Huachuca Illustrated: Buffalo Soldiers at Huachuca, Part III

II. 161
One of the first things Dad did when he took over was to assemble the regiment for
extended field service in the middle of the night. It took six hours for even then most of the
officers were not equipped. They had long since used toilet articles, etc. out of their “combat
ready” bedrolls. When the Mexican alert came, the regiment was on the march in less
than an hour.
One of the interesting customs of the regiment was the existence of “hunting and fishing”
leave. This consisted of ten days in addition to the normal thirty and dated back to the
Indian days when fresh meat and fish were needed to supplement QM rations.
The area was a sportsman’s paradise. There were whitewing, turtle doves, quail,
javelina, deer, bear, and lion. The bass fishing in the artesian tanks of the Mormon farmers
along the San Pedro was terrific, as was the trout fishing in the White Mountains near Fort
Apache. There was also Guaymas!
An interesting detachment was composed of venerable Apache scouts.... They, with
numerous relatives, lived in a tepee camp. Sanitation consisted of my Dad ordering the
Provost Marshal periodically to remove personal belongings and burn the shelters to the
ground.
Shanties along Huachuca Creek for laundresses and camp followers. From the Markel
Collection.
We also had what was probably one of the last mule pack troops in the Army.
For his uncanny ability to pick out flaws in uniform, equipment, or a formation, Dad
was known as “bright eyes.” He could not sleep well in that altitude and had a way of
turning up in the middle of the night to catch the stable guards asleep or smoking.
If all this sounds like fun, it was, especially for youngsters who had all the privileges and
none of the responsibilities of officers.
* * *
Our polo team, while not the best, gave us a lot of fun. We played the 7th and 8th, then
at Fort Bliss, and also the University of Arizona and the New Mexico Military Institute. The
“skin” fields did not make for the softest landings. I still bear some scars.
Finally, when Dad was buried at Arlington, there were so many retired friends around
that we couldn’t pick pallbearers without hurting feelings. As a result, we chose eight
A MAGAZINE OF THE FORT HUACHUCA MUSEUM
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