A Thrilling Narrative of the Minnesota Massacre and the Sioux War of 1862-63: Graphic Accounts of the Siege of Fort Ridgely, Battles of Birch Coolie, Wood Lake, Big Mound, Stony Lake, Dead Buffalo Lake and Missouri RiverConnolly, A. P. (Alonzo P.)
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A Thrilling Narrative of the Minnesota Massacre and the Sioux War of 1862-63: Graphic Accounts of the Siege of Fort Ridgely, Battles of Birch Coolie, Wood Lake, Big Mound, Stony Lake, Dead Buffalo Lake and Missouri River
Connolly, A. P. (Alonzo P.)
Dakota Indians -- Wars -- 1862-1865
The horse was saddled and the Corporal had his instructions. He had his
foot in the stirrup when the clouds rolled back from the full moon like
the rolling back of a scroll, and it was almost as light as noon-day. The
Indians, ever on the alert, saw the preparations and opened fire anew
upon us, and, long before they ceased, our good horse was pierced by six
bullets, and the project was abandoned--we could only wait anxiously for
results. The enemy did not allow us to wait long, for at four o'clock
they opened a terrific fire, which they kept up for an hour. The only
response they got from us was blank cartridges, but we made a great noise
with them, and it answered the purpose very well. We had ourselves so
well protected that in this fusillade they killed but one man and wounded
another.
The early morning dawn and heavy, dewy atmosphere found our eyes heavy
from loss of sleep, so we divided up and some slept while others watched.
We heard nothing of the detachment, and as the day advanced the Indians
became bolder. They had driven the relief back and were closing in upon
us, and we, having so little ammunition, could do them but little harm.
They were puzzled at our silence. Some of the chiefs said it was a trick,
others said we were all killed. At any rate, with them "discretion was
the better part of valor," and we didn't object.
About one o'clock the same day we descried the glimmer of the polished
rifle in the distance. We had no glass, but anxious eyes strained to see
what it was, and the dark outline of a moving mass told us reinforcements
were coming. The chiefs, by waving their blankets and shouts, called off
their warriors. "There's a mile of whites coming," they said. They waved
their tomahawks, shouted, fired, and finally galloped off on the prairie.
A few warriors more daring than the others remained behind for a time
to get a scalp, and some of them came so close we could readily discern
their war paint. Before the main body of the Indians left, however, they
rode very close, and gave us several parting volleys. The wounding of a
few of our men was all the damage they did at this time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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