TRANSCRIBED FROM THE VAN BUREN COUNTY DEMOCRAT OCTOBER 18, 1918 P. 2
Ft. Sill, Okla., Oct. 4, 1918
Mr. C. B. OLDHAM,
Clinton, Ark.
DEAR SIR:
When I was a mere lad studying history in the grades, I used to read of Indian fights, war dances, and massacres, but never dreamed that I would ever be a witness to any of these stirring scenes. A few days ago I sat enthralled, as I did when I first attended Barnum and Bailey's show, and watched some of these red skins attack the home of a frontier settler, and later in their camp I saw them execute both peace and war dances. To be sure the battle around the cabin was only a sham battle, but the dance was the real thing, except the desire for blood was not in their hearts. But let me start at the first.
A "School of Fire" and a "School of Arms" have been located at Ft. Sill. The former is a training school for Artillery officers, the latter for Infantry officers. A military order for the removal of the School of Arms was issued recently. In honor to the School of Arms, a magnificent outdoor drama known as "The Pageant of Ft. Sill--A Tale of the Early Days" was presented. A movie camera was present, so if any of the readers get an opportunity to see the picture I would advise you to do so.
In the bed of a little creek, nearly dry, a log cabin and stockade had been erected. On one side of the stream, the bank was perhaps seventy-five feet high, not perpendicular but sloping. Here seats had been cut, making a natural ampitheater for two or three thousand people. In the cabin lived the settler, his wife, father-in-law and three children, the largest boy nearly grown.
I will not give the whole story, but one day while the old man was sunning himself on the outside of the stockade, a rifle cracked, the old man toppled over dead, and the Indian attack was on.
The oldest boy rode for help, the stockade door was quickly closed leaving the old man on the outside, and a fusillade of bullets from forty or fifty Indians in full war dress, some mounted and some on foot, swept the little cabin. Really, the bullets were not singing thru the air, but the reports of the rifles were cracking pretty rapidly. The Indian fire was answered by the inmates of the stockade. One of the braves slipped up to where the old man lay and got his scalp.
In the thick of the fight, a dense fog of dust rose in the distance, and we knew the cavalry was on the road to the rescue. Upon their arrival the fight was on in earnest. The soldiers dismounted and slowly drove back the red skins. Occasionally a soldier would roll over and straighten out, or an Indian would fall to the earth. But the Indian would not stay dead. In a little while he would be up shooting away as merrily as ever. It was too good a chance to shoot at the Government's expense. The cavalrymen dismounted with their horses on the dead run. Some dismounted gracefully, some otherwise, on head, shoulders or sprawled on all fours.
I am sure the fight was realistic to one old Indian chief. Reinforcements had arrived, and the horsemen rushed upon the field scattering Indians right and left. This particular chief was not able to get out of the way. A horseman rode over him, knocking him into the sand. He did not seem to be hurt very badly, for he rose and headed for the timber as tho his scalp were in danger. Needless to say, the foe were driven back and the cabin and inmates saved.
The scenery was next considered in a different light. It was no longer the settler's cabin, but the old post of Ft. Sill. The flag pole was raised, and as the starry banner of freedom was drawn to the top, the band played "The Star Spangled Banner," while the vast throng stood at attention.
Years pass. The School of Arms is established, and the infant School of Fire makes its appearance. A terrific bombardment of hand grenades kept the air filled with smoke and thunder for ten or fifteen minutes. Some of the large guns were unlimbered ready for action, while in the rear, machine gunners were engaged with pouring shot and shell into the imaginary Hun.
I have tried to tell only the stirring incidents of the play. A pretty love story ran thru it.
That night at their camp the dance was staged. Seventy-five or one hundred persons participated, including men, women and children. They ranged from the old heads of the tribe to two little fellows that made me think of my nephews at home (with due apologies to Sheriff Patton.) Their dress and headgear was most fantastic. Every color imaginable could be found, with perhaps red, white and blue predominating. This was especially true of the color scheme of the feathers that they wore around their heads and down their backs. Some of them had bells, similar to sleigh bells, fastened around their legs or thighs, and when they danced the jingling kept time with the music. Their dancing is more of a promenade than a dance as we know it. Their music consisted of three or four beating on a base drum, accompanied by singing. Part of the time their song was a monotonous chant. As near as I can tell you it was "Ki-yi-yi, Yi-yi-yi," repeated over and over with the first score about two notes higher than the last. Then again their song was entirely different, with a variety and harmony pleasing to the ear, but impossible for me to attempt to imitate.
Many of the soldiers present must have been students of the Bible, and remembered what Zachius did on a memorable occasion. Like him they climbed a tree and there witnessed the festivities. Two of these I noticed who were quite adept at imitating the Indians' halloo, which was used intermittently thruout the dance. It sounded more like the call of the screech owl than anything else I know of. These two soldiers adorned themselves with branches for headgear and at the belt behind, in imitation of the costume of the braves. Then descending to the ground, they gave a pretty clever mimic dance. It was much more amusing to me than that of the Indians.
Well, Mr. Editor, I will close, for it is late in the night. I am in the best of health, and enjoying this fall weather highly.
Very sincerely,
C. A. SHORT.
Y.M.C.A. No. 18, Ft. Sill, Okla.
NOTES: Chester Arthur Short was a YMCA employee. He was born in Salina, Kansas on July 29, 1882 and died on October 17, 1937. He is buried in the Clinton Cemetery in Clinton, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Ft. Sill, Okla., Oct. 4, 1918
Mr. C. B. OLDHAM,
Clinton, Ark.
DEAR SIR:
When I was a mere lad studying history in the grades, I used to read of Indian fights, war dances, and massacres, but never dreamed that I would ever be a witness to any of these stirring scenes. A few days ago I sat enthralled, as I did when I first attended Barnum and Bailey's show, and watched some of these red skins attack the home of a frontier settler, and later in their camp I saw them execute both peace and war dances. To be sure the battle around the cabin was only a sham battle, but the dance was the real thing, except the desire for blood was not in their hearts. But let me start at the first.
A "School of Fire" and a "School of Arms" have been located at Ft. Sill. The former is a training school for Artillery officers, the latter for Infantry officers. A military order for the removal of the School of Arms was issued recently. In honor to the School of Arms, a magnificent outdoor drama known as "The Pageant of Ft. Sill--A Tale of the Early Days" was presented. A movie camera was present, so if any of the readers get an opportunity to see the picture I would advise you to do so.
In the bed of a little creek, nearly dry, a log cabin and stockade had been erected. On one side of the stream, the bank was perhaps seventy-five feet high, not perpendicular but sloping. Here seats had been cut, making a natural ampitheater for two or three thousand people. In the cabin lived the settler, his wife, father-in-law and three children, the largest boy nearly grown.
I will not give the whole story, but one day while the old man was sunning himself on the outside of the stockade, a rifle cracked, the old man toppled over dead, and the Indian attack was on.
The oldest boy rode for help, the stockade door was quickly closed leaving the old man on the outside, and a fusillade of bullets from forty or fifty Indians in full war dress, some mounted and some on foot, swept the little cabin. Really, the bullets were not singing thru the air, but the reports of the rifles were cracking pretty rapidly. The Indian fire was answered by the inmates of the stockade. One of the braves slipped up to where the old man lay and got his scalp.
In the thick of the fight, a dense fog of dust rose in the distance, and we knew the cavalry was on the road to the rescue. Upon their arrival the fight was on in earnest. The soldiers dismounted and slowly drove back the red skins. Occasionally a soldier would roll over and straighten out, or an Indian would fall to the earth. But the Indian would not stay dead. In a little while he would be up shooting away as merrily as ever. It was too good a chance to shoot at the Government's expense. The cavalrymen dismounted with their horses on the dead run. Some dismounted gracefully, some otherwise, on head, shoulders or sprawled on all fours.
I am sure the fight was realistic to one old Indian chief. Reinforcements had arrived, and the horsemen rushed upon the field scattering Indians right and left. This particular chief was not able to get out of the way. A horseman rode over him, knocking him into the sand. He did not seem to be hurt very badly, for he rose and headed for the timber as tho his scalp were in danger. Needless to say, the foe were driven back and the cabin and inmates saved.
The scenery was next considered in a different light. It was no longer the settler's cabin, but the old post of Ft. Sill. The flag pole was raised, and as the starry banner of freedom was drawn to the top, the band played "The Star Spangled Banner," while the vast throng stood at attention.
Years pass. The School of Arms is established, and the infant School of Fire makes its appearance. A terrific bombardment of hand grenades kept the air filled with smoke and thunder for ten or fifteen minutes. Some of the large guns were unlimbered ready for action, while in the rear, machine gunners were engaged with pouring shot and shell into the imaginary Hun.
I have tried to tell only the stirring incidents of the play. A pretty love story ran thru it.
That night at their camp the dance was staged. Seventy-five or one hundred persons participated, including men, women and children. They ranged from the old heads of the tribe to two little fellows that made me think of my nephews at home (with due apologies to Sheriff Patton.) Their dress and headgear was most fantastic. Every color imaginable could be found, with perhaps red, white and blue predominating. This was especially true of the color scheme of the feathers that they wore around their heads and down their backs. Some of them had bells, similar to sleigh bells, fastened around their legs or thighs, and when they danced the jingling kept time with the music. Their dancing is more of a promenade than a dance as we know it. Their music consisted of three or four beating on a base drum, accompanied by singing. Part of the time their song was a monotonous chant. As near as I can tell you it was "Ki-yi-yi, Yi-yi-yi," repeated over and over with the first score about two notes higher than the last. Then again their song was entirely different, with a variety and harmony pleasing to the ear, but impossible for me to attempt to imitate.
Many of the soldiers present must have been students of the Bible, and remembered what Zachius did on a memorable occasion. Like him they climbed a tree and there witnessed the festivities. Two of these I noticed who were quite adept at imitating the Indians' halloo, which was used intermittently thruout the dance. It sounded more like the call of the screech owl than anything else I know of. These two soldiers adorned themselves with branches for headgear and at the belt behind, in imitation of the costume of the braves. Then descending to the ground, they gave a pretty clever mimic dance. It was much more amusing to me than that of the Indians.
Well, Mr. Editor, I will close, for it is late in the night. I am in the best of health, and enjoying this fall weather highly.
Very sincerely,
C. A. SHORT.
Y.M.C.A. No. 18, Ft. Sill, Okla.
NOTES: Chester Arthur Short was a YMCA employee. He was born in Salina, Kansas on July 29, 1882 and died on October 17, 1937. He is buried in the Clinton Cemetery in Clinton, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD