THE HENRY O. FLIPPER SAGA

We proceeded on our way and finally reached Fort Davis, then commanded by Major N.B. McLaughlin of my regiment, a very fine officer and gentleman. We remained there just long enough to get our quarters arranged and were ordered into the field against the Indians. They had broken out in New Mexico, had committed all sorts of depredations and had been driven into Mexico by the 9th Cavalry, colored. They swung around into Texas and we were sent against them. My Troop and "G" Troop, 10th Cavalry, some of the 8th Cavalry, white, from Fort Clark, Texas and the 9th Cavalry, were the troops in the field. There was also a single company of Texas Rangers. We were ordered to old Fort Quitman, an abandoned fort on the north bank of the Rio Grande. Here I was made Camp Quartermaster and Commissary. We did considerable scouting from here. Forty miles below us on the river there was a...lieutenant and ten men. The Indians surprised them one morning at day light and killed several of them, got all their equipment, horses, etc. Two of the men, in underclothing, reached our camp in the afternoon with the news and Captain Nolan sent me and two men with dispatches to Gen. [B.F.] Grierson at Eagle Springs. I rode 98 miles in 22 hours mostly at night, through a country the Indians were expected to transverse in their efforts to get back to New Mexico. I felt no bad effects from the hard ride till I reached the General's tent. When I attempted to dismount, I found I was stiff and sore and fell from my horse to the ground, waking the General. He wanted to know what had happened and the sentinel, who had admitted me, had to answer for me. One of the men unsaddled my horse, spread the saddle blanket on the ground, I rolled over on it and with the saddle for a pillow, slept till the sun shining in my face woke me up next morning. I then rode back.

There were no troops at Eagle Springs where the General was... He ordered the troops concentrated there and we started for that place. Other troops were coming from the opposite direction. The Indians attacked the General the morning after I left. He and the half dozen men of the escort with him got up in the rocks and stood them off till we could arrive, a courier having been sent by him to hurry us. We came in a swinging gallop for fifteen or twenty miles. When we arrived we found "G" Troop had already come and the fight was on. We got right into it and soon had the Indians on the run. We lost...three men killed, a number wounded, among them, Lt. Collady of "G" Troop and got 19 Indians. We buried the soldiers where they fell... This was the first and only time I was under fire, but escaped without a scratch...
Source: Theodore D. Harris, ed., Negro Frontiersman: The Western Memoirs of Henry O. Flipper, First Negro Graduate of West Point (El Paso, 1963), pp. 15-17.

ISAIAH DORMAN AT THE LITTLE BIG HORN, 1876
Few episodes in western military history have claimed as much attention as the Battle of the Little Big Horn in 1876, where much of the 7th Cavalry, some 264 men including General George Armstrong Custer, were killed. No one knows the number of Sioux and Cheyenne who died in the battle, which was clearly the worst defeat for the U.S. military during the post-civil War period. Little known among the dead was an African American scout and interpreter, Isaiah Dorman, who had worked periodically for the Army in Dakota Territory since 1865, was hired in May, 1876, only the month before the Little Big Horn debacle. As the vignette below shows, the Sioux were baffled at why this man who been considered a friend of the Indians and who married a young woman of the Santee Sioux band, had fought with the soldiers. His saga suggests the blurred lines between friend and foe in the West.
At about 3:00 p.m. on June 25, 1876, Major Marcus A. Reno's abortive attack on the southern perimeter of the great Sioux and Cheyenne camp had been repulsed. A number of young warriors had faced the half-hearted Reno assault and the Major and led, what he later deemed a charge, away from his objective to the apparent safety of some bluffs on the east side of the bloodied Little Big Horn. The hasty "charge" resulted in several wounded, and a number of those who failed to comprehend Reno's garbled orders were left behind.

The fighting then in this particular area--the flat bottom land on the west bank of the river--had ceased. As was their custom, the Sioux were edging along the timber between the flat and the water's edge, in search of any wounded--as well as the spoils of victory--that might be there for the taking... A short distance behind...but for a different reason, rode the great Hunkpapa medicine leader, Sitting Hull. He was there to appraise the progress of the fight... His lodges had already borne the brunt of Reno's short-lived, futile [charge]. That proximity had also resulted in Sitting Bull's young men being the first to return the fire.

Upon his approach to a dense growth of timber, the Medicine man was brought quickly to attention by a squaw's excited cry. "AI-eeee--come quickly, a wasicum sapa, and he is still alive!" The Sioux word means "black white man." Sitting Bull quickly dismounted. There on the ground, clad in bloody buckskins, was indeed...one of the few Negroes he had ever seen. The big, elderly colored man seemed mortally wounded... The famed Sioux knelt beside the dying Negro. As their eyes met they conversed briefly in the...Sioux tongue. Sitting Bull ordered one of the squaws to the river for water. She returned quickly with a dripping shawl and squeezed water into the medicine leader's horned cup. The Negro drank a small amount, smiled faintly at Sitting Bull, and slumped over dead.

Sitting Bull explained to the curious group which now surrounded them: "This is Azimpi. I do not know why he is here with the soldiers. He was always one of us. I knew him as a friend, and once he was afraid of the white soldiers. His woman is Sioux. When she learns that he has bone to the Sand Hills she will mourn as the women of our lodges also mourn for their braves killed today.

My men were in bad condition for the march, but I explained to them the situation as the rider had put it before me, and that I would leave it to them whether they wanted to continue the march that night or not. They all said they would go on as far as they could. We then had supper, after which each man bathed his feet so as to refresh himself, and at about 8 o’clock we started to the rescue. But our progress was slow. Besides the poor condition of the men we were hampered by our wagon train in that rough country. Once one of the wagons was upset as the train was coming down a steep hill and we lost valuable time righting it. About 6 o’clock in the morning we came in sight of the town, and I deployed the men and advanced quickly toward it, believing that the Indians were already there. We stealthily approached the town and had gotten to within a half mile of it before the people discovered us. When they recognized us as troops they came out of their houses waving towels and handkerchiefs for joy.

Upon our arrival in the town we found that only a few straggling Indians had gotten there ahead of us and had killed an old man in a cornfield. The people gave us shelter, and after we had rested up a bit we began making a stockade out of an old corral, and also a temporary fort close to the timber.

On the evening of the fourteenth while I was standing outside the fort conversing with one of the citizens, the Indians came upon us unexpectedly and attacked. This citizen was telling me that the Indians had killed his brother that very morning and wanted me to go out and attack them. I could not do this, as my orders were to protect the people in the town. It was then that the Indians surprised and fired fully one hundred shots into us before we could gain the shelter of the fort. As the Indians’ rifles began to crack the people rushed to the fort and stockade, all reaching it in safety except our teamsters and two soldiers who were herding the mules and about five hundred head of cattle. The bloodthirsty savages tried time and again to enter our works, but we repulsed them each time, and when they finally saw that we were masters of the situation they turned their attention to the stock and tried to run it off. Realizing that they would be likely to kill the herders I sent out a detail of ten men to their assistance. Keeping under cover of the timber, the men quickly made their way to the herders and drove the Indians away, thus saving the men and stock. The whole action was short but exciting while it lasted, and after it was all over the townspeople congratulated us for having repulsed a band of more than one hundred redskins...

Our little detachment was somewhat of a surprise to the Indians, for they did not expect to see any troops in the town, and when we repulsed them they made up their minds that the main body of the troops was in the vicinity and would pursue them as soon as they heard of the encounter. The remainder of the regiment did arrive the next morning, and two squadrons at once went in pursuit, but the wily redskins did not stop until they reached the mountains. There they had encounters with the troops and were finally driven into Old Mexico.
Source: Walter .F. Beyer & Oscar F. Keydel, Deeds of Valor, Vols. I & II (Detroit: Perrien-Keydel Co., 1903).







PRIVATE W.A. PRATHER'S POEM
Historians have very little oral or written testimony from the enlisted troopers in the four African American Army Regiments. Thus we are forced to rely on a small number of examples from various existing or recovered sources. One such source is the poem composed by Ninth Cavalry Regimental Poet W. A. Prather, following the Wounded Knee Campaign in South Dakota in the winter of 1890-91. Most of the fighting ended within a few days of the bloody confrontation between soldiers and Sioux Indians which took nearly 300 lives. Subsequently troops from the Sixth, Seventh, and Eight Cavalry were withdrawn. However units of the Ninth Cavalry were stationed on the Pine Ridge Reservation through the winter to guard against further violence. Both the Indians and the black soldiers suffered through the long, harsh Dakota winter which produced record snowfall and temperatures as much as 30 degrees below zero, prompting Pvt. Prather to write the untitled poem below.
All have done their share, you see,

Whether it was thick or thin

And helped to break the ghost dance up

And drive the hostiles in.

Can breathe with better grace

They only ask and pray to God

To make "John hold his base."

And to meet the blizzard's wintry blast,

The Ninth, the willing Ninth,

Is camped here till the last.

Will be the last to leave,

Why are we compelled to stay,

Why this reward receive?

Our recent comrades take their ease,

While we, poor devils,

And the Sioux are left to freeze.

And wait till some one pulls the string.

And starts Short Bull

With another ghost dance in the spring.

In spite of their apprehensions, soldiers were soldiers to that certain class of enterprising businessmen who seemed to be attracted to military posts. Nothing the opportunity for commercial gain, the editor of a paper in nearby Deadwood spelled it out plainly: "Scooptown has struck a boom. The colored troops...have arove [sic], and times are lively, and what is better than all, they brought money with them. To get their money is the point they are all striving for, and every inducement is held out that gives promise of success."

Catering to the trade of the nonwhite soldiers was Abe Hill, an enterprising black civilian, who had opened a house of entertainment during the early 1880s. His "Go As You Please House" was located on the south side of Main Street. He advertised that wines, liquors, cigars, and "all kinds of Games" were available. To army authorities, Hill's place was merely a bawdy dance house, "where the lower classes of white and colored citizens and soldiers congregate for their evening entertainment or debauch."

The most serious and violent episode involving black soldiers in Sturgis occurred...on the night of September 19. In the course of the evening's activities at Hill's place, Pvt. John Taylor had an altercation with Hill. Taylor, along with several other members of his company, left the saloon, openly threatening, "You will hear from us again tonight." About 2:00 a.m. a group of twenty soldiers, armed with Springfield rifles, appeared in front of Hill's place. After yelling a warning for all soldiers to get out, the group opened fire... Inside a cowboy named Robert Bell...was struck by a bullet after it passed through a four-inch post... He died about twenty minutes after being struck.

The local press had a field day with this latest act of violence by black soldiers... Denunciations came heaviest from the Sturgis Record: "Here are soldiers whom we help support. They are placed at the post for our supposed protection... What protection have we if [soldiers] are at liberty to take government arms...and fire on unprotected people... What difference can there be between that and an Indian raid?" The Black Hills Times of Deadwood...attacked the black soldiers. "There can be no excuse for such a set of bloodthirsty wretches. Men who think of life so lightly are fit subjects for a cannibal island..."

During the weeks following the incident, efforts were made to minimize contact between soldiers and townspeople... Meantime, the Sturgis citizens' [unsuccessfully] petitioned for the removal of the Twenty-fifth Infantry... Ultimately, relations between the black soldiers and the citizens of Sturgis improved but never to any state or cordiality. In May 1888, after being stationed eight years at Fort Meade, the four companies of the Twenty-fifth Infantry were transferred to posts in Montana...

When two companies of the Ninth Cavalry arrived at Fort Union in early 1876, the regimental band, composed of about twenty musicians, accompanied them. In June [1880] the music committee of the city of Santa Fe invited the band to its Fourth of July celebration, announcing that it had appropriated $100 for its services for that occasion... During that time the band entertained frequently in and around Santa Fe. The highlight of its performances occurred in October 1880, when it played for President Rutherford B. Hayes during his visit to New Mexico's capital city. On his transcontinental journey, Hayes became the first U.S. president to visit New Mexico... As Hayes stepped from the train, the crowd of people lining the platform of the depot gave three cheers and the band struck up "Hail to the Chief." Then the band led the large carriage procession into Santa Fe.

Acting Governor W.C. Ritch received the president at the Santa Fe Plaza pagoda across the street from the historic Palace of the Governors, the band playing "Hail Columbia" as the president and the governor met... Prior to and during a reception for the presidential party that evening, the band, under the direction of Professor Charles Spiegel, gave a concert in the pagoda. It rendered "beautiful and appropriate selections, especially noteworthy among which was potpourri of national melodies of different nations, arranged by Prof. Spiegel." Following an exceedingly well-performed introduction of "Hail Columbia," the band played "What is the German Fatherland," the Russian national anthem, the "Marseillaise," and "America." This part of the program ended with "Yankee Doodle" with variations. The evening's remaining selections were "made with taste, and rendered in a manner reflecting greatly to the credit of the Professor and all members of his band." Playing for the president of the United States no doubt was once-in-a-lifetime experience for the members of the Ninth Cavalry band...

Fort Bayard had a barrack specifically set aside for the regimental band. It has facilities for nineteen men, the usual number of musicians in the Twenty-fourth Infantry band, which was stationed there for over eight years. The army provided the Twenty-fourth's band with instruments and kept them in good repair... Excused from many other duties, band members spent considerable time in marching drills and practicing music.

The Twenty-fourth's band at Fort Bayard performed at a number of official ceremonies. For example, in April 1891 it marched ninety-six miles to and from Deming, where its members spent nearly a week waiting for and then playing for President Benjamin Harrison, who was moving through the territory... Within a few days after it arrived at Bayard in 1888, Silver City leaders engaged it to play at the Fourth of July celebration. The city's newspaper editor wrote of the band: "[It] is one of the largest and best in the service. The musicians are all colored. The drum major stands six feet four inches, and is a show by himself." Two years later it entertained delegates to the territory's Democratic convention in Silver City...
Source: Monroe Lee Billington, New Mexico's Buffalo Soldiers, 1866-1900 (Niwot, Colorado, 1991), pp. 116-120, 156-157.