Through the influence which his wife had with Senator Lane of Kansas, Heath became finally brevetted as a Brigadier-General. Heath was a self-important, dictatorial wind-bag, and he succeeded in getting his worthless, drunken son as Second Lieutenant in the Company. The elder Heath coquetted with Jeff Davis to get a Brigadier- Generalship in the Confederate army. He was willing to be a traitor to his country or do anything else. He was absolutely without principle. I have
referred to him once before, but will repeat. When the Rebel archives were captured at Richmond, Heath's letter was found among the many other similar documents, and when Heath under President Andrew Johnson wanted an appointment, Major-General G. M. Dodge, who was one of Sherman's corps commanders and happened to be a member of Congress at that time from Iowa, got hold of the Heath letter, and read it on the floor of Congress, and Heath became a refugee, fled to Peru, and died a pauper and a tramp. Heath, on account of his rascality, at the close of the war was recommended to be cashiered, but his wife, in a beautiful blue moire antique dress, went on to Washington, saw President Johnson, saved him, and had his dismissal remitted to a discharge from the service. I am anticipating history somewhat in giving the pedigree of Second Lieutenant Heath. I had so much trouble with him in the barracks that I had made up my mind that I would have him court-martialed and disposed of, because he would fill himself with whisky and become offensive and insulting. He would go down among his private soldiers in the barracks and play poker with them and win their money, and he would cheat at cards, and if a soldier playing with him, protested, he would send him to the guard-house. On the afternoon of March 21, 1864, Heath was sent out with a squad of men to scout along the south side of the river to see if there were any Indians or tracks to be seen. He got in just about sundown, and as he was going by his own barracks close to a door, a gun went off in the hands of one of the soldiers, and the bullet went a dead shot through his head and killed him. It was believed that one of the men had taken advantage of the situation to arrange the accident. I was directed by the Post Commander (Captain O'Brien) to inquire into the cause of the death, and make report. The soldier said that it was an entire accident. Everybody seemed to be pleased with the circumstance; nobody seemed to find any fault with it, and there being no evidence to the contrary, and it being entirely to the benefit of the United States service, I reported the testimony, and nothing was done except to bury the Lieutenant. Major Heath showed no particular interest in the death of his only son. He was a son by a former wife, and was the only child he ever had. He did not attend the funeral, nor were any arrangements made except to put the Lieutenant under the ground. Then the Captain of the company summoned all the power he had to get his own worthless brother-in-law in as Second Lieutenant; but the other officers of the post objected, and succeeded in beating him before the Governor and Adjutant-General of Iowa, who made the appointments.
For twenty-five miles along the line, including Jack Morrow's ranch, and Gilmans', there were ten ranches, and farm-houses. Wives and relatives of these settlers seeing the post well established, came out on stages from the East and joined their husbands and relations. Along about the first of April MacDonald said he was going to take the stuff out of his store-building as much as he could, and get up a dance on the first favorable opportunity. This plan was carried out, and women were there from the whole twenty-five miles. There were about twenty of them. Fiddlers were easily obtained, and the dance lasted until breakfast-time. I did not get much of an opportunity to be present except occasionally, up to twelve o'clock, after which I went on duty as officer of the guard. But it was a regular frontier dance. I have put down in my memorandum only two of the tunes that were played, and I give the names that the fiddler gave me. One of them was 'Soapsuds over the Fence,' and the other 'Turkey in the
Straw.' All the men in the country were there except the soldiers, and a great deal of liquor was consumed, and several rough-and-tumble fist fights were had out of doors on the flat; but I arrested nobody, and let them all have just as good a time as they wanted to. Captain O'Brien was the mogul of the evening.
Matters upon the road began to get very busy about the first of April. The grass was not up so that the ox teams could travel, but the early pilgrims with smart mule teams began to go through in large numbers. The weather was very stormy and unpleasant in the latter part of March, and considerable snow fell, which the wind would sweep off into the gullies, and fill up almost level, although they might be ten or twenty feet deep. The sand, gravel and snow would be swept off by the wind from the road, and the riverbottom, leaving the roads entirely passable.
Word came from Fort Kearney that an effort would be made to have a big Indian council about the middle of April, and that word had been sent to all of the Sioux, both north and south. The Cheyennes and Arapahoes had not been invited, because it was believed if the Sioux could be influenced the others would remain neutral. So we planned for a reception that would strike terror into the red man when he came in to see us. The hospital which we had built was practically unused. The boys did not like to go to the hospital, and remained in their bunks until they recovered or got in pretty bad condition. And when they got in bad condition, if they could go we sent them down to Fort Kearney, where they could get good care.
One day early in April, 1864, John Dillon, the actor, was passing through on a stage. He was coming from the west. Some telegraph operator notified the operator at our post. Captain O'Brien knew John Dillon personally, and as they were fellow-Irishmen, it was but natural that the Captain should warmly greet him, and I went along. The result was that we got Dillon to stop over. We had built an addition to the hospital so as to make it twenty by forty. We got everybody out of the hospital, hung up some blankets at the end, and we had as good an entertainment from John Dillon as we had ever listened to anywhere.
Dillon had been playing in Denver, and was on the way to the States, and we organized him a house, fifty cents admission. We had no chairs nor anything to sit on, so the front row sat down on the floor, and formed a semi-circle about five feet from Dillon, all around in front of him. Then the next row sat on cracker-boxes, flat side down, and the next row sat on cracker-boxes on edge, and the balance stood up. The entrance was through a window. Dillon was about two-thirds 'full,' and had a little monologue play to start on, in which he had some real drinking out of a real Hostetter bottle, and he kept the thing up for about three hours, to the amusement and delight of us all. We were packed like herrings in a box, and if John Dillon hadn't been one of the greatest comedians in the United States we could not have been kept there under those circumstances. When the show was over he came over to our quarters, and we all played poker until breakfast.
During April a vacancy as Second Lieutenant took place at Fort Kearney, in Company A. The First Sergeant, Tom Potter, and I had been friends, and I had been working to help him get into the vacancy, and during April I was very much grieved to hear that he had failed in being commissioned. This Tom Potter finally became an officer of the company. Our relations were exceedingly friendly, but at this time he had no money, few friends, and no relatives. There was nobody to help him. He was alone in the world, and promotions did not always go upon their merits. Our friendship lasted for many years, until his death. He afterwards became president of the Union Pacific Railroad at Fifty Thousand Dollars a year, and worked himself to death. But in the very height of his powers in the army, he was unable to become Second Lieutenant, owing to the petty little rivalries and dishonest instincts of his superiors, until long afterwards.
On April 9th we were visited by Captain Logan of the First Colorado Cavalry. Captain Logan was making the tour down the Platte from Denver to ascertain the condition of things, and the probabilities of an Indian war. He stayed with us a couple of days. He had talked with the ranchmen and settlers along the line. He told us that unless we could win the Sioux over at the approaching convention, we would have all kinds of Indian trouble. He said that be had been detailed to send out half-breed Indians as runners, and to assist in making complete the convention which was to meet at our post the middle of the month. We afterwards met most of the First Colorado Cavalry. They were a good regiment, and had saved New Mexico from going into the Confederacy. There is no more interesting regimental history than that which a young man named Hollister, who belonged to the regiment, has written of it. The regiment was a regiment of pioneers who were inured to the open air, and life on horseback; and as for being fighters, there were none superior, and we Iowa boys always liked them. Before we went out onto the plains, there had been part of the Eleventh Ohio Cavalry regiment sent to Fort Laramie, which was about two hundred and
seventy-five miles northwest of us, on the Salt Lake trail. Once in a while we saw one of the officers or men of that regiment going down to Fort Kearney to get supplies.
On April 13, 1864, Harry Dall reached our post, and, being tired of staging, thought he would stay over a day and rest. I ran across him shortly after he got out of the stage, and he told me his story. Secretary Seward had sent him from Washington to go to Alaska, and he was going to go and report upon the botany, biology and climate of Alaska. I never saw him before or since. He was one of the most companionable men I ever met. We went out with our greyhounds, and caught an antelope and gave Dall a good time. It is impossible for me to say what he afterwards did, except that he made a long and interesting report upon Alaska, which was widely published; and he
