D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
April
2009
HIKING APACHERIA
Walls in the Wilderness
Southwestern New Mexico's 19th-century forts and camps were among the most remote outposts, in the roughest country, ever manned by the US military.
Story and photos by Jerry Eagan
From roughly 1849 to 1886, a number of forts and camps were opened and closed in what we call southwestern New Mexico. In this and subsequent articles, I'll ask the reader to draw a line along Hwy. 60, which travels west from Socorro to the Arizona-New Mexico line, then south to the Mexican Border in the "Bootheel," back east to the Rio Grande, then back north up that river to Socorro. This encompasses all or most of present-day Catron, Doa Ana, Grant, Hidalgo, Luna, Sierra and Socorro counties and represents many thousands of square miles of terrain.
 |
Ruins of the headquarters at Fort
Craig. . |
In this area, several native peoples lived and roamed, including some Pueblo tribes, as well the ancestors of the two Athabaskan groups of Nuevo Mexico — the Navajo and Apache. For such an enormous area, most say the Athabaskans may have only totaled 15,000 to 20,000 by the end of the Mexican-American War.
The forts and camps located in southwestern New Mexico were very isolated from the people they were meant to protect: Anglos and Hispanics who lived or traveled south of Socorro to Arizona and Mexico. Even by the end of the Mexican-American War, only a few individuals were brave enough to leave the Rio Grande corridor, to plunge into what must have seemed like a vast, empty void of mesas, canons, arroyos, rugged streams and rivers, mountains and deserts of almost indescribable desolation and isolation.
In alphabetical order, a list of these military places includes camps Alma, Boyd, Byers, Datil, Hachita, Henley, Horse Springs, Shannon, Sherman, Vincent and, of course, forts Bayard, Bowie (the most important fort in my view, but in Arizona), Conrad, Craig, Cummings, Fillmore, Gila Depot, McRae, Ojo Caliente, Selden, Thorn, Tulerosa, Webster I and II, West. I'll not cover Fort Bayard, as local historians Andrea Jaquez and Neta Pope are at work on a definitive history of Fort Bayard.
This first in a series will therefore provide a general enumeration of these camps and forts; I'll focus later on several of greatest personal interest to me. Where possible, I'll include basic directions to the locations of these places. Be aware, however, that some of these sites, particularly the camps, are on private land. It's not always easy to find the name of record for the land's ownership. It's also not easy to always secure permission to visit these places on private land.
I've visited several of these places, or intend to do so, with the permission of the ranch owners — but with the proviso that I not disclose which sites I visited. Shortly after I visited two such sites, another person, working with a GPS and metal detector, visited those same sites — one without the permission of the owners. It's illegal to use a metal detector on government lands (Bureau of Land Management, US Forest Service, state Park Service, state or even county lands). It's also illegal to use metal detectors on privately owned land, such as that owned by ranchers or Freeport-McMoRan mining, without permission. Recent "stings" by various government agencies have led to arrests of pot and artifact hunters who either hoard these items or sell them for profit. Such activities have plagued local archeological work, and robbed local museums of relics that might otherwise be displayed for everyone's enjoyment. If you know such individuals, ask them to donate these items to the half-dozen or so excellent county museums located in our Apacheria.
Starting along the Rio Grande, in the general vicinity of Socorro, Fort Conrad was first established in 1851 near the Valverde ford on the Rio Grande, but then abandoned in 1854. Its replacement was Fort Craig, which was located near the native trails that wound their way through the Jornada del Muerto. Fort Craig was meant to monitor the activities mostly of the Eastern Chiricahuas (the Chihenne) who lived to the west, up the Rio Alamosa, and the Mescaleros, who lived and roamed in the eastern Guadalupes, Oscuras, Sacramentos, San Andres and White Mountains.
In February 1862, Union troops from Fort Craig fought the Battle of Valverde against Confederate forces that had invaded New Mexico in an attempt to take control of the entire territory. Before and even after the Confederate penetration, walls, moat-like ditches, officers and enlisted barracks, a hospital, corrals, supply buildings and munitions bunkers were built at Fort Craig.
Farther south of Fort Craig was Fort McRae, which was built in 1863 and abandoned in 1876. Some of the local Westerners history group flew over to see Fort McRae's ruins, which are at the bottom of Elephant Butte Lake's water, one year when the water levels were seriously depleted. The Sierra County Museum, located in Truth or Consequences, has excellent displays and information on Forts Craig, McRae, Ojo Caliente and Thorn. The staff are very helpful when it comes to opening up their subject index files, and will copy documents for a fee.
Initially, the "[Indian] Agency at Ojo Caliente," established for the Chihenne Apaches, was located at Fort Craig. In the 1870s, it was known as the Southern Apache Agency, one of several places to be given that name, in several different places. In early summer of 1870, Second Lieutenant Charles Drew, who was serving as the "agent" in charge of these Apaches, supplied them with what he felt were paltry rations. These were people who had sustained themselves primarily from hunting animals, and hunting and gathering a wide variety of native plants, cacti fruit, different kinds of nuts, berries, and natural grasses.
In one plaintive letter after another, Lt. Drew asked — practically begged — for items as simple as a regular and consistent ration of corn, flour, tobacco, coffee, sugar, salt and beef for his wards. The US Army, not the Bureau of Indian Affairs, governed these Apaches, who came to Fort Craig truly for protection. The Army was supposed to serve them better, and more honorably, against unscrupulous ranchers, traders, farmers and scalp hunters. Whether Anglo or Hispanic, many Americans seemed to look upon the Apache as a "fence" today might look upon thieves who needed to get rid of "hot" property — albeit, someone else's property.
From a practical point of view, stealing horse and mules in raids, most often in Northern Mexico, the Apaches could drive their own agenda for goods and gear that were practical, needed and valued. The materials traded with the Mexicans who resided in Alamosa, on the eastern end of Caada Alamosa, could be counted upon more than the material promised by the American government.
One letter, written by Lt. Drew, on Feb. 28, 1870, said in part: "The Indians in my charge remain at their camp near Caada Alamosa — with the exception of a few under Victorio, that have gone to the Rio Cuchillo Negro, about 15 miles from here, to hunt. Loco says they were compelled to separate in order to find game enough to sustain themselves, as the amount issued by the Government is insufficient to sustain them, and it takes a large amount of game to supply them.
"Both Victorio & Loco's bands are constantly coming into town to trade buckskins & I can see nothing that indicates anything but friendly feelings and a wish to be placed on a reservation and treated as the Navajos are. The blankets sent me were distributed to the numbers of 200, making one do for two small children."
In her book, Victorio: Warrior and Chief, Kathleen Chamberlain rightfully suggests that there were American soldiers and civilians who were good and who treated the Apache fairly when they performed as agents. She points out that there were always political considerations to be understood and dealt with. She states that in June 1870, Lt. Drew "rode out from the agency alone to investigate yet another report of stolen cattle. Unlike Victorio's Chihenne people, the agent knew little abut the rugged mountain range [San Mateos] in which he found himself.
"He became hopelessly lost and ran out of water. By the time a rescue party of soldiers finally found him, Drew was already exhausted and dehydrated beyond revival. He died as a result of that misadventure."
It was all too convenient then to claim Apaches depredated cattle herds, when in fact they were only one of several groups of perpetrators, the others being Anglo and Mexican rustlers and thieves. While the letter from Lt. Drew implied friendly relations, some of the Mexican population of Alamosa, which is now modern Monticello, played games with the Apache. They could and did foment fear and trepidation with these Indians, telling them that the Americans would trick them and kill them. They sold them liquor, which was almost always detrimental to the Apache. In exchange for these goods, the Mexicans in Alamosa got plenty of good horse and mule stock, which had been taken in raids. And, perhaps most important, the Mexican and American traders had no problem exchanging stolen horses for guns and ammunition.
Many things were very uncertain when it came to the relationship between the American government and the Apache. One thing absolutely certain, though, was that there would never, ever, be a time when the Americans would provide Apaches with guns and ammo. Likewise, the Apache, who had roamed these lands freely for several centuries, were afraid to hunt as they once had, due to being indiscriminately and without warning shot at and even killed by emigrants pouring into the country by then. From the point of view of these Apaches, the most effective way they could make things happen on their time scale, on their agenda, was to raid, steal, plunder and return to Caada Alamosa to trade for what they needed, when they needed it. It's amazing to think that these fierce Apache needed protection from anyone, but at that point, they were willing to try to allow Americans to protect them.
In the days when Lt. Drew wrote about his needs and the reality of the problems with the Apache, the primary leaders were Cuchill Negro, Loco and Victorio. In the years following 1874, the Apaches were promised an agency could be established at Caada Alamosa, the homeland of their ancestors. Almost as soon as such promises were made, however, political interests, ranchers, miners, farmers and speculators crowded in around there, and wanted to set loose vast herds of cattle. Their interests came ahead of the promised reservation. The Apaches of Warm Springs were shunted back and forth from Fort Tularosa; the headquarters of this agency would be located near a cemetery in Catron County, east of Reserve, in the small town of Aragon. When the Chihenne said Fort Tularosa wasn't what they were promised, they were promised again they could return to Caada Alamosa. But when they tried, the word came to relocate or "concentrate" all the Apache — Eastern and Western Chiricahua, as well as Southern (Mexican N'de n'nai) Apaches — at San Carlos and Fort Apache, Ariz.
By 1878-1880, the Chihenne, numbering around 300 to 400 warriors and women and children, had had quite enough of the American government's lies and ineptitude. Whether apocryphal or not, Victorio was reported to have stated that he would rather die on the run, operating out of their homeland when possible, raiding and plundering as a coherent group, than be reduced to beggars of the American government's capricious attitudes and policies. Cheated so many times out of their homeland, and the fruits they were promised by white American men if they would only become civilized and live like the white man, the Chihenne longed for the land they spoke of as if it were the Christians' Garden of Eden — the lands of Caada Alamosa.
In the end, a specially compiled US Army report of the Victorio Campaigns of 1879 and 1880 reads like the hunt for Bin Laden. A superb collection of the Victorio Campaigns has been put together by the National Archives. It recounts the maneuvers made by Americans and Mexicans alike to corner, box in, kill or destroy the Chihenne as they dashed around the country between the San Francisco River in New Mexico, some parts of Arizona, and as far south as the Sierra del Candaleria, in Chihuahua, Mexico.
It was at a place called Tres Castillos, Chihuahua, that Mexican forces finally surrounded Victorio's people, and killed or captured several hundred. The survivors were treated and sold as slaves, particularly any men who had survived the battle of Tres Castillos, and the women and children were surely treated as slaves/servants by upper-middle-class Chihuahuan citizens. Some of this band are alleged to have also been as slaves to citizens of Spanish-controlled Cuba. At least one modern Apache who now resides in Florida claims his ancestors were among those sold to Cuban land owners.
Two other of the forts that figured prominently in the history of Grant County, and in many ways played a significant role in the history of the Mimbres Valley, were Forts Webster I and II. The first was the old Presidio at Santa Rita del Cobre; the second stood a few miles north of the intersection of Hwy. 35, 152 and 61. The former was triangular fort built by Spanish authorities to protect the mines at Santa Rita del Cobre. It served that function, although in a creaky kind of way, until the Americans won the Mexican-American War. A three-quarter-scale replica of Fort Webster I has been built in Pinos Altos, and can be seen on the main street there. (See "Tall Pines Tales" in this issue.)
Several years after the conclusion of the war with Mexico, in 1851, the Americans moved into Fort Webster, but they stayed less than a year. In the latter part of 1851, the Americans moved out and relocated to Fort Webster II in the Mimbres Valley, where Apache had established rancheria for centuries.
There were many points of commonality in the forts established in Southwestern New Mexico: bleak quarters; mundane or deficient diets, so far as fresh vegetables and fruit are concerned; lots of beans, salt pork, nasty hardtack; the torture that came from wearing hot, sweaty woolen clothes; shoddy equipment as "hand-me-downs" from the Civil War; disgust and disrespect from most citizens of the lands, be they Anglos or Mexicans; very little in the way of thanks from these various citizens; reputations as losers and pitiful examples of professional soldiering. For the "Buffalo Soldiers," who were at Forts Bayard and Cummings, add serious racial discrimination from a significant portion of the population.
In the hundred or more microfilm rolls I've examined at WNMU's Miller Library, I've not found many examples of soldiers shirking their duties when it came to running down Apaches after they'd committed depredations against American civilians. I've only found two or three instances where my own independent review of reports would show cowardice or lackluster performance of duties by these troops. I believe that had the populace been aware of the details of military operations, they'd have been more generous in their opinions of the troops in their midst.
For those who haven't hiked in some of the surrounding remote places, where most forts or camps were located, I have no doubt whatsoever that, in the terms of many a soldier, "this country is the roughest I've ever seen in my career." Whatever collective conclusions might be drawn on the campaigning skills of the average soldier fighting Apaches, white or black, citizen or immigrant, they gave their best in most instances.
My guess would be that at least some of those soldiers, at some of those forts, some of the time, reflected on where life had taken them. And just what the hell was it all about? Who were these Apaches, who lived, even thrived here, and were such incredible warriors? Most of those soldiers had never guessed people like the Apaches existed, until they came here and chased. . . their ghosts. And, of course, occasionally, those soldiers experienced a few moments of utter terror when the Apache did make themselves known.
While I haven't talked about it in this article, I've written about Fort Cummings before ("Canyon Conquerors," March 2006). If you have the time, drive down to Fort Cummings, off the Hatch Highway, to the Florida Station water tower. Turn left off the highway, and follow Cooke's Canyon Road. Take a jog onto a very rough jeep track, about three miles, to the fort. You'll need clearance of an extra foot or so, in most small cars. Don't go if your car is low-slung, because you could rip out the oil pan, and the tow will be serious money.
Even today, Fort Cummings is about as remote as most deserted forts go. Stay well past sunset. Watch as the stars — seemingly millions of them — come out and decide, if you had been an Apache, what all of this would have meant to your heart and soul and mind. The silence will answer, if you listen.
Jerry Eagan is always interested in visiting places connected to Apache history. He can be reached at skymindgraphics@zianet.com This is the 15th article in his "Hiking Apacheria" series; to read the complete series, see www.desertexposure.com/apacheria For greater detail on the forts and camps of New Mexico, consult "Forts of New Mexico" by Dale F. Giese, available at the Silver City Museum.