SIXTEEN THEY HATE US INTENSELY

And in Washington D.C., 1,500 miles from the battlefield at La Gloriéta Pass, another wound—this one self-inflicted—to the Union war effort had just been suffered. President Lincoln had been forced by Governor William Gilpin’s unauthorized issuance of sight drafts to remove the governor from office. Besides having been besieged by Colorado creditors angrily waving what they considered worthless pieces of paper, Lincoln was also confronted by Hiram Bennet, Colorado’s territorial delegate to Congress, who was campaigning for Gilpin’s removal. Bennet, who had greeted Gilpin so cordially upon his arrival in Denver City, had turned into his worst enemy.

Eight days later, Lincoln removed Gilpin and appointed a Chicago physician and longtime friend, Dr. John Evans, as his replacement. The forty-eight-year-old Evans had already had an illustrious career as a doctor, a financier, a staunch foe of slavery, a candidate for the U.S. Congress, and an educator (he helped establish Northwestern University; Evanston, Illinois, where the college is located, is named in his honor).³

Gilpin was already back in Denver City when the not-unexpected news of his ouster reached him. Sitting in his apartment, surrounded by sympathetic friends, Gilpin could not quite believe the fate that had struck him. He had done everything Lincoln and Cameron had asked of him. He had organized the territory, had placed it squarely in the Union camp, had raised a fighting force that halted the Confederate drive into the Southwest, and had done it all on a shoestring budget with absolutely no help from Washington. As one historian commented,

No one questioned Governor Gilpin’s integrity, the purity of his purpose, or the sincerity of his zeal to protect the people from invasion, and to serve them to the best of his ability. He was in some ways a “visionary” man, whose mind and thoughts occasionally were far above the practical affairs of everyday life, and his enthusiasm for the Union overshadowed all other things.4

Bitterly, he wondered what more he could have done. Once again a man without a job or a defined future, he pondered what lay ahead for him, for his territory, and for his nation.⁵

Slough’s troops, encamped more than 400 miles south of Denver City at Kozlowski’s Ranch, also pondered the future as they spent March 29 caring for the wounded and burying the dead. Ovando Hollister noted, “Our teams were busy until noon, bringing in the wounded. Thirty-five dead were buried on the field. During the day another flag of truce came in from the Texans, asking for a continuation of the armistice until 8 o’clock to-morrow, as they pretended it would consume that period of time to provide for their wounded.”⁶

Charles Gardiner, Company A, Colorado Volunteers, reported that the Texans “allowed us to go all over their camp with the exception of the back yard of their hospital [the main building at Pigeon’s Ranch], which was reported to be full of dead bodies.”⁷

The time had come to tally the butcher’s bill. Slough claimed that, in the battles of March 26 and 28 combined, the Confederates lost at least 350 killed, wounded, or captured, along with three pieces of artillery, and their entire supply train was destroyed. “This has been done with the purpose of annoying and harassing the enemy and under orders from Colonel Canby, commanding department,” he informed the adjutant general in Washington. “But as the instructions from him are to protect Fort Union at all hazards and leave nothing to chance, and as the numbers and position of the enemy in a mountain cañon are too strong to make a battle with my force, I shall now occupy a position to protect Fort Union and at the same time harass and damage the enemy.”⁸

Slough reported his own losses as twenty-nine officers and men killed and forty-two wounded. As for the Texans, he estimated, “The loss of the enemy is great. His killed amounted to at least 100, his wounded at least 150, and 1 captain and several men prisoners. He is still burying his dead.”⁹

The company commanders instructed their men to pack their belongings and prepare to move out. The enlisted men were as stunned as their officers, but there was no fighting the order. Chivington, Slough’s stalwart champion, was outraged at what he supposed was retaliation by Canby for the regulars being shown up by an amateur officer and his amateur troops:

Here was another sample of the petty jealousies that were constantly arising in the army. Canby and all the forces at his command had been defeated by Sibley and his Texan horde. Slough had taken his First Colorado and one independent company [James H. Ford’s] of Colorado volunteers, and the handful of regulars that could be spared from the garrison at Fort Union, and had gone out and met and whipped and driven from the field, without food enough for ten men, the identical forces that had whipped Canby and driven him into and shut him up in Fort Craig and cut him off from his supplies and, forsooth, [Slough] must be humiliated.¹¹

Having a opertunity to send you a few lince I though that I would yous it. I hav but very litel tim to write. I must tell you about som of our fiting. We have had two fights and exspect to hav another every day. On the 26th of March we had on. There was onley 60 men of Co. A, 60 of E, 60 of D, and the cavelrey comp[any] in it. We lost 5 men. Leut Marshel shot himself dead axedentley and 4 was shot in the fight and 8 or 9 wounded, all from the Cavelrey. Capt. Cook was wounded.

On the 28th, we had another fight. We lost about 100 men in all, keld, woundet and priseners. The enneme lost about two or three hundert. Co. I lost about 30 or 35 men. Comp. D lost about the saim. They suffert more then all the rest.

Leut Baker of Co. I was kild. On Leut of Co. C was shot. [George] McBay is all right, so is Farrin. I cant tell you all there names for I have not tim. Co. B was not in the hard fighting. There was six Co. went to cut of the eneme in the rear. We got into there camp and distroid all there wagons and every thing els. I cant tell how many men we kild but we all got away without eny of us giting shot. . . .

I hav not had but one leter from you. Peck had one from his wife on the 28th. I looked for one but in vain. She says that you was drawing ration. I should lik to hear from you very much. You must exquis me for not writing more for the wind blows so that I cant hold my paper & the dust is so bad that I can hardly see.

Dear Minnie, we hav a ruff tim of it now but I hop that I will see you again befor long if God is willing. Give my best love to all the Famley, a larg shair to you.

from your afft Husband, George Aux

I dond know as you can read this for it is writen so poor that I can hardley read it myself. A thousand kisses for you my Dear. Good Bye till the next tim.12

As the blue column continued on toward Fort Union the next day, grumbling in the ranks over not only the retreat but also a supposed act of cowardice on Slough’s part began to ripple through the ranks. According to rumor, Slough had absented himself from the battlefield during a crucial moment. Captain Jacob Downing spewed his venom on the colonel:

When the hour arrived and the leaden hail and iron messengers of death were falling thick and fast around him weakened, [Slough’s] coward heart blanched before the storm, and seeking protection from a stalwart pine, far, far in the rear of his command . . . there remained until the battle had been fought and won. Col. John P. Slough . . . left the field, branded by his officers and men as a coward; there let that brand remain until John P. Slough is no more.13

The rumors that Slough had absented himself from the field were true, but not for the reasons supposed by his men. Slough had not tried to avoid enemy fire, but rather fire from some of his own men when they made another attempt on his life, incredibly, during the battle. The survivors of Kerber’s Company I, still angry with their colonel and perhaps outraged at having been ordered into the hottest spot in the line where they were being cut to pieces, allegedly tried again to kill Slough. According to Slough in a letter to Tappan, “at the battle of Pigeon’s Ranch, a volley was fired at me by a part of this company . . . hence I hid myself from that flank so as to avoid a repetition—this is what gave rise to the report that I acted cowardly at that time.”¹⁴

Because of these rumors and unrest, Slough unexpectedly announced his resignation—a decision cheered by Downing: “Having reached Bernal Springs . . . we were late in the evening joined by Col. Slough, who shortly after determined to resign, having confidentially told one of his officers that shots had been fired at him by his own men and they evidently did not like him. You may be assured, when his discharge was known to have been received, the joy was great.”¹⁵

[Slough’s] resignation has been accepted and he honorably discharged. His parting address was published to the assembled regiment on parade. In it, he claimed pure motives for himself, referred to the engagement in Apache Cañon as proof of his earnest endeavors in our country’s cause, expressed regret wherever he had failed to give satisfaction, and ended by desiring us to remember that we were Coloradans, men and Americans, and could not afford to do anything to dishonor ourselves as such. . . . Col. Slough was a man of undoubted ability and bravery, but his personal contact with his men was never of a kind to make him beloved. He wanted tact and policy. Feelings will undoubtedly change regarding him, for his resignation was a necessary consequence of an order which, under the circumstances, both he and the regiment felt it was a disgrace to obey. . . . He resigned as became a gentleman and a man.16

After Slough informed Paul of his intention to give up his commission, he attempted to promote Tappan, his second in command, to regimental commander, but the men would have none of it. Although Tappan had fought with undeniable bravery and, as second in command, was rightly entitled to the position, the men’s hearts were with the indomitable Chivington; they would have none other.¹⁷

Having endured three sleepless nights, an utterly exhausted Lieutenant Colonel William Scurry returned to Santa Fé with the survivors of the battle of Gloriéta and somehow found the energy to pen a letter to Sibley on March 30. Noting that the battle had been “another victory . . . added to the long list of Confederate triumphs,” he went on to report that his men “steadily drove [the Yankees] back until they were in full retreat, our men pursuing until from sheer exhaustion we were compelled to stop.” Scurry further reported that Pyron had had his horse shot out from under him, a Minié ball had twice brushed his cheek, and the battle had cost him thirty-three men killed and another thirty five wounded.¹⁸

Scurry also estimated that Slough’s forces had suffered “over 75 killed and a large number wounded.” He then grudgingly credited Chivington’s audacious attack on his supply train for derailing his plans to drive the Yankees back to Fort Union:

The loss of my supplies so crippled me that after burying my dead I was unable to follow up the victory. My men for two days went unfed and blanketless unmurmuringly. I was compelled to come here for something to eat. . . . At last accounts, the Federalists were still retiring towards Fort Union. . . . Lieutenant Bennett writes for more ammunition. Please have it sent. As soon as I am fixed for it, I wish to get after them again.

After withdrawing from La Gloriéta Pass, Scurry’s and Pyron’s soldiers holed up in Santa Fé and spent a week resting and recuperating from the battle. But the idle times would not last, for a great ordeal lay ahead for the Texans.

Sibley, still in Albuquerque, received Scurry’s report of victory at Gloriéta, and thus resolved to go to Santa Fé (accompanied by Colonel Green and six companies of the Fifth Texas Cavalry, along with Teel’s artillery) to celebrate with his men. A small detachment remained behind to guard the supplies at Albuquerque. But what he saw when he arrived in Santa Fé on March 31 must have appalled and shocked him: men thin and ragged; walking wounded with their arms and heads bandaged; the more seriously injured hauled in what few wagons the brigade still possessed. It looked like a defeated army, and it was.²⁰

In a letter to Samuel Cooper, the Confederate Army’s adjutant general, Sibley again pleaded for reinforcements. In another letter, this one to Texas governor Francis R. Lubbock, he made a similar request. But both were made to no avail.

Practically the entire town of Santa Fé was turned into a giant Confederate hospital. Even Canby’s wife, Louisa, took sick and wounded Texans into her home and ministered to them. To her, they were not the enemy, just fragile young Americans in need of a caring touch. The wife of a Union soldier wrote, “Mrs. Canby . . . urged all loyal women to help make preparation for such wounded as might need care, herself setting the example, as having beds filled, hospital rooms set in order, lint, soups, and everything she could think of, prepared for the comfort and aid of the suffering.” When someone asked if Texans also should be cared for, she replied, “No matter whether friend or foe, our wounded enemy must be cared for and their lives saved if it is possible; they are the sons of some dear mother.” Louisa Canby’s humanitarian concern “won for her the love of friend and foe alike.”²¹

Of her, one Texan wrote, she “captured more hearts of Confederate soldiers than her husband ever captured Confederate bodies.”²² Sibley, who had known Mrs. Canby during their Fort Bridger days, personally thanked her for her kindness.²³

Even in his sick and inebriated state, Sibley realized that something needed to be done—and quickly—to avert total disaster. In addition to Carleton’s California Column heading east toward Tucson, five regiments of Union troops—totaling 5,000 men—and two batteries were preparing to march to New Mexico from Kansas. Believing that his brigade still possessed the ability to prevail against overwhelming odds, Sibley met with his commanders to map out a strategy. They decided to gather all the men capable of fighting and set out for the village of Manzano in the mountains southeast of Albuquerque, where they believed they could hold out until reinforcements arrived. The plans to attack Fort Union and cross into Colorado would have to be put in abeyance. The road from Manzano to the Mesilla Valley could be used as an evacuation route in the event reinforcements did not arrive. The planned move was abandoned, however, when urgent messages arrived from the rebels guarding the supplies at Albuquerque, informing Sibley that they had learned Canby was on his way to retake the town.²⁵

Indeed, on April 1, Canby, with a force comprising some 860 regulars and 350 volunteers, had left Fort Craig and was marching northward to effect a meeting between his men and Paul’s that would, they hoped, rid the territory of the Confederate menace. Concurrently, at Fort Union, Paul had reorganized his forces and two columns were preparing to march southward. Paul would lead the first column while Chivington commanded the second. On April 6, leaving Claflin’s battery and the companies of the Seventh Infantry to garrison Fort Union,²⁶ Paul marched 1,200 men from the post and camped on the night of April 9 near Kozlowski’s Ranch.

During the trek from Fort Union, Hollister and Company F escorted a group of about 100 Texans who had been taken prisoner and were being paroled back to their units. Striking up a conversation with the captured enemy, Hollister learned what made some of them take up arms against the Federal government. “Many admitted that they had espoused the cause of Southern independence under misapprehensions, and though the North had in right of superior strength in the government presumed to tamper with the Constitution and infringe upon their rights, yet the case in no means demanded the desperate remedy resorted to by the South.” Hollister bleakly contemplated the future:

I think that a war of extermination is all that will ever restore American unity. They hate us intensely. Kindness is accepted only as their due and as food for their haughtiness. Nothing can cure the insane prejudice against Northern men, who they habitually stigmatize with every base epithet known to the vocabulary of abuse. All they want is the power to inflict a worse servitude on us than that which the unfortunate negro suffers.27

The next day, once the column had reached Pigeon’s Ranch, Hollister reported that a carriage bearing a white flag and Colonels Green and McNeill approached, “to effect an exchange of prisoners. . . . They were under the influence of liquor, and behaved with so little regard to their characters as gentlemen, being insolent and threatening, and determined to penetrate the whole command, with what object will at once be patent to every one, that Col. Paul was obliged to be somewhat peremptory with them before they could understand him. Finding that they had a man to deal with who knew his duty and rights, and who was able and determined to do the one and exact respect for the other, they turned back,” and returned to Santa Fé.²⁸

On April 8, after a week’s march, Canby arrived at Albuquerque, found it held by the Texans, and made a demonstration with Graydon’s Independent Spy Company and the regular cavalry “for the purpose of ascertaining its strength and the position of the enemy’s batteries.”²⁹

Two rebel companies, commanded by Captains William P. Hardeman and Bethel Coopwood, were in possession of the town and kept the Yankees guessing relative to the number of artillery pieces there. The Texans repositioned their four guns after each shot or two to give the illusion of greater firepower while rebel sharpshooters kept up a spirited fire that forced the bluecoats to keep their distance. The Yankees replied to the rebel shots with a long-range artillery bombardment. This short-lived skirmish became known as the Battle of Albuquerque.

[L]ittle firing done today as a prisoner from town says the women & children are there yet and over 40 of our command have families in town. Canby will not endanger their lives. He would rather let them keep possession of the town than kill one woman or child. He sent a man in under a flag to see if the Texans would not allow the women and children to leave. Texans would not let them go. G— D—such men and the cause for which they are fighting. Four P.M. We expect to storm the town tonight at 12. We will undoubtedly meet with a heavy loss. Our force is 750, theirs 400. They are well entrenched. We could shell them out in 6 hours if it was not for the women and children.³⁰

For his part, Canby, knowing that a wounded mountain lion still has claws and can still inflict serious injury when cornered, decided that the wisest course of action was to simply back off and nip at the Texans until they left the territory, rather than engage them in another major battle.

At midnight on April 8, the remainder of Sibley’s Brigade departed Santa Fé; 200 sick and wounded men remained behind. On April 12, they reached Albuquerque. There the rebels buried eight of their cannon to keep them from falling into Union hands but retained a handful of other pieces. They then proceeded to evacuate the town, leaving the most seriously wounded men behind. Sibley decided that if he couldn’t take Fort Union, he would at least try to destroy Fort Craig on his way out of New Mexico.

NOTES

1. James M. McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era (New York: Ballantine, 1988), 350–368.

2. Thomas L. Karnes, William Gilpin—Western Nationalist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1970), 292.

3. Karnes, William Gilpin, 287–297; Frank Hall, History of the State of Colorado, 4 vols. (Chicago: Blakely, 1889–1895), 4:425–426.

4. William C. Whitford, Colorado Volunteers in the Civil War: The New Mexico Campaign in 1862 (Glorieta, NM: Rio Grande Press, 1971), 55.

6. Ovando J. Hollister, Boldly They Rode (Lakewood, CO: Golden Press, 1949 [first published in 1863 as History of the First Regiment of Colorado Volunteers]), 73.

7. Charles Gardiner, “The ‘Pet Lambs’ at Glorieta Pass,” Civil War Times Illustrated (November 1976): 35.

9. Ibid. A recent estimate by Edrington and Taylor lists the Federal toll during the skirmish in Apache Canyon on March 26 at 5 killed and 14 wounded; at Johnson’s Ranch, 2 killed and 5 wounded; at Pigeon’s Ranch, 47 killed, 78 wounded, 11 taken prisoner, and 2 deserters. The two authors reported the Texans’ losses on March 26 as 3 killed, 1 wounded, and 71 taken prisoner; at Johnson’s Ranch, 2 killed or mortally wounded, 2 wounded, and 17 taken prisoner. At Pigeon’s Ranch the numbers are considerably higher: 36 killed, 60 wounded, and 17 taken prisoner. Thomas S. Edrington and John Taylor, The Battle of Glorieta Pass (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1998), 53, 104, 124–125, 128, 131, 137–139, 141.

10. Alvin M. Josephy Jr., The Civil War in the American West (New York: Knopf, 1991), 86.

12. George Aux, letter to wife, March 30, 1862, United States Army Military History Institute.

17. Frank J. Welcher, The Union Army 1861–1865: Organization and Operations, Vol. 2: The Western Theater (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993), 117.

20. Don E. Alberts, ed., Rebels on the Rio Grande: The Civil War Journal of A. B. Peticolas (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1984), 94.

21. Ellen Williams, “Three and a Half Years in the Army, Or, A History of the Second Colorado Regiment,” Rocky Mountain Herald, multi-part series (June–September 1896), typescript in the manuscript collection, CHS, 20.

22. Harvey Halcomb, “Confederate Reminiscences of 1862,” New Mexico Historical Review 5 (July 1930): 320.

23. Lansing B. Bloom, ed., “Confederate Reminiscences of 1862,” New Mexico Historical Review 5 (July 1930).

25. Jerry D. Thompson, Henry Hopkins Sibley: Confederate General of the West (Natchitoches: Northwestern Louisiana State University Press, 1987), 291–293; Martin H. Hall, Sibley’s New Mexico Campaign (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1960), 167.

30. Nolie Mumey, ed., Bloody Trails along the Rio Grande—A Day-by-Day Diary of Alonzo Ferdinand Ickis (Denver: Old West Publishing, 1958), 94–95.

32. Martin H. Hall, The Confederate Army of New Mexico (Austin: Presidial Press, 1978), 35.