Private Walter R. Crickett, I Troop, 7th Cavalry—Campaign Letter


The man that stood next to me was shot down in the first discharge. I fired at the Indian at the same time but only struck him in the leg. He returned my fire and struck my revolver which knocked me down, which saved me.

One of the troopers in Capt. Nowlan’s I Troop penned a fifteen-page letter in the summer of 1891 detailing his experiences during the campaign. Private Walter R. Crickett was a carpenter by trade and a recent emigrant from England, where his mother and siblings still resided, one of whom was the recipient of his campaign narrative. Crickett’s letter has been quoted by a number of historians, most notably by Christer Lindberg in his 1990 article, “Foreigners in Action at Wounded Knee,” and William S. E. Coleman in Voices of Wounded Knee. Lindberg provides four brief excerpts while Coleman quotes most of Crickett’s letter piecemeal over the length of his book. Presented here is a transcript of Pvt. Crickett’s complete letter along with images of each page, reproduced with permission from the American Museum at Bath, England, where the original letter is archived. It is followed by a brief biographical sketch of Walter Crickett and his tragic death. As a veteran of Wounded Knee, he was perhaps haunted by the demons of war.

With the 7th Cavalry from Ft Riley to Pine Ridge Agency, South Dakota 1890 & 91

(Click to enlarge) The Walter R. Crickett letter is archived at the American Museum & Gardens in Bath, England. This 15-page letter is presented here with express permission from the museum registrar.[1]

We got the order on the 23rd Nov., 90, that our regiment was for the front, the place being Pine Ridge, S.D., where the Indians had broken out and gone on the war path and committing all sorts of outrages. It was morning when the order came, and by four that afternoon we was all a board the train, had all our horses and transportation along. That is what takes the time to load.

We traveled all night and next day untill we got to a place in Nebraska called Lincon about six P.M. where we took the stock off, watered and fed. Started again about twelve, and got into Rushville at five the day following (morn) that being the nearest town to P.R. There we unloaded every thing and left that afternoon for the Agency.

Camped that night at White Clay creek about twelve miles from Rushville. At five the next morning was up had a cup of coffee, and a few biscuits, struck camp and was in the saddle a little after six, and then made strait in. Got there about four and was into camp where we stayed untill the 26th December when order came for the first battalion to go to Wounded Knee creek to stop Big foot’s band going into the bad lands. It took about two hours to strike tents and pack up all our things having to go on mules as waggons could not haul in the bad lands. Continue reading

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Private Harvey H. Thomas, I Troop 7th Cavalry—Wounded in Action


They fired two shots at me. One went through me, and the other struck on the top of my head and glanced off.

At the beginning of December 1890, a troop’s worth of recruits were transferred from Jefferson Barracks, Missouri—where the Army conducted entry training for the cavalry branch—to the 7th Cavalry Regiment in the field at the Pine Ridge Agency. Captain E. S. Godfrey, of D Troop, was en route to rejoin the regiment from Fort Leavenworth. Reflecting on that winter’s campaign later in life, Godfrey wrote, “Upon my arrival at Chadron Creek, [Nebraska] I found a detachment of recruits from Jefferson Barracks for the 7th Cavalry and a wagon train of supplies for the troops, awaiting escort. I assumed command of the detachment and supply train, and about the middle of December arrived at the Pine Ridge agency, where I joined my troop.” Godfrey arrived with sixty-seven recruits on December 6. Nine of the recruits were assigned to Capt. Nowlan’s I Troop, and of those, four had just joined the Army in October.[1]

One of the newest recruits was twenty-five-year-old Private Harvey Thomas, a cook from Jamesburg, New Jersey, who had joined the Army at New York City two months before Wounded Knee. He was the only I Troop recruit to become a casualty during the campaign. While convalescing in the post hospital at Fort Riley the following spring, Thomas wrote to the superintendent of the New Jersey reform school where he spent his formative teenage years. The letters appeared in the school’s newspaper, The Advance, in May, and were later reprinted as a single composite letter in The New Brunswick Daily Times.[2]

Fort Riley, Kansas, March 21, 1891.

Dear Sir,–It is some time since I was in Jamesburg, having enlisted in the army October 11, 1891.

When the Indians broke out in South Dakota last Fall, I was sent out with a detachment and assigned to the Seventh Cavalry at Pine Ridge Agency, South Dakota. You have probably read something of the Sioux campaign, in which a number of our soldiers were killed and wounded. I was one of the latter, having been shot through the left chest, the ball entering nearly in the middle of the back, and came out just below the edge of the collar-bone.

Continue reading

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Private James E. Kelly, I Troop, 7th Cavalry—Dying Words


It is sure death to go down here.

For most of the enlisted soldiers killed or mortally wounded in the fighting along the creeks of Wounded Knee and White Clay the only recognition they received was their misspelled names in newspapers across the country. Some may have had the detail of a fatal wound next to their name and perhaps their rank. For most all, their last words went unrecorded. One exception was Private James E. Kelly of Captain Nowlan’s I Troop, a young man who endeared himself to many such that his dying words were often mentioned in the papers or personal letters.

On the morning of December 29, 1890, I Troop was located in two positions on the field: two thirds were dismounted as perimeter guards along the south side of the ravine and along portions of the eastern and western sides of the Indian camp; one third were held in reserve between the artillery and the first battalion’s camp.

(Click to enlarge) Inset of Lieut. S. A. Cloman’s map of Wounded Knee depicting the scene of the fight with Big Foot’s Band, December 29, 1890.

The earliest account of Kelly’s death was recorded the evening of December 30 after the Drexel Mission fight long White Clay Creek. Sergt. Michael Conners of Capt. Godfrey’s D Troop scribbled out a hasty letter using the butt of his carbine as a writing surface. In the post script he listed the killed that his future wife might know; among them was “Poor Kelly.” In a follow up letter the following day, Conners elaborated on Kelly’s last words and the manner of his death, “The last words Kelly said was when we started down in the ravine, ‘it is sure death to go down here,’ and at that he was shot.” This would indicate that Kelly was on the perimeter at the ravine, and may have been combined with the D Troop detachment that Lieut. Tommy Tompkins took down into the ravine. It is interesting to note that Kelly was known to a non-commissioned officer from another troop such that his death warranted mentioning in a personal letter to that soldier’s fiancé.[1]

In that morning’s edition of the Omaha Bee, the list of soldiers killed included the misspelled name of “Kelley, private, Company I, Seventh Cavalry.” The next day’s edition included the mortal wound, but still misspelled his last name, “Company I . . . Kelley, James E., head.”[2] Continue reading

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