Posted by Mike Slease on October 01, 2000 at 04:40:55:
In Reply to: The March on the Delaware Indian Village of Kittanning ... Part IV posted by Mike Slease on September 28, 2000 at 04:42:16:
The Journal of Lt. Col. John Armstrong
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The March on the Delaware Indian Village of Kittanning
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August ye 31st to September ye 10th, 2000
The Kittanning Expedition 2000--Part 5
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Written by Mike Slease ,aka, Lt. Col. John Armstrong
Tuesday, September ye 5th
I was awake and up at 3:15 AM, and after dressing for the field, I awoke the troops at 4:00 AM. The temperature was less than 40 degrees this morning, and a woolen Regimental felt quite good for a change. Today we were going to ascend Kittanning Point via the original Indian path which Lt. Col. Armstrong's army followed up Kittanning Run and over the Point; nearly 3 miles. The Rev. Capt. Beatty offered a prayer for our successful venture today and a safe journey to this evening's camp. We then transported to our drop off point near the famous Horseshoe Curve outside of Altoona where we dropped all of the men except Chief Scout Savage, Pvt. Dobbs and myself. We also had Dave Hurst, editor of Westsylvania magazine and his photographer, Jim Hollingshead, along. The men would ascend the hill in the darkness and await our arrival after we left our vehicles and were returned to the starting point by Lane's wife, Deb. I have to say here that she is a godsend to us on this trip. She has provided needed supplies, medical aid, transportation, and support of all kinds and has been very cheerful while doing so. At times it means she must drive many miles to find us or to go get something needed and return.
After Chief Scout Savage, Pvt. Dobbs, Hurst, Hollingshead and I were returned, we made our way quietly up the hillside, across the tracks and dropped down into the hollow above the Kittanning Run, where we rendezvoused with the others. The time was not quite 6 AM.
An ambush by some Indian re-enactor friends had been planned, and their vehicle was at the place we left ours earlier, and the dew on it indicated that they had come in the day before and should already be in the pre-arranged location for the ambush. Since Chief Scout Savage was the only one who knew where that was, we were all on keen edges and alert this morning.
As we progressed up the Run, we began to notice Indian picture writing on some large rocks. As they were translated, it became apparent that they were threats and taunts. This served to put the men on high alert. We had chosen partners to allow cover and support fire in an ambush situation, and the men now spread out in a long column of twos, one man on either side of the trail, scanning the forest on his side for any hint of trouble.
The column moved quietly and slowly in the pre-dawn darkness. The hollow is so deep that sunlight will not reach the floor of it until several hours after daybreak. We could look up and see blue sky, but we were in virtual darkness. The trail crossed and re-crossed the Kittanning Run several times. The path was very well defined, even after all these years, and it gave a very real sense of how it must have been for Armstrong and his army.
With each footstep the heart beats quicker, partly from exertion...since it is all uphill...and partly from anxiety in not knowing when the forest might erupt in blazing gunfire and war whoops! On and on we went, crossing the Run one last time and beginning to ascend the mountain that is Kittanning Point. The day had brightened, and now we were beginning to get some sunshine at our level. The time was 7:30 AM.
We paused the column and took a break for water and some apples, and not a word was spoken. The men just sensed this was the thing to do. The partners sat down near each other, in case we were hit now, but it did not happen. After about 20 minutes, silently the men arose and began to inch upward as before. I have never seen a better collection of woods-wise men than what we had here, and it was soon to become obvious just how good a group we had.
As we reached the top of the Point and came onto a dirt road, we took another break, mainly to try to figure out why we weren't hit along this trail. At this point, some commotion was heard in the woods on the lower side of the trail, and Pvt. Kirwin and I went to the edge to see what it was, thinking it might be Indians. As he entered the high weeds along the edge of the road, a large porcupine came out behind him and waddled across the road and climbed a tree. As we watched it and chuckled at it, we discovered there was another porky already in the top of the tree!
We moved on, thinking we might get ambushed along this road, as there were low pines all along it, and made outstanding ambush cover. Nothing happened. Arriving at the place we dropped the transport vehicles earlier today, we waited for the Indians to show.
It had taken just over four hours to get here. The day was gorgeous: no clouds, about 60 degrees and a slight breeze was blowing, keeping us cool and comfortable all morning.
After eating some lunch of jerky, apples and water, we laid back on the grass to rest and discuss what went wrong with the plan. After about half an hour, Chief Scout Savage and Pvt. Woods went to find the Indians, returning without contact.
We were waiting in a cemetery, and decided that since there were many veterans of all wars buried there, as evidenced by the forest of flags on the graves, that we would fire a salute to honor them. We formed up and sent three volleys on command crashing into the countryside, echoing off surrounding hills and woods. This was a touching moment.
Finally, about an hour and a half after we arrived, the Indians finally showed. Upon questioning them, and reconstructing the day, we determined what happened.
They had arrived the afternoon before, as we thought. They went into the woods and, following a map given them, did find the ambush location. The night was very cold, and they did not make a fire, due to some locals on four-wheelers giving them cause to be concerned. They spent the night wrapped in single blankets, and being stripped for a war party, got rather chilly and spent a miserable night. We had passed their ambush spot, unseen and unheard. I believe they were laying in what sunshine was coming through the trees, wrapped in blankets, and were relying on hearing us to alert them of our presence. However, we went through so silently, and spread out over 60-80 yards or so, they never knew we were there. After finding out where they were along the trail, Pvt. Hebrank noted that he had heard what he called "a real bad bird call" at that place, and being next in line behind him and Pvt. Polewchak, his partner, so did I, and, in fact, my partner, Pvt. Kirwin, and I froze and went on red alert at that point. Nothing came of it, and I did not see anyone or hear anything else after a few moments, so we relaxed and moved on.
Needless to say, we had some very embarrassed Indians, and some very proud soldiers and scouts! Aaahhh...the things legends are made of! Our Indians shall remain nameless here to avoid further embarrassment.....for now! But they will NEVER live this down!!
After resting another half-hour or so, we set off for the Cleared Fields, another of the army's camping spots in 1756. Today it is near the village of Asheville. Arriving there, we made camp along the Beaver Dams Creek and were visited by about 30 local folks. As usual, we entertained them with music, demonstrations and conversation. These folks were different than what we had encountered to now. They mostly just stood and stared at us with their mouths open, and would occasionally ask something. They watched us cook, repair gear, set tents, and so on. It was as if we truly were the ghosts of Armstrong and his men! This campsite also was the finest we have had so far. It was not corrupted by modern sights, being down in the woods along a creek as it was. Most of the men remarked upon that. The owner had cleared an area just for us to use, after he gave us permission earlier in the summer when Lane was making arrangements.
One of our visitors, an elderly man whose son owned the ground we were graciously allowed to camp upon, was getting very cold, as the sun had settled and darkness was coming fast. His daughter wanted to take him home, but he was adamant that he was staying. He didn't want to miss a thing. I walked over to him and without saying anything, removed my great coat and wrapped it around his shoulders. He smiled and said, "Thank you, Colonel." I touched my hat and nodded to him, and the whole family came and took his picture! When it finally came time for him to leave, he insisted on returning my coat himself and when he walked over and handed it to me, he thanked me again, and saluted. I returned his salute and thanked him for visiting us, and he disappeared into the darkness on his daughter's arm.
After the last of the visitors left at 9:00 PM, we discussed tomorrow's plans and turned in. It would feel good under a woolen blanket tonight...the first truly cold night we have had. Autumn is certainly in the air...