The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 03, No. 18, April, 1859: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 03, No. 18, April, 1859: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
Indifferent and inactive as this review shows Congress and the President
to have been concerning Utah, a similar apathy was impossible in the War
Department. Not only the welfare, but the lives even, of the troops at
Fort Bridger, depended on its action. Transactions of such magnitude
had not been incumbent on its bureaus since the Mexican War. The chief
anxiety of General Johnston was for the transmission of supplies from
the East as early as possible in the spring. The contractors for their
transportation during the year 1857 had wintered several trains at Fort
Laramie, together with oxen and teamsters. The General entertained a
fear that so great a proportion of their stock might perish during the
winter as to cripple their advance until fresh animals could be obtained
from the States. Combined with this fear was an apprehension for the
safety of Captain Marcy. A prisoner, whom the Mormons had captured in
October on Ham's Fork, escaped from Salt Lake City at the close of
December, and brought news to Camp Scott that they intended to fit out
an expedition to intercept the command and stampede the herds with which
that officer would move from New Mexico. The dispatches in which these
anxieties were communicated to General Scott, together with suggestions
for their relief, were intrusted in midwinter to a small party for
conveyance to the States. The journey taught them what must have been
the sufferings of the expedition which Captain Marcy led to Taos.
Reduced at one time to buffalo-tallow and coffee for sustenance, there
was not a day during the transit across the mountains when any stronger
barrier than the lives of a few half-starved mules interposed between
them and death by famine. All along the route lay memorials of the march
of the army, and especially of Colonel Cooke's battalion,--a trail of
skeletons a thousand miles in length, gnawed bare by the wolves and
bleaching in the snow, visible at every undulation in the drifts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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