D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
December 2009
HIKING APACHERIAThe Case of Lieutenant John Lafferty
Trekking to the spot where a Mimbres rancher's great-grandfather was shot in a battle with Apaches.
Story and photos by Jerry Eagan
"The Past becomes the Present becomes the Future becomes the Past."
— Shunryu Suzuki, |
By 2007, I'd developed a coterie of faithful readers of my work, "Hiking Apacheria," who had regularly read and begun making kind comments about my series, as published in Desert Exposure. One such reader was my physician's assistant, Johnny Reed, who worked at Silver Health Care. We shared political views as well as experience in Vietnam — Johnny as a Marine, me as an Army grunt. The Apaches, to me, parallel my experience with the Viet Cong I encountered in 1966.
 |
Fred Lafferty, great-grandson of
1st Lt. John Lafferty, and Edwin Sweeney, an international authority
on the Chiricahua Apaches, who holds the drawing composed by one of Col.
Reuben Bernards cavalrymen after the Rocky Mesa fight. Lt. Lafferty would
have been wounded at a spot on the last panel of the map held in Sweeneys
left hand. |
Once I mentioned to Johnny that I wanted to write an article about locals whose ancestors fought the Apaches as civilians or military men. Johnny said he knew an interesting guy named Fred Lafferty. He suggested I contact Fred, since Fred had told him his great-grandfather — John Lafferty — had been a legitimate hero of the Apache Wars. Johnny said John Lafferty had been one of the California Volunteers who'd formed to save the Union in the West during the Civil War. Fred Lafferty's great-grandfather had also fought Cochise's Apaches, and been seriously wounded in a firefight in 1869.
Johnny told me that Fred and his wife Betty were fairly well-known in the Mimbres area as a rancher, Realtor and as folks who'd set up a wounded-animal sanctuary called La Quernecia ("Ranch of the Pen where Bulls Stand"). Fred's father had been a general and Fred himself was a Navy commander, a "brown shoe" (carrier aviator) man. Johnny guessed Fred would want to tell me the story of his great-grandfather, Lieutenant John Lafferty.
He was right. I began to interview Fred Lafferty and his wife Betty in the winter of 2007-2008. The idea was to tie these Lafferty men's histories together as seen through the Zen filter of time and space. I was inspired by a koan often used by a Vietnamese Zen monk, Thich Nhat Han: "What was the face of your parents before they were born?"
Cavalryman John Lafferty's son, Frederick Sherman Lafferty, entered West Point in the early 20th century, but was ejected after fighting with an upper classman. Next in line was Frederick Reid "Pat" Lafferty, born in 1890, who served as a cavalryman in the Poncho Villa campaign in the deserts near Lajitas and Terlingua, Texas (both adjacent to Big Bend National Park today). "Pat" Lafferty remained along the border during World War I. He'd been bitten by the flying bug, though, in Texas, and after completing flight school in 1921, was detailed to the Philippines, where he established Nichols Field on Luzon. He also served in World War II, as Deputy Provost Marshall in England and, following the Normandy Invasion, Deputy Provost Marshall in the European Theater.He'd risen through the ranks in the hiatus between world wars, and was an operations and plans specialist, responsible for the vast "Louisiana Maneuvers" so many thousands of American troops participated in before shipping overseas, either to the European or the Pacific Theaters.
"Pat" Lafferty retired in 1950 as a brigadier general, with 33 years of service, at Fort Bliss, Texas, after a long period stationed there. He lived thereafter in El Paso until his death in 1987 at the age of 96.
The Fred Lafferty I interviewed, Pat's son, flew in the Korean War, and later served as an anti-submarine pilot searching for Soviet submarines in the Pacific. He was also a Pacific Fleet staff officer during the Vietnam War. He retired in 1982 and also chose to live in the El Paso area, where he became a Realtor, before moving to the Mimbres. Frederick Lafferty, the last in this line of military officers, was born March 31, 1926. He has been married to Elizabeth Louise Vissering, herself the daughter of an Army General.
It was clear from what Fred told me that his great-grandfather, Lt. John Lafferty, an honorable member of the Order of the Indian Wars, was a legitimate "Indian fighter" almost from the start of his military career. As early as Feb. 15, 1867, as a 2d Lieutenant in the First (Regular Army) Cavalry Regiment, he was engaged with Indians in Nevada. In one action there, he became separated from his own men during a firefight. Entirely alone, with the command out of sight and hearing, Lafferty dealt with four warriors who attacked him. He killed two and took the other two prisoners.
Fred told me that 30 years ago, he'd read an article he'd found in an old Cavalry Journal, which recounted another incident, where his great-grandfather had fought against and been wounded by Cochise's Apaches. A voracious history reader, Fred was pleased when Edwin Sweeney's book, Cochise, was published, since it included a very detailed account of the 1869 incident fought in the Chiricahua Mountains of Arizona. It was when he read the account of his ancestor's heroic fight that he began to hope he'd get to that place sometime in his life.
By late 1869, First Lt. John Lafferty was in charge of one of the troops of the Eighth Cavalry under Colonel Reuben Bernard, whom Sweeney characterizes as one of the most aggressive, determined leaders in the post-Civil War Army. Sweeney makes it clear that Col. Bernard was one cavalryman who stayed on the Indian chief's trail for weeks, forcing engagements when opportunities arose. One fight was fought at a place called "the Rocky Mesa," near Chiricahua Pass, the South Central Chiricahua Mountains.
Col. Bernard's official report to his commander, Major General Thomas C. Devin (who'd been one of the Union cavalrymen who fought the first day at Gettysburg), states that Bernard's columns ran after Cochise a number of days, on a "scout" that began at Ft. Bowie, Arizona Territory, on Oct. 9, 1869. Bernard "marched entirely by night," to avoid discovery by the Apache. On Oct. 19, Col. Bernard's forces found an Apache camp on the "highest mountain" in the vicinity of the south-central Chiricahua Mountains, which was also "about three miles from water." (That water is the Creek, which flows through what has been called Red Rock Canyon.)
"Coming upon a fresh track running in the same direction we were going (west)," Bernard reported, "I took the gallop, knowing this Indian had seen us, and that the main body must be close. I ordered the guide(s) (among them, Merijildo Grijalva), to take five (5) men, dismounted, and go to the top of a rocky mesa, and see what he could discover, while I galloped off in the canyon to see if I could find their trail. While I galloped off in the canyon, I saw several Indians running from the crest. I got back as quick as my horse could carry me, and ordered the men to tie their horse to the trees, and get to the top of the hill. Before the men had reached halfway up the hill the Indians had opened fire on the guide and five men, compelling them to take shelter behind the rocks. At this, firing commenced from all parts of the rocks above us. We pressed forward to a ledge of rocks about thirty yards from the ledge occupied by the Indians. This enabled them to shoot their arrows at any person who might show himself. Here, two (2) men of the command were killed, and one (1) wounded. The men then made themselves secure among the rocks, and sharp shooting commenced in earnest, which was kept up for about half an hour. I gave the command to Lieutenant Lafferty, while I disposed of the rear guard and pack train, which was just coming in.
"When I reached the place where I had left the horses, I found they were greatly exposed to the enemy's fire, and it being impossible to advance with the troops from the places they occupied, except to run against another precipice, I ordered Lieutenant Lafferty to fall back and bring the dead men with him. The latter part of the order he could not obey, for as soon as the troops showed themselves volleys were fired at them, compelling them to seek shelter where best they could, and to have attempted to carry the bodies away under such a fire would have cost many a life.
"Lieutenant Lafferty, with a few men, remained behind trees at the foot of the hill to protect the bodies until something could be done to drive the Indians from the rocks, so that we could get the bodies.
"With twenty (20) men, I moved to the left, in hopes of being able to get in rear of the enemy, but found every point on the mesa well guarded. I then gave my First Sergeant fifteen (15) men, with orders to occupy a hill nearest the mesa, and try to make the Indians leave their stronghold near the dead men. This fire had a great effect on them, as several men were killed from that point. I gave [orders] to Lieutenant Lafferty to make a charge and get the bodies of the dead men. Lieutenant Lafferty was shot, the ball taking effect in the right cheek, breaking and carrying away the greater portion of the lower jawbone, the bullet and broken bones greatly lacerating the lower portion of the face.
"The sun was now getting low and there being no place where I could camp in the vicinity out of gunshot range from the mesa from the hills, besides the whole country was thickly set with timber, the night had the appearance of being very dark, as it had been raining and hailing all day. I thought it best to withdraw, and not lose more men in a vain attempt to dislodge the enemy. Where I now feel confident I could not have done it with double the number of men I had. The fighting commenced about 12 o'clock, and continued until near sunset, when I withdrew.
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John Lafferty |
"In contending with Cochies [sic], I do not think I exaggerate the fact, to say that we are contending with one of the most intelligent hostile Indians on this continent."
Killed were Sergeant Stephen S. Fuller, Troop G, 8th Cavalry, shot through the head, and Private Thomas Collins, Troop G, 1st Cavalry, also shot through the head.
Wounded, according to Bernard's report, besides Lafferty, were Private Edwin Elwood, Troop G, shot through the right breast, and Private Charles H. Ward, Troop G, 1st Cavalry, leg broken by falling over rocks. Bernard added, "Three (3) of our horses were killed. The above were all done with rifle balls."
It should be noted that Lt. Lafferty, and likely the other wounded, were hauled clear back to Fort Bowie, some 60 miles north over rugged roads. The bouncing and swaying over those rough roads in a wooden-framed ambulance must have been excruciating. There's also evidence that the journey to Bowie took more than one day. As someone seriously wounded in a Vietnam ambush, I know that being cared for by medical personnel and transported from a battlefield a mere mile and a half, over rough jungle trails, was agonizing. I can scarcely imagine the agony Lafferty and the other wounded endured during the trip north.
In the midst of all this discussion and research, I became acquainted with Cochise author Edwin Sweeney. I'd "met" Sweeney through our mutual friend, Sherry Robinson, author of Apache Voices, via snail mail, email, and phone conversations. During the early summer of 2009, I'd spoken with Ed, who said he was coming to Arizona and New Mexico for a three-week trip to various places of interest. When Ed learned I was working on a story about Lt. John Lafferty, he said he would love to take Lafferty's great-grandson to the Rocky Mesa, where his ancestor had been seriously wounded by one of Cochise's Apaches.
Meanwhile, I'd found in the military records a charcoal drawing of that actual landscape, annotated in various places with the more salient locations where the battle took place in the southern Chiricahuas. Maps often accompanied "scouts" or patrols, as we call them now; a four-page drawing of the actual terrain was, I saw, would provide Fred Lafferty and me, as well as Sweeney, a chance to "hike Apacheria" where that 1869 incident had taken place.
Sweeney went one step further: "I think, because of that drawing, and the fact that I've been there several times, I can actually take Fred Lafferty to the spot where his great grandfather was wounded!" It was immensely satisfying that my own independent research paths had taken me to the same microfilm records of the fight Sweeney's had.
And so, on Sept. 22, Fred Lafferty, his wife, Betty, his former son-in-law Mike and Mike's son, Fred and Betty's grandson, "Boomer," drove to Rodeo, then on south, to Rucker Canyon Road (formerly known as Tex Canyon Road), which took us about 25 miles west, into the southern Chiricahuas. We arrived earlier than Edwin Sweeney and his friends from many years. Ed had given us good directions, and because of the Daylight Savings Time difference between Arizona and New Mexico, we arrived early enough to survey the terrain, using the map drawn by the military officer of the battle site to orient ourselves.
Ed and his friend arrived shortly thereafter, with a gang he'd organized in Tucson. Included were four or five men and several women. Introductions went fast and furious. One of Ed's long-time friends, Dan Aranda, who has also written about the Apaches over the past 20 years, and a Chiricahua Apache, Emiliano Tapia, both from Las Cruces, had driven separately to the rendezvous point. We chatted a bit, and then drove on up to the launch point for our climb to the very spot where Lt. John Lafferty was shot.
| Obituary
of John Lafferty: John Lafferty was born in Oneida County, New York, August 23, 1835. His service during the Civil War dates from June 28, 1864, when he was appointed by the Governor of California as 1st Lieutenant, 1st Battalion Native California Cavalry, and was mustered into the service July 21, 1864. During the following two years he served with his command in Arizona, and participated in many Indian scouts and skirmishes. He mustered out of the volunteer service March 15, 1866, and soon received his commission as 2d Lieutenant, 8th US Cavalry July 28, 1866. He was appointed 1st Lieutenant July 31, 1867, and Captain October 3, 1867. His service in the Regular Army was also in Arizona; and few officers gained a better record as Indian fighters. He was severely wounded in battle with Apache Indians at Chiricahua Pass, Arizona, October 20, 1869, but continued in service, although a great sufferer, for a number of years afterwards. On account of the wounds received and disability thereby contracted, he was retired June 28, 1878. After his retirement, he engaged in business in San Francisco for a number of years.
— Obituary, Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States, State of California, Sunday, Oct. 15, 1899 |
Our expedition was possible because of this propitious confluence of events and circumstances with one critically important factor: Instead of a map, a draftsman accompanying Col. Bernard had, after the fact, made a highly detailed drawing of the battle site. The artist annotated his drawing with numbers, each series of numbers denoting specific locations of key spots where the firefight had played out. Number eight of the legend that accompanied the drawing was where Lt. Lafferty had been shot.
Because a diligent Army officer had drawn the battle's key points because I'd found Fred Lafferty and heard his story because Ed Sweeney, for whatever reason, had become personally connected with that battle and Lieutenant Lafferty as a historical figure of note we could climb to the very spot where Fred's great-grandfather had been shot.
Upon arrival at Rocky Mesa, we gathered to either climb or watch. For some, the steep slopes of Rocky Mesa, even to the first ledge of large boulders, were too much.
Boomer, being far younger than the rest of us, shot up the slope like a novice Apache warrior in training. Besides being very steep, the slope was extremely rocky and studded with large, spiky Agave century plants, chollas, Spanish dagger cacti, prickly pears, sotals, mesquite in a few places, and certainly cat claw. The slope's steepness was exacerbated by thousands of rocks, many boxy and bulky, like rigid cartons scattered everywhere, making it hard to climb and remain stable with each step.
I climbed to the first "ledge," as Colonel Bernard had described the layers of rock that made the mesa look like a layer cake. I could tell, as we had driven into the area, that this was going to be a mesa with "many tops." Layer after layer of rimrock, each up progressively steeper slopes, ran around the mesa. It was clear to me, having climbed such slopes in South Korea and South Vietnam, that fighting a battle there would have been extremely difficult, even without many Apaches firing down on advancing soldiers.
At some point, when I looked down, I saw I'd gone too high. If Sweeney was correct, and I believe he was, in taking Fred Lafferty to the spot where his great-grandfather had been shot, it was obvious why Colonel Bernard's cavalry troopers hardly made any progress up the hill before they were forced down in their tracks, behind any kind of defilade (cover) they could find. I returned to the group, since I wanted to get some good photos of the event.
Col. Bernard later recommended 31 soldiers for the Medal of Honor, and recommended brevet (a promotion in name and rank only; no extra pay was given to someone who achieved a breveted rank).
A month later, when Dennis Jennings and I returned to the site and summited the mesa, we followed deer trails up the slope, as they cut obliquely across the mesa: even then, it took me an hour and a quarter to reach the mesa top. At the top, we parked our gear and wandered around. We found some ambiguous signs of Apache presence, but as Sweeney had said earlier, "The top has been picked over pretty thoroughly by artifact hunters."
The firefight at Rocky Mesa was one of the largest engagements of Col. Bernard's campaign against Cochise. It was clear that Cochise, by 1869, was losing too many warriors to ever replace. Being chased by men like Bernard, Lafferty and those enlisted men who were awarded Medals of Honor must have made Cochise aware his days were numbered, his way of life doomed.
The place where the battle took place is beautiful, and stands as a powerful symbol of the Western Chiricahua Apache, Chokonens, who lived in such rugged mountains and deserts. The particularly sharp poke I took from a large century agave reminded me that fighting Apaches in their homeland was an arid, brutal, draining experience.
Fred Lafferty fell several times as we hiked. As we got back into our vehicle, I saw blood soaking through his shirt, from his back and arm. I mentioned that to Fred, as we all headed back to Silver City. We'd gotten up early to make our 10 a.m. rendezvous, and I was ready for a nap. I think Fred and Betty were, too. I'd gotten to know them, as well as young Boomer and his father, en route to the Chiricahuas. We stopped at Kranberry's Restaurant in Lordsburg on the way home, and the meal was on Fred.
Sensing Fred was a deep introvert, I waited 10 days or so before I returned to La Querencia Ranch to ask him what he thought or felt about the experience. He apologized several times for not being effusive, but implied he was a low-key kind of guy. I can get excited by such things, but sometimes with a truly memorable experience, sharing the feelings almost seems sacrilegious. If Fred is an introvert when it comes to sharing his feelings, maybe he, too, was reluctant to lessen his feelings of the experience.
Fred provided me with a comment made by William F. Buckley that the word "querencia" doesn't translate. It's the spot where a fighting bull in a ring feels most secure. So one can speak of one's "querencia" to mean that little, unspecified area in life's arena where one feels safe, serene. Knowing that, and recalling some of Fred's comments these months we've gotten to know one another, that makes total sense.
"I saw you fell several times, Fred," I said. The trip had actually demanded a blood sacrifice. "But I'm glad you could go there, and climb that hill as far as you did!"
"Oh, yeah," Fred agreed, in his raspy voice.
His wife Betty added, "Tell Sweeney that TWO Laffertys left blood on the side of that mesa!"
In fact, I told Sweeney exactly that. If I could tell you how many times I've fallen, been stabbed, stuck, poked and bled as I've hiked Apacheria, you'd grasp that those types of scrapes and bruises don't matter, for they are all part of the direct, Zen-like experience of "Hiking Apacheria."
In the kind of transfer of knowledge common to Zen, I now have Fred Lafferty to thank for providing me with at least one meaning Apacheria has for me: "esta una querencia."
This is the 20th article Jerry Eagan has written for Desert Exposure. You can read them all at www.desertexposure.com/apacheria Jerry has also recently launched a website at www.hikingapacheria.com; it will soon include an active blog and photos Jerry has taken of Apacheria.