Life and Adventures of 'Billy' Dixon

There was not a man among us who had not thought of that same melancholy fate. When the fight was at its worst, with the Indians closing in on all sides, and when it seemed that every minute would be our last, I was strongly tempted to take my butcher knife, which I kept at razor edge, and cut off my hair. In those days my hair was black and heavy and brushed my shoulders. As a matter of fact, I was rather proud of my hair. Its luxuriance would have tempted any Indian to scalp me at the first opportunity. I had a further and final plan – to save my last bullet for self destruction.

Poor Smith endured his agony like a brave soldier. Our hearts ached but we could do nothing to relieve his pain. About 10 o'clock that night he fell asleep and we were glad of it, for in sleep he could forget his sufferings. Later in the night one of the boys felt of him, to see how he was getting along. He was cold in death. Men commonly think of death as something to be shunned. There are times, however, when its hand falls as tenderly as the touch of a mother's hand, and when its coming is welcomed by those to whom hopeless suffering has brought the last bitter dregs of life. We lifted the body of our dead comrade and gently laid it outside the buffalo wallow on the mesquite grass, covering the white face with a silk handkerchief.

Then the rest of us huddled together on the damp ground, and thought of the morrow. That night is indelibly stamped in my memory; many a time have its perils filled my dreams, until I awoke startled and thrilled by a feeling of imminent danger. Every night the same stars are shining way out there in the Panhandle, the winds sigh as mournfully as they did then, and I often wonder if a single settler who passes the lonely spot knows how desperately six men once battled for their lives where now may be plowed fields, and safety and the comforts of civilization.

Like everything else, the long night finally came to an end, and the sun rose clear and warm next morning. By this time all the men were willing that I should go for help, and I at once started. Daylight exposed me to many dangers from which the night shielded me. By moving cautiously at night, it was possible to avoid the enemy, but if surprised, to stand a good chance of escape. In the daytime, however, the enemy could lie in hiding and scan the country in every direction. On the Plains, especially in the fall when the grass is brown, the smallest moving object may be perceived by the trained eye at an astonishingly long distance. I knew that I must proceed with utmost caution, lest I fall into an ambush or be attacked in the open by superior numbers.

I had traveled scarcely more than half a mile when I struck the plain trail leading to Camp Supply. Hurrying along as rapidly as possible and keeping a constant lookout for Indians, I checked myself at the sudden sight of an outfit that seemed to cover about an acre of ground, two miles or so to the northwest. The outfit at first did not appear to be moving and I could not tell whether it was made up of white men or Indians. I skulked to a growth of tall grass and hid for a while. My nerves were too keen to endure hiding and waiting, so I stole back and took another look. The outfit was moving toward me. Shortly I was able to see that they were troops – Indians always traveled strung out in a line, while these were traveling abreast.

I never felt happier in my life. I whanged loose with my old "50" to attract the attention of the soldiers, and saw the whole command come to a halt. I fired my gun a second time, which brought two soldiers to me. I told them of our condition, and they rode rapidly back to the command and reported. The commanding officer was Major Price, with a troop, accompanying General Miles' supply train which was on its way with supplies from Fort Supply to field headquarters.

The same Indians that we had been fighting had been holding this supply train corralled for four days near the Washita River. Major Price, luckily for the outfit, happened along and raised the siege. The Indians had just given up the attack when we ran into them.

Major Price rode over to where I was waiting, bringing his army surgeon with him. I described the condition of my comrades, after which Major Price sent the surgeon and two soldiers to see what could be done for the wounded. I pointed out the place, which was about a mile distant, and asked the surgeon if he thought he could find it without my going along, as Major Price wanted me to tell him about the fight. The surgeon said that he could and rode away.

I was describing in detail all that had happened when I looked up and saw that the relief party was bearing too far south. I fired my gun to attract their attention, and then waved it in the direction which they were to go. By this time they were within gunshot of my comrades in the buffalo wallow. To my utter astonishment, I heard the roar of a gun and saw a puff of smoke rise from the wallow – one of the men had fired at the approaching strangers, killing a horse ridden by one of the soldiers.

I ran forward as rapidly as possible, not knowing what the men would do next. They were soon able to recognize me, and lowered their guns. When we got to them the men said that they had heard shooting – the shots I had fired to attract the attention of the troops – and supposed that the Indians had killed me and were coming for them. They were determined to take no chances, and shot at the surgeon and the two soldiers the moment they got within range.

Despite the sad plight of the wounded men, about all the surgeon did was to examine their injuries. The soldiers turned over a few pieces of hardtack and some dried beef, which happened to be tied behind their saddles. Major Price refused to leave any men with us. For this he was afterwards severely censured, and justly. He would not even provide us with firearms. Our own ammunition was exhausted and the soldiers carried guns of different make and caliber from ours. However, they said they would let General Miles know of our condition. We were sure that help would come the moment General Miles heard the news. At the time we were glad just to have seen these men and did not think much about how they treated us.

We watched and waited until midnight of the second day after the troops had passed before help came. A long way off in the dark we heard the faint sound of a bugle. It made us swallow a big lump in our throats and bite our lips. Nearer and clearer came the bugle notes. Our nerves were getting "jumpy," so strong was our emotion. We fired our guns, to let them know where we were, and soon the soldiers came riding out of the darkness.

As soon as the wounded could be turned over to the surgeon, we placed the body of our dead comrade in the wallow where we had all fought and suffered together, and covered it with the dirt which we had ridged up with our hands and butcher knives for breastworks. Then we went down on the creek where the soldiers had built a big fire and cooked a meal for us.

Next day the wounded were sent to Camp Supply where they were given humane and careful treatment. Amos Chapman's leg was amputated above the knee. Amos was as tough as second growth hickory and was soon out of the hospital and in the saddle. All the men recovered and went right on with the army. Chapman could handle a gun and ride as well as ever, the only difference being that he had to mount his horse from the right side, Indian fashion.

I should like once more to meet the men with whom I fought in the Buffalo Wallow Fight, but I seldom hear from them. When I last heard of Amos Chapman he was living at Seiling, Oklahoma. My last letter from Sergeant Woodhull was dated Fort Wingate, New Mexico, 1883. This was shortly after Colonel Dodge had published his book, "Our Wild Indians," in which he attempted to give a circumstantial account of the Buffalo Wallow Fight. Sergeant Woodhull was displeased with the statement of facts, and resented the inaccuracies.

I guess I am partly to blame in the matter. When Colonel Dodge was writing his book, he wrote and asked me to send him an account of the fight. I neglected to do so, and he obtained his information from other sources. If my present narrative differs from that of Colonel Dodge, all I can say is that I have described the fight as I saw it. In saying this I do not wish to place myself in the attitude of censuring Colonel Dodge. However, it should be reasonably apparent that a man with a broken leg cannot carry another man on his back. In correcting this bit of border history I repeat that every one of my comrades in that fight conducted himself in the most heroic manner, bravely doing his part in every emergency. Below will be found the text of the report which General Miles sent to Washington:

    Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition,
    Camp on Washita River, Texas,
    September 24, 1874.

Adjutant General, U.S.A.,

Thro Offices Asst. Adjt. Gen., Headquarters

Department and Military Division of the Missouri and of the Army.

General:

I deem it but a duty to brave men and faithful soldiers to bring to the notice of the highest military authority, an instance of indomitable courage, skill and true heroism on the part of a detachment from this command, with the request that the actors may be rewarded, and their faithfulness and bravery recognized, by pensions, medals of honor, or in such way as may be deemed most fitting. On the night of the 10th inst. a party consisting of Sergt. Z. T. Woodhull, Co. I; Privates Peter Rath, Co. A; John Harrington, Co. H. and George W. Smith, Co. M, Sixth Cavalry; Scouts Amos Chapman and William Dixon, were sent as bearers of despatches from the camp of this command on McClellan Creek to Camp Supply, I.T.

At 6 a.m., of the 12th, when approaching the Washita River, they were met and surrounded by a band of Kiowa and Comanches, who had scarcely left their Agency; at the first attack all were struck, Private Smith mortally, and three others severely wounded. Although enclosed on all sides and by overwhelming numbers, one of them succeeded, while they were under a heavy fire at short range, and while the others, with their rifles, were keeping the Indians at bay in digging with his knife and hands a slight cover. After this had been secured, they placed themselves within it, the wounded walking with brave and painful efforts, and Private Smith, though he had received a mortal wound, sitting upright within the trench, to conceal the crippled condition of their party from the Indians.

From early morning till dark, outnumbered 25 to 1, under an almost constant fire and at such short range that they sometimes used their pistols, retaining the last charge to prevent capture and torture, this little party of five defended their lives and the person of their dying comrade, without food, and their only drink the rain water that collected in a pool mingled with their own blood.

There is no doubt but that they killed more than double their number, besides those that were wounded. The Indians abandoned the attack on the 12th at dark.

The exposure and distance from the command which were necessary incidents of their duty, were such, that for thirty-six hours from the first attack, their condition could not be known, and not till midnight of the 13th could they receive medical attendance and food, exposed during this time to an incessant cold storm.

Sergt. Woodhull, Private Harrington and Scout Chapman were seriously wounded. Private Smith died of his wounds on the morning of the 13th. Private Rath and Scout Dixon were struck but not disabled.

The simple recital of their deeds, and the mention of the odds against which they fought, how the wounded defended the dying, and the dying aided the wounded by exposure to fresh wounds after the power of action was gone, these alone present a scene of cool courage, heroism and self-sacrifice which duty, as well as inclination prompts us to recognize, but which we cannot fully honor.

    Very Respectfully,
    Your obedient servant,
    (Signed) NELSON A. MILES,
    Col. and Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. U.S.A., Commanding.

    Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition,
    Camp on Oasis Creek, I.T.,
    Oct. 1, 1874.

Official copy respectfully furnished William Dixon. By command of Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. Miles.

    G. W. BAIRD,
    Asst. Adjt. 5th Inf., A.A.A. Gen'l.

General Miles had both the heart and the accomplishments of a soldier, and Congress voted to each of us the Medal of Honor. He was delighted when the Medals came from Washington. With his own hands he pinned mine on my coat when we were in camp on Carson Creek, five or six miles west of the ruins of the original Adobe Walls. The text of the official correspondence concerning the award of the Medals of Honor is appended:

    Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition,
    Camp near Fort Sill, I.T.,
    January 24th, 1875.

General Order No. 28:

The Commanding Officer takes pleasure in announcing to the troops of this Expedition that his recommendation that the distinguished heroism displayed on the 12th of September, 1874, by Sergeant Z. T. Woodhull of Co. I, Private John Harrington, Co. H, and Peter Rath Co. A, 6th Cavalry, and Scouts Amos Chapman and William Dixon be recognized, has been approved by the highest military authority, and that the Congress has bestowed upon each of these men a Medal of Honor. It is now his pleasing duty to bestow upon men who can worthily wear them, these tokens of the recognition and approval of their Government.

By Command of Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. N. A. Miles.

    (Signed) G. W. BAIRD,
    1st Lieut. and Adjutant 5th Infty.,
    A.A.A. General.

    Headquarters Ind. Ter. Expedition.
    Camp on Canadian, Texas.
    December 24, 1874.

Mr. William Dixon,

Sir:

I take pleasure in presenting to you a Medal of Honor, as a recognition by the Government of your skill, courage and determined fortitude, displayed in an engagement with (5) others, on the 12th of September, 1874, against hostile Indians, in overwhelming numbers.

This mark of honor, I trust, will be long worn by you, and though it in a small degree compensates for the hardships endured, yet it is a lasting emblem of distinguished services, well earned in a noble cause. It will ever recall the fact to you and yours, of having materially aided in clearing this fair country of ruthless savages, and freeing it from all time to civil settlements. This must be an ever increasing gratification to you.