LITMIR.BIZ

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and actually went on the war-path.

       Careful abstract of public document No. 33, of the First Session of the Fiftieth American Congress gives abundant proof that the expedition itself, while not in harmony with treaties made with the Indians by Generals Harney and Sanborn in 1865, was systematically conducted in accordance with written instructions from Lieutenant General Sher- man to " avoid a general Indian war if possible," and methods of conciliation were carried to the utmost possible extent, while the courage and zeal of officers and men never wavered in duty to the flag, however powerful the assailants, when life itself became the price of its successful defense.

      The expedition took up its tedious march to that country, a country originally owned by the Crow Indians, always friendly to the whites, who had long resisted its despoilment by the hostile Sioux, marching onward over alkaline waste, through numberless buffalo herds, with dried sage bush and buffalo chips for fuel, and passing the carcasses of cattle, called Mormon milestones from the cattle lost in their western migration, and halting at Lara- mie in June while the great Conference between the assembled tribes was in session, as will be noticed later in the progress of the narrative.

      When hostilities between the North and South had ceased many officers of high rank, brevet or

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      otherwise, secured commissions in the Regular Army, although of much lower grade than those held by them in the Volunteer Service. Attracted by the life of the soldier, these men, after years of service for their country, were reluctant to return to purely civil life and thereby practically begin life anew. Captains, majors, and even generals, were commis- sioned as lieutenants in the Regular Service, it being a life appointment, somewhat reversing the process at the beginning of the war when officers were gradually advanced from the lowest grades to regimental and even brigade commands.

      My husband was one of these. Responding to the first call upon his native State, he became a captain of infantry and was later promoted and transferred to another regiment as lieutenant-colonel. Eventu- ally he not only served through the Atlanta Cam- paign but marched with Sherman to the sea. After the Battle of Bentonville, North Carolina, he was recommended by his superior officers to a brevet as brigadier-general "for gallant and meritorious ser- vices in that action."

      When the war actually closed, renewed acquaint- ance led to my marriage with Colonel Grummond, who a few months later was commissioned as lieu- tenant in the Eighteenth U. S. Infantry, under the command of Colonel Henry B. Carrington, who was already on the march for the Plains.

      While awaiting orders to report for duty, at my home in Tennessee, preliminary preparations were made by the packing of trunks to be ready for de- parture westward at a moment's notice.

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      When orders actually reached us, it was found that our first destination was Governor's Island, New York Harbor, and my first introduction to army life, in time of peace, began there in 1866.

      I knew instinctively that if I were to emulate the devotion and self denials of other army women I had much to learn, and I began its alphabet without dissent, if not with enthusiastic assent.

      My first experience, common to soldiers' wives, was to understand distinctly that upon reaching a given place there was no certainty of protracted rest, but that successive orders might almost imme- diately require change, so that army women must learn to make the necessary adjustments in an in- credibly short time.

      It is the purpose of this narrative to give facts that may be more or less suggestive to those who read between the lines, rather than to pause and enlighten the reader by philosophising upon the incidents of such life experiences.

      In this instance I had no sooner become ini- tiated in my boarding-house arrangements, with trunks unpacked and necessaries, as well as nick- nacks, disposed in the most favorable places sug- gestive of home enjoyment, than orders came to proceed to Vicksburg, Mississippi, as my husband and several other officers were placed in charge of detachments of recruits for distribution from that station.

      The transit from New York was uneventful, except for the intense heat, while the cars, crowded as they were by the compactness of the men and

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      their equipments, brought only discomfort and remediless fatigue. Still, the prospect of changing from these cars to a Mississippi steamer was cheer- ing, and we could almost imagine the white craft at anchor, or at the landing, awaiting our approach with the promise of a sail down the Mississippi where grateful breezes would temper the heated atmosphere. The very thought of it was refresh- ing!

      The trip to the steam-boat, however, may be illustrated by the story of a threatened ferry dis- aster, where pandemonium reigned supreme for a short season, and unmanageable horses, intensified by the cries of nervous women passengers, were parts of the scene incident to the occasion. There was one quiet woman who sat apparently unmoved by imminent danger from the heels of a horse. The bit was held with a firm grip by the driver who was swearing as if he had served apprenticeship with the army mule. When he was remonstrated with for swearing in the presence of ladies we were sur- prised to hear this particular lady remark, " Don't stop him, he is the only one doing justice to the occasion." One may not approve of swearing, but when we finally reached the wharf, our starting point, and took in the situation, the real one, with scarcely a breath of air stirring on land or river, on a hot, dazzling July morning, if there were emphatic expressions from any of our company at the pros- pect I do not recall making any protest against them. Certainly the river did not suggest "Minne- haha," "laughing water," in its midsummer con-

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      dition as I stood upon the landing watching the embarkation of our detachment, ordered to Vicks- burg in time of peace. The steamer, which had been utilized for the transportation of troops, had been recently disinfected and painted, so that though ours was not a fancied pleasure trip, might it not prove after all more comfortable than the immediate out- look indicated!

      "All aboard !"

      The gang-plank once withdrawn, we were soon mid-stream, and I retired to my stateroom to make myself more comfortable for the journey. The first discovery was that the transom, as well as the outer door, stuck fast. Vain was the endeavor to coun- teract the effect of that paint. No human power could alleviate its stickiness, and the problem of enduring, without curing, was left for future solu- tion. No other stateroom was available, as I had choice of the best at the start, being the only woman passenger on board. My discomfort was only begin- ning, as other discoveries quickly disclosed. The nettings around the berths were like a cloudy drapery, charged with intense heat, and the mos- quitoes swarmed in countless numbers, ready to begin their nightly attack. Though the river had been poetically styled "The Father of Waters" from time immemorial, it was more literally inter- preted, by experience, as the prolific "Mother of Mosquitoes." If they had possessed the qualifica- tions for business that others of a later date were credited with, I doubt if I should now be recording their ravages on my defenseless body. The sole

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      relief was to sit for a few brief moments at a time at the bow of the steamer where occasionally a slight breeze was felt, but even this was so conducive to sleep that the very effort to keep awake made one positively miserable. It was simply existence, with no joy to anticipate the dawn, for that heralded another day of intense heat, with no welcome for the setting sun and no suggestion of repose or relief from this persistent mosquito pest.

      I confess to utter lack of patriotic impulse or fervor, when the morning of the Fourth of July dawned, as we slowly sailed down the sluggish river. The pen cannot adequately describe this journey in all its details. The brush would be equally ineffec- tive. There was not life or energy sufficient for posing, if such a medium for delineation had been offered. Perhaps Mark Twain might give a humor-

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