 Frontier Fighters! Frontier Fighters! Never to be forgotten heroic exploits in the history of a few brave men who made the West safe for civilization. The danger which characterized the early days of trailblazing reached its height during the post-Civil War days, when a few hundred men guarded almost 1,800 miles of Santa Fe Trail, which stretched from Kansas City to Santa Fe, New Mexico. The one element that held back a great tide of migration into the plains country was the fear of attacks from Indians. In 1866, travel along the Santa Fe Trail became so hazardous that something drastic had to be done. At the headquarters of General Winfield Scott Hancock in command of the Army of the Missouri, an old friend says to him, Winfield, I tell you if something isn't done to stop these marauding scalping red devils, the plains will never be made safe for civilization. Well, I hate to take up the march again. I thought our Indian agents were the Comanches, Keohors, Cheyennes, the Rappahos and the Patches had solved the question. There will always be a question, General, until every last man of those bloodthirsty savages is wiped out. The red man has his rights too, my friend. General, the only good Indian is a dead one. These red skins have gotten so bold, they are burning the oval and male stations, killing its employees, driving the livestock off. Well, I'll send runners out to the head chiefs. I think we can meet in council at Fort Launard or Dodge by the 10th of April. A power won't do any good this time. It's going to be a fight to the finish. Well, I'd rather have the United Tribes of Indians be my friends and my enemies, even a soldier knows that sometimes it's better to talk than fight. Fort Launard, April 14th, 30 miles from the encampment of the Sioux and the Cheyennes. Now the runner from the council of the Sioux and the Cheyennes fair, and I'll talk to the Indian boy. General will talk to you. Well, one of the chiefs say in council this time, boy. They are filled with excuses as before. This time they have cited a buffalo herd and they must go hunting. Go back to the chief's tall bull and bear the turns around and tell them the white chief Hancock will give them one day more. Then I'll march upon the villages. White chief beware even in councils. All Indians will smoke pipe of peace, but they have secretly sworn to kill all whites. Obey my orders at once. So many Indians have gone. Today, white chief, the sun was red with blood of my white brothers that is to be shed. The shadow of that blood red sun covered the plains. It is a warning from the great spirit. I have spoken in love and friendship. I yet have hopes of smoking the pipe of peace with my brothers, the Indians. With all except Santanta of the Kiowa's. Of him beware. By day he will talk brotherly love with you and at night steal in and scalp you. All the chiefs were finally brought together in a council at Fort Dodge where the Santa Fe crossed the Arkansas. Now that we have smoked the pipe of peace with our white brothers, chief Santanta of Kiowa's will address the white chief, General Hancock. To the orations of little raven, yellow bear and kicking bird, I can say that in my heart there is only love and friendship for my white brothers. There is place enough in this land over which the great spirit rules for all. Those of our tribes who have brought harm to the whites are not known to us. They are renegades and they do not sit with us in our councils. Santanta's heart bleeds for all things that are injured. Even when he finds a switch along the trail that some white man has torn up out of the ground, never can that switch become a tree. I promise my white brothers my friendship and I will forever with them smoke the pipe of peace. I have spoken. Beware of the lying of Santanta, white chief. I think, General, the old boy means business. I'm forgetting him a present, a fine one, this uniform coat, sash and hat of a major general. His words have a ring to them. All right, give him the present. I'll trust him for now. But to be on the safe side, I'll leave a few soldiers along the Santa Fe trail. The spring passed. The peace gift worked for a few weeks. In the summer, the Indians grew bolder and more aggressive. The presence of the army along the trail held in check what might have been a general massacre. In the spring of 1868, the Indians renewed their attacks on frontier settlements in overland travelers with increased violence. And as victory crowned their efforts, the United Tribes met in secret council and from Santanta were given the war cry. The council fires blaze into the heavens. The poison arrow is strong upon the bow. The tomahawk is strong. The scalping knife sharp. And the cry of the red man is, no white man, woman or child must escape. They must be wiped out. Our battle cry is massacred them. Came the summer of 1868, a terrible summer that was filled with murders and scalping. Horror, stricken immigrants turned back for the hundreds and for the moment the tide of immigration stopped. With simmering crossing, a band of yelling, painted devils attacked the wagon train. Can't hold out much longer against them. How much power to let the barrel fill? The barrel is empty. They know we're not an ammunition. They come for us like a split. How many bodies does the man speak of? Fourteen. It's just the three of us left now. We're goners. But we'll die without Bhutan. Give them what we got. No revolvers, men. And give it to them good. With each Indian victory, the reign of terror became more horrible. A band of Cheyennes led by black cattle swooped down on a lonely Kansas frontier home and captured a young girl, Margaret White. Three weeks later, they captured a Mrs. Morgan and brutally killed her husband. Stages were held up and the passengers killed. Settlers were driven off their farms. And the horrible summer promised to be climaxed by an even more terrible fall. But the grim frontiersmen accepted the challenge and dropped their fall labor in field and barns, took up their guns, organizing a cavalry regiment, the Kansas Volunteers. General Sheridan planned the campaign. General Hancock acted swiftly, too. And the suppression of Santana and his hordes began, but not until Major Sully met a bloodthirsty Indian force under Santana on Beaver Creek. Looks like the Indians are falling back, Major Sully. It looks like that to me, too. We've got them on the run this time. Order the wagons and the cavalry to follow them up. By the maze of low sandhills, getting dark, too. I don't want to lose the advantage. We catch up on Santana and take him prisoner. We've got the Indian uprising under control in the order to go ahead. Yes, sir. General Sully. General Sully, wake up, sir. Santana's got us in a trap. Trap? Trap? How? We couldn't see anything while it was dark. We followed them blindly through all those low sandhills, and now our wagons are mired. What was... I see now, that was one of Santana's tricks. What's the hour? Dawn, sir. And the enemy? What is their position? They're closing in, sir. The number? About 2,000. They'll give the order to fall back before dawn. Retreat, sir. Retreat, Lieutenant. That's what I said, but fighting every inch of the way. Retreat! Retreat! Retreat! Lieutenant, can we move those ammunition wagons? Two of them, sir. Very well. Men, make every shot count. We've not one bullet to spare. If we can make Fort Dodge, we're saved. Ball Berry Creek, 12 miles from Fort Dodge. Our ammunition is just about exhausted, sir. The persons for the men, too. And the food. That red devil, Santana, and his major general's uniform is the head of 2,000 Yelping Braves, pouring good Yankee lead into our men. Your order, sir? Just as soon as it's dark, dispatch, while we're swept to Smith and go to Fort Dodge. Tell them to send us every round of ammunition they can spare. And soldiers? I dare not ask for one man. Fort Dodge is not too strongly garrisoned as it is. But give me ammunition. No men will take fresh hearts. Given half a chance, I'll turn this blundering defeat of mine into victory. Under cover of night, the messenger sped through 12 miles of the most hostile country known to any human being. And before another morning dawned, that precious ammunition was in the hands of Major Sully, soldiers who had not slept in nearly four days, worn out with anxiety and fatigue. Soldiers who suffered from thirst and hunger suddenly forgot every hardship and the joy of being able to fill their carbines and rifles and give battle to a sneering, murderous, mocking, red skin. Santana, awaiting your orders, sir. What do you think would happen if I give the order to charge the enemy? The men are pretty warned, sir. Horses haven't been vetted or properly fed in almost a week. The wonder of the talk of victory. The talk of thousands of settlers being saved. The stream of immigrants moving over the Santa Fe trail again. A normal return of males and passengers to the plains. I wonder, doing all this would be food and drink to the men. It would be life to them. They'll do their duty, sir. They'll do their duty and love it, or I don't know my men. All right, Lieutenant. Mount with me. Finish this gun! Animation! Load your gun right back! Load your gun right now with a shoulder of red skin! I wonder how they like to cease to fork God's land. I'm going to get two engines with one bullet this time. Major, there's your answer. Hang up. Major, spend time to sit ready to charge. You've been put in time. Uggler, turn the call. Come on. Get her. Ready to go, sir. Just look at their faces. You wouldn't think they'd been nearly a week without sleeping on short rations. Uggler, turn the call. Attack! Major Sully, with the aid of his sturdy Indian fighters, did indeed turn a dismal defeat into a glorious victory. Not alone was the Santa Fe Trail made safe for some time to come, but the garrison at Fort Dodge was saved from being wiped out by the heroism of these daring pioneers. Pioneers who left their mark on the pages of history as Frontier Fighters.