The Impossible Journey

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE THE CAVALRY TREK TO CAMP LINCOLN

Years before the Army called upon him to undertake a dangerous and possibly undoable mission, Brevet Capt. Camillo Casatti Cadmus Carr was aware of a certain lack of respect for the Quartermaster Corps in which he served. Carr had heard the old joke about the Corps too many times. It seems that only two quartermaster soldiers had been killed during the entire Civil War: one who was hit by hay bales falling from a wagon — and another who died laughing at the sight. A Virginian who had moved to Chicago and fought for the Union, Carr was twice wounded in battle and advanced from private to captain. When the conflict ended, he still thirsted for adventure and volunteered to go west to fight Indians. To his disgust, he was assigned as regimental quartermaster of the 1st Cavalry, stationed at Drum Barracks near Los Angeles. There would be no adventure or glory there. He begged his superiors to be sent to fight the Apaches in Arizona Territory, and on April 19, 1866, his wish was granted. He was stationed at Camp McDowell.

IF CARR CRAVED THE RUGGED LIFE, HE certainly found it at Camp McDowell, near the confluence of the Salt and Verde rivers. To subdue the fierce Apaches, the Army had established several outposts, including: Fort Whipple, near the raw new territorial capital of Prescott; Camp Lincoln (eventually moved and renamed Camp Verde on the Verde River in central Arizona); Camp McDowell; and Camp Reno, in the Tonto Basin northeast of Camp McDowell. The soldiers at these camps endured squalid conditions, living in tents or rude adobes, eating bad food, and facing the constant threat of Indian attacks. Isolation and boredom were ever-present enemies. Construction of wagon roads to facilitate the transfer of men and supplies among the posts became one of the Army's first imperatives. A passable road, which would later become the first quarter of the famous Crook Trail, had been laid out between Whipple and Lincoln, some 50 miles to the east on the Verde River. Pioneers and soldiers, at the recommendation of the territorial legislature, had hacked out another road linking Prescott and the Salt River Valley through Black Canyon (not far from today's Interstate 17). But there was no direct road connecting Lincoln with McDowell or Reno. That deficiency could prove fatal in a crucial engagement with the fast-moving Apaches. Lt. Col. Thomas Devin, the Arizona District commander, looked at his map of the partially explored Arizona Territory and decided that a 90-mile wagon road along the Verde River from Camp McDowell to Camp Lincoln should be feasible. Another road linking Camp Reno (then under construction) with the other outposts should be equally possible.

CAVALRY TREK

Lincoln with McDowell or Reno. That deficiency could prove fatal in a crucial engagement with the fast-moving Apaches. Lt. Col. Thomas Devin, the Arizona District commander, looked at his map of the partially explored Arizona Territory and decided that a 90-mile wagon road along the Verde River from Camp McDowell to Camp Lincoln should be feasible. Another road linking Camp Reno (then under construction) with the other outposts should be equally possible.

But flat maps and the tortuous terrain they represent can be vastly different things, as Captain Carr and his men were soon to learn.

On January 7, 1868, Lieutenant Colonel Devin issued an order directing Captain Carr to scout a wagon road route from Camp McDowell to Camp Lincoln, returning by way of the Camp Reno site "with a view of locating a practicable road between these posts." Little did Carr know how thoroughly his "thirst for adventure" would be quenched.

Early on the morning of January 13, Carr and his expedition left Camp McDowell with 46 mounted troopers, a guide, and a packer in charge of eight mules carrying provisions. C.H. Webber of the Engineering Department went along to take notes and prepare maps.

Only 10 miles from their starting point, they hit their first snag, an impassable canyon of the Verde.

"The banks are very steep and close to the water," Webber noted. "The river is about 130 feet wide and very deep, and shows signs of rising 40 feet."

So, as historian Jim Schreier later wrote, the next morning they turned 10 miles to the west and tried again. They encountered what Carr called "fine rolling country" and their spirits rose.

But soon the terrain grew rough. On the third day, Carr climbed a mountain to see what lay ahead and returned considerably disheartened at the "one vast jumble of mountains and rocks" in his path. But the view of the spectacular snowcapped San Francisco Peaks far to the north helped spur him on.

Rain and snow pelted the party on the fourth day, making the men miserable and the footing treacherous. Several mules fell and some equipment was lost. The next day, they encountered their first Apaches. The Indians built a fire on a nearby hilltop and, in Carr's words, "engaged in some demonstrations, the meaning of which was best known to themselves." The expedition's rifles were kept at the ready until the warriors disappeared.

By then the horses were wearing out from the rocky, almost impassable terrain, and one had to be shot - a common practice to prevent a mount from falling into hostile hands. The men were no less fatigued, having walked most of the way, leading their horses through narrow defiles and up steep inclines, crossing and recrossing creeks.

The following day, more Apaches appeared, and another worn-out mount was destroyed.

On January 21, nine days out from Camp McDowell, it began to snow heavily. The men had only two days' rations left and were exhausted from their constant retracing of steps up one blind canyon and down another. The next day, they encountered an unexplainable phenomenon. In Carr's words: "Quite a number of animals had already died of hunger and exhaustion when the Verde River was reached at a point where it must be crossed but not forded. A raft of large size was made of dry cottonwood poles, which floated as lightly as cork. The raft was loaded and two men started with it for the farther bank.

"The water was as smooth as glass, not a ripple disturbing its surface, but when about from the middle of the stream came a cry from the men. An opening appeared in the surface of the water and the raft went down bow foremost, never to be seen again."

At 2 P.M. on Friday, January 24, the weary, mud-spattered entourage reached Camp Lincoln. Their supplies were gone along with many of their animals, and their boots had disintegrated. But they had at last completed the perilous trip, and the news of their arrival made the front page of the next issue of Prescott's Arizona Miner. Carr and his men, though, knew they had found no feasible route for a wagon road.

Nevertheless, after little more than a week of rest and refitting, the resilient Carr was ready to launch the second leg of his expedition: the return scout from Camp Lincoln to Camp McDowell via Camp Reno.

It would prove to be even more harrowing than the first venture.

With his 46 soldiers, three civilians, and a Camp Lincoln contingent led by Brevet Maj. David Krause, he started south on February 3, arriving at Fossil Creek two days later. Then, following bad advice from his guide, Carr and his men crossed Fossil Creek and started climbing a nearby mesa. “The scout to the mesa was so difficult,” he noted, “that it was almost impossible for the animals to accomplish it. One of my pack mules fell down the side and was killed.” On February 6, searching for a way to smoother ground, the party descended a deep canyon and marched two miles before reaching a rocky impasse that forced them to retrace their steps. Two days later, they were drenched by a downpour that dispirited the men and made progress almost impossible.

But the expedition pressed on, crossing and recrossing Fossil Creek because of the vertical rock walls. Several of the mules lost their footing and deposited their loads in the stream. Three more horses had to be destroyed.

“February 9: Left camp at noon,” Carr reported, “and struggled through mud nearly knee deep to a point three miles distant and camped at 2:30 P.M. on account of the exhausted condition of my animals.” Now only three days' rations remained, and the scout had hardly started. Carr knew when he was licked: “I then determined to return to Camp Lincoln and report the state of affairs to the proper authority.” Late in the afternoon of February 11, after losing several more horses and mules to the impossible terrain, the defeated expedition straggled back into Camp Lincoln.

After a good night's sleep, Captain Carr was a bit more optimistic about the prospects of eventual success: “The route which I have traveled from this camp to Fossil Creek is, in my opinion, one well adapted for a wagon road, and it will not require a great amount of labor to put it in condition for use. But any wagon road from Fossil Creek to Camp Reno must run from 20 to 30 miles east of my trail in order to go entirely around the heads of all the frightful canons cutting the high table-lands of the region. They cannot be made passable for vehicles of any description without bridges. Since leaving Camp McDowell, I have lost 11 horses and 4 mules, one fourth of the whole.” If further efforts to build such a road were to be attempted, he added, the survey should be made at some other time besides winter, and the party should carry no less than 20 days' rations.

CARR'S DEPARTURE DID NOT END THE ARMY'S SEARCH FOR CENTRAL ARIZONA WAGON ROAD ROUTES . . . THE ARMY DID NOT EASILY GIVE UP.

In view of all this, he concluded: “I have the honor to request that I may be allowed, if at all consistent with the interests of the service, to return with my command to Camp McDowell by way of Black Canon and be relieved from the execution of my orders until the arrival of a more favorable season for operations.” No record of a reply exists, but Cap-tain Carr did return to Camp McDowell, never again to search for a feasible wagon road route connecting the posts. In the fall of 1868, his ambitious mother embarrassed him by writing a letter to Gen. U.S. Grant urging him to promote “my boy” (he was 26 at the time) to major or lieutenant colonel.

In time Carr moved up the ladder after serving in the Indian wars at half a dozen Western posts, including Camp Verde, where he was commanding officer. A man of keen intellect, he wrote a notable narrative about his years on the frontier, Days of Empire: Arizona, 1866-69. He retired as a brigadier general after some 40 years of Army service.

CARR'S DEPARTURE DID NOT END THE Army's search for central Arizona wagon road routes. The abandonment of Camp Reno less than two years after its establishment made it unnecessary to continue that portion of the search, but the Army did not easily give up on the Camp Mc-Dowell to Camp Lincoln route along the Verde River.

In April, 1868, according to Camp Lincoln records, Lt. Lewis Derby led 50 men to construct a road from the camp to “the high mesa on which Fossil Creek rises.” That was the portion of the route that Carr had believed feasible. Derby's own road-building efforts ended when he walked up to a dynamite charge to find out why it had not exploded and was injured in the delayed blast.

Other attempts to build the road were made and abandoned.

The November 19, 1875, issue of the Prescott Miner carried an announcement that a Lieutenant Thomas was asking for laborers to work on the Camp Verde to Camp McDowell road. A map drawn in 1927, purporting to show military roads of the late 1870s, includes a road or trail ex-tending north from Camp McDowell about halfway to Camp Verde. But that trail ap-parently did not go much farther.

“A wagon road between McDowell and Lincoln, paralleling the Verde River, although desirable in theory and important for military strategy, had proved impracti-cal,” wrote historian Schreier.

Carr's “one vast jumble of mountains and rocks” would remain impassable for military vehicles.

There still is no such road. But no one can say Capt. Camillo Casatti Cadmus Carr, and those who followed him, didn't make herculean efforts to locate a route.