After the defeat of the police and civilians at Duck
Lake, Riel and Dumont felt thoroughly confident of being
able to deal with the forces which they were apprised
the Canadian Government would send into the field against
them. They held many long consultations together, and
in every case it was Dumont who laid down the details of
the military campaign. "These Canadian soldiers," he
would say, "can not fight us here. We will entrench
ourselves in positions against which they may fire cannon
or gatling guns in vain. They are not used to
bush-fighting, and will all the time expose themselves
to our bullets. Besides, distances here are deceptive;
and in their confusion they will make the wildest sort
of shooting." It was decided that the rebel forces should
make their main stand at an advantageous position, which
Dumont had accidentally observed one day when he was out
elk-stalking three years ago. This place, he assured his
chief seemed to be intended by nature for a post of
defence. It lay a short distance from Batoche's Crossing.
"But my idea is to engage them several times with portions
of my force; gradually to fall back, and then fight at
my final ground the battle which shall decide who is
master in these territories, the half-breeds or the
Canadian volunteers."
All this while General Middleton, with his brave fellows,
had been making one of the most laborious marches recorded
in modern wars. Perhaps the worst portion of the march
was around the dismal reaches of Lake Superior. I take
an extract from correspondence to the Toronto _Mail_.
"But the most severe trial was last night's, in a march
from Red Rock to Nepigon, a distance of only seven miles
across the ice, yet it took nearly five hours to do it.
After leaving the cars the battalion paraded in line. A
couple of camp fires served to make the darkness visible.
All the men were anxious to start, and when the word was
given to march, it was greeted with cheers. It was
impossible to march in fours, therefore an order was
given for left turn, quick march. We turned, obedient to
the order, but the march was anything but quick. Then
into the solemn darkness of the pines and hemlock the
column slowly moved. Each side being snow four feet deep,
it was almost impossible to keep the track, and a misstep
buried the unfortunate individual up to his neck. Then
it began raining, and for three mortal hours there was
a continuous down pour. The lake was reached at last, to
the extreme pleasure of the corps. The wildness of the
afternoon and the rain turned the snow into slush, at
every step the men sank half a foot. All attempts to
preserve distance were soon abandoned by the men, who
clasped hands to prevent falling. The officers struggled
on, arms linked, for the same purpose. Now and then men
would drop in the ranks, the fact only being discovered
by those in the rear stumbling over them. Some actually
fell asleep as they marched. One brave fellow had plodded
on without a murmur for three days. He had been suffering,
but through the fear of being left behind in the hospital
refrained from making his case known. He tramped half-way
across last night's march reeling like a drunken man,
but nature gave out at last, and with a groan he fell on
the snow. There he lay, the pitiless rain beating on a
boyish upturned face, until a passing sleigh stopped
behind him. The driver, flashing his lantern in the
upturned face, said he was dead. 'Not yet, old man,' was
the reply of the youth, as he opened his eyes. 'I'm not
even a candidate for the hospital yet.'"
The following description of the Great Salt Plains, as
given by a _Globe_ correspondent, is also worth reproducing:
"The Great Salt Plains open out like broad, dreary marsh
or arm of the sea, from which the tide has gone out. For
about thirty-five miles the trail stretches in a
north-westerly course across this dismal expanse, and
away to the south-west, as far as the eye can reach,
nothing save marsh grass, flags, bullrushes, and
occasionally clumps of marsh willows can be seen. North-east
of the trail scattering bluffs of stunted grey willows
cluster along the horizon, and at one point along the
trail, about midway of the plain, is found a small,
solitary clump of stoneberry bushes, not more than thirty
yards long, five or six feet in width, and only three or
four feet high." The objective point of Major-General
Middleton's march was Batoche's Crossing, where Riel had
several large pits sunk, and fortifications thrown up,
for a grand and final encounter with our troops. The line
of march lay sometimes along the Saskatchewan's banks,
but more frequently through the open prairie. The position
of the rebels prior to the battle was this: Dumont, with
250 half-breeds and Indians, had been retreating slowly
before General Middleton's right column on the east bank
of the river, their scouts keeping them informed of the
General's movements. Dumont appears to have thought of
waiting for the troops to attack him on Thursday night;
at least that is the belief of the scouts, who saw some
of his mounted men signalling to him all afternoon on
Thursday. However that may be, he lay waiting for our
men at the edge of a big _coulee_ near Fish Creek, early
on Friday morning, his forces being snugly stowed away
behind boulders, or concealed in the dense everglades of
hazel, birch, and poplar. From day to day, almost from
hour to hour, this veteran buffalo hunter had learned
every tidings of the General's troops that keen observation
made from clumps of bush along the prairie could give
him. So when he learnt that the General himself, with
his officers, were near at hand, his eyes fairly gleamed
with enthusiasm.
"My men," he said, as he went from covert to covert, from
bluff to bluff, "you know the work that lies before you;
I need not repeat it to you. Do not expose yourself, and
do not fire unless you have a tolerable target." Then he
arranged a system of signals, chiefly low whistles and
calls, by which the men would be able to know when to
advance, retire, lie close, make a dash, or move from
one part of the ground to another.
"They will at first fall into an ambush," he said, "then,
my men, be nimble. In the panic there will be a rich
harvest for you. Bring down the General if you can.
Wherever an officer is in range, let him have a taste of
your lead in preference to the privates." Then he lay
close and watched, and listened, many times putting his
ear to the ground. At last he gave an exclamation. It
was in a whisper; but the silent rebels who lay there,
mute as the husht trees around them, could well hear the
words, "they come!"
Let me now briefly describe the position which the rebel
had chosen for himself. About five miles from McIntosh's
stand two bluffs, about five hundred yards apart, thickly
wooded on the top. Between these bluffs is a level open
prairie that extends backward about a thousand yards,
across which there runs a deep ravine, thickly timbered
at the bottom.
Now, on the morning of Friday, the twenty-fourth of April,
General Middleton, who was still on the march to Batoche's,
was riding with his staff, well in front. With him was
Major Boulton's Horse, who acted as scouts. As they were
passing the two bluffs named, suddenly the crack of
musketry rang out upon the prairie. Major Boulton now
perceived that he had fallen into an ambush. At the same
time that deadly balls and buck-shot came whistling and
cutting spitefully through the air, there arose from both
bluffs the most diabolical yelling. For miles over the
silent prairies could these murderous yells be heard.
Nor were the rebel balls fired without effect. Captain
Gardner fell bleeding upon the ground, and several of
the men had also fallen.
General Middleton, who had been some little distance in
the rear was speedily apprised of the surprise, and
dashing on toward the rebels' hold he met Boulton's Horse
retiring for reinforcements. Then "A" Battery, the 90th
regiment, and "C" Company, Toronto, with enthusiastic
cheering, began to cry out: "Show us the rebels!"
In a little while the firing became general, and our men
struck out extending their formation as they neared the
edge of the _coulee_, from which puffs of smoke were
already curling up. Twenty of Dumont's men, with
Winchesters, fired over a natural shelf or parapet
protected by big boulders. The column was divided into
two wings, the left consisting of "B" and "F" Companies
of the 90th, with Boulton's mounted corps, and the right
of the rest of the 90th, "A" Battery, and "C" School of
Infantry. The left wing, "F" company leading, came under
fire first. As the men were passing by him; Gen. Middleton
shouted out:
"Men of the 90th, don't bend your heads; you will soon
be there; go in, and I know you'll do your duty."
The men were bending down, partly to avoid the shots and
partly because they were running over the uneven, scrubby
ground. Colour-Sergeant Mitchell, of "F" company (one of
the famous Wimbledon Mitchells), displayed great coolness,
and afterwards did good execution with a rifle when the
troops had entered the bush. "A," "C," and "D" Companies
of the 90th, with "A" Battery and the School of Infantry,
were on the right, the whole force forming a huge half-moon
around the mouth of the _coulee_. The brush was densely
thick, and as rain was falling, the smoke hung in clouds
a few feet off the muzzles of the rifles.
Here the 90th lost heavily. Ferguson was the first to
fall. The bandsmen came up and carried off the injured
to the rear, where Dr. Whiteford and other surgeons had
extemporized a small camp, the men being laid some on
camp-stretchers and some on rude beds of branches and
blankets. "E" company of the 90th, under Capt. Whitla,
guarded the wounded and the ammunition. General Middleton
appeared to be highly pleased with the bearing of the
90th as they pushed on, and repeatedly expressed his
admiration. He seemed to think, however, that the men
exposed themselves unnecessarily. When they got near the
_coulee_ in skirmishing order, they fired while lying
prostrate, but some of them either through nervousness
or a desire to get nearer the unseen enemy, kept rising
to their feet, and the moment they did so Dumont's men
dropped them with bullets or buckshot. The rebels, on
the other hand, kept low. They loaded, most of them having
powder and shot bags below the edge of the ravine or
behind the thicket, and then popped up for an instant
and fired. They had not time to take aim except at the
outset, when the troops were advancing.
Meanwhile the right wing had gone into action also. Two
guns of "A" Battery, under Capt. Peters, dashed up at
10:40 o'clock, and at once opened on the _coulee_. A
couple of old barns far back to the right were knocked
into splinters at the outset, it being supposed that
rebels were concealed there; and three haystacks were
bowled over and subsequently set on fire by the shells
or fuses. Attention was then centred on the ravine. At
first, however, the battery's fire had no effect, as from
the elevation on which the guns stood, the shot went
whizzing over it. Dumont had sent thirty men to a small
bluff, covered with boulder and scrub, within 450 yards
of the battery, and these opened a sharp fire. The battery
could not fire into this bluff without running the risk
of killing some of the 90th, who had worked their way up
towards the right of it. Several men of "A" were struck
here. The rebels saw that their sharpshooters were causing
confusion in this quarter, and about twenty of them ran
clear from the back of the ravine past the fire of "C"
and "D" companies to the bluff, and joined their comrades
in a rattling fusillade on "A." Fortunately, only a few
of them, had Winchesters. "A" moved forward a little,
and soon got the measure of the ravine. The shrapnel
screeched in the air, and burst right in among the brush
and boulders, smashing the scraggy trees, and tearing up
the moss that covered the ground in patches. The rebels
at once saw that the game was up in this quarter, though
they kept up a bold front and seldom stopped firing except
when they were dodging back into new cover. In doing this
they rarely exposed themselves, either creeping on all
fours or else running a few yards in the shelter of the
thicket and then throwing themselves flat on the ground
again, bobbing up only when they raised their heads and
elbows to fire.
The shrapnel was too much for them, and they began to
bolt towards the other side of the ravine, where our left
wing was peppering them. This move was the first symptom
of weakness they had exhibited, and Gen. Middleton at
once took advantage of it and ordered the whole force to
close in upon them, his object apparently being to surround
them. The rebel commander, however, was not to be caught
in that way. Instead of bunching all his forces on the
left away from the fire of the artillery, he sent only
a portion of it there to keep our men busy while the rest
filled off to the north, retiring slowly as our two wings
closed on them. Dumont was evidently on the look-out for
the appearance of Col. Montizambert's force from the
other side of the river.
The general advance began at 11.45 a.m., Major Buchan of
the 90th leading the right wing, and Major Boswell of
the same corps the left. When the rebels saw this a number
of them rushed forward on the left of the ravine, and
the fighting for a time was carried on at close quarters,
the enemy not being over sixty yards away. An old log
hut and a number of barricades, formed by placing old
trees and brushwood between the boulders, enabled them
to make it exceedingly warm for our men for a time. At
this point several of the 90th were wounded, and General
Middleton himself had a narrow escape, a bullet going
through his fur hat. Captains Wise and Doucet, of Montreal,
the General's Aide-de-camps, were wounded about this
time. "C" infantry behaved remarkably well all through,
and bore the brunt of the general advance for some time,
the buckshot from the rebels doing much damage. The rebel
front was soon driven back, but neither here nor at any
other time could the rebels' loss be ascertained. The
Indians among them, who were armed with guns, appeared
to devote themselves mainly to shooting the horses. A
good many Indians were hit, and every time one of them
was struck the others near him raised a loud shout, as
if cheering. The troops pressed on gallantly, and the
rebel fire slackened, and after a time died away, though
now and then their front riflemen made a splurge, while
the others made their way back. Captain Forrest, of the
90th, headed the advance at this point, Lieutenant Hugh
J. Macdonald (son of Sir John Macdonald), of this company,
who had done excellent service all day, kept well up with
Forrest, the two being ahead of their men, and coming in
for a fair share of attention from the retreating rebels.
Macdonald was first reported as killed and then as wounded,
but he was not injured, though struck on the shoulder by
spent buckshot. Forrest's hat was shot off. At 12.50 the
rebels were far out of range, going towards Batoche's,
and the Battle of Fish Creek was practically over.
[Footnote: I am chiefly indebted to the Toronto _Mail_
for the foregoing account of the battle.]
During the battle, many instances of the greatest bravery
are recorded. Private Ainsworth, of the 90th, was seen
to leap upon the shoulders of a savage, who, in company
with another, had endeavoured to cross the flat land and
get shelter, wresting his gun and felling him to the
earth with the butt of it, then securing the rifle firing
at and killing the other Indian. While doing this, he
was exposed to the fire of a score of guns, getting
riddled with buck-shot and being struck with bullets.
But the greatest daring and bravery were exhibited by
Watson, of the Toronto School of Infantry. Finding it
impossible to dislodge the enemy, he rushed headlong for
the ambuscaded half-breeds, followed by a score of his
comrades whom it was impossible to control. The war-cries
of the Indians, the huzzas of the troops, and the rattle
of musketry fairly echoed for miles, as evidenced by the
statements of the west side contingent upon arriving on
the scene. Watson paid the penalty of his daring by death,
while the narrow escape of many others were remarkable.
The utmost bravery all the while was displayed by our
troops. When a man fell his comrade would pause for a
moment, and say:
"I hope you are not badly hurt," and then again look out
for the enemy. Some of the men who received only slight
wounds were anxious to remain in the fight, but their
officers insisted that they should be taken to the rear,
and attended to by the surgeons. Upon couches made of
boughs, and covered with blankets, the brave young fellows
were placed; and many of them submitted to probings and
painful management of wounds without making a murmur.
They seemed not to be concerned for themselves, but went
on all the while enquiring as to how it was "going with
the boys."
General Middleton, himself a veteran soldier, expressed
as I have already stated, his admiration for the bravery
of all the men who were engaged. There was no bolting,
even in the face of heavy fire; no shrinking, although
_one man in every eight_ had been struck by the enemy's
shot or bullets. Major Boulton had many narrow escapes,
while he was standing for a moment, a hail of buckshot
came whistling by his ear, burying itself into his horse,
which was killed instantly. The Scouts, known as Boulton's
Horse, under this brave officer, bore very gallantly
their portion of the battle's brunt. Half-breads and
Indians had orders from their leaders to shoot down horses
as well as men; and Dumont frequently said, that the
mounted men were the only ones of the force of the enemy
for which he cared anything. Several of the horses were
shot, and many of the men were riddled with buck-shot,
but they bravely stood their ground. In the night, when
the weary were sleeping after the hard day's work, dusky
forms could be seen by the light of the moon, creeping
stealthily towards where slept the gallant Scouts. The
Guard heard a crackle, and turning, perceived three pairs
of eyes gleaming with ferocity in the shadow of a clump
of poplars.
"Qui vive?" he cried, and raised his rifle; but before
he could take aim, three shots rang out through the still
night, and he fell dead, pierced by as many bullets.
There was a general alarm through the camp, but no eye
could detect the form of a Rebel. They were safe among
the shadows in the ravine. In the few moments of silent
horror that ensued after the commission of the murder,
three diabolical yells sounded from the ravine, and far
over the moon-lit prairies. Then divers voices were heard
in the bluffs, and down in the gorge. These came from
Dumont's men, who jeered, and cried that they hoped the
soldiers enjoyed the pastime of watching their dead.
On the following day, the bodies of the brave young
fellows who had fallen, after being decently, and decorously
disposed in death, were brought to the graves hollowed
out in this far-away wilderness by the hands of old
comrades. It was a very sad spectacle indeed. The death
of brave soldiers is always mournful to contemplate; but
war is the _trade_ of regulars, and they expect death,
and burials in distant sod. But war is not the trade of
our volunteer soldiers. They are mere young fellows, of
various pursuits of life, and death and burial away from
home lose nothing of their sorrowful surroundings, because
the taking off has been at the hands of rebel murderers.
General Middleton conducted the ceremonies; and here upon
the wide, husht prairie, which will soon deck the graves
with flowers, they were laid away. The brave young fellows
who faced the Rebels' shot and ball without failing,
faltered now, and many of them wept copious tears.
On the following day, General Middleton began to make
ready for his march toward Batoche's, where the Rebels'
stronghold is located.
-The Story of Louis Riel: the Rebel Chief
(Primary source documents / Timeline)
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