1947 the last Apache scouts

The last Apache Scouts

In 1922 the last U.S. Army Indian scouts were sent from Fort Bowie, AZ to Fort Huachuca, these Scouts lived in and worked all over the Huachuca Mountains in the same stomping grounds that I have camped and hiked in over the past few years. On Post , you can still visit the Scout camp along Huachuca creek where they had their wikiups set up for their respective families. It is a pretty spot with many large Native Sycamore and oak trees with beautiful views of the surrounding hills.

I have parked my car there many times to stretch out before a run up and down the Canyon trails, it is one of my favorite spots on base and I can understand why the Indian Scouts like it too.

I have seen and held in my hands a Sharps carbine rifle that belonged to Staff Sergeant Sinew J. Reilly who was the highest ranking Non Commissioned Officer (NCO) for the Scouts. This rifle was in the possession of a friend of mine for safe keeping, as I held it I could feel the history of it in my hands and I could imagine SSG Reilly with it across the front of his McClellan army saddle (Model 1903 tree), as he rode the Mountain trails. It was an interesting bit of American history to behold.

The red head band worn by the Apache Scouts came about because in the 1880s the Army was looking for distinctive color  for head bands to more easily identify friendly scouts from hostile Indians. The Army Chief of Scouts chose White, but the only color available in the sutlers store at the time was red, so each Army scout was issued 1 yard of red flannel for his head band. The U.S. Army Apache scouts wore their red head bands as a badge of honor and were proud of their skill and ability to sneak up on the enemy Indians while wearing this bright color.

Other than the odd  Apache running around, hostiles were not known to wear red head bands. Unlike the claims of certain “survival experts”, wild or bronco Apache scouts did not wear red head bands. That claim is simply not true.

A few years ago I was yarnin' with a retired Army Colonel from Fort Huachuca who actually knew the scouts when they were here in Arizona. I was told by the Colonel that the Scouts were sometimes hard to locate in the Mountains due to their disdain for radios, at times a rider had to be dispatched to track them down. The scouts were used for many different missions on base during the ww2 era and it was the last war time service seen by official Army Indian scouts.

The last Eight Apache scouts were promoted and then retired from service in 1947; some of them had served the army for 40 years or more.

I enjoy reading the colorful names like "Sgt. Chicken", "Chow Big" , or "Short Bread" , these names and stories about the old scouts reminds me of the Native peoples I have encountered around the world. All Native peoples seem to possess a wonderful sense of humor and come up with colorful descriptive names for things and each other.

It does not take much imagination to figure out why "Chow Big" was called that, I'm sure he could pack away the chow. Probably not unlike the Nepalese Ghurkas or Aeta Negritos I have worked with. I have seen these little guys eat in a single meal an amazing amount of rice and canned meats then top it off with local fruits and veggies etc. , way more food then I would consume in an entire day.

Being from Arizona and having lived in "Apacharia" for the past several years, specifically in the Huachuca mountains where these scouts lived and worked.  I can better appreciate them and their abilities more than most folks. I have walked the same trails and drank from the same streams and camped in the same side canyons as these old scouts .

There were many times when I was Camped alone in the Huachuca mountains on a cold clear winter night, sitting around my small Apache style star fire, I swear that I could hear them shouting to me;

   "Hadínyaa Ndeen~ we are still here, Aheeya!",

I sincerely hope the ghosts of these old scouts are still up there in the Huachucas' and they continue to move about like the wind.

See you on the trail,

Tomahawk

Mr. Thos Moore - Master of transportation

A NON PROFAIN MULETEER-

From the book; “Dateline fort Bowie - Charles Fletcher Lummis reports on an Apache war".

"Among the noteworthy people I have met here, there is one deserving of special mention – Thomas Moore, nominally chief packer of the Department of the Missouri, but in fact master of transportation of the whole army of the United States. He has an odd, kindly, homely face, twinkling grey eyes and a droll turn of conversation. But he is a man of clear, original and often deep ideas. If there is any creed of universal popular acceptance, it is that a mule – particularly an army mule – cant be properly engineered without a club and plenty of profanity. But here is a man that has more to do with army mules than anyone else in the country; a man who never swears at anything, and who discharges any employee whom he catches raining blows and profanity upon one of the long-eared train. In speaking of his pets Mr. Moore states;

“The mule has never been done justice. It is popular to disparage him, and people do so without knowing anything about the subject. God made the mule on purpose. The horse has that in his nature which shows what he was made for more than a servant of man. God saw that man needed a straight out servant, so he built the mule. And a true servant he is. Almost as soon as he is able to walk, he begins to be used; and his tireless service ends only when the last breath leaves his worn-out carcass. You might also say that he is useful every day of his life. He is always faithful and always reliable. He understands his work, and does it as few men do theirs. The idea that he needs to be cursed and clubbed to work is pure idiocy. He does his best with kind treatment. Kick? Yes, he has a bad reputation as a kicker, but that arises mostly from faulty handling. I am in less danger of being kicked when among mules than when among horses. A greenhorn unused to handling horses or mules will be in less danger among mules than horses.”

Hand sewn hammock

Homemade Hammock

While attending the “Woodsmoke” gathering in Tetonia, Idaho a few years back. While I was sleeping off a drunk on night, I was “Birthed” from my Hennessey Expedition Hammock in the early AM. It was a pretty good tear; however I had been using this light weight hammock all over the world for several years and probably exceeded the expected usage of the product.

I tried to sew it up but the repair didn't hold so, I gave it away to a young woman who said she would patch it for her young daughter.

Needing a “new” hammock (play in Thai, and Duyen in Tagalog) I got out some fabric that was given to me by my lady friend Unitsa in Thailand. In fact, this fabric started out as a hammock but I took it apart to make a tarp for my Hennessey.

The fabric is about the same weight as Parachute material (1.1 ounce). Busting out my sewing kit, I selected a mid-sized needle and separated several feet of waxed nylon thread some folks call “artificial sinew”.

When using this type of thread, I have found that using a 3 foot (1 meter) length separated it into 4 strands (= 12 feet), gives me ample thread to sew just about anything.

I hung the fabric from an Elm tree to give me some tension and Drawing on sewing lessons learned in the Army and mainly those learned from my oldest sister Ruth; I began sewing making 9 stitches per inch. I first hemmed the ends to accommodate opposing drawstrings (2 on each end). Sewing the Hems took 12 feet of thread on each end. The length took 18 feet. Total sewing time was about 8 hours.

My hands and fingers were a bit sore when I was finished. I sewed into an open end bag shape to accommodate my sleeping pad. Once the pad is inserted, the draw string can be cinched tight and then tied into place.

The only string I had at my disposal was 30 feet of blaze orange & 30 feet of green type 5 nylon (550 cord to you commoners). I cut these into 15 foot lengths, burned the ends to prevent unraveling,  then threaded 2 into each end of the hammock. To make a stuff sack for my hammock, I took an old sleeping bag stuff sack and cut it down, then added my Philippine flag and Scout ranger patches to it

I like the finished product, it is light weight and easily packable.

Tomahawk

See you on the trail!

                                                   The tarp before it became a hammock

Arlene, my favorite Mule

Tom Moore and the Mule;

Arlene was my all-time favorite saddle mule. In my 7 years as a hunting guide and packer in Montana and New Mexico, working around Mules, I noticed 3 things they don’t like. 1. Dogs. 2. Strangers. And # 3. Rookies - they can spot a rookie pretty quick. When I met her Arlene was a well-seasoned trail mule, broke to pack and ride. I was by that time rather trail savvy myself, so Arlene and me had nary a problem. We shared many miles of trail and she brought me home day and night in all types of weather. 

There is an old frontier saw that you can never know a man until you take to the trail with him in bad weather well, the same can be said of mules and horses. Ol’ Arlene never let me down and always kept her calm disposition no matter the situation.

There are some words from Mr. Thomas Moore, who was the chief packer for the U.S. Army during the Indian wars of the American west. His words express how I feel about Mules and animals in general;

“The mule has never been done justice. It is popular to disparage him, and people do so without knowing anything about the subject. God made the mule on purpose. The horse has that in his nature which shows what he was made for more than a servant of man. God saw that man needed a straight out servant, so he built the mule. And a true servant he is. Almost as soon as he is able to walk, he begins to be used; and his tireless service ends only when the last breath leaves his worn-out carcass. You might also say that he is useful every day of his life. He is always faithful and always reliable. He understands his work, and does it as few men do theirs. The idea that he needs to be cursed and clubbed to work is pure idiocy. He does his best with kind treatment. Kick? Yes, he has a bad reputation as a kicker, but that arises mostly from faulty handling. I am in less danger of being kicked when among mules than when among horses. A greenhorn unused to handling horses or mules will be in less danger among mules than horses.”

Personally I think his words ring true with 90% of the mules I have worked with. I have met a few dangerous ones also. But, those animals were the direct result of poor handling, they can with patients be retrained.

On my last trip to New Mexico to visit my friend Alan I wanted to see Arlene. Al told me she had gone blind in one eye so he retired her to pasture. 

We saddled up and rode out to check the livestock. As we rode along, Alan’s other horses and Mules came up, and I saw Arlene out in the field. I gave her a whistle - the one I always used to call her in the past. Her head shot up, she looked my way, and began to trot towards me. I dismounted, and threw my arms around the old girls neck, and gave her a hug. It was good to see her. She was a savvy old gal, and brought me through some tough country, day and night on her own, with me as baggage. I will admit, I had a tear in my eye....

She nudged my pocket, because she knew I had them, her favorite - peanut butter flavored granola bars. I took one out of my pocket and peeled back the wrapper, and let her munch away.

It was good to see her again, I’ll never forget her. I was told my old compadre Alan that Arlene died the following winter, after 26 years of faithful service and thousands of miles of trail. People who think animals don’t remember, of have feelings for people (or vice versa) are just wrong, very wrong.