Battle With The Apache, 1872

In 1890, the U.S. government officially declared the American Frontier closed. With this act came the end of an era - the "Wild West" was considered tamed. Only a few years before, however, maps labeled the area west of the Mississippi as "the Great American Desert" - home only to wild animals and wilder tribes of Native Americans. This situation was not to last, as the end of the Civil War ignited a great westward migration. Prospectors, ranchers, farmers, settlers of all types, began filling this "wasteland," transforming it to meet their own needs and bringing with them the means to militarily subjugate the Indian tribes that threatened this advance. The end of the Civil War also brought a new type of military commander to the West. One experienced in the practicalities of war and hardened to the demands of combat. General George Crook epitomized this new breed of Western General. His success in subduing the Indians of the Northwest prompted President Grant in 1871 to order him to the Arizona Territory to deal with the Apache raids on white settlements throughout the region. Atrocities occurred on both sides. Apaches swooped down on isolated farms and small settlements killing all. In retaliation, whites attacked peaceable Apache camps, massacring innocent women and children. General Crook was ordered to end the Apache raids and bring peace to the region.
His tactics were simple - relentlessly pursue the hostiles wherever they may flee and provoke battle or surrender. Columns of infantry and cavalry lead by friendly Apache scouts familiar with the land crisscrossed a region until contact with the enemy was made. Crook began his campaign in December 1872. It ended in the spring of 1873 with the surrender of the hostile elements of the Apache and their removal to the Reservation.


Attack On An Apache Fortress
Under cover of the cold darkness of the early morning of December 28, 1872, one of Crook's
columns approached an Apache stronghold established in a cave etched out of a sheer cliff bordering the Salt River. Captain John G. Bourke led a unit engaged in the assault and recalled his experience 19 years after the event:
"We moved onward again for three or four hours until we reached a small grassy glade, where we discovered fifteen Pima ponies, which must have been driven up the mountain by Apache raiders that very night; the sweat was hardly crusted on their flanks, their hoofs were banged
against the rocks, and their knees were full of the thorns of the cholla cactus, against which they had been driven in the dark. There was no moon, but the glint of stars gave enough light to show that we were in a country filled with huge rocks and adapted most admirably for defense. There in front, almost within touch of the hand, that line of blackness blacker than all the other blackness about us was the canyon of the Salt River. We looked at it well, since it might be our grave in an hour, for we were now within rifle shot of our quarry.
Nantaje (an Apache scout) now asked that a dozen picked men be sent forward with him, to climb down the face of the precipice and get into place in front of the cave in order to open the attack; immediately behind them should come fifty more, who should make no delay in their advance; a strong detachment should hold the edge of the precipice to prevent any of the hostiles from getting above them and killing our people with their rifles. The rest of our force could come down more at leisure, if the movement of the first two detachments secured the key of the field; if not, they could cover the retreat of the survivors up the face of the escarpment.
Lieutenant William J. Ross, of the 2ISt Infantry, was assigned to lead the first detachment, which contained the best shots from among the soldiers, packers, and scouts.
The second detachment came under my own orders. Our pioneer party slipped down the face of the precipice without accident, following a trail from which an incautious step would have caused them to be dashed to pieces; after a couple of hundred yards this brought them face to face with
the cave, and not two hundred feet from it. In front of the cave was the party of raiders, just returned from their successful trip of killing and robbing in the settlements near Florence, on the Gila River. They were dancing to keep themselves warm and to express their joy over their safe return. Half a dozen or more of the squaws had arisen from their slumbers and were bending over a fire and hurriedly preparing refreshments for their valorous kinsmen. The fitful gleam of the glowing flame gave a Macbethian tinge to the weird scene and brought into bold relief the grim outlines of the cliffs between whose steep walls, hundreds of feet below, growled the rushing current of the swift Salado.
The Indians, men and women, were in high good humor, and why should they not be? Sheltered in the bosom of these grim precipices only the eagle, the hawk, the turkey buzzard, or the mountain sheep could venture to intrude upon them. But hark! What is that noise? Can it be the breeze of morning which sounds 'Click, click'? You will know in one second more, poor, deluded, red-skinned wretches, when the 'Bang! Boom!' of rifles and carbines, reverberating like the roar of cannon from peak to peak, shall lay six of your number dead in the dust.
The cold, gray dawn of that chill December morning was sending its first rays above the horizon and looking down upon one of the worst bands of Apaches in Arizona, caught like wolves in a trap. They rejected with scorn our summons to surrender, and defiantly shrieked that not one of our party should escape from that canyon. We heard their death song chanted, and then out of the cave and over the great pile of rock which protected the entrance like a parapet swarmed the warriors. But we outnumbered them three to one, and poured in lead by the bucketful. The bullets, striking the roof and mouth of the cave, glanced among the savages in the rear of the parapet and wounded some of the women and children, whose wails filled the air.
During the heaviest part of the firing a little boy, not more than four years old, absolutely naked,
ran out at the side of the parapet and stood dumfounded between the two fires. Nantaje, without a moment's pause, rushed forward, grasped the trembling infant by the arm, and escaped unhurt with him inside our lines. A bullet, probably deflected from the rocks, had struck the boy on the top of the head and plowed round to the back of the neck, leaving a welt an eighth of an inch thick, but not injuring him seriously. Our men suspended their firing to cheer Nantaje and welcome the new arrival: such is the inconsistency of human nature.
Again the Apaches were summoned to surrender, or, if they would not do that, to let such of their women and children as so desired pass out between the lines; and again they yelled their defiant refusal. Their end had come. The detachment left by Major Brown at the top of the precipice, to protect our retreat in case of necessity, had worked its way over to a high shelf of rock overlooking the enemy beneath, and began to tumble down great boulders which speedily crushed the greater number of the Apaches. The Indians on the San Carlos reservation still mourn periodically for the seventy-six of their relatives who yielded up the ghost that morning. Every warrior died at his post. The women and children had hidden themselves in the inner recesses of the cave, which was of no great depth, and were captured and taken to Camp McDowell. A number of them had been struck by glancing bullets or fragments of failing rock. As soon as our pack-trains could be brought up we mounted the captives on our horses and mules and started for the nearest military station, the one just named, over fifty miles away."


References:
Bourke, John G., General Crook In Indian Country, Century Magazine (1891); Brown, Dee, Bury
My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West (1991).


How To Cite This Article:
"Battle With The Apache, 1872," EyeWitness to History, www.eyewitnesstohistory.com (1999).

Chiricahua
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This article includes a list of references or external links, but its sources remain unclear because it lacks inline citations. Please improve this article by introducing more precise citations where appropriate. (February 2008)
For other uses, see Chiricahua (disambiguation).

Chiricahua (also Chiricahua Apaches, Chiricagui, Apaches de Chiricahui, Chiricahues, Chilicague, Chilecagez, Chiricagua) (pronounced /ˌtʃɪrɨˈkɑːwə/; AHD: [chĭ-rĭ-kä´-wə]) refers to a group of bands of Apache that formerly lived in the general areas of southwestern New Mexico and southeastern Arizona in the United States, and in northern Sonora and Chihuahua in Mexico (it is not possible to precisely define the exact boundaries of their territory).

Apachean tribes ca. 18th century (Ch - Chiricahua, WA - Western Apache, N - Navajo, M - Mescalero, J - Jicarilla, L - Lipan, Pl - Plains Apache

History

Ba-keitz-ogie (Yellow Coyote), US Army Scout
Led by Cochise and later by Goyaałé (more famously known as Geronimo), this Apache band was the last to resist U.S. government control of the southwest. In 1852, a treaty was signed between the U.S. and the Chiricahuas. During the 1850s, miners and settlers moved into Chiricahua Territory, and the Apache population diminished because of starvation, disease, and attacks. In 1861, the Chiricahuas began fighting the U.S. after Mangas Coloradas was whipped by miners and Cochise’s relatives were killed by the U.S. Army. In 1863, Mangas Coloradas was killed by the U.S. Army when he attempted to sue for peace. The army took him into custody, and he was killed that night. The murder and mutilation of Mangas' body only increased the hostility between Apaches and the United States, with more or less constant war continuing for nearly another 25 years.
In 1872, the Chiricahua Apache Reservation was established, which only remained open for 4 years. In 1877, all Apaches were concentrated on one reservation and the others were closed. In 1883, the Chiricahua campaigned into Mexico, returning to the reservation the following year.
They finally surrendered in 1886 and were exiled to Florida, Alabama, and Oklahoma. Eventually most were moved to the Fort Sill military reservation in Oklahoma until 1913, when they were allowed to return to what is now Arizona. Many still live in Oklahoma or on the Mescalero reservation in New Mexico. Their last stronghold was the Chiricahua Mountains, in southeastern Arizona, part of which is now inside Chiricahua National Monument.

Chief Cochise

Chief Cochise of the central Chiricahua Apache was one of the most famous APACHE leaders to resist intrusions by whites into the southwestern United States during the 19th century. Cochise was, at first, not hostile to the American settles in the Area. Instead, he was at war against the MEXICAN army and settlers who were trying to take the apaches tribal lands. At the time, Cochise was considered a help. He protected stagecoaches from attack, gave food and water to them, and taught the AMERICANS to live on the dry, arid, land. He kept peace with the Anglo-Americans until 1861, when he became their mortal FOE because of the blunder of a young U.S. Army officer, LT. GEORGE BASCOM.

Bascom accused Cochise of abducting a 11-year-old boy from a local ranch. Later During the parley Cochise and his fellows were ordered held as hostages by Bascom, but Cochise managed to escape almost immediately by cutting a hole in a tent. Cochise, wanting to assure to safety of the men he had left behind, captured some three Americans and sent Bascom this message: "Treat my people well, and I will do the same for yours, of whom I have three." Bascom, as a show of his POWER, hung the Apache hostages and started to mobilize for war against Cochise. In retaliation for their deaths, Cochise killed the three Americans he had taken hostage. Embittered, Cochise joined forces with MANGAS COLORADAS, the leader of another Chiricahua band.

When GERONIMO'S plight started, he too was included in the new stronger band of Apache, and for a time they fought as one group against the calvary. Bascom went back to Cochise's village, hunted down his younger brother and killed him. For ten years Cochise and his warriors harassed the whites by raiding lonely ranches and attacking stagecoaches and miners. They did not surrender to the troops until 1871. During this turbulent time, Cochise met a man by the name of Thomas Jeffords, the Indian agent for that area. Through Jefford's efforts, Cochise decided to parlay with GENERAL OLIVER HOWARD. Cochise agreed to peace as long as his band were allowed to stay on the current reservation with Jeffords as their agent. General Howard agreed. Cochise made Thomas Jeffords his blood brother and a full member of the tribe.

Even during the years of peace, however, many of Cochise's younger warriors did not agree with him. They broke away and joined with Geronimo to continue the fight.

Following Geronimo's surrender in 1886, the remnants of the Chiricahuas were shipped off to reservations in the east where most of them died. Today there are only a few descendants of the Chiricahua Apaches living in Oklahoma and New Mexico, and there are none at all in this, their own land.

Cochise died on the new Chiricahua reservation in May of 1874, predicting the exact hour one day before. Cochise requested that his braves bury him in an unmarked grave so that the white man would not find his body. According to one account, he and his favorite horse and dog was dropped into a deep crevice in the rocks somewhere in the STRONGHOLD CANYON; another version says that they were buried several miles east of the Stronghold, and that the braves then galloped their horses over the grave so it could not be identified. In any case, to this day no one knows where Cochise lies buried.

Chief Cochise was succeeded as chief by his son, Naiche also known as Natchez.

http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Omega/1854/cos.html - Thanks!