Carrying a Stretcher through the LavaBeds - Page 2

The following data is extracted from Northwestern Fights and Fighters.

Captain Jack, luckily for us then deserted. Now was the extent of the great lava-bed disclosed to us under these circumstances, the row of black lava buttes towering grimly in the distance, resembling huge red ovens gone out of business. Aided by the storm in the air and our own abject feelings, amidst this chaos of nature one could almost discover in imagination a resemblance to a scene in the drama of the "Inferno," substituting the misery of cold for the torture of heat. There were only lacking the little black Modocs to represent the demons; and again in imagination I think these were supplied.

What a weird and woebegone sight we presented The want of proper water for the past thirty-six hours, the scant food and scantier clothing, and the chilling storm had blanched every cheek. Add to this the heavy coating of snow on the head and shoulders of each, the many bandaged heads and limbs, and sadder than all else, our racked and tortured charges, whose pallid faces now became visible as they lay resigned to any event, and you have a picture none could forget. We reached the main camp all alive at eight o'clock A.M., thus consuming thirteen honest hours in traversing a distance of five miles. The wounded comrades were quickly placed under skilful treatment, and all but three finally recovered.

One circumstance, in my opinion, contributed not a little to this disaster; that was the certain knowledge by the Indians of the approach of the command, even from the beginning of the march. From the high sand butte behind which they were intrenched the glistening gun-barrels, reflected on the black vitreous lava, distinctly marked each movement. Some of us, who took post at the signal-station, easily traced the troops up to the very moment of contact, and afterward almost each individual movement, though no firing could be heard. A reconnaissance to find the enemy had to be made in daylight, and the hostiles with knowing, snake-like maneuvers and clinging moccasins could always anticipate the soldiers.

Lieut. George Harris, Fourth Artillery, was one of the wounded found upon the field and carried across the lava-beds. The Lieutenant bore his great suffering manfully, being one of the least complaining. His wound was through the body, very severe, and as it transpired, mortal. He was tenderly cared for in a good wall tent pitched for the purpose, and his mother telegraphed for, - at least informed as quickly as possible of his condition.

This refined and delicate lady, past middle age, lost not a moment after getting the painful despatch, but taking train to San Francisco from her home in Philadelphia journeyed day and night until reaching the terminus of railroad transportation at Redding, California; thence she came on without rest by stage-coach, ambulance or spring wagon to the vicinity of the high bluffs which bound the lava country; thence by saddle mule down the boulder strewn trail until the camp was reached and her darling boy clasped in tender embrace.

I was on duty some distance from the main camp when my attention was called to a strange object traveling down the trail, and which could not be made out properly until a gray lace streamer floating behind established the fact that it was a lady's veil! Only a mother's devotion could have withstood such a journey, and the good Lord seemed to have held the ebbing life of her son in His own powerful keeping until her arrival. She was thus enabled to soothe his dying moments, to be recognized by him and remain by his cot side until the last. His death occurred just twenty-four hours after she arrived. The body was inclosed as fittingly as the circumstances would allow and carried to the hilltop, where it was placed, I believe, in the same conveyance that had brought the dear lady from the frontier to the Modoc stronghold, and borne thence to its last resting-place near his native city. I was told that Mrs. Harris was a sister or relative of Bishop McIlvaine, the once eminent Bishop of Ohio.

Source: Northwestern Fights and Fighters

  Go Back