedition for their quarters in Iowa. A few days later the news arrived at Fort Rice that the 50th Wisconsin had just passed Fort Randall en Route to Fort Rice.
But the cheering soon was dampened by the only news that could discourage any soldier of the 1st U.S. Regiment, the news that Colonel Dimon was aboard the same boat. They wondered why was Dimon returning? Had their orders been changed? The men of the 1st U.S. Regiment found themselves growing apprehensive, and during the tedious days of waiting, 11 men had deserted the first to do so in months. It was thought they preferred to take their chances in the gold fields of Montana; therefore little effort was made to apprehend them.
It wasn’t until October 6th that definite orders were received from department headquarters authorizing the 1st U.S. Volunteers to leave Fort Rice. The orders read that the 1st U.S. Volunteers were to board the riverboat the same day the 50th Wisconsin was to arrive; and that would be in two or three days time.
During this short interval of time Captain Adams with his printers prepared a final issue of the Frontier Scout. It read with the usual post gossip, news of all the river traffic, Indian arrivals. One article read, “Just at retreat roll call the hills on the west of the fort were covered with Indians. They appeared against the amber of the sky like some caravan of Arabia, crossing the desert. They halted some time and Major Galpin went out to meet them. They came riding in chanting a wild melody, fifty abreast, and marched like well-disciplined cavalry. Their gay robes and fancy saddles gave them a very unique appearance, and one that we shall not soon forget.”
On one of the pages of the Frontier Scout, a unsigned author wrote, “The Southern Mother’s Pride, or the Loyalized rebel; a Tale of the 1st U.S. Volunteer Infantry.” The hero’s name was Reginald Ravensworth, and the story was concerned not only with his adventures in the regiment but also his return to the old plantation, a look into the future of any Galvanized Yankee who might have a plantation to which he could return. There was also a poem, “Song of the 1st U.S. Volunteer Infantry”:
We are going home, o’er Missouri’s foam
While the ruddy sunlight flashes
To the sunny South, from the land of drought
For Rebellion’s burned to ashes.
From the barren plain, where there is no rain
From Dakota’s Territory
We are sailing down to village and town
Of the Union in its glory.
Captain Adams wrote in a final editorial salute to his “boys, our sojourn in the wilderness is nearly over. We have a country redeemed from anarchy, redeemed from disunion, which we can call our own. We have served that country honorably; let us preserve our good name. We are the first fruits of a re-united people. We are a link between the North and the South-let us prove that it is a golden link, and of no baser metal.”
Captain Adams pre-dated this last final issue of the Frontier Scout ahead to October 12th, in anticipation of their departure from Fort Rice. But on October 9th, Colonel Dimon arrived unexpectedly from Fort Sully, and announced that the 50th Wisconsin should reach Fort Rice the very next day. He quickly dispelled any rumors that their orders had been changed. The reason he was there was because his furlough had ended, and instead of waiting at Fort Leavenworth, for the regiment, he wanted to be with his regiment on their happy voyage down river for mustering out.
One month later the six companies of the 1st U.S. Volunteers arrived at Fort Leavenworth, there they expected to meet their old comrades of Companies “A”,”F”,”G”, and “K”, were they served the last two years in Minnesota as garrison troops in the Forts there. Those companies however had already arrived some days earlier, so instead of being mustered out with the rest of the regiment they had been reassigned and was sent and en route to western Kansas to guard a new stage line to Denver.
For the days to follow the veterans of Fort Rice waited in the Leavenworth barracks, fully expecting a similar assignment, but it never came. They were mustered out November 27, 1865.
Editor Note:
Most of the above information was from the Novel Galvanized Yankees
