The Battle of Sugar Point

Like many other young men, I caught the war fever in the spring of 1898 and one day packed my traps and took the train to Fort Snelling, Minn., where I had friends in the Army. A few days later I was enrolled as a member of the Hospital Corp., for the old Third Infantry had left the Fort before I arrived there, and by enlisting in the Hospital Cops., I thought I could get to the front quicker. Several months passed with drills and lectures etc.  I expected to be sent south most any day, when during drill one evening I sustained a bad sprain of my left ankle and two days afterward orders came to send all available Hospital Corp men south. I wanted to go badly, but was not allowed to do so as I was in no condition to do duty on account of my lame foot. I hoped against hope that I would be sent as I was well again, but meanwhile an epidemic of typhoid fever broke out amongst the members of the 15th Minn. Vol. Inf. then encamped on the Minn. State Fair Grounds.  The Hospital in St. Paul and Minneapolis were soon filled to overflowing and the Regiment was finally moved on the Fort Snelling reservation.  The Hospital was filled with patients in a few days and a large tent hospital was erected on the lawn in front of the Post Hospital.  We were short of help now and the few members of the Hospital Corps. present were working day and night. There is where I got my first taste of what service in the Hospital Corps. really meant and as being sent south was out of question, now I made the best of it and cheerfully fulfilled my duties.  About two months later rumors commenced to appear in the paper about a prospective Indian uprising in the northern part of Minn. and there was even some talk of sending a detachment of the 3rd Inf., who had then just returned from Cuba via Montauk Pt., There I saw my chance to get away from the old post at least and that day I had a talk with the steward in charge, who promised to do what he could for me to be sent along in case any troops were sick.

Meanwhile things in the Northern part of the state keep getting worse.  The Indians openly defied the U. S. Marshall and his deputies. Old Chief Bug-o-nay-gee-shig who had been arrested by the U. S. Marshall was released by the young “bucks” just as the deputies were escorting him from the jail at Leech Lake agency to the steamer.  Warrants were sworn out for the arrest of twenty-two Indians who had participated in the affray. The U.S. Marshals had badly mixed up matters and now as is always the rule in many cases the military authorities were called upon to help straighten out things.  General Bacon, who was then in command of the Department of Dakota, designated a detachment of 80 men to be picked up from different companies of the 3rd Infantry to proceed to the seat of the trouble under the Command of Captain Wilkinson.  The order was received at Ft. Snelling on the evening of Oct 3rd and one surgeon and two privates of the Hospital Corps were to accompany the detachment.  I was overjoyed when I received orders to be in readiness by 7 A.M. the next morning. That part of Minnesota where we were going is a hunter's paradise. The virgin forests are only interrupted by hundreds of lakes and ponds where ducks and geese are plentiful in the fall and spring of the year. Deer, bear, and partridges abound and even the king of pine the forest, the moose, is brought down occasionally by the rifle of the successful hunter.

We left Fort Snelling early on the morning of Oct. 4th and went by streetcar to St. Paul where we boarded the north-bound train at the Union depot. All filled in high spirits as we sped north over the level prairies for we expected to have great sport in hunting and fishing, none of us thinking that there was serious work ahead of us. Alas — how soon we were to be undeceived. Little over twenty four hours later Captain Wilkinson, our gallant leader, and five of the brave fellows had met their death by Indian bullets, while twice as many of the others were writhing in agony from the sting of the Winchester bullets sent by the wily savages hidden in ambush.

After a few hours riding the prairie became here and there dotted with little clumpses of scrub pine, and by noon we reached Brainerd, a thriving lumber and railroad town. From there the railroad led us through unbroken miles pine forests here and there broken by the clearing of a settler or a logging camp. The lakes we passed became more numerous and finally the forests thicker and just at dusk we arrived at Walker, situated on Leech Lake, a small logging town of about 400 inhabitants. This was the end of our destination as the Indian Reservation was across the lake and we were to use steamers to cross. That night we slept in the cars after a frugal meal of corned beef and hard tack. Next morning long before daylight we were quietly awakened without the bugle call of Reveille. Breakfast was soon served and like spectres we marched to the dock where the steamers, “Flora” and “Chief”, were in readiness. Nobody knew where we were going except the officers and the U.S. Marshal. Day was just breaking when we slid noiselessly from the dock, about 30 men of the detachment on the Chief and the rest on the Flora.  It was rumored now that we were to surprise some Indian camp and settle the business right then and there. The morning was cold and very unpleasant.  It had been raining all day before and during the night and was now half snowing and half raining.  Leach Lake is rather queer in shape having over 700 miles of shoreline and still it is never more than 25 miles across on any point.  But there are so many bays and inlets that the uninitiated will quickly get lost.  The shores are thickly covered with pine forest and underbrush.  This forms an ideal hiding place and an Indian could never be caught there as long as there is open water in the lake.  He can cross a bay or in his birch bark canoe, carry it across the next peninsula and go to crossing the next bay or inlet while a steamer has to go way around the peninsula. The steamers were making good time until we searched a part of the lake called the narrows, which is very shallow and only about ½ mile wide and connects the so-called big lake with the small lake. There both boats got stuck in the mud and made only slow progress, the Chief coming near being swamped as the water was very rough.—We finally passed “Squaw Point” where an Indian settlement was situated and soon we noticed that only women and children and old men were at home.  We passed now into the big lake and in the distance loomed up Bear Island, the home of the Pillager Indians most of whom belonged to the renegade band.  Bear Island, about a mile south of Sugar Point, a peninsula where their Chief Bug-a-ne-gee-shig and his followers have been reported to be in hiding.

The Steamers anchored about three hundred yards off shore on account of the numerous rocks which came to within a few feet of the surface.  All along the shore we could notice a number of log cabins and tepees on the point and lost no time in landing near a clearing in which stood a small log cabin.  Two of the Indians wanted were found there and arrested, but the rest of the birds had flown.  Captain Wilkinson with the U. S. Marshals and about 60 men, extended in skirmish line, searched through the whole peninsula, but not another Indian was seen.

Lt. Ross with about ten men stayed behind to guard the two prisoners which he then sent on board the Steamer Flora.  About 11:15 AM Captain Wilkinson returned with his men after a fruitless search.  Two of the men who had been in Cuba were shaking with chills and fever and Dr. Harris and myself were directed to take them on board the Steamer Flora. Gen. Bacon who was with the expedition (also I did not know it then as he was in Civilian Dress) had meanwhile concluded while the detachment would camp in the clearing, and await further developments.

While rowing Dr. Harris, the two patients, and myself to the steamer, and helping the patients in the cabin, I noticed that the Company was getting ready to fall in.

The clearing was nearly square, the south side, or base, being formed by the lake shore and the sides about 150 to 200 feet long.  In the center of the clearing stood a small log house which was destined to play an important part in the later happenings of the day. 

After placing the patients in the cabin I went on deck and was standing behind the pilot house when a shot rang out from the woods. I sprang in front of the pilot house from whence I could see the clearing when something crashed through the thin board walls of the pilot house and the pilot gave a yell of pain.  The next moment a volley rang out from the woods and I saw the company who was just in the act of stacking arms scatter in all directions, hunting for cover.  I noticed that some of the blue coats dropped and I knew that there was work ahead for me.  The woods all around the clearing seemed alive with Indians who now set up a terrific noise with their war whoops and tom-toms.  The Indians became so bold as to appear on the edge of the clearing and for a moment it appeared as if they were going to sweep the surprised soldiers into the lake.  But the officers had now rallied their startled men and commenced to pour a steady fire into the ranks of the Indians, making them hunt for cover.

All this happened quicker than I can tell here.  Surgeon Harris had meanwhile come on deck and the next thing I knew both of us were in a small row-boat pulling for the shore.  There was no one there to tend to the wounded—the other Hospital Corps man being on board the Steamer “Chief” while the troops had all they could do to keep the Indians at bay.  As we had to cross open water for a space of nearly 300 yards we offered a fine target for the enemy and it seems like a miracle that we escaped unscathed although the boat was pierced by no less than eight bullets. Owing to the rough water the boat was constantly bobbing up and down, which probably saved our lives. Bullets were singing all around us and splashing up the water but we finally reached the shore safe and sound and there we found those poor follows who had been wounded in the first volley.  They had crept down to near the waters edge where a little hollow amongst rocks and stumps offered a comparatively safe shelter.  Meanwhile the fighting up in the clearing continued, the Indians trying to push the soldiers and drive back into the lake and our men fighting desperately to hold their ground also having little or no protection.  While the Indians fought from the underbrush and large trees surrounding the clearing the noise was deafening.  The Indians were all around with repeating rifles of various calibers and sharp report of the “Crags” was mingled with louder roar of the big caliber Winchester while the shrill war whoops of the savages, the sharp commands of the officers, and the cry of the wounded added to the din of battle.

The first of the wounded I came to was Sgt Ayres who was shot through the thigh.  I quickly dressed his wound and meanwhile several more wounded came creeping down to our dressing station. While Dr. Harris and myself were busy applying first aid dressings, someone brought word that Captain Wilkinson was shot over on the left flank and Dr. Harris went to look after him, leaving me to finish up with the other wounded.  This took about 10 minutes and meanwhile the firing grew less frequent.  I now proceeded to go up into the clearing to look for wounded who probably were too weak to creep to the dressing station, and about halfway between the lake shore and the log cabin aforementioned, I found a poor fellow Pvt. John Daly, who having fainted from loss of blood lay in a small patch of turnips.  He was shot clean through the right thigh and would undoubtedly have bled to death but for my untimely arrival.  His leg had to be amputated four days later after he was taken back to Fort Snelling.  While I was making myself busy over him I noticed that the firing from the underbrush grew more frequent and bullets commenced to sing all around me.  But the man’s life depended on my work, and although somebody called me to be down I was just stubborn enough to hold out and finish my task.  The next moment a bullet rend a big hole, about a half an inch below the brassard, through my left sleeve.

I sprang up and glancing about I saw a man lying face downward in a big pool of blood right in front of the log cabin not more than twenty steps away from me.  Up till then I had only found wounded men and did not know that anybody had been killed.  I ran up to the prostrate form and gently turned him over.  A look in his glazed eyes told me that he was beyond recall and in the same moment something like a red hot iron struck me under the jaw and I tumbled on the ground.  For a moment I was half dazed when the triumphant shout of the savage who had fired the shot and thought he had killed me brought me back to my senses.  I had been anxious to take part in the fighting ever since it started and only my obligation to the wounded had kept me back from the firing line until then.  The shot through my sleeve had roused my temper but this second shot which just burned my skin made me fighting mad.  The savage who fired the shot could not be more than 50 yards away and I was going to have it out with him personally.  I was mad enough to fight all the Indians in the woods single-handed. All the old stories of Indian strife and battle of  which I had read in my boyhood days passed through my mind in a moment and knowing I was in for it now I made up my mind to die fighting like a man.  I was there as a non-combatant and they had shot at me.  Why should I not shoot at them?—I scrambled to my feet and off came my overcoat.  I did not have any weapon of any kind but the dead man here has on his cartridge belt and there lies his gun.  Before I knew it I had on the belt, picked up the rifle and started to run in the direction of my enemy.  My life must have been charmed as I was exposed to the fire of the enemy for the front and the entire right flank.  The bullets were flying past and thick kicking up the ground around me or speeding past with an angry zip. But never a one struck me nor did I care, for I was after redskins to get satisfaction or die fighting.  Shouting, “came on boys” I darted thought the firing line when some one caught my foot and pulled me down saying, “be low young man, you don’t want to commit suicide!”  I was laying between 1st Sgt Kelly of Co. E and an elderly military looking gentleman in Civilian dress whom I did not know.  I can’t exactly remember what my answer was, but I am sure it was not very civil,  whereas the Sgt. punched me in the ribs and said, “you are talking to Gen. Bacon, the Dept. Commander.” This somewhat composed my ardor and I started to apologize when on looking around I saw Captain Wilkinson coming across the same place where I had been knocked down but a minute before.  He was coming down the left flank and shouting an order to the center when I suddenly saw him throw up his hands and sink in the arms of Surgeon Harris who was just coming around the corner of the log cabin.  I hastened to assist him and we carried the gallant Captain who but a few minutes before been shot through the thigh and was now shot through the abdomen and left arm behind the cabin where he expired after two hours suffering.

After there were no other wounded around I returned to the firing line and remained there during the day, moving up and down the line about every half hour to see if somebody had not been wounded since my last round.  The firing was very slow now but occasionally a bullet found its victim and every time I made the rounds I drew fire of enemy, without being harmed however.  Thus the afternoon passed on until about four o’clock in the afternoon when I heard someone groaning near the center of the clearing.  I went over to see what was up.  It was Pvt. Daly, who after I had dressed his wound in the morning and returned him had gone to sleep and had just woke up almost delirious with fever.  He was a man weighing nearly 200 pounds and on account of his shattered thigh I could not remove him alone, therefore had left him just where I had found him in the morning.

I had visited him several times during the day and had always found him asleep.  He was burning with fever and begged me for a drink of water.  I took his canteen to the lake, filled it and returned to him while the enemy kept up a lively fire, using me for a target.  As I was bending over him, slightly raising his head and pressing the canteen to his lips, a bullet whizzed closely passed me and lodged in his already shattered thigh a little above the knee. I quickly dressed the new injury and then looked about to find better shelter for him.  Although he was completely hidden by the grass and turnip leaves, he was not safe anymore now that the Indians knew he was lying there.  I finally managed to drag a few half rotten logs in front of him thus giving him fairly good protection.  While I was doing this the Indians made another onslaught and when I hastened to the firing line I met Pvt. Turner who was shot in the back of the neck.  As I was applying first aid and was dressing his wound, word was passed along the line that another man was seriously injured near the center of the line.

Soon I was at the place indicated, and there I found Pvt. Ziebel shot through the groin, and just breathing his last.  I had been lying between him and Pvt. Wicker whenever I was not making my rounds, and had left him there sound and well only ten minutes before.  He had literally bled to death and was beyond all help.  I was reproaching myself for staying away so long when I noticed Pvt. Wicker was about to faint away.  I quickly was by his side and found that the ball that had killed Ziebel had sped right on and lodged in Wicker’s leg.  It looked as if faith had been kind to me in causing me to be at some other place at the time the fatal shot was fired for had I been lying there between the two, the ball would undoubtedly have struck me instead of Wicker.  The bullet had flattened on an end and turned around, and the point was just showing on the side opposite the wound of entrance on Wicker’s leg.  By using a knife and forceps I finally managed to extract a large 45 cal.  Winchester ball.

From the course the ball had taken I judged that the shot had been fired from an opening in the underbrush that looked as if a footpath was leading into the forest in that direction and I resolved to keep a sharp lookout.  As I was busy extracting the bullet and dressing the wound a bullet fired from the same direction passed through Wickers hat and a few moments later another ball went through my trousers, grazing the knee.  I was confident that the shots were all fired by the same man and I even thought I saw some smoke back in the underbrush.  Having finished dressing the wound I laid down and carefully watched the place where I thought the Indian was hidden. Everytime the Indian fired our men had poured a rapid fire in his direction which did not seem to have any effect.  Gen. Bacon who was but a few feet distant, and had seen whence the shots came from, gave orders to cease firing and charge on the enemy the next time he fired.  For about 15 minutes everything was quiet on our side although now and then we heard a shot fired from the left flank.  I almost commenced to think that I had been mistaken when I noticed a slight motion in the underbrush along the path I was watching. Slowly it came nearer and nearer and then stopped side of a big pine stump not more than a few yards away.  My rifle was ready at my shoulder when I saw an old redskin slowly rise to his knees.  He was just in the act of loading his Winchester when I pulled the trigger. He gave one fierce yell and tumbled backward, and then all was still.  I had disobeyed orders by firing, but the General who saw what I had done and heard the Indian death cry, never said a word and the grim smile on his face showed that he was pleased.

So the long afternoon had worn on and it was getting dark.   The day was wet and cold and it was high time that the wounded, who were lying just where they fell, be made more comfortable.  I ran to the log cabin in the center of the clearing and found that there was ample room for all the wounded.  I then obtained permission from Gen. Bacon to use the cabin for a temporary hospital and under cover of darkness and with the aid of three newspaper reporters from St. Paul and Minneapolis who were with the expedition, but had been in hiding ever since the fighting started, I managed to safely harbor the poor fellows in the cabin.  They were almost suffering as much from the cold as from the wounds but fire in the stove of the cabin soon made them more comfortable.

About half of the men were now withdrawn from the firing line and given a chance to warm themselves in the cabin.  We were crowded like herring in a barrel as the cabin was only about 14 ft square, but still it was better than the cold and the wet outside.

Now that the excitement was over the men commenced to feel hungry and with exception of a few sandwiches there was nothing to eat.

All the supplies were on the steamer who had cowardly left us to our fate and sped back to Walker spreading the news that the whole command was annihilated.  The captains of the steamers had proposed to go farther out into the lake out of gun shot range and come near shore in the evening to give the survivors a chance to escape.  U. S. Marshal O’Connor, who is as big a coward as ever lived, and who had chartered the steamers, was aboard the Flora when the fighting started, was so frightened that he ordered the steamers to return to Walker at once.  It was he who led us into the trap in the first place and then left us to our fate.  When he found out that some of us were still alive he quietly left for another part of the state for the “boys” had sent word that they would string him up as soon as they could lay hands on him.

We were now in a sorry plight, out of rations, nearly out of ammunition, nobody knew how many Indians around us, and no way of escape open even had we known the country.  But everybody felt cheerful on a bold front and ready to sell his life dearly.

As  I was taking a list of wounded Lieut. Ross informed me that Gen. Bacon wished to see me as I reported to the old gentleman,  about half of the men in the command were present, and he grasped me by the hand and warmly praised my conduct during the day.  It has never occurred to me that I was doing anything by my plain duty.  I was so overcome by the words of praise from the Gen. that my head commenced to whirl.  I remember he said something about Medal of Honor and good example etc. and I came nearly forgetting to thank him for his kindness 

After nightfall about 20 men started to dig a trench around the cabin while another twenty were scattered along the edge of the clearing doing picket duty. They were relieved every hour and given a chance to warm themselves in the cabin.  At about midnight as the relief was about to go out, two men of the relief, Cuban Veterans, had been taken with chills and fever. Volunteers were called for to take their places and, as I knew I would not be able to sleep, I went on picket duty.

The sky had cleared somewhat and the moon had risen about 10 PM.  The wind whistled through the forest and now and then fleeting clouds obscured the bright moonlight.  Watching our chance until a big dark cloud hid the moon we moved out into the night to relieve the waiting comrades.

My stand was about 100 yards distant from the cabin.  Three or four large timbers lay in a heap in front of me and when the bright moonlight shone over the scene I noticed that the forest around me was comparatively free from underbrush.  Pointing my gun over the top log I crouched down with eye and ear alert in the direction of the enemy.  A high wind blowing through the tall pines and the fleeting clouds and fantastic shows, swaying trees threw fantastic shadows crept through the wood. Far off and over to the right an Indian dog was barking and a mate answered from the distance. An owl was hooting in the dark treetops.

A foe might be lurking behind every tree in front of me. All the occurrences of the previous day passed through my mind and for the first time I realized how kind providence had been to me.  Six of our brave fellows were lying cold and white, sleeping their last sleep, while more than twice as many were suffering agonies from their wounds.

Nearly an hour had passed without anything unusual.  A large cloud was passing in front of the moon, darkening the woods, when suddenly I heard a rustling in the dry leaves not more than five feet to my left.  My heart almost stood still, but the hand went to the bayonet by my side. The rifle would be useless at that distance.  Another step and it stopped right in front of me.  The cloud had passed and there in the bright moonlight, two feet in front of me sat a large skunk.  My hair stood on end I hardly dared to breathe.  A move to frighten the animal and he would make me a social outcast for some time to come.  How long he sat there curiously eying me.  I could not tell, it seemed like a year to me.  He finally hopped away into the underbrush and was seen no more.  I would rather face a whole tribe of Indians then go through that experience again.  The only time I felt fear creeping in my breast was when I looked into his black beady eyes and I probably would have run from him had I not been so thoroughly scared.

When the relief came around I insisted on staying at my post hoping to get a shot at the skunk if not at an Indian, but although I kept up my vigil until daylight I did not get a chance at either Indian or pole-cat.  A few shots were exchanged with the enemy on the left flank but otherwise we were not molested.  After daybreak we scoured the woods in front of us, but the enemy had retreated, although a few sharpshooters were still lurking in the thickets. At noon one of our men was killed by a sharpshooter hidden in the branch of a large oak.  Our own sharpshooters made his place untenable and we sustained no more casualties after that.

During the afternoon the steamer Flora brought provisions and ammunition and we sent the dead and wounded to Walker for transportation to Fort Snelling. We spent the second night much like the first but no enemy was seen.

At the first intelligence of the fighting the commanding officer of Fort Snelling dispatched 300 men of the 3rd Inf. to reinforce us.  They arrived at Walker on the evening of Oct 6, the fight having been the day before.  On Oct. 7 Gen. Bacon concluded to return to Walker and from there distribute his forces and open an aggressive campaign against the Indians.  We arrived at Walker without mishap where I remained with the command that had been in the fight.  The other troops were dispatched to various stations so as to surround the reservation   No blow was ever struck at the Indians. Before all preparations were made the Interior Department interfered and with presents and promises induced the Indians to surrender.  They were deprived of their liberty for a short time and then set free, laughing at the foolishness of the white man who fed and clothed them after they shot his soldiers.

In the three years now since this occurred I have since received the Medal of Honor for which I was recommended but nobody but myself knew how near I came deserting my post on account of nothing but an old skunk.