Recollections of Early Texas by John Holmes Jenkins

Author:John Holmes Jenkins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Texas Press

CHAPTER XI

In All Fairness . . .

Bowie’s celebrated fight on the San Saba in 1831 has been often told and commented upon, and very justly, for no body of men ever displayed greater courage and heroism than was displayed by the Bowie brothers and their companions in this fight.1 Whenever I see an account of this desperate struggle or hear allusions made to it, however, I can but recall a few other encounters of equal desperation and courage of which I have seldom seen the slightest mention.

For instance, Captain Bird’s fight with the Comanches a few years later—in 1837 or 1838. This occurred at a time when all the Indian tribes were very bitter in their hostility against the whites, and tragedies most cruel and horrible were quite common. Due to this prevalence of danger and bloodshed, several minute companies protected the frontier, one of which was commanded by Captain Bird,2 who lived in Washington County. In the fall, I think it was, this company, comprising not more than fifteen men, went out on a raid against the Indians.

On a little creek running into the Leon River five or six miles east of Belton, since then known as Bird’s Creek, they came upon five or six Indians—merely a decoy squad. Bird’s men pursued them and were led over a hill into a band of nearly one hundred Comanches, who received them with a heavy shower of arrows. Seeing the fearful odds against them our men retreated and took shelter in a hollow, one of our small number already being wounded. The affray commenced early in the morning. All through the day the Comanches charged upon the little band, who held their ground amid a shower of deadly arrows and bullets. Yes, they held their ground, while a dreadful destruction went on around them. Captain Bird was killed and several of our men fell bleeding to the ground, and still the fight went on—fiercely and almost uninterrupted all day long. Finally, in the evening, the chief of the Comanches was killed and they retreated in dismay and confusion, thus closing the terrible conflict.

Like Bowie’s fight, this was a struggle which once commenced could neither be postponed nor avoided. Our men were compelled to fight or be butchered by the blood-thirsty band, who had lured them into their very clutches—hemmed in with no shadow of a chance to escape or retreat. Captain Bird’s rallying cry embodied the terrible truth of their situation, and he bade them, “Stand and fight like men, or die like dogs!” Nearly every one of the small company was wounded and a few died from their wounds, after reaching home.

One of our men proved himself a hero indeed, through this memorable day of daring and danger and suffering. I wish I could remember his name and record it, but I cannot. We can cherish his memory, however, as one of those sleeping in unmarked graves, who, in life, erected to themselves monuments more enduring than brass or marble, by a fortitude and bravery unsurpassed by the most hardy of Spartan warriors.

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