The Long Pursuit of Apache Chief Victorio Ends in Mexico

The Apache war chief known as Victorio went by many names.  The one we remember him by was given to him by his most hated enemies--the Mexicans.  He probably never used it for himself.

 

The Apache leader Victorio may not be as well-known as his contemporaries Cochise and Geronimo, largely because when he was conducting his most famous campaigns against the U.S. and Mexican Armies in sparsely populated and inhospitable regions on both sides of the border the attention of the nation was riveted on the larger wars with the Sioux, Cheyenne, and other tribes on the northern plains.  But he was a wily and dangerous warrior who ran circles around the troops that pursued him for years.  Until fate caught up with him.

Victorio’s origins are murky, and what we know or think we know is based on sometimes conflicting oral accounts from various Apache bands.  His tribal name was Bidu-ya or Beduiat.  Victorio was a name given him by his hated Mexican enemies.  Most sources say he was born around 1825 in the rugged mountains of what was then the Mexican state of Nuevo Mexico.  Other sources claim he was born as early as 1809.

Victorio's fierce sister, a warrior in her own right.  He called her "The Shield of the People."  She died of Tuberculosis as a prisoner.

Even his tribal affiliations, which shifted with kinship relations and various bands merging and diverging over time, are confused.  He was most likely born a member of the Chihenne sometimes called the Mimbreño division of the central Apaches, which had kinship relations with the Navaho who gave him yet another name which translates as Man Who Checks His Horses.  He had a sister or half-sister named Lozen or Dexterous Horse Thief who was born about 1840 and became a female warrior, seer and sorceress, and advisor to Vittorio who called her the “shield of the people.”

Some sources identified him as a Chiricahua, a division of the Apaches with which he was often allied and sometimes rode with.  This is probably due to ignorance of the complex clan, band, and tribal relations among the Apache.

By the early 1850’s Victorio was known to be traveling and fighting with the great Apache chief Mangus Coloradas in his wars against the old pueblos and new American settlements of what was by then American New Mexico Territory.  Kit Carson was one of the New Mexico militia leaders who did battle with the hostile Apache.  Among the other younger leaders in this war were Geronimo, Cochise, and Nana.  Victorio was one of Mangus Coloradas’s favorites and, apparently his son in law.

Victorio firs appeared to history as one of Mangas Coloradas's war band leaders along with Cochise and Geronimo.  He may have been married to a daughter or even an adopted son. 

What Victorio’s exact role was during this time is also unclear.  The U.S. Army identified him as a chief in 1853 and Victorio put his mark on at least one official document with that designation.  But the army was unclear on the differences between war band leaders and tribal chiefs with broader authority and responsibilities with the various bands and clans.  Victorio may or may not have been both at this time.

We do know that he became, probably by assignment from Mangus Coloradas, the leader of a large war band of mixed Chihenne and Mescaleros whose civil chief was his brother-in-law known as Caballero.

After Mangus Coloradas was captured under a flag of truce at an 1863 parlay with the Army and subsequently murdered, Victorio became acknowledged leader of the Chihenne and acted as a sub-chief to Cochise in a long guerrilla war that lasted until 1872, when Cochise surrendered and agreed to let his people be put on reservations.

Victorio followed his leader’s example.  But over the next few years he and his band were put on least three different reservations, some more than once, despite his band’s request to live on traditional lands.  He found himself for the second time on the desolate San Carlos Reservation in Arizona, a barren desert where summer temperatures were regularly above 110̊, where there was no game, and farming was impossible.  His people were starving.  In 1879 he led his people off the reservation and headed back to his traditional territory. 

Victorio was relentlessly pursued by the 9th Cavalry, a Buffalo Soldier regiment seen here at Ft. Davis in Arizona in 1875 on dress parade with seldom worn helmets.

He and his band were now official renegades. Victorio’s War was on.  He and his 170 followers, later modestly reinforced by volunteers from other bands fed up with reservation life, were pursued by the Buffalo Soldiers of the 9th and 10th Cavalry across broad swaths of the border lands from New Mexico to west Texas.  Victorio raided isolated ranches, attacked wagon and baggage trains and skirmished with the Army while trying to avoid big engagements.  As the war went on Victorio’s fury grew and he took to torturing and mutilating prisoners creating a fearsome reputation and spreading panic. 

On September 16 at Las Animas Canyon in the Black Range Mountains of two companies of the 9th were ambushed and trapped by Victorio's warriors. They were rescued by the arrival of two additional companies and after a day of fighting, the soldiers broke off the engagement. Five soldiers, three scouts and thirty-two horses lay dead.

Victorio would slip across the Rio Grande to elude troops and raid his traditional enemies, the Mexicans.  His band ambushed and killed 15 vaqueros looking for cattle thieves and a second party of equal size sent to look for the first near the village of Carrizal, Chihuahua.  The Mexican Army joined in the pursuit and chased Victorio back to the river.  In the beginning of rare cooperation, the Mexicans telegraphed American headquarters that they were chasing Victorio and he was expected to cross the border into Texas.

From January to May 1880 troopers from the 9th engaged in numerous skirmishes with members of Victorio’s band.  Many engagements were no more than a quick exchange of gunfire between scouts and hit-and-run ambushes.  But sometimes Victorio would pin down an isolated patrol and a fight could last hours or days until the troopers were rescued.

In April, 1880, Victorio was credited with leading the Alma Massacre, a raid on settler homesteads around Alma, New Mexico. The warriors were finally driven off with the arrival of American soldiers from Fort Bayard.  Victorio continued his campaign with a rare attack on Fort Tularosa. In May the Texas based 10th Cavalry assumed the main task of battling Victorio.  Colonel Grierson devised a new strategy—instead of fruitlessly chasing the hostiles, he positioned troops at mountain passes and river fords likely to be used by Victorio in hopes of ambushing him.

On September 6 the trap almost worked at Rattlesnake Springs, Texas where troopers hid and surrounded a fresh water spring desperately needed by Victorio’s parched band.  Although he detected a trap, Victorio was so desperate for water that he made several attempts to reach the springs and also attacked an Army baggage train on the way to supply the troops.  Each time he was beaten back and finally had to give up the effort, retreating without water and the troops in pursuit.

Three days later troopers stumbled on Victorio’s main camp. After a skirmish with guards, the troopers captured 25 head of cattle and other supplies.  On September 11 two companies made contact with Victorio’s main band and went in hard pursuit.  But the Apaches were able to get across the Rio Grande before they could be captured.

At the rare invitation of the Mexican government, 10 companies of the 10th were allowed to enter Mexico and were stationed along the south bank of the River to keep Victorio from crossing back into Texas.  Scouts from the 10th and Mexican forces located him on October 4, but kept their distance, monitoring his movements.

On October 9, the Mexican government told the US Army that their presence was no longer necessary.  The 10th re-crossed the Rio Grande under protest.  Colonel Grierson appealed to Army Commanding General Phil Sheridan in Washington for permission to return over the objection of Mexico.  Sheridan refused.

Colonel Jaoqui Terraza, the Mexican officer who hunted down Victorio's band and effectively wiped them out at the Tres Castillos Massacre.

The Mexicans, knowing that the US Army orders were to “capture if possible”, wanted a free hand in eradicating their enemy.  On October 15, 1880 Colonel Jaoquin Terraza and his troops surrounded Victorio’s camp and attacked. At the end of what became known as the Tres Castillos Massacre Victorio lay dead, with sixty warriors, and eighteen women and children. Sixty-eight women and children were taken prisoner.

Their husbands and fathers slaughtered, the women and children captured after the Tres Castillos massacre are held by the Mexicans before being turned over to the U.S. Army.  Most would die far away from home in Florida prisons.

As with so much else, exactly how Victorio died is in dispute.  Some claim an Indio scout shot him.  Others believe that the old warrior committed suicide rather than be killed by the Mexicans.

The survivors were rounded up, driven to the border, and dumped on the US Army.  They were exiled to distant reservations in Alabama, then in Florida where they were joined by Geronimo and his followers in 1888, and eventually to Oklahoma.

 

Mexicans End the Long Chase of Victorio

The Apache war chief known as Victorio went by many names.  The one we remember him by was given to him by his most hated enemies--the Mexicans.  He probably never used it for himself.

The Apache leader Victorio may not be as well-known as his contemporaries Cochise and Geronimo, largely because when he was conducting his most famous campaigns against the U.S. and Mexican Armies in sparsely populated and inhospitable regions on both sides of the border the attention of the nation was riveted on the larger wars with the Sioux, Cheyenne, and other tribes on the northern plains.  But he was a wily and dangerous warrior who ran circles around the troops that pursued him for years.  Until fate caught up with him.

Victorio’s origins are murky, and what we know or think we know is based on sometimes conflicting oral accounts from various Apache bands.  His tribal name was Bidu-ya or Beduiat.  Victorio was a name given him by his hated Mexican enemies.  Most sources say he was born around 1825 in the rugged mountains of what was then the Mexican state of Nuevo Mexico.  Other sources claim he was born as early as 1809.

Even his tribal affiliations, which shifted with kinship relations and various bands merging and diverging over time, are confused.  He was most likely born a member of the Chihenne or called Mimbreño division of the central Apaches, which had kinship relations with the Navaho who gave him yet another name which translates as Man Who Checks His Horses.  He had a sister or half-sister named Lozen or Dexterous Horse Thief who was born about 1840 and became a female warrior, seer and sorceress, and advisor to Vittorio who called her the “shield of the people.”

Victorio's fierce sister, a warior in her own right.  He called her "The Shield of the People."  She died of Tuberculosis as a prisoner.

Some sources identified him as a Chiricahua, a division of the Apaches with which he was often allied and sometimes rode with.  This is probably due to ignorance of the complex clan, band, and tribal relations among the Apache.

By the early 1850’s Victorio was known to be traveling and fighting with the great Apache chief Mangas Coloradas in his wars against the old pueblos and new American settlements of what was by then American New Mexico, Territory.  Kit Carson was one of the New Mexico militia leaders who did battle with the hostile Apache.  Among the other younger leaders in this war were Geronimo, Cochise, and Nana.  Victorio was one of Mangas Coloradas’s favorites and, apparently his son in law.
 

Victorio firs appeared to history as one of Mangas Coloradas's war band leaders along with Cochise and Geranimo.  He may have been his son inlaw or even an adopted son.

What Victorio’s exact role was during this time is also unclear.  The U.S. Army identified him as a chief in 1853 and Victorio put his mark on at least one official document with that designation.  But the army was unclear on the differences between war band leaders and tribal chiefs with broader authority and responsibilities with the various bands and clans.  Victorio may or may not have been both at this time.

We do know that he became, probably by assignment from Mangas Coloradas, the leader of a large war band of mixed Chihenne and Mescaleros whose civil chief was his brother-in-law known as Caballero.

After Mangas Coloradas was captured under a flag of truce at an 1863 parlay with the Army and subsequently murdered, Victorio became acknowledged leader of the Chihenne and acted as a sub-chief to Cochise in a long guerrilla war that lasted until 1872, when Cochise surrendered and agreed to let his people be put on reservations.

Victorio followed his leader’s example.  But over the next few years he and his band were put on least three different reservations, some more than once, despite his band’s request to live on traditional lands.  He found himself for the second time on the desolate San Carlos Reservation in Arizona, a barren desert where summer temperatures were regularly above 110̊, where there was no game, and farming was impossible.  His people were starving.  In 1879 he led his people off the reservation and headed back to his traditional territory.  

Victorio was relentlessly pursued by the 9th Cavalry, a Buffalo Soldier regiment seen here at Ft. Davis in Arizona in 1875 on dress parade with seldom worn helmets.

He and his band were now official renegades. Victorio’s War was on.  He and his 170 followers, later modestly reinforced by volunteers from other bands fed up with reservation life, were pursued by the Buffalo Soldiers of the 9th and 10th Cavalry across broad swaths of the border lands from New Mexico to west Texas.  Victorio raided isolated ranches, attacked wagon and baggage trains and skirmished with the Army while trying to avoid big engagements.  As the war went on Victorio’s fury grew and he took to torturing and mutilating prisoners creating a fearsome reputation and spreading panic. 

On September 16 at Las Animas Canyon in the Black Range Mountains of two companies of the 9th were ambushed and trapped by Victorio's warriors. They were rescued by the arrival of two additional companies and after a day of fighting, the soldiers broke off the engagement. Five soldiers, three scouts and thirty-two horses lay dead.

Victorio would slip across the Rio Grande to elude troops and raid his traditional enemies, the Mexicans.  His band ambushed and killed 15 vaqueros looking for cattle thieves and a second party of equal size sent to look for the first near the village of Carrizal, Chihuahua.  The Mexican Army joined in the pursuit and chased Victorio back to the river.  In the beginning of rare cooperation, the Mexicans telegraphed American headquarters that they were chasing Victorio and he was expected to cross the border into Texas.

From January to May 1880 troopers from the 9th engaged in numerous skirmishes with members of Victorio’s band.  Many engagements were no more than a quick exchange of gunfire between scouts and hit-and-run ambushes.  But sometimes Victorio would pin down an isolated patrol and a fight could last hours or days until the troopers were rescued.

In April, 1880, Victorio was credited with leading the Alma Massacre, a raid on settler homesteads around Alma, New Mexico. The warriors were finally driven off with the arrival of American soldiers from Fort Bayard.  Victorio continued his campaign with a rare attack on Fort Tularosa. In May the Texas based 10th Cavalry assumed the main task of battling Victorio.  Colonel Grierson devised a new strategy—instead of fruitlessly chasing the hostiles, he positioned troops at mountain passes and river fords likely to be used by Victorio in hopes of ambushing him.

On September 6 the trap almost worked at Rattlesnake Springs, Texas where troopers hid and surrounded a fresh water spring desperately needed by Victorio’s parched band.  Although he detected a trap, Victorio was so desperate for water that he made several attempts to reach the springs and also attacked an Army baggage train on the way to supply the troops.  Each time he was beaten back and finally had to give up the effort, retreating without water and the troops in pursuit.

Three days later troopers stumbled on Victorio’s main camp. After a skirmish with guards, the troopers captured 25 head of cattle, other supplies.  On September 11 two companies made contact with Victorio’s main band and went in hard pursuit.  But the Apaches were able to get across the Rio Grande before they could be captured.

At the rare invitation of the Mexican government, 10 companies of the 10th were allowed to enter Mexico and were stationed along the south bank of the River to keep Victorio from crossing back into Texas.  Scouts from the 10th and Mexican forces located him on October 4, but kept their distance, monitoring his movements.

On October 9, the Mexican government told the US Army that their presence was no longer necessary.  The 10th re-crossed the Rio Grande under protest.  Colonel Grierson appealed to Army Commanding General Phil Sheridan in Washington for permission to return over the objection of Mexico.  Sheridan refused.

Colonel Jaoqui Terraza, the Mexican officer who hunted down Victorio's band and effectively wiped them out at the Tres Castillos Massacre.

The Mexicans, knowing that the US Army orders were to “capture if possible”, wanted a free hand in eradicating their enemy.  On October 15, 1880 Colonel Jaoquin Terraza and his troops surrounded Victorio’s camp and attacked. At the end of what became known as the Tres Castillos Massacre Victorio lay dead, with sixty warriors, and eighteen women and children. Sixty-eight women and children including were taken prisoner.

Their husbands and fathers slaughtered, the women and children captured after the Tres Castillos masacre are held by the Mexicans before being turned over to the U.S. Army.  Most would die far away from home in Florida prisons.

As with so much else, exactly how Victorio died is in dispute.  Some claim an Indio scout shot him.  Others believe that the old warrior committed suicide rather than be killed by the Mexicans.

The survivors were rounded up, driven to the border, and dumped on the US Army.  They were exiled to distant reservations in Alabama, then in Florida where they were joined by Geronimo and his followers in 1888, and eventually to Oklahoma.

My Latest Rant—Un-Labor Day this Year?

Labor Day is coming up again.  For years most Americans have just regarded it as the book-end holiday to end the summer, a last day to play or feast with family and friends before returning to the serious business of work or school.  Of course union leaders who feel slighted at the absence of much attention on the day that was originally set aside to honor working people and their organizations wail with indignation at the effective national snub.

But who cares about them anyway, a lot of us think.  Their day is done.  They are as relevant in the new economy as buggy whips we are told.  Their persistence on the edges of society is barely tolerated, and is increasingly under attack with the approval of a wide swath of the population.

Maybe we ought to just junk the holiday all together.  People take too damned much time off work anyway. 

But if that is too unpopular to fly with middle class folks who treasure their long weekend, maybe it should be made as optional as Columbus Day or Martin Luther King Day.  Come to think of it, it already is for the increasing numbers of people employed in the retail, hospitality, and service industries who are expected to show up any day they are penciled in to a weekly work schedule.  Those folks ought to be glad they have a job.  Millions don’t and don’t have any real prospect of getting one.

Why don’t we acknowledge that and proclaim Un-Labor Day, a recognition of those now structurally unemployed, the ones who a few years ago had steady jobs and bright prospects—and mortgages, car payments, student loans, and credit card debt based on the assumption that their good fortune was permanent.  For millions it wasn't.  Unlike in previous panics, depressions, or recessions, there is no prospect that they will ever be recalled to their old jobs or find comparable ones. 

Their former employers have permanently downsized, “making do with less” it is called—with remaining employees are doing the work or four or five thus demonstrating improved productivity. They have been replaced by the cyber revolution just as surely as two centuries ago home weavers were made redundant by power looms tended by child hands.  Some whole industries, like print publishing, are vanishing before our eyes.  Finally if nothing else cuts costs and boost the profit margin, as many jobs as possible are simply shipped off shore, both traditional production and service.

Who else? Well, how about the young folks getting out of school.  A high school diploma, we are told is worthless.  But now so may be a bachelor’s degree, especially if the benighted student had the poor judgment to pursue the Liberal Arts or some other degree that is not basically a technical mastery certificate in some narrow field that itself may be obsolete in ten years.  Borrow money to make your dreams come true, they were told.   They enter the job market with bleak prospects and enormous debt—and those securing new loans will find that their interest rates greatly increase thanks to a supposed Congressional compromise saved them being doubled.   Student loan rates were already much higher than any other lending.  So let’s include the boys and girls who will be in their parent’s basements indefinitely and who may—or may not—find a job waiting tables or in an airless call center.

How about those who have exited the job market under the quaint notion that they should be able to retire.  Social Security is for leeches, we are told, who are stealing from their own grandchildren.  Pensions are a ponzi scheme which have already been stripped from most private employees.  Government workers, even less popular, are categorized as union thugs when they resist giving up theirs.  We are supposed to be responsible for our own retirement savings. Except that for many there isn’t a dime left after day-to-day expenses to put into that tax advantaged IRA.  Those who can are expected to work until they drop.  Those who can’t, well, what of them.

And then there are those who were always left out:  the disabled, the homeless, the prisoners—and boy do we have prisoners in this country like nobody's business, the highest incarceration rate in the world and apparently proud of it—the welfare queens and their unwanted broods.  The rest of us are resentful of “carrying their load” and cheer when politicians shred the despised “safety” nets that once kept their noses just above the surface as they tread water.  Now it’s sink or swim.  Maybe better sink and be done with it.

Most of the rest of us exhaust ourselves trying to stay out of one of these traps.

And finally are there are those who never really work at at all but are the lauded wealth creators to whom the rest of us owe due  obsequiousness.  Yes them.  They’re the ones!

So let’s loft a cold one and throw a burger on the grill for the true heroes of our new Un-labor Day!