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Personal Memoirs-2 [102]

By Root 552 0
and good water too, to make us

comfortable till the blizzard had blown over.



We reached the valley of the Washita a little before dark, and camped

some five or six miles above the scene of Custer's fight, where I

concluded to remain at least a day, to rest the command and give it a

chance to refit. In the mean time I visited the battle-field in

company with Custer and several other officers, to see if there was a

possibility of discovering any traces of Elliotts party. On arriving

at the site of the village, and learning from Custer what

dispositions had been made in approaching for the attack, the

squadron of the escort was deployed and pushed across the river at

the point where Elliott had crossed. Moving directly to the south,

we had not gone far before we struck his trail, and soon the whole

story was made plain by our finding, on an open level space about two

miles from the destroyed village, the dead and frozen bodies of the

entire party. The poor fellows were all lying within a circle not

more than fifteen or twenty paces in diameter, and the little piles

of empty cartridge shells near each body showed plainly that every

man had made a brave fight. None were scalped, but most of them were

otherwise horribly mutilated, which fiendish work is usually done by

the squaws. All had been stripped of their clothing, but their

comrades in the escort were able to identify the bodies, which being

done, we gave them decent burial. Their fate was one that has

overtaken many of our gallant army in their efforts to protect the

frontiersmen's homes and families from savages who give no quarter,

though they have often received it, and where the possibility of

defeat in action carries with it the certainty of death and often of

preceding torture.



>From the meadow where Elliott was found we rode to the Washita, and

then down the river through the sites of the abandoned villages, that

had been strung along almost continuously for about twelve miles in

the timber skirting the stream. On every hand appeared ample

evidence that the Indians had intended to spend the winter here, for

the ground was littered with jerked meat, bales of buffalo robes,

cooking utensils, and all sorts of plunder usually accumulated in a

permanent Indian camp. There were, also, lying dead near the

villages hundreds of ponies, that had been shot to keep them from

falling into our hands, the scant grazing and extreme cold having

made them too weak to be driven along in the flight. The wholesale

slaughter of these ponies was a most cheering indication that our

campaign would be ultimately successful, and we all prayed for at

least a couple of months more of cold weather and plenty of snow.



At the Kiowa village we found the body of a white woman--a Mrs.

Blynn--and also that of her child. These captives had been taken by

the Kiowas near Fort Lyon the previous summer, and kept close

prisoners until the stampede began, the poor woman being reserved to

gratify the brutal lust of the chief, Satanta; then, however, Indian

vengeance demanded the murder of the poor creatures, and after

braining the little child against a tree, the mother was shot through

the forehead, the weapon, which no doubt brought her welcome release,

having been fired so close that the powder had horribly disfigured

her face. The two bodies were wrapped in blankets and taken to camp,

and afterward carried along in our march, till finally they were

decently interred at Fort Arbuckle..



At an early hour on December 12 the command pulled out from its cosy

camp and pushed down the valley of the Washita, following immediately

on the Indian trail which led in the direction of Fort Cobb, but

before going far it was found that the many deep ravines and canyons

on this trail would delay our train very much, so we moved out of the

valley and took the level prairie on the divide. Here the traveling

was good,
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