Canadian Transport Sourcebook

Chapter XIX

Recollections of a Rebellion

I was once asked to deliver a lecture upon the subject of the 1885 Rebellion, but failed to face the music. Instead, I wrote up my personal recollections of a few incidents which I thought might amuse the audience, incidents that occurred during the latest Canadian Civil War in the North-West, where I had the honour to serve on the Staff of the late Major-General Sir Fred Middleton, as Second-in-Command of the Transport.

This regrettable disturbance began in the month of March, 1885. I was in the Stony Mountain Penitentiary at the time (not a resident but a guest of my friend the Warden, Colonel Bedson), when the news arrived that Mr. Riel had declared war against the Canadian Government, and had succeeded in inciting the half-breeds, by most marvellous promises, resulting in the first shot being fired at a skirmish which took place at Duck Lake, a small trading post quite near Fort Carlton, where a detachment of the North-West Mounted Police were stationed. Major Crozier was in command, and with a handful of men, and a few civilian Volunteers, was attacked while endeavouring to remove some supplies to Fort Carlton.

I forget the actual number of casualties, but they were vent serious, and I remember my friend, Major Moore, of Prince Albert, lost his leg, and several of the Prince Albert Volunteers were killed.

Major Crozier then retired on Fort Carlton, and Mr. Riel and his half-breeds returned to Batoche. This was the news we got at Stony Mountain, and I immediately drove into Winnipeg where the news was confirmed. All was excitement in Winnipeg, and everybody wanted to enlist in something. My friend, Major Jarvis, was in command of the Winnipeg Field Battery, and I promptly "took the shilling." By nightfall I was a full-fledged Gunner, although the only uniform I managed to get was a forage cap about the size of half a dollar. I may say that my experience in the Canadian Militia, with the exception of a few annual camps, has been "Active Service." I joined the 58th Regiment many years ago, and after a few training picnics was promoted to be four different Staff-Sergeants, drawing about a dollar a day more than the Colonel.

There were no muster parades in those days, which accounts for this overlooked irregularity. I had the luck to serve with this Regiment—in one of my numerous capacities—during the Fenian Raid (of, I hate to believe it, 1871) and was present at Eccles Hill, or Trout River, or some such Frontier place, where our forces succeeded in killing a real Fenian, everybody under arms that day claiming the honour. However, after the enemy was buried, and a cairn of boulders erected over his remains, his mother arrived the next day and took him away.

But let us get back to Winnipeg, in March, 1885. General Middleton arrived and put up at Government House. The Hon. John Schultz was the Lieutenant-Governor. The 90th were called out, the Winnipeg Field Battery, and I think some cavalry, in fact, all the Militia Corps available. Gunner Secretan, with his little forage cap on, was being daily drilled between drinks. The day of Middleton's arrival I received a telephone message from my friend Colonel Bedson to meet him at Government House, to consult with the General about the organization of the Transport, and after discussing the matter several hours, Colonel Bedson agreed to take charge, if I would go with him as Assistant Transport Officer. But here was a dilemma! I forgot to tell them that I had been sworn in as a Gunner, and was naturally expected to swab out guns. Between them they got over this difficulty. I got my discharge that afternoon, and while we were on the train with the General, before daylight I was promoted and gazetted in "Field Orders" as a full-fledged "Major."

We arrived early in the morning at Qu'Appelle, which was the railroad base of supplies for our Column, and began at once the organization of the Transport, by securing all the horses in the country fit for service, waggons, forage, etc., establishing Depôts along the line of march as far as the South Saskatchewan, and in I think less than three days the Column was able to advance.

The Depôts were established ten miles apart, and named generally after some prominent officers, telegraphic communication was secured, the transport waggons told off in divisions from ten, under a head teamster, and a head waggon master appointed, with four assistants. The Column advanced in good order, Scouts, Cavalry, Artillery and Infantry, making the astonishing marching average of a fraction over twenty-two miles a day, which was considered quite remarkable even for regulars. Indeed, the late Sir Adolphe Caron, who was then Minister of Militia, told me that when he was in London, after the Rebellion was over, Lord Wolseley was much surprised at the endurance of the men and considered the performance almost marvellous, particularly in the bad condition of the trails, which we must recollect at that season (early Spring) were in an awful state—ice, snow-drifts, lakes of ice-cold water to go round or wade through, mud, and every conceivable obstacle.

However, the Column pushed along and at night we managed to have the Transport up, and there was not one single night on the march that the Column was without tents, blankets and regular rations. Every day soon after the noon halt, a waggon master rode ahead with a camp quarter-master and selected the site of the camp. The ground was quicly staked out by the Engineer Officer, and when the troops marched in at night each arm knew exactly where to go. a zareba was formed by the waggons, directed by the Transport Officer, and this usually took about twenty minutes, and then the cooks got busy, tents were pitched, picquets posted, guards mounted and the day's work was over.

This daily routine continued till we arrived at Humboldt, over two hundred miles out. Here we halted for one day for a breather, and here it was that I first made the acquaintance of Captain Haig de Haig. The Headquarters camp was always pitched in a square, and this fine afternoon, being busy in my tent, I heard the merry jingle of chains and spurs, the present arms of the Sentry outside, and, unannounced, my bold Haig de Haig burst into my tent.

The first thing he did was to produce a little red note book and introduce himself as Captain Haig de Haig, of the Royal Engineers, of Halifax. He then proceeded to inform me that England in the past had invariably lost all her wars through the damned stupidity of Transport Officers, that the way we were carrying on was Suicidal, Suicidal, Suicidal!!! He was a rather nervous, pale-faced looking duck and seemed much excited.

He said the first thing to be done was to corduroy the Salt Plains. This little piece of landscape is about forty-two miles across, and as there were no trees in the vicinity, I did not condescend to discuss the insane proposition.

But he said, "If you don't do it at once you will not be able to get any supplies hauled up, and the troops will all starve to death."

He then catechized me about the weight with which my waggons were loaded. I said, after consulting last night's telegraphic report, "1800 pounds." "Ah," said he, "Now I want to know what you would do if two horses couldn't possibly haul it?" I suggested reduce it to 1,000. "Very good," said he, "but if they couldn't move 1,000 pounds?" "Well, cut it in two." "Well, supposing you found that could not be moved?" "Think I would try four horses." "Ah! now this is where I have you. What would you do if four horses couldn't haul 500 pounds?" "Well, I think I'd shoot 'em!"

He stared at me in a half-dazed puzzled sort of way, and buckling on his belts said suddenly: "Where's the General? Where's the General? Where's the General?"

I looked as solemn as an owl and said: "I don't know." "What! do you mean to tell me, Sir, you don't know where the General is?"

I assured him that I was afraid the General was acquiring bad habits subversive to all discipline, as lately he had got into the way of going out without asking my permission.

Then he knew that I was insane, and starting madly for his horse, galloped off, followed by his orderly.

He found the General and told him he had been talking to one of his Transport Officers, who was evidently a lunatic, but he had explained the seriousness of the situation to him and told him what had to be done. The General, however, advised him to throw his little red book in the first river he came to, and to leave the Transport Officers alone. As the old Gentleman very properly observed: "Haig, they have brought me over two hundred miles so far, I don't know how they did it, and I don't intend to ask them; but this I do know, when I say "March" they march, and when I say "Halt" it's halt, and damn me, Sir, I don't want to know the details."

Next morning we were on the march for Clarke's Crossing, South Saskatchewan River.

It was my custom to stay behind to drive up the stragglers for the first hour or two, and I met Haig riding down the long line of teams. He said, "Do you I've been talking to your men, telling them how important it is to keep closed up; as we are now in the enemy's country, etc., etc., and do you know I find they are quite intelligent."

I said, "Could you point him out? Because, if any of them show the slightest signs of intellect, out he goes. That is why I wear these orange striped riding breeches, we have to do the thinking for the whole bunch."

He looked puzzled again.

Another thing I said: "I am sorry you have been talking to them, because every man has printed instructions pasted in his hat, to take no notice of anybody except a Transport Officer."

He said he had never seen such a queer Service in all his life, and galloped wildly to the front, remarking:

"You don't seem to realize that you are in the enemy's country." To which I replied: "My dear Haig, I know the enemy, he is a personal friend of mine and would not think of attacking my Transport without consulting me." That sort of thing went on daily.

Eventually we arrived at Clarke's Crossing. The river is 1,000-feet wide at this point, and a cable scow ferry had calmly operated this crossing for years. But the rebels had cut the cable and the scow had disappeared.

One night at mess the General decided to separate his Column and send a force under Lord Melgund, his Chief of Staff, down the West side of the River. I think it was I who suggested that Captain Haig was the right man to cross this detachment, being an Engineer Officer. The genial old General fell at once into this idea and gave the necessary orders.

Haig always applied for two hundred men as a fatigue party on the slightest provocation, and accordingly always got them. Unfortunately he had never seen a Cable Ferry operated, and as the Rebels had cut the cable and let go the scow, he was up against a rather novel difficulty. The ice was rushing madly through the river and the prospects were certainly not inviting for a mad, married, or Methodist Royal Engineer. However, he ordered his two hundred fatigue party, and undertook the job.

Poor old Haig!—He reported it "Impossible!"

The General appealed to his old Transport standby, and we rose to the occasion, and upon the condition that Haig and his men should be removed, we actually guaranteed to cross the General's forces before daylight next morning.

The cable having been cut by the Rebels, we had to pick up the slack and make fast to an improvised "dead men" or "post"; then we had to get hold of the scow six miles below and tow her up to the crossing, when it was an easy job to ferry the General's half column (under Lord Melgund) across, including the guns, much to the surprise of Captain Haig de Haig.

After the events of Fish Creek, where we had fifty or sixty casualties, it was necessary to re-ferry the command, and as usual, Captain Haig was requisitioned. He reported an "impenetrable forest." I may say that my old Canadian teamsters slashed it down in three hours, and after fixing the same old cable again on two trees, we once more brought the Column together.

After the main trouble was over, and the General with a handful of infantry, some scouts and cavalry, moved up to Fort Pitt, our old friend Haig was still on deck. I had several River Steamers requisitioned, and in command of the Transport. It was quite a problem to transport this whole force safely down to Selkirk and Winnipeg, and then East to their respective Headquarters. We decided to make arrangements with the Lake Winnipeg Navigation Company to place their boats and scows at our service. We had several steamboats of sorts at Port Pitt, and in spite of our friend the A.Q.M.G., managed to accommodate all the troops, barring Boulton's Scouts and some cavalry horses, we went overland.

We took them from Fort Pitt down the North Saskatchewan, via Cedar Lake to Grand Rapids, and from there on board flat bottomed scows, towed by the Lake Winnipeg steamers to Selkirk, where many Eastern Regiments were disembarked and transhipped to their homes, the rest going to Winnipeg.

It was in March, 1885, when our little war broke out and then, as ever, the great Transportation Company came to the front. The line was far from complete, especially along the North side of Lake Superior where many gaps existed, but this did not deter Van Horne from going up to Ottawa and offering to transport the Eastern troops which had been ordered out over the gaps. This was done with rapidity, but with some hardship. Many sleighs were provided and the troops driven over the ice where the gaps in the line occurred, to be transferred to the waiting trains West of Winnipeg. Regular trains were of course running and the soldiers were taken in comfort as far West as Qu'Appelle, which was the military base.

Supply trains were constantly on the move taking provisions up to the front with wonderful regularity, hence we suffered no hardship from want of rations. as before remarked, I was Assistant Transport Officer to Sir Frederick Middleton, who commanded the force. We first struck the rebellious half-breeds and Indians at Fish Creek on the South Saskatchewan River, where they gave us a hot reception for three or four hours, being concealed in rifle pits dug in the steep banks of Fish Creek. Our casualties that day were about fifty-two killed and wounded. In the afternoon the enemy retired to Batoche, a small village down the river, leaving behind a few dead men and about fifty dead ponies. Our hospital arrangements were rather primitive, but the doctors performed numerous difficult amputations on the field with great skill, considering the means at their disposal.

This delayed the advance of the Columns until we could arrange to send the wounded down to the base hospital, when we continued the advance on Batoche, where, after three or four days fighting, the enemy surrendered and we captured Mr. Riel, their leader, who was afterwards tried, convicted and hanged at Regina.

We then proceeded to the relief of Prince Albert, a town on the North Saskatchewan River, where the residents were in a great state of excitement and fear and very glad to see the soldier boys. The next point we headed for up the River was Battleford, where the Indians had been very threatening and troublesome, burning houses and generally pillaging the community, most of the inhabitants being gathered into the barracks by the Mounted Police.

The next danger was expected to come from a brave Indian chief who rejoiced in the name of "Poundmaker," whose reserve was some forty miles from Battleford. But Middleton frustrated this warrior's intentions by sending a courier to his reserve with a curt message notifying him to present himself with all his minor chiefs at Battleford, informing him that if he did not comply in a given time, he, Middleton, would march on the reserve, and blow him and his whole tribe off the map. This had the desired effect.

The surrender of "Poundmaker" was most picturesque. A few days after he received the General's message, the old warrior and his whole retinue appeared and an audience with Middleton was arranged. He was a splendid specimen of an Indian, a little over six feet, and straight as an arrow, handsome and dignified, every inch a typical Indian Chief.

It was a glorious summer day. The old General with an interpreter at his side, surrounded by his staff officers, all in full uniform, more or less weather-beaten, after a six months' campaign, was seated in the only chair we could find, while the Indian Chief arrayed in full war paint and decorated with feathers, a gaudy coloured blanket loosely thrown over his shoulders, faced him, squatting on his haunches, Indian fashion. On each side of him were many young Indians, arranged in a semi-circle, all squatting on the ground.

The Pow-wow lasted for an hour or two; murderous deeds committed by the tribe were related by different witnesses, which seemed to amuse the younger Indians immensely, even the murderers themselves, who grinned and giggled when they listened to the interpretation of some of their devilish deeds. They had killed several of my drivers and stolen their horses. I recovered several of these horses, and remember a pair of white horses they had stampeded which were painted a brilliant scarlet when we got them back.

As the palaver drew to a close, "Poundmaker" arose and in a most dignified and lordly manner stalked solemnly over to the General and offered his hand, which, of course, the General refused, practically telling him he could not shake hands with such a murderous old scoundrel, or words to tent effect. A short sharp command from a Police officer and the whole batch of Indians were under arrest, handcuffed and marched to the Barracks, headed by their noble Chieftain, much to their surprise. They all had a puzzled look and it seemed to me as if they had expected to be rewarded instead of punished.

This practically broke the back of the rebellion. "Poundmaker" was tried for sedition or some such offence and sentenced to two years in Stony Mountain Penitentiary, where I often saw him afterwards. The young murderers were all sentenced to be hanged and about a dozen were executed together at Battleford, all in a row. They approached the scaffold, laughing and singing and smoking cigarettes.

General Middleton now moved up the River with a small Column to Fort Pitt, where an Indian Chief called "Big Bear" had been amusing himself at the expense of the Hudson Bay Company and a few scattered white settlers. Some of this tribe had murdered two French Catholic priests, and then had turned their attention to the Hudson Bay Company's store, which they sacked and practically destroyed. "Big Bear" sent word to the Factor, Mr. W. J. McLean, to bring his wife and family into camp or they would all be killed. McLean could not defend himself and wait till we came to his relief so he had no alternative but to join the savages, which he promptly did. "Big Bear," fearing the arrival of the troops, then took to the woods, dragging his wretched prisoners with him—men, women and little children. They tramped for many weeks through the bush, occasionally dropping most pathetic messages of help along the broad trail they were making, as there were nearly a thousand of them altogether.

Soon after the Battleford episode, the General went up to Fort Pitt, and sizing up the situation, at once started with a small force in pursuit of "Big Bear" who was heading due North into a most impossible country full of lakes and swamps and heavily timbered. We followed the old scoundrel for over fifty miles, but had to give it up and return to Fort Pitt.

The crafty Chieftain, knowing we were on his trail, at last changed his course and turned South-East, and when attempting to cross the river at Fort carlton, he was caught by the Police and like his confrere, got two years in the Stony Mountain Penitentiary, where he died. "Poundmaker" served his sentence or nearly so and went back to his reserve, where they gave him such a gorgeous reception, including a roast dog banquet, that he died of acute indigestion.

The condition of "Big Bear's" prisoners was most pitiable when we rescued them after they had been abandoned by the Indians, especially the women and young girls. For weeks they had been forced to tramp with these savages through the wilderness, eating what they were given and sleeping at night in the smoky Indian "teepees" with the squaws. Their clothes were in rags, many of them had no stockings and were barefoot, unkempt, unwashed—they were a sorry lot of scarecrows. McLean, the Hudson Bay officer, his wife and a big family, mostly daughters, were amongst them and I knew them all well.

With the arrest of "Big Bear" the rebellion ended.