Camp near Sonora, Mexico,
January 21, 1886.
Capt. C. S. Roberts,
A. D. C.,
Fort Bowie, A. T.:
Sir: I have the honor to report that
this command, under Captain Crawford, Third Cavalry, after a
march of eighteen hours, struck, on Sunday, the 10th instant,
the hostile camp about 50 miles to the southwest of Nacori, and
1 mile north of the Ara River, or Rio Grande. The hostiles,
evidently fearing an attack, had placed their camp among the
rocks, a commanding position, where a few men could successfully
resist a large force. The four companies of this post were so
disposed as to nearly surround the hostile camp, the attack to
commence at daylight. A company was assigned to each officer and
one to each of the chiefs of scouts.
The camp was situated in a country so broken that with difficulty
the command was made to move at night, the ground being covered
with broken rocks. Every one in the command wore moccasins to
avoid making noise, including officers and others. However, some
burros, belonging to the Indian herd, about 400 yards from their
camp, hearing our approach, commenced braying and alarmed some
of the hostiles, three in number, who came out to the herd and
ran near to the company in command of Lieutenant Shipp, Tenth
Cavalry. Some shots were fired, which soon became general from
all the companies, the Indians flying, leaving their entire camp
outfit and herd, with the exception of a few horses. A running
fight ensued, which was kept up for about two hours. None of
them were secured. The only evidence that any of them were hit
was blood left in two places on the ground.
Some of the scouts returned, saying the hostiles wished to send
in a woman to talk. This Captain Crawford assented to, and had a
talk, agreeing to see Natchez and others the next day. The
interpreter, Mr. Horn, and myself were directed to be present.
The hostiles were without any food or camp outfit, and had no
animals. Had this talk taken place, I believe most of the band
would have surrendered. Our ten packs, left about 8 miles
distant, were sent for, but did not arrive that night. We went
into camp about 100 yards above the Indian camp; on the same
line of rocks.
At daylight the next morning, Monday, the 10th, the camp was
alarmed by loud cries from some of the scouts, followed
immediately by a shower of bullets into our camp. I, with
Lieutenant Shipp and Mr. Horn, ran forward to stop it, as it was
supposed to be an attack by Captain Davis’s scouts through
mistake. However, it was soon discovered that the attacking
party was a large force of Mexican soldiers from Chihuahua,
numbering, as I afterwards ascertained from them, one hundred
and fifty-four. They wore no uniform, but I suppose were Nationales. Although we tried in every
way, by waving handkerchiefs and by calling out in Swinish who
we were, they continued a sharp fire for about fifteen minutes.
Then it seemed we had made them understand that we were American
soldiers, and friends. A party of them then approached, and
Captain Crawford and I went out about 50 yards from our position
in the open and talked with them. They did not stop moving. I
told them in Spanish we were American soldiers; called attention
to our dress, and said we would not fire. They answered they
would not fire, but all the time moved toward a hill a short
distance away, a little higher than our position, with some
scattering oak wood. Captain Crawford then ordered me to go back
and insure no more firing. I started back, when again a volley
was fired. Of course we all sought shelter. I am sure that they
knew who we were perfectly well at this time. Lieutenant Shipp
and Mr. Horn were also
[Page 572]
shouting at another point, telling whom we were—that all was
right. Mr. Horn speaks Spanish very well. When I turned again I
saw the captain (Crawford) lying on the rocks, with a wound in
his head and some of his brains upon the rocks. This had all
occurred in two minutes; he was said to be waving his
handkerchief when shot. Mr. Horn was also wounded at the same
time in the left; arm, and slightly. It is remarkable no others
were shot. There can be no mistake, these men knew they were
firing at American soldiers at this time. I took command, and
endeavored by all means to prevent more firing. I do not believe
the scouts fired more than was necessary to keep the Mexicans
away.
After about half an hour longer firing ceased and an answer to
our cries came from the Mexicans. I sent Mr. Horn to go out and
talk with one of them, who advanced and soon followed him to a
point some 300 yards away. I had a talk with the man in command,
their captain having been killed. I was told by many that they
were sure we were hostiles; that they took our train for a
hostile train, and it being dark could not tell. They seemed
very sincere in their regrets, and signed a paper stating all
was a mistake. They asked me for horses to take away their
wounded and wanted rations. I promised to do what I could, and
also promised, as they requested, to send the doctor to dress
the wounded.
The result of this unfortunate affair was the loss to us of
Captain Craw ford, Third Cavalry, mortally wounded; Mr. Horn,
chief of scouts, slightly; two Indian scouts slightly and one
severely. The loss on the part of the Mexicans, so far as I
could determine, was four killed and five wounded. I saw the
dead bodies of four carried away from within 100 yards of our
camp. I examined each of them myself. I had to cause the men
carrying them away to come without arms, as I feared the scouts
would fire at them again, and I remained with them till they
were carried off the field.
It seemed hardly possible that these men should continue this
attack when they knew who we were, but I now believe they
expected to drive us off with an overwhelming force and also
secure our camp and effects. I do not believe that they had any
idea we wore so strong or had taken such a strong position, for
which we are indebted to the hostiles. Fearing afresh conflict,
as the scouts seemed much excited and would not leave the rocks,
I decided to make litters for the wounded and move the next day.
This I did with the advice of Dr. Davis, who reported it was a
matter of only a short time as to Captain Crawford’s life, and
besides he was insensible to pain and would remain so until he
died. He died on the 18th instant, having lived seven days and
four hours, remaining unconscious until his death.
On the following morning, the 12th instant, I sent six of the
captured ponies to the Mexicans, with a request they return
receipt. I busied myself with fixing for the march and getting
the litters ready for the wounded, when I heard the interpreter,
Concepcion, crying out to me. I had sent him with the horses for
the Mexican wounded, and to drive back some of the herd taken
from the hostiles that had strayed into the Mexican camp. There
was no one who could speak Spanish but myself, Mr. Horn being
wounded and suffering. So, to expedite matters, I left and went
a short distance to see what was the matter. They said to come;
they wanted to fix about the horses and receipt. Concepcion was
detained by them. I was reassured that all was right and
friendly, and I went over a small hill a few yards further, when
I was surrounded by these men, a hard-looking crowd. They were
armed with a caliber 44 Remington rifle, carrying a cartridge
much like our brass cartridges. Their manner was threatening;
they made many demands, said I had no authority in Mexico, and
asked me to produce my papers. I cannot now explain all their
questions. I had no papers to show them; Captain Crawford had
left all behind with the train. They asked me for six mules to
take their wounded away. I did not expect to get away, but I
told them that on my word of honor I would send them if they
would let me go back. They refused to take the ponies, as they
said they were very worthless. They were not very good. The
Indians were shouting and stripping at this time for a fight
again. I was then permitted to go. I went to camp and sent them
four of my pack and two riding mules, taking receipt for
them.
It was now too late to move and I was obliged to remain till the
next day. Our rations were nearly out, and although I had sent
for the pack train, I did not know when we could hope to see
(it) as the country was so difficult.
The next morning I moved camp, carrying the wounded by hand to
camp about 4 miles distant. I took all precautions to prevent
any trouble from the Mexicans when leaving, as I believed they
would attack us if they were sure of success. Shortly after I
got in camp two squaws asked permission to come and talk. I
granted this, and arranged to meet the chiefs of hostiles next
morning. I moved camp about 2 miles, and went down with five
Indian scouts, Mr. Horn, and the interpreter to a point a mile
distant, where I had a talk with two of the bucks. I told them
if they would come in and give themselves up, without arms, with
their families, I would take them safely to you, feed, and care
for them, but could offer no more. None of the chiefs were
present. They were said to be looking for their families,
scattered in
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the
fight. The bucks promised to toll them, and the next day they
would come and talk.
The following day they came—Natchez and Gerónimo. They told me
they wanted me to talk to you. I took down what they said, in
writing, for your information. In this they explain the cause of
their leaving the reservation. They agreed next day to arrange
to send in some of the band. This they did, and I have secured
Nana and one buck, who turned in his rifle; the wife and child
of both Gerónimo and Natchez, and one boy; also the sister of
Gerónimo, and one other woman—nine in all. They are my
prisoners, and I ration them of course. The chiefs will meet
you, if you so wish, near the line, where they will have a talk,
and, I think, surrender to you. They are tired of being out. I
think they wish to meet you in a month; meanwhile they do not
intend to do any act of hostility. I believe these people mean
to do as they say.
The band consists of Natchez, Gerónimo, Chihuahua, and Nana,
chiefs, and twenty bucks, with some women and children. I have
Nana and one buck. Twenty-two of the men, therefore, remain out.
They have scarcely anything, and are poor and miserable. All I
saw had belts full of ammunition. I saw eighteen men.
I will bury the body of the captain at Nacori and mark it well. I
will place it in the grave-yard in the care of the president,
Señor Casa Mira. The doctor did all he could for the captain.
His case was utterly hopeless. The command, without exception,
has behaved well, and Indians in carrying the body did more than
expected, as they are so superstitious, &c. The gloom cast
upon the entire command by the death of Captain Crawford, to
whom all were much attached, and who has so faithfully done all
possible to accomplish the object for which we were sent, has
been very depressing.
The animals are wearing out and I will have to abandon some. I
have been delayed by swollen streams. We had to wait one day to
cross the Satoche River, 25 miles from Nacori. Our trains from
Lang’s branch were over five days behind time, I believe on
account of the Bavispe River being too high to ford.
In making this report I am unable to write with any facility, and
am unable to send you more than an incomplete report, which I
hope you may understand. On my return I will give a thorough
account of all having taken place and a complete account of all
from the date we left. From here I will proceed with all
possible dispatch under the circumstances to Lang’s branch,
which I hope to reach by the 4th proximo or sooner, although the
train is overloaded by reason of the absence of the other train
sent to Lang’s branch for rations on the 28th December, 1885,
from Nacori. I have plenty rations, and, with the Indian stock,
hope to get along well.
I am in hopes that I will not be molested more by the Mexicans
from Chihuahua, and will take all possible care to avoid further
bad feeling, and will hurry this report to you by courier.
I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient
servant,
MARION P. MAUS,
First
Lieutenant First Infantry, Commanding.
Have deemed it best, in order that all information in my possession may
be known to the Department, to telegraph Lieutenant Maus’s dispatch
entire.
