In the summer of 1863, the fierce Sioux started on a raid of murder and destruction through the Platte Valley. From Fort Kearney eastward to Omaha, the whole country was wild with fear and apprehension. For a time it seemed as though the settlements would be broken up. Mr. Martin's ranch, south of the Platte, near Grand Island, was attacked and two young boys narrowly escaped a horrible death by riding post haste to Fort Kearney on a single horse, pursued by a band of red devils, one of whose barbed arrows passed through the side of the younger brother and transfixed itself in the back of the elder boy in front of him. They both lived, although the Indians killed and horribly mutilated one of Mr. Martin's field hands.
A few miles farther east occurred the massacre of the Campbell family. The whole valley was wild with horror and Columbus became a harbor of refuge. The rush was intensified by an isolated case of massacre previous to this date, which occurred on the Loup River, near the Pawnee reservation.
The beginning of the trouble at this time was when a band of Pawnees attacked Mrs. Pat Murray and a number of hands who were making hay for the Government along Lost Creek. The story already has been told in another part of this work, and will not be repeated here; but while the alarm was spreading in the West like prairie flames before the wind, a sudden shock was given in advance of all real danger, perhaps by a statement quietly made by a freighter, who had been resting his ox teams a few days in the angle between the Platte and Loup rivers.
About noon one day, this freighter stated that in looking after his oxen down in the thicket, he suddenly came upon a band of forty Sioux concealed in a thicket and armed with the best of weapons; that, having been long and widely acquainted with the Sioux tribes, and knowing these to be of that people from their general features and their dress, he addressed them in their language, gave them his name and place and occupation, and was at once known by some of the party; that they then, upon his promise of secrecy, and leaving the place and pushing out of the way, revealed to him their plot of cleaning out the whole Platte Valley, that these forty men were only spies sent forward by 500 braves encamped up the river, to make observations and report the best points of attack; that, after promising secrecy, the thing looked to him so horrible that he felt bound to let us know, so that we could prepare for the emergency.
Thus, reporting to a few who were at the time working at the little mill over there, and also to Mr. Barnum, he pushed on up the road. This rumor went that afternoon up and down the valley by telegraph, and by runners on swift ponies; also to the German and Irish settlements on Shell Creek. A few of the bolder class made a cautious reconnoissance up and down the rivers that afternoon, and for several days following, but found no decided traces of the lurking foe. The stampede from Wood River began to cross the Loup and pour down the valley into and much of it onward through Columbus. The whole country was wild with alarm.
The settlers came pouring in that evening. But next day it was a sight strange and painful indeed; for hither came nearly every living being and thing -- men, women and children, with food and bed; cattle and horses -- pell-mell, crowding into the little village and filling every square yard of space in the buildings and in the gardens and streets. That day an organization of Home Guards was effected, with captain, lieutenants, corporals and all. Sentinels were posted at night, and patrols were sent abroad through the day. And so, for ten dreadful days and nights Columbus -- that is, the old town -- with Mrs. Baker's hotel as headquarters, was garrisoned and guarded -- a promiscuous mass of men and brutes huddled together within a little stockade of fenceposts, set edge to edge in a trench. The belief in a present actual raid of the reds was not strong or general, but in such case of danger, so appalling in its nature, however uncertain in its degree, apprehension is fearful and suspense dreadful.
During the day it was quite endurable, for no approach of the foe could be without due notice, and even a strong force would be received with telling effect. But when the evening shadows fell, anxiety marked every face, and even stout hearted men acknowledged their solicitude.
"Below Columbus, very few left their premises, for that point was quite an outpost of defense, where Mr. Lo and his braves would be welcomed, should they come 'with bloody hands to hospitable graves.' Many, however, sent their wives and children down the valley to Fremont, Elkhorn and Omaha, the men remaining to guard their huts by day, and dream at night of scalping knives, etc.
"The spring of 1864 marked a new era in the history of the plains and introduced a new feature in our frontier warfare. To protect the surveys then being made for the proposed line of the Union Pacific Railroad, the Government established a line of military posts all the way to the mountains. By presents and a wholesale free pass on freight cars, the company made fast friends of the Pawnee tribe, and an order was issued by the Government, at the request of the company, for recruiting a company of Pawnee scouts to operate along the line, in concert with and auxiliary to the regular troops. The honor of commanding this new force was given to Frank North, one of the earliest settlers of Columbus. With the title of major, he selected his subordinates -- captain, lieutenant and others -- from the hardy young men of Columbus, his trusted associates, giving some of the lower offices to the Pawnees. Together they made a formidable force and became a terror to the hostile tribes."
The Home Guard which was organized consisted of J. S. Taylor, captain; E. W. Arnold, first lieutenant; J. A. Baker, second lieutenant; J. B. Beebe, orderly sergeant. J. L. Martin, later of Merrick County, dubbed the military stockade at Grand Island "Fort Sauer Kraut," that at Columbus "Sock-it-to 'Em," and at Elkhorn, "Fort Skedaddle."
