Should an officer stationed in Oregon receive an order about the 25th of December to march his company three hundred miles to take part in an Indian war, both he and his men would, most likely, consider the same a very cool proceeding. And they did. Now, this is about the distance from Camp Harney to the Modoc country. Our instructions were “light marching order,” instead of comfortable wagons where one could stow a tent and numberless blankets. However, what comforts or necessaries could be taken along were piled upon those unfortunate mules and off we went.
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The snow lay pretty deep at home, but we launched out into the great prairie, which resembled one huge, fleecy cloud, and in imagination the effect was the same as riding on the unsubstantial sky which possessed almost as much sustaining power. We plodded on through the virgin whiteness, never before disturbed by foot or hoof, and at the day’s end dismounted to sleep in its folds. The old campaigner does not, however, take such a desolate view of the situation.
- Reminiscences by Major J. G. Trimble
- In the Land of Burnt Out Fires
- Carrying a Stretcher through the Lava Beds
- Major Boutelle’s Account of His Duel with Scar-faced Charley
- The Capture of Captain Jack
- Jackson’s Expedition
- First Battle of the Modoc War
- The Disaster to Thomas’ Command
- The Killing of the Commissioners
- The Last Fight of the Campaign