The Kiowa-Comanche Detachment had lost one of their number during the unit’s last deployment. It was a hellish mission that that took them onto the deadly Tierra Brava Desert of the Arizona Territory. Corporal Running Cougar, a Comanche, had been killed during an attack on the town of Hope Wells by Apache Indians. He was embalmed by the town’s physician and put in a coffin for the trip back to Fort Lone Wolf. After the body was turned over to his family, he was given the funeral of a Comanche warrior rather than that of a soldier of the U.S. Army.
Scout Swift Horse was promoted to the rank of corporal to take the dead man’s place. That left an opening for another scout, which meant a recruitment trip out to the Southern Kiowa-Comanche Agency. This resulted in a new enlistee by the name of Charlie Wolf. He was a twenty-year-old Comanche who was reputed to be the best antelope hunter on the reservation. Captain Hawkins and Lieutenant Dooley were impressed by his maturity as well as outdoor skills. Both agreed he would become an excellent scout.
With this administrative chore taken care of, the detachment settled back into the garrison routine. This consisted of following the directions of various bugle calls that announced drill and work details. It was all boring and predictable and as time passed, officers and scouts alike looked forward to another deployment.
But eventually an incident occurred that broke the stale routine. Captain Hawkins learned the detachment was chosen to be issued the new Krag-Jorgensen carbines newly acquired by the United States Army. These were modern bolt-action weapons designed for cavalry and field artillery units.
The new carbines arrived two weeks after the notification. Captain Edgar Mathews, the ordnance officer of the Department of the Indian Territory, showed up at Fort Lone Wolf on a mid-morning, seated beside a teamster on an army Dougherty wagon.
As soon as the vehicle pulled up in front of the scout detachment’s orderly room, Mathews jumped down and went up to the door. After two raps on the small portal, he stepped inside.
“Hello, Mack!” the ordnance officer greeted Hawkins. “And how are you, Mr. Dooley?”
“How’re you doing, Edgar?” Hawkins said. “I’m gonna make a wild guess and say you’re here with some new weapons for us.”
“Give the man a cigar!” Mathews exclaimed. “As a matter of fact I have a crate of a dozen Krag-Jorgensen carbines and another filled with ammunition.”
The three officers went outside to the wagon and waited while the teamster opened the crate of carbines. He handed one down to Mathews, who passed it over to Hawkins. Hawkins hefted it and brought it up to his shoulder, aiming at a crow perched on the chimney of the nearby ordnance storehouse.
“Nice balance,” the detachment commander said. He passed it over to Ludlow.
Ludlow was also appreciative of the carbine. He worked the bolt, opening and closing it several times. Then he also took aim at the inoffensive crow, who suddenly noticed the attention and flew off with loud caws of protest.
Mathews spoke up saying, “Let’s take it inside and I’ll acquaint you fellows with a fine brand new weapon. I’m certain you’re gonna take a strong liking to this beauty.”
The trio walked back to the orderly room, while the teamster retook his seat on the wagon. He filled his pipe for a period of patient smoking and waiting.
Mathews laid the carbine on Ludlow’s desk and began an impromptu class. “The Krag-Jorgensen rifles and carbines were designed and manufactured by a couple of Norwegian fellows by the name of Johannes Krag and Erik Jorgensen. This particular model has been designated by the United States Army as the M1892.” He twisted the bolt and pulled it back, exposing an irremovable fixed box magazine.
Ludlow looked at it. “How do you load this ‘fine brand new weapon’?”
“The Krag-Jorgensen is unique,” Matthews replied. “Most bolt-action weapons are loaded by inserting clips of five or so rounds.” He closed the bolt, and opened a hinge on the right lower side the breech. This was the entrance to the permanently installed magazine. He pulled five loose cartridges out of his pocket. “Now watch this.”
Mathews stuck a cartridge through the hinged opening, then another and another until all five were inserted into the magazine. “There! It’s loaded without having to open the bolt, and the rounds automatically line up.” He chuckled. “O’course you still have to make sure the pointy ends are toward the front.”
“I already figured that out,” Hawkins remarked with a grin.
Ludlow frowned. “That takes longer than using a clip.”
“Yes it does,” Mathews admitted. “Many consider it a blessing since soldiers won’t be wasting ammunition with rapid shots. However, watch this as I simulate firing.”
He brought the carbine to his shoulder and pulled the trigger twice, each time opening and closing the bolt, ejecting cartridges. I have just ‘fired’ two shots.” He took two more loose cartridges and stuck them through the latch. “I reloaded only two rounds to accompany the three that are still in the fixed magazine. That can’t be done with a clip. You can’t reload with a clip until all rounds in the breech are ejected.”
Hawkins nodded his understanding. “What sort of ammunition are we going to fire with these Krag-Jorgensens?”
“These carbines are chambered for the Army’s caliber .30 cartridge,” Matthews replied. “This is the first smokeless powder rounds our dauntless military has adapted. The sights are a rear v-notch and a front post. But I guess you figured that out while aiming at the crow.”
Hawkins looked down at the carbine. “I like the smokeless powder side of the weapon. But it’ll be difficult to fire accurately at distant targets with those sights.”
“You’ll have to use Kentucky windage,” Matthews replied with a shrug, referring to aiming by physically shifting the barrel to allow for distance or wind across a target.
“I have a question,” Ludlow grumbled. “How the hell are we suppose to carry loose cartridges around?”
“The quartermaster department has procured leather cartridge belts with six bullet pouches,” Matthews explained. “Each one holds ten rounds for a total of sixty. The belts are worn over the shoulder with the ammunition pouches in the front.”
“Sixty rounds!” Ludlow exclaimed. “Our missions always take us far from supply sources. What are we supposed to do? Pack our saddlebags with loose ammunition?”
Matthews snapped back, “No, Lieutenant, but you’ll have four of those belts. So wear one, and stick three in your saddlebags. That’ll give you 240 bullets. If that’s not enough, you’d damn well better shoot as accurately as you can.”
Ludlow was a bit humbled. “I didn’t know about the three extra belts.”
“Okay,” Hawkins said in tone of finality. He nodded at Ludlow. “Get Sergeant Eagle Heart to move the weapons and ammunition into the ordnance storehouse. We’ll start training on these Krag-Jorgensens in the next couple of days.”
When Hawkins conducted a class to familiarize the scouts with the Krag-Jorgensen carbines, the Indians were not exactly enamored of the new weapon. This disenchantment was because of their experiences during a particularly dangerous deployment into the Rocky Mountains. They were required to deal with snipers who were killing railroad workers from the hills above the construction sites. They had received Winchester 73 rifles from the Northern Plaines Railway System for the mission. After a victorious conclusion, the railroad allowed the detachment to keep the weapons. This gesture was to show gratitude for a job well done. Those particular rifles were .44 caliber and had bullet tubes that held sixteen rounds. The Krag-Jorgensens were smaller in caliber and could only accommodate five rounds.
Captain Mack Hawkins had secretly felt the same way, but his request to return the Norwegian rifles was turned down by the department commander at Fort Sill. Thus, Hawkins gave the scouts permission to take the Winchesters to their homes. At least they could use them for hunting.
Ludlow went to the post quartermaster and made arrangements to use the Fort Lone Wolf range for a week of firing the new carbines.