There is always a sentry at our corner of the garrison, and it was
this sentinel who was attacked, and it is the general belief among the
officers that the Indians came to this corner hoping to get the-troops
concentrated at the beat farthest from the stables, and thus give them
a chance to steal some, if not all, of the cavalry horses. But Mr. Red
Man's strategy is not quite equal to that of the Great Father's
soldiers, or he would have known that troops would be sent at once to
protect the horses.
There were a great many pony tracks to be seen in the sand the next
morning, and there was a mounted sentinel on a hill a mile or so away.
It was amusing to watch him through a powerful field glass, and we
wished that he could know just how his every movement could be seen.
He sat there on his pony for hours, both Indian and horse apparently
perfectly motionless, but with his face always turned toward the post,
ready to signal to his people the slightest movement of the troops.
Faye says that the colored troops were real soldiers that night, alert
and plucky. I can readily believe that some of them can be alert, and
possibly good soldiers, and that they can be good thieves too, for
last Saturday night they stole from us the commissary stores we had
expected to last us one week - everything, in fact, except coffee,
sugar, and such things that we keep in the kitchen, where it is dry.
The commissary is open Saturday mornings only, at which time we are
requested to purchase all supplies we will need from there for the
following week, and as we have no fresh vegetables whatever, and no
meat except beef, we are very dependent upon the canned goods and
other things in the commissary.
Last Saturday Mrs. Hunt and I sent over as usual, and most of the
supplies were put in a little dug-out cellar in the yard that we use
together - she having one side, I the other. On Sunday morning Farrar
happened to be the first cook to go out for things for breakfast, and
he found that the door had been broken open and the shelves as bare as
Mother Hubbard's. Everything had been carried off except a few candles
on Mrs. Hunt's side, and a few cakes of laundry soap on mine! The
candles they had no use for, and the thieves were probably of a class
that had no use for soap, either.
Our breakfast that morning was rather light, but as soon as word got
abroad of our starving condition, true army hospitality and generosity
manifested itself. We were invited out to luncheon, and to dinner, and
to breakfast the next morning. You can see how like one big family a
garrison can be, and how in times of trouble we go to each other's
assistance. Of course, now and then we have disagreeable persons with
us - those who will give you only three hours to move out of your
house, or one who will order your cook from you.
CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY,
January, 1873.
ALL that remained of Captain White was carried to the little cemetery
yesterday, with all the military honors possible at such a far-away
post We have no chaplain, therefore one of the cavalry officers read
the service for the dead at the house, just before the march to the
cemetery. Almost all of the cavalry of the garrison was out, mounted,
Captain White's own troop having the lead, of course, and the greater
part of the infantry was out also, and there was a firing detail, with
guns reversed.
The casket, covered with a large flag, was carried on a caisson, and
his horse, led by an orderly, was covered with a large blanket of
black cloth. Over this was the saddle, and on top of the saddle rested
his helmet - the yellow horsehair plume and gold trimmings looking
soiled by long service. His sabre was there, too, and strapped to the
saddle on each side were his uniform boots, toes in stirrups - all
reversed! This riderless horse, with its pall of black, yellow helmet,
and footless boots, was the saddest sight imaginable.
I did not go to the cemetery, but we heard distinctly the firing of
the three volleys over the grave and the sounding of taps on the
bugles. The garrison flag had been drawn to half mast almost the
moment of Captain White's death, but at the last sound of taps it was
immediately pulled up to full mast, and soon the troops came back to
their quarters, the field music playing lively airs.
This seemed so unnecessarily cruel, for Mrs. White must have heard
every note, and she is still so wretchedly ill. The tiny baby has been
taken from the house by the motherly wife of an officer, and the other
tots - four in all - are being cared for by others. We have all been
taking turns in sitting up nights during the illness of husband and
wife, and last night three of us were there, Captain Tillman and Faye
in one room, and I with Mrs. White. It was a terrible night, probably
the one that has exacted, or will exact, the greatest self-control, as
it was the one before the burial.
In civil life a poor widow can often live right on in her old home,
but in the Army, never! Mrs. White will have to give up the quarters
just as soon as she and the little baby are strong enough to travel.
She has been in a warm climate many years, and her friends are all in
the North, so to-morrow a number of us are to commence making warm
clothing for her and the children.
