Reuben Waller life story, written by himself, published in The Beecher Island annual : Ninety-third anniversary of the battle of Beecher Island : Sept. 17, 18, 1868
I was born January 5th, 1840, and the first sensation of my life was the falling stars in 1849. All the slaves and their masters got together and began a mighty fixing for the Judgment Day. Of course our masters had a greater cause for fixing up things, than we poor slaves did, but we followed their advice.
Well, the next was the ’56 Border Ruffian War, and the comet in 1860 just before the Civil war. Well, we all got scared at the comet as its tail reached from West to East. It did look frightful. As we think of it now we believed it was a token of the great Civil war and the completing of our freedom, 400,000 of us.
Well, I come now to the War of the Rebellion. My master was a general in the Rebel army, and he took me along as his body servant, and I was with him all through the war, was with him in 29 battles.
We were with Gen. Forest at the shameful massacre at Fort Pillow of 600 colored troops. And in several battles after that I saw our rebel soldiers reap what they had sown at Fort Pillow.
On one occasion my mater’s regiment was whipped by Gen. Bank’s black soldiers and they captured several hundred of our soldiers and they slaughtered most all of them, crying “Remember Fort Pillow.”
I told my master that the black men done our men like we did them at Fort Pillow, and I asked him why it was that way, as they had slaughtered his son and several boys who were raised with me, and his son that was raised at my mother’s breast with me, all was slaughtered as the result of the Fort Pillow massacre. Being a slave and ignorant, I could not understand it and master did not enlighten me on the subject, and I never really understood it till I saw Master Robert E. Lee hand his sword to General Grant at Appomattox Court House.
Well, why being with Stonewall Jackson’s cavalry, I engendered a great linking for the cavalry soldiers, and on July 16th, 1867, I went to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and Colonel L. H. Carpenter was raising the 10th U.S. cavalry, and I enlisted on the 16th day of July, 1867, for the Indian war that was then raging in Kansas and Colorado.
Well, we plunged right into the fights—Beaver Creek, Sand Creek, Cheyenne Wells, and many others. One great sensation was the rescue at Beecher Island, on the Arickare Creek, in Colorado, September, 1868. The Indians had surrounded General Forsyth and 50 brave men, and had killed and wounded 20 men, and had compelled the rest to live on dead horse flesh for nine days on a small island. Colonel L. H. Carpenter, with his Company H, 10th U.S. cavalry, was at Cheyenne Wells, Colo., 100 miles from Beecher Island. Jack Stillwell brought us word of the fix that Beecher was in and we entered the race for the island, and in 26 hours Colonel Carpenter and myself, as his hostler, rode into the rifle pits. And what a sight we saw—30 wounded and dead men right in the midst of 50 dead horses, that had lain in the hot sun for ten days.
And these men had eaten the putrid flesh of those dead horses for eight days. The men were in a dying condition and Carpenter and myself dismounted and began to rescue them.
By this time all the soldiers were all in the pits and we began to feed the men from our haversacks. If the doctor had not arrived in time we would have killed them all by feeding them to death. The men were eating all we gave them, and it was a plenty. Sure, we never gave a thought that it would hurt them. You can imagine a man in starvation, and plenty suddenly set before him. He can’t think of the results until too late. That is the condition that Company H, 10th cavalry, fixed for the Beecher Island men. We were not aiming to hurt the boys. It was all done through eagerness and excitement.
God bless the Beecher Island men. They were a noble set of men.
Now, I shall explain this fight as told to me by the men at the time I rescued them. There were 2,000 Indians under the great Chief Roman Nose. They were preparing to raid Kansas and Colorado, and there were no soldiers within 200 miles and all Roman Nose had to oppose him and his 2,000 braves was Major Forsyth and 50 scouts, all dead shots and armed with the famous Spencer 7-shot carbines, a very deadly weapon. The Indians surrounded Beecher, Forsyth and 50 men on this island, which was not protected by anything but a sandbar.
The men dug rifle pits in the sand with their spoons and pocket knives. Well, the Indians shot their 50 horses in about 45 minutes. Every horse was dead and the men made breastworks of the dead horses till they could dig rifle pits in the sand, but before this was done, five men were killed and several wounded, and by this time they had dug deep pits in the sand, and had good rifle pits with high banks of sand. You know a bullet can’t have good luck going through 10 inches of sand. After Roman Nose had killed all the horses, he was sure he had the 50 men at his mercy and so he fixed up for a grand charge that he thought would be fatal to the white men, but he had better not have made the charge. It was the greatest mistake that Roman Nose ever made.
I had several rounds with him and he was always careful about mistakes when he met regular soldiers, he was too smart for us. We most always had “heap too many” (buffalo soldiers) and I suppose he thought 50 whites “heap little,” but also his fatal mistake.
Well, now to the fight as explained to me by the rescued men. After the horses were all killed and five men killed, the rest of us by this time were well concealed in the sand pits. The grand charge formed. Here they come, 100 yards away, 200 in number, 300 in ambush, opens 45 Spencer brand new carbines. Roman Nose and his grand charge is wiped off the face of the earth. Only 35 brave scouts did this job so you see by the brave stand made by Forsyth and Beecher scouts, hundreds of lives of settlers of Kansas and Colorado were saved from massacre and destruction, by the brave stand of 50 brave men.
Let me say here that I had many fights with the Indians for ten years after the Beecher fight, and I never saw anything to equal it. I say it was the greatest fight that was ever fought by any soldiers of the regular army at any time, not excepting the Custer fight or the massacre at Fort Phil Kearney, and I say further that in all the fights we had with the Indians, I mean the regular army, we never killed as many Indians. I saw Lone Wolf, who was in the Beecher fight, and he told us that they lost 400 killed and fatally wounded in the Beecher fight.
Well, after the fight and rescue we stayed at the island three days. We buried the five men who were killed. Lieutenant Beecher, Dr. Mooers, Louis Farley, and others, with military honors. We used the funeral flag of Company H to bury the dead, which flag I now have in my possession.
At present I have in my possession a scalping knife and a horseshoeing knife that I picked up on the battleground.
We arrived at Fort Wallace and the scouts were disbanded, and were reorganized under the leadership of Lieutenant Pappoon and rendered military service under the leadership of Lieutenant Pappoon.
Well, after we had been at Fort Wallace about two weeks, and the scouts had gotten rested a lot of us soldiers took French leave one night and went to Pond Creek, three miles west of Wallace. Well, when we got there we met the Beecher scouts, as they had been paid off. They sure treated us black soldiers right for what we had done for them.
Of course we lost all respect for prohibition, and of course all got on a very wet drunk. The scouts would have us drink, and we did not resent their courtesy, and everyone in town was on a drunk, and we had everything going our way. But, listen! BANG! BANG! BANG! rang out the shots from a sod house saloon. We rushed in to see what the trouble was and found Sharp Grover lying on the floor with one shot through the brain and one through the heart. Killed by one of the boys who was in the Beecher fight with him. I know the man’s name who fired the shots, but I will leave it a blank. He (Sharp Grover) came to his death from a pistol shot, in the hands of one named ————–.
It will be remembered that in April or May 1868, five miles southwest of Fort Wallace that one William Comstock had a ranch and was one of the greatest scouts on the plains. He had charge over all the scouts. In the U.S. service, whenever the army wanted a scout we just called on Comstock and he would furnish the man we wanted.
He had under him at his ranch twelve good scouts. He had sent them all out but Sharp Grover, and Sharp one morning came galloping in to the Fort with the tale that the Indians had attacked him and Comstock and had killed Comstock. I myself was in the party that charged out to the Comstock ranch to find him shot through the back and through the head. Sharp went back with us. We examined the battlefield. It was a sandy field and it had been tracked, it looked like, by many ponies, in the way the Indians attack. But when we got through we compared the pony tracks to the pony that Sharp had ridden to the fort with the report. All the tracks absolutely compared corresponded with the tracks made by Sharp’s pony.
You see, it was this way. Mr. Comstock was brutally murdered, and Sharp marked the battlefield by riding over it to show that the Indians had attacked him. Well, one of the solders said, “Sharp, this looks most damn suspicious, and you had better come across.”
We arrested him and took him back to the fort. But he convinced Colonel Bankhead and got out of it. But the man who killed Sharp knew all about how Comstock was killed. Comstock is buried in the old cemetery at Fort Wallace. Sharp is also buried there.
I was at the old cemetery in September, 1928, and saw the grave of Comstock, but I could not find just where Sharp was buried, but I know he was buried there for I helped bury him.
Well, we wintered at Fort Wallace and in the spring of 1869 we took our last farewell of Fort Wallace and we never returned there anymore.
We went on a long Indian campaign, almost two years in the cavalry saddle. In the winter of 1870 we go to Camp Supply and build our winter quarters for men and horses. Here we had six thousand Indians on our hands to feed. We had to herd cattle for their beef. Well, we had some exciting times getting acquainted with the Indians. They were on a treaty, you know, and just as we were getting acquainted, every [one] of them broke and went on the war path. We lost several men.
There was a stage station about 30 miles from the fort, taken care of by eight white soldiers. They knew the Indians were at peace at the fort and the Indians were at the station every day to trade with the soldiers. But the soldiers didn’t know that they had “broken for the war path,” and the Indians slaughtered them at one stroke.
Now came some hard times for us worn out soldiers. We had a hard campaign all winter, but in the spring of 1870 we rounded them up at Fort Sill, Indian Territory. We had the same gang that we had at Fort Supply. We got them all good and fat and they broke again and raided a family by the name of John Friend, scalped Mrs. Friend, brutally outraged several young girls and killed several others.
Well, we were on their trail. We followed them down through Mexico and back through Colorado and Kansas and rounded them up at Fort Sill. Old Chief Santank and Santa, Lone Wolf and Big Tree, were the chiefs that were at the head of all this.
Well, you see they had out-generaled the soldiers and got to Fort Sill five days ahead of us. When we arrived they were all in camp playing “good Indians.” We had two prisoners and some ponies we got from them and they could not deny their guilt. General Sherman had come through Texas and saw and knew all they had done, and was waiting at Fort Sill until we brought them in, so they next day we reported and produced the prisoners and ponies. General Sherman had boots and saddles sounded, mounted seven companies of cavalry, and surrounded the Indian camp. He demanded that they bring out Santak, Lone Wolf and Big Tree. And they refused to comply, and Sherman gave the command, “Ready, Aim.” He gave them five minutes before the word “Fire.” Well, they came across very quick. Well, it sure saved an awful slaughter for there were 2,000 Indians in the camp. Every man, woman and child in the camp was ready to fight, and if they had not complied with Sherman’s request that would have been one of the greatest massacres in the history of Indian wars. Well, we arrested the chief, to send to Texas, and the Second white cavalry came after them, and when they started back to Texas with them the Indians broke, but the troops were all in the saddle when they broke.
Well, two mighty dark hours. I hate to talk of it. The Second cavalry had to kill Satank before they left the fort. He concealed a knife under his blanket and attacked his guard and died “game.”
Well, I was discharged from the army honorably after ten years, and came to Eldorado, Kansas, and have made my home here since.
Well, after a period of 60 years, there is printed at St. Joseph, Mo., a small paper called Winners of the West, printed in the interest of the Indian War Veterans, and after 60 years, and in this little paper, I wrote a letter describing the Beecher Island fight of Sept., 1868, not knowing that there was a survivor of that yet alive. After a few days there was a big automobile rolled up to my door, and who should it be but J. J. Peate, of Beverly, Kansas, one of the survivors who was there with me at the rescue. And all honor to J. J. Peate. Peate and myself want to be at the monument this September, 1929, if we can. As far as we know there are only three living who were at the rescue, J. J. Peate, Thomas Murphy and Ruben Waller, who were with Colonel Carpenter at the rescue. One word more about Sharp Grover. He was Beecher’s chief scout and should have been the one to go for relief, but he failed to volunteer to do anything to help.
Major Forsyth, in his writeup of that fight, named one man in his scouts who proved to be a coward, in the person of a man named Lane. He must have made a mistake in the name. I don’t know why it was not “Grover.” It is all over now, only the rising generation ought to have the truth in history.
I visited in June, 1929, I think, as far as I know, the only survivor of the Beecher fight, Thomas Murphy, at Corbin, Kansas. He was in the fight. Well, as my memory fails me in remembering so may things of the past I conclude by saying I have told the facts as near as I could remember them.
I remain,
Yours truly,
RUBEN WALLTER
Late Co. H, 10th U.S. Cavalry
Eldorado, Kansas, July 23, 1929.
