The End of the Year Report

Past few months have been hectic and harried to say the least.  As you might have read in previous posts, I have been doing the monthly tours at Shakespeare Ghost Town much of this year, as well as the quarterly Living History tours.  Between administration chores and maintaining his health, Shakespeare owner Manny Hough had his hands full.  Once again, when it came time to put up or shit up, this old gunfighter found himself making the mad dash to Lordsburg each month.  It has been a wonderful year, but it has taken its toll on other projects.  I have had the opportunity to meet some wonderful people this year, many through Facebook contacts.  Hopefully they will garner more visitors to the most authentic ghost town of the old west.  Things really hit the fan in late August.  We had the Living History Tour, The Rendezvous of Gunfighters in Tombstone, AZ and the monthly Shakespeare tour all back to back.  Add that I started school again, and finally made the move to the District Clerk's archives made life really interesting.  So blogging and the show took a back seat for awhile.  I do have several interviews lined up for future broad cast, and some video editing to work on.  One of these days I will have everything somewhat caught up and posted.

So Until then, take care, may God bless, and Keep your Powder Dry!

The Great Head Stone Caper: Yet another tale of the Original Buckaroo

The years 1995 and 1996 were interesting ones for this old “Know it All.”  Yes, I am actually writing about the 20^th century for once.  There was my first face-to-face introduction to Mr. Leon C. Metz, and meeting and later going to work for the Buckaroo.  Both men have had a great impact on my life.  I met these men at the same place, the Centennial Celebration of Hardin’s death held at the Hacienda Café down on the Rio Grande. 

It was a heck of an event. The Paso del Norte Pistoleros re enacted the killing several times that day. Bill Mansion, playing Hardin, hit the floor at least fifty times before it was done and over with.  The after a brief walking tour of the downtown area, we went out to Concordia and had a Champaign toast to the slain gunman.  It was a memorable night to say the least.  As we all went home, the excitement wasn’t over just yet.

Down in Nixon, Texas some folks got together and decided it would be a nice tourist attraction iffn they dug up old Wes and moved him to his “home town” for his final resting place.  Maybe they could even move poor Jane Bowen Hardin from the cow pasture she lay in, to rest beside her husband.  Never mind the fact that Nixon, Texas didn’t exist during Hardin’s lifetime.  So…. the folks found a distant relative, and a Judge willing to sign an court order.

Now The Buckaroo was a member of a group of well meaning, gun toting, for want of a better word, red necks.  Matter of fact they called themselves the “Coalition Of Red Necks”, or CORN. They met for breakfast every Saturday morning, discussing how to cure the world’s ills, who did what to whom, and the latest scandals out of the Puzzle and Crystal Palaces. (City Hall & County Court House for those unfamiliar with my names for these institutions) Well someone had the brilliant idea that iffn they couldn’t find Hardin’s headstone, they wouldn’t know where to dig.  So…. They loaded up and drove down to Concordia, and after much grunting and groaning, the stone was hauled off and stashed in plain sight.  It’s scary, but they came up with this idea, while sober.

The folks from Nixon were met by various members of CORN, local gunfight groups, and law enforcement the next day.  Nothing got resolved then and there, but the “battle” was taken to court.  But news of the theft of the head stone of John Wesley Hardin galvanized the community like nothing else could have.  In injunction was emplaced. And as far as the legal side goes, it’s still at a standstill.

Ironically, the stone was “found” a couple of days later in from of the Buckaroo’s shop.

And that’s the story of the great headstone caper.

Until next time, Take Care, God Bless, and Keep Your Powder Dry

The Gun That Fired All Calibers, or things I learned from the Buckaroo

Was listening to the Leon Metz Radio Show the other day.  The guests were John Hansen and Joel Jones, local history buffs and veteran gun collectors. Mention was made of the guns used during the Mexican Revolution, and it triggered some memories of great stories I learned from the Original Buckaroo as we sat around the back room of the shop.  That back room was a great place to gain a wealth of knowledge of history, guns, and the unmentionable history of the Old West.  Come to think of it, the best stuff the Buckaroo shared of his vast knowledge was unmentionable in mixed company.

To put himself through school, the Buckaroo would travel rural Mexico during the early 1960’s, armed with a generator and 8mm movie projector. He’d charge a few centavos to watch old westerns projected on a sheet hung the far side of the placita.  One the show was over; the Buckaroo would ask around and find out who might have old guns they would be willing to sell.  For dirt cheap, he would pick up old Colt Single actions, and Winchester carbines, and haul them back to El Paso for resale.

During one such trip, he was directed to this little old man. Following an old goat trail up the mountain, the Buckaroo found the dingy adobe shack the old man lived in.  In traditional Mexican fashion, the old man would bring out one gun at a time, and they would dicker over the price.  The Buckaroo picked up a couple of decent pistols, and passed on the others. This went on for quite awhile. 

Finally, the old man brought out the last gun, his best gun.  The Buckaroo was skeptical when he saw the old man proudly lay down a worn out gray ghost of a single action.  There was no telling how long the barrel had been originally, it had been bobbed years ago.  The cylinder wobbled as it cycled, and didn’t quite lock up in battery.  The grips were homemade blocks, poorly fitted.  The gun was a wreck waiting to happen, yet the old man was extraordinarily proud of it.

“This gun my best gun, Shoot all calibers!” exclaimed the old man.

 To prove his point, the old man loaded a .44 special cartridge into the cylinder and let loose into the ceiling.  In that tiny room, the boom was deafening.  Dust and debris from the roof rendered the air almost un-breathable.  It didn’t deter the old man.  He next loaded a .45 Long Colt, followed by a .38-40, .44-40, and .44 Russian cartridges.  There was no telling what caliber it had been originally chambered in, but it was worn out to the point where you could shove about anything into it and fire. 

The previous guns had gone for anywhere between 8 and 12 dollars, but for this gun, the “Gun That Fired ALL Calibers”, he would have to have $25.  Of course, the Buckaroo had to pass on the deal.   

To be truthful, this story was a lot better when the Buckaroo would tell it.  The gestures, and faces he’d make in the telling were hilarious.  And I do admit that I wish he had bought the “Gun That Fired ALL Calibers.”  It would have made a great display of one man’s junk being another man’s treasure.

Until next time, Take Care, God Bless, and Keep your Powder Dry!

Euolgy for an Icon

July 17^th saw a minor tragedy here in El Paso.  The Prairie Flower was skimming through her Facebook, when she pointed out that there was a fire down town.  With heavy heart I checked out the local news station’s website, and sure enough, it was one of the buildings I worry about.  The reporter only knew it as an historic old building that houses a liquor store.  It was not just any old building.  It had once been the Wigwam Saloon.

The original build went up in 1883, as the Fashion Saloon.  It was the first saloon to feature electric lights.  It remained one of the more fashionable salons, being renamed the Wigwam in 1889.  As the Wigwam, the saloon earned its place in El Paso history.  In 1889-1890, prior to becoming Constable, John Selman worked as a bouncer  at the Wigwam.  Saloon keepers, political hack, and rancher George Look owned the Wigwam for a period of time.  With the arrival of John Wesley Hardin in 1895, the Wigwam played a part in his saga.  For a brief time in May ’95, the famed gunman had a half interest in the saloon.  May 1^st, Hardin didn’t like the play at the poker table, and robbed the pot.  The alley beside the Wigwam has a history as well.  It was the very early hours of Easter Sunday, 1896 that Deputy Marshal George Scarborough pumped three bullets into Constable John Selman.

After the turn of the century, and the demise of legal gambling in El Paso, the owners partial demolished the building, and rebuilt it as a theatre.  The Wigwam Theatre became a mainstay of downtown entertainment for years, eventually becoming the State Theatre.  By the 1970’s the establishment was showing 2^nd run movies, and by the late 80’s Spanish language and adult films.  It finally closed.  Since then various businesses have occupied parts of the building.  Until last year, a liquor store operated out of the saloon proper, while a credit agency and later a gun store occupied the rest.

With the fire, it is difficult to guess what is going to happen to this icon of the American West.

Remembering an Mentor

The Military Mail Station at Shakespeare Ghost Town.

As I was pondering just what the heck to write about this week, I realized I had several topics to choose from. There was that fateful day I 1994 when I signed out of the U.S. Army for the very last time.  There was also the anniversary of the first train arriving in El Paso.  Then I realized, and I was saying a prayer for some new found luck, that there was one anniversary I just had to discuss, the loss of a great lady, and her legacy.

I had the great honor and privilege of knowing Janaloo Hill for over eight years.  Almost from the start, she took me under her wing and shared her knowledge of history and western lore, as much as would actually soak through my thick skull.  And it is thanks to her that I can claim to actually be a cowboy.  I may not be much of a hand, but I earned my spurs working the Lazy FH herd. 

It was April of 1997 (Alright, so I actually typed 1897 the first time around).  The great fire had just  destroyed her home and most of her personal processions, but there was Janaloo, despite the trauma and grief, giving the tours as if nothing had happened.  That was Janaloo.

Throughout the time that I knew her, Janaloo was always the Lady.   Even in work clothes, riding out to hunt down a sick cow, she remained that mythical creature so rarely seen these days.  I knew of only two things that would get her to curse.  It’d take a politician, or a stubborn, ornery cow to get Janaloo to mutter a single, solitary “Damn.”  She didn’t tolerate fools lightly, but she could bring out the best in everyone one around her.

I remember those last few days all too well.  In April she informed us that the Chemo wasn’t doing the job, and it was just a matter of time.  I packed up and headed to Lordsburg in early May.  The game plan was to find a job and a place for the new bride and I to live, before Janaloo got too bad.  As with any great plan, that went out the window as soon as I arrived.  Janaloo was bedridden.  So as Manny stayed at her side to care for his wife, I manned the gate to keep out the riff raff, and allow in the friends and nurses.   Come the 25^th, I headed back to El Paso for a dentist appointment and to pick up the Prairie Flower.  We returned to Shakespeare the afternoon of the 26^th to find Janaloo had taken a turn for the worse.  I did the evening chores and sat on the bunkhouse steps fretting and worrying.  Along about bedtime, the Prairie Flower and I lock up the town for the night, shut down the windmill, rotate dogs, and feed the cats.  We reported in to the main house as usual to report everything was secure for the night.  I’d no sooner sat down and fired up a cigarette when the exterior lights switched on.  Janaloo was gone; she had waited for the day’s chores to be completed before she left. That was back in 2005.

In the years since we lost the soul of Shakespeare, a lot of work has been done, mainly under the direction of her husband, Manny Hough, to keep Janaloo’s dreams and hopes alive.  2010 saw the Hill Family Museum/ Visitor Center built, and the Dance Studio refurbished and opened to the public.  Work has been done on both the General Merchandise and Stratford Hotel.  Manny and many others are still striving to preserve the ghost town of Shakespeare, and research her history.  In a small way, I’m doing what I can to help.  But we all still miss her very much.

 Until next time, take care, may God bless, and keep your powder dry!

Catching Up; Yet again

Deen and Ham Underwood at the dedication of the new General Bravo

 

marker

Well it's another Saturday morning, and as usual I seem to be behind the power curve. 
For those that have not heard, our own Deen Underwood had a fall last week end and broke her hip.  Right there and then the Doc's replaced her hip, and she's recovering as well as can be expected.  From last I heard, Deen will be recovering for several weeks before they start rehab.  Our prayers and thoughts are with her.  There was some good news to go along with this though.  A friend of the Underwoods made a $1000.00 donation to their efforts to place and replace markers at Concordia Cemetery.  With the arrangements the Underwoods have made with Sonny Zambrano, that means at least 5 additional markers that can be set.  I do find it ironic that the Underwoods have done more to replace missing or destroyed markers at the cemetery than the Concordia Heritage Association in the past year.

Amongst other news, Had guests Tarna Blackhelm, and Billy Murray onboard this morning's OWEP-Radio show, discussion history and paranormal investigation.  Now folks might ask why I considered this.  Well.... Any good paranormal group researches the locations of their investigations, leanring as much as they possibly can prior to the actual "hunt".  And along the way, they build up a considerable data base of local history.  And after the little incident at Commissioners Court Monday, I thought it'd be a great idea to bring on the folks from GHOST-EP. 
Didn't hear about or see it?  Well GHOST-EP through Facility Manager Monique Aguirre went before Commissioners Court  seeking permission to conduct an investigation inside the court house after hours.  As the Commissioners were leaning towards denying permission, the lights in the court room, lobby and a good portion of the court house went out.  Once they realized it wasn't a joke or a trick, the request was approved unanimous.  That's when the light went back on.   I'm going to attempt to link the County's video archive here for those that wanna watch.  Is kinds trippy!

So for the time being, Take care, may God Bless, and Keep your powder dry!

Here we go again....

5 May 2011

Been a long week or so, had a lot going on.  And as you read this, the Prairie Flower, Buckaroo, and I should be up in Shakespeare; doing our thing.

Last week end, April 30^th, Jimmy Portillo and Chris Shatan were on hand at the El Paso Museum of History for the premier  of issue #5 of “Hell Paso: The Dallas Stoudenmire Story.”  I admit, I haven’t had a chance to read through #5 from cover to cover yet, but glancing through it remains a crisp new approach at a major series of events in El Paso’s Old West history.  Was a pretty good turnout, 50 or so folks, to look over the books and purchase the series.  Chris did a free sketch for anyone buying all 5 at the museum that day.

14 May 2011

The tours at Shakespeare went well. Had a good group of folks come visit.    Work is going along slowly, but steadily.  The April Living History Tours saw the first opening of the Dance Studio to the public.  Kay Shannon conducted that portion of the tour.

May 21^st will see the second episode of OWEP Radio to feature live guests.  Chris Medina and the crew from GHOST-EP be on hand to discuss how history plays an important part of ghost hunting.  It ought to be an interesting show.

So until next time. You all take care, May God bless, and keep your powder dry....

Catching Up

As some of you may have noticed, I haven't been keeping up with this lately.  There's good reason.  I have been busier that a one legged man in a butt kicking contest.  Earlier this month I received word that I was needed to do the regular monthly Shakespeare Ghost Town tours.  So looks as iffn I'll be heading to Lordsburg once a month for at least this summer. 
Easter Week end was the first Living History week end at Shakespeare.  Had over 125 folks come visit and take the tour.  This marked the opening of the dance studio for the first time.  Kay Shannon conducted that part of the tour, with yours truly leading the folks the rest of the way. 
This after noon sees the premier of issue 5 of "Hell Paso: The Dallas Stoudenmire Story" from Jimmy Daze Comics.  Jimmy Portillo and his crew will be on hand at the El Paso Museum of History to talk about the series, and to autograph copies of the comics.
Also this week, the first two video clips for Old West El Paso Video were posted on You Tube.  They are rough, but hey, it's the first editing I have done since 1979.  There are more to follow as I collect footage and find time to edit and post the clips.  I am shooting at 5 minute clips, covering events and places connected to El Paso and Old West History.   Hopefully sometime this week I will be able to add the video page to the website.

So for now, you all take care, may God bless, and keep your powder dry....
Between two trips to Shakespeare, and school, I have to admit I am one pooped Lil Cowboy. 

Alligators on the Mind

courtesy Aultman Collection, El Paso Public Library

I attended the meeting at the convention center Tuesday on the overhaul of San Jacinto Plaza.  I missed the presentation of what Foster and his crew envision for the plaza.  I do know that there are a group or two out there that really want the alligators returned downtown.  Personally, I could see it iffn there was an economical, practical way to build a habitat down there.   That or they let me feed any kids caught abusing or molesting the reptiles to the alligator's.  Some how I don't think either one will happen.  People have changed over the years, and the gators would never be safe from us humans, so maybe we are better with the statue now standing in the center of the plaza.  Surprisingly, no one bothered to mention how El Paso came to have alligators in the plaza in the first place.

One of the men I have had the honor to meet and call friend over the years was Jack Blackham.  Jack was a character in of himself, and I could fill a couple of posts just on him.  Today's story though deals with his grandfather, Hamilton Raynor.  Now Ham was one of two brothers that made their way to El Paso.  Brother William, or Will was a deputy under Jim Gillett in 1882.  Ham arrived in 1883.  Fall of 1884, Ham Raynor took a job as Deputy Sheriff up in Hunniwell, Kansas for the cattle season.  In a dispute over a red headed dance hall girl, Ham was seriously wounded, his assistant, Ed Scotten suffered a mortal wound, lasting just long enough to be brought to El Paso.  Anyways, Ham returned to the Dallas area to recover, and he was soon back in El Paso.  Hamilton Raynor became one of the original "Ankle Biters" here in El Paso, and was responsible for getting the American Kennel Club to recognize the Chihuahua as a separate breed of dog.  According to Jack, Ham was also the one responsible for the alligators in the plaza.

Shortly after his return to El Paso, the folks back in east Texas sent him a cigar box.  Inside that box were three baby alligators.  There were fun enough while there were small, but once they had some size on them the gators weren't so much fun anymore.  Like anyone else, Ham hauled the critters out to the plaza and dumped them in the pond.  The novelty of the alligators struck a chord with the community and there they stayed.  At first the swamper from a saloon on the plaza was detailed to haul the critters in at night during the winter, to keep them from freezing.  One night the swamper neglected to police up the gators.  Next morning there they were, showing no ill effects of a night out in the cold.  From then on the alligators were left on their own out in the pond.

The trio became an icon of El Paso.  Generations can remember them basking in the sun, or floating in the pond.  But as times went on, the folks around here changed.  Wasn't unusual for the Dean of  Texas Western Tech/UTEP to arrive to find an alligator lounging in his office.  Kids and hooligans poked and prodded the gators with stick, eventually putting out an eye of one alligator.  So by the 1965 the reptiles were moved to the El Paso Zoo.  For many years there wasn't a reminder of what we once had, until the Art League commissioned  Luis Jiménez to create a tribute to the alligators.


Because my memory is like a sieve, a did a quick search on goggle, and found that Wikipedia actually does have an article on the plaza, and the alligators.  Their version does not quite jive with mine.  But thats the fun of history, agreeing to disagree.


Untill next time, Take Care, God bless, and keep your powder dry!

Labor Day Weekend 2010

 I was clearing out the posts and found this one in the archives that I hadn't published.  Figured iffn it was worth keepin', it was worth postin'.

Well, Hell must have frozen over this year. For the first time since 1996 I will be here in El Paso for Labor Day Week end. Due to financial considerations, and home issues, I had to cancel my annual pilgrimage to the "Town Too Tough to Die." Dave and Millie Cookson, and Marilyn Weaver of the Paso del Norte Pistoleros willl be heading down to judge the parade. Dangerous Dave will fill in for me as Judge.

This will be the 29th annual Rendevouz of Gunfighters. I am proud to say I have attended most of them. In the beginning the costuming was blah to say the least. My running joke was that when the "dance hall girls" asked if you wanted to see their "plums", they had to lift their skirts. In the six years I have been judging the parade on Sunday, the attire has improved dramatically.  Every once in awhile I see a throw back to the "Bad old Days", but not very often.

I have met some wonderful people there over the years as well.  The Traywicks have always been gracious and supportive.

I'm gonna miss it.  But come Hell or High Water I'm gonna make it next year!!!!!

Observations and Thoughts

This week end I did the first live interview with Jimmy Portillo on Old West El Paso Radio.  I had to edit the show a bit, and as I was listening to the recording, a few thoughts came to mind.  When studying history, be it gunfight history, economic history, or social history, one has to look at the entire picture.  One man sneezes and falls on his backside.  Another man laughs at the sight of a man falling on his backside, thus not seeing another man drawing a weapon. The man with the weapon fires and kills yet another man.  The sneeze its self was not significant, yet the consequences were immense for another.
One thing I have discovered in researching El Paso's gunfights over the years, one has to research EVERYTHING.  Knowing who shot whom is one thing, but learning why they shot each other is a complicated matter.  For years I wondered why Dallas Stoudenmire had such animosity against Alderman Warner Phillips.  Until that is I ran across a small ad in the Texas Lone Star.  This ad announced the opening of a livery stable by Frank Manning and Warner Phillips.  On further reading, one finds that there were a number of social trips in which the Manning and Phillips families made together.  Armed with this information, one can now understand why Dallas had such a burr under his saddle about Phillips.
So, my advice for budding historians; spread your searches across the board.  Something that might seem insignificant on its own, may have a major impact on events in other circles.
Just my thoughts for the week end.
So until next time, Take care, God bless, and keep your powder dry.

Old El Paso vs New El Paso

Just the other day, a friend asked me to answer a few questions for a young student concerning El Paso and the period surrounding the arrival of the rail roads.  The difficulty of this written interview was not so much writing the history, but in boiling it down into small bite sized morsels.  Some of the questions asked though really set me off on to comparisons to present day El Paso and 19^th century El Paso. 

A couple of questions asked about trade and commerce here in El Paso.  I did a quick piece about how it was basically not all that different from today.  The larger stores had set prices and required cash on hand to make purchases.  Some of the smaller stores and street vendors expected one to haggle for a price.  There were no credit cards per se, but if you were settled in town, one might be able to arrange a charge account at one of the larger stores.

As I was writing this, I was trying to find modern contrasts and comparisons.  Now don’t take me wrong.  I am not intending to be insulting or degrading, but south El Paso Street is a prime example of how commerce may have been carried out in 19^th century El Paso.  There are stores hawking all sorts of goods from clothing to hardware.  Mixed in there along the way are a few bakeries and green grocers.  The main difference I see between the 21^st and 19^th century signs is that the modern ones have less spelling errors.  It does not take much imagination to walk along the streets, say south of Overland, and get a feel of what the railroad days much have felt like.  The hustle and bustle of activity,  Mama with children in tow doing her shopping.  I’m sorry, but that is what gives El Paso her “flavor” as far as I am concerned.

I know that some of the folks behind the Downtown Revitalization Plan would prefer we make that all go away.  Clear the sidewalks of the sidewalk sales, and vendors.  Remove the obnoxious, garish signage.  Replace it all with neat and prime high end chain stores.  Fine and dandy iffn you want to look like any other city in the southwest.  Those shops and stores downtown are what made El Paso. They are what have kept the downtown going since the creation of the mall and internet shopping.  They are also one of the last tangible vestiges of a day long gone, a tie to our past.  I know one real bone of contention is the flea market on Oregon and Pisano Drive.  True it is dirty, and the local cops really should enforce the litter and trash ordinances.  Want to watch the mayor and city council turn green in the gills? Point out that that flea market has been there pretty much since 1888.  Yes I said: 1888.  In looking over the Sanborn fire maps of that year, at the northern end of that same block are structures marked by dotted lines.  The annotation states that they are Mexican tents selling hardware, vegetables and dry good.  This translates into flea market to me.

Well enough rambling for now.  Until next time, take care, God bless, and keep your powder dry!

Early day gunfights, and what we DON'T know about them.

 Aultman Collection El Paso Public Library

This month we see the anniversary of one or two of the early day encounters here in El Paso. One of the first took place in 1858.  It involved Dr Frank Giddings, and a gambler by the name of Tom Smith.   It was a brief encounter, and we only really have one primary account of the story, that being Nancy Hamilton's in her biography of Ben Dowell.  We have it from W.W. Mills that he attempted to prevent two men from killing each other with pistols, when he was informed that it was considered bad manners to interfere thata way.  There is the story told of a gentleman taking pot shots at a politician, and missing.  Either in outrage at the poor marksmanship, or that folks actually liked the politician, the guilty gentleman was chased behind the Central Hotel, where he was gunned down.  We also have the story of three men sentenced to death in 1879.  Instead of hanging, they were sentenced to death by firing squad.  Acting as Marshal, Ben Dowell commanded the squad that carried out the executions, right there on El Paso street.  Again, We have very little to  work on with these stories, even fewer details.  With the arrival of the railroads in 1881, three newspapers began operations.  Through them we have a fairly reasonable idea of the events during and after various encounters here in El Paso, plus the surrounding area.  It would be an very nice addition to El Paso's Old West history iffn some up start "want to be" began researching the archives and records, putting a better picture togather concerning those early day gunfights.  Just an idea.


El Paso Inc, interviewed Bernie Sargent this week in his capacity as Chairman of the El Paso County Historical Commission.  Darn good piece.  I do disagree with some of the over all concepts the Mayor's Lyceum, and the Down Town Revitalization crew have put forth, but they are at least looking the the right general direction.

Raid Day March 9th, 1916

It was on this date in 1916 that a force under Francisco “Pancho” Villa crossed the border and raided the village of Columbus, NM.  It was the first time a quasi foreign military force had invaded and attacked U.S. soil since the War of 1812.

The force of about 500 men crossed the border at 2:00AM.  The attack started at around 4:30.  One column raided the commercial district of Columbus, pillaging and burning the stores and hotels.  Another column looped south and attacked the stables of the 13^th Cavalry.  The main column struck at the center of Camp Furlong.  The 13^th Cavalry was not caught completely asleep.  LT Lucas, commander of the Machine Gun Troop heard the riders approaching, and ghosted across the highway amongst them.  When the sentry’s challenge was answered with gunfire, LT Lucas dashed to the guard tent to retrieve one of the troop’s Benet-Mercie machineguns. 

The men of the 13^th Cavalry were quick to organize a defense.  LT Lucas with his Troop and parts of others established a base of fire from the railroad grading.  Lt Castleman of K Troop led his men through several rushes until he set of a firing line perpendicular to the railroad tracks.  The converging fire was telling on the Villistas.  As the fires in town grew, the Villistas were back lit increasing the devastation of the American shooting.

As morning dawned, the Villistas began withdrawing back to Mexico.  Major Frank Tompkins led a pursuit of the Villistas, penetrating some 25 miles into Mexico. When he found his horses exhausted, and ammunition running low, Tompkins returned to Camp Furlong.

In all eight troopers of the 13^th Cavalry, and nine civilians were killed during the raid.  Between the conflict in town, and the retreat, the Villistas suffered 250-300 casualties.

As now, we remember the media cried of this event.  Senators shouted for the Army to march to Mexico City.  Secretary of War Baker promised to capture Villa and punish him.  The actual orders issued to BG John J. Pershing were to pursue Pancho Villa, capturing or killing him, or breaking up his forces until he was no longer a threat to the United States.  Within the first four months of the campaign, the punitive Expedition had scattered and broken up Villa’s remaining forces.  Villa himself was in hiding, recovery from a bullet wound he received at Guerro.  Villa was not able to regroup and gain forces until Caranza’s Constitutionist Troops prevented American forces from actively patrolling and pursuing Villistas.

The Punitive Expedition and Pershing returned to U.S. soil in February 1917.  They had prevented Villa from taking to the field in large numbers, and scattered his troops.  The entire event would be overshadowed by the U.S.  entering into the Great war in Europe.

There aren’t many that still remember the actual raid.  The descendants on both sides still carry strong emotions over the issue.  I first started going to Columbus in 1991.  The folks had to keep two of the volunteers separated at the museum; both were more than willing to resume the fight.  I also met one amazing individual, Harry Gunderson.  Harry had been a bugler with the New Mexico National Guard, stationed at Camp Cody, just outside Deming. He was one of the first troops arriving after the raid.  He knew three of the men killed during the raid.  Until 1999, Harry would travel from his home in Silver City, and play Taps for his fallen comrades. I had the honor of standing in formation while he played taps on more than one occasion.

The Pancho villa State park and several other organizations have set up a festival/ celebration covering the raid, with horseman riding up from Chihuahua, and crossing the border.  The event is generally scheduled for the nearest week end to the 9^th.  For those old schoolers like Harry and I, there is only ONE raid day,  March 9^th.

I hadn't gotten anything really started for Gunfight Central.  Between work, school and real life, I just haven't had the time.  This February was sort of rough for me for some reason.  The 16th & 24th were always sort of special to me, and for 20 years I have celebrated St Patrick's Day in my own manner.  My post today, is a piece I wrote back on the 16th of February.  I dunno what motivated me to write it, nor to actually start and finish in one sitting.  This is pretty much as it was written, no revising or monkeying with lines.  This was one of those rare ones where the words flowed from mind to pen, and didn't stop or require thought.  Iffn you all can ride this one out, next week I'll be back to the old west and the fun stuff.

The National Anthem and I

The wife seems to find it amusing that I do not like being in public when the national anthem is being played. Something about the gruff old fart bawling like a baby, tears streaming down the cheeks, and choking on his words as he tries to sing it.  Yeah, I admit it very begrudgingly, but it is the truth.  It all began about this date some 20 years ago.

Out in the middle of the Saudi Arabian desert in early 1991, our first inkling of the beginning of “Operation Desert Storm” was the flight of B-52s that flew overhead, and the distant thumps of bombs going off a hour or so later.  As the first days progressed nothing really changed.  We watched the camels roam around doing whatever camels do.  In the Morning a flight of B-52’s would approach from their airfields, make a sharp right turn and head into Iraq. We’d hear/feel the thumps of the bombs awhile later, and the B-52s would return, making the sharp left to return home.  From what we were hearing on the Troop radio net, and the short wave, about anytime an Iraqi soldier stuck his head out of a hole, the air force would drive a bomb in the hole after him.  After a bit, I truly began to feel sorry for the poor bastards.

Long about the night of the 19^th or 20^th of February, the air force was carrying out a strike against targets some 15 or 20 miles across the border form our position.  One could hear the rip of the A-10s as they fired the mingun, and feel the concussions as nasty toys fell from the sky.  Wearing night vision goggles, one could see Iraqi tracers arcing towards our aircraft, then the contrails of missiles launched by the A-10s and F-16’s.  Watching this, all I could think of was the 3^rd stanza of the Star Spangled Banner: And the rockets read glare,”

I must have been thinking aloud.  From beside me I heard: “the bombs bursting in air…”.  Then behind me: “Gave proof through the night..”  and then us all: “ that our flag was still there..”  We finished the rest the anthem.  Most have been a hell of a sight.  There myself and PV2 JD Jenkins sitting on the front slope.  PFC Ted Limbach was lounging in his driver’s hole, with SSG Marvin Wilson and SGT Clarence Williams up in the turret.   Marvin and I were the “old men”.  Marvin was a Cheyenne Dog Soldier, and Vietnam veteran.  I had just turned 30, and was wondering iffn I would see 31.  Ted and J were only 18.  We were a hell of a crew.

I flash back to that night when I hear the Star Spangled Banner.  It was a time for extreme emotions for me. A time for praying like hell there wouldn’t be any shooting. A time for praying like hell we’d be given the chance to kick ass, take names, and forget how to write. *  A time of being scared shitless that’s we’d get hurt or killed.  A time of being scared shitless we wouldn’t get the chance to do what we had trained to do. It was one hell of an emotional roller coaster ride until the ground war actually began.

It was a huge sigh of relief as we crossed over into Iraq, weapons loaded, safeties off, ( and discovering after a test fire, that camels can out run Bradly’s and M-1s.) The worrying and wondering about what was gonna happen were gone.  We had a job to do, and we were finally doing it. Scared? Hell yes!  Worried? Hell no!  See much action? Ironically, the only real action we saw was after the Cease Fire was announced.  I guess no one had told the Iraqis that there was a cease fire.  I saw some real heroes there, on both sides.  Am I one of them? Hell no, I just did my job, and got my people home in one piece.

So yeah, I bawl like a baby when the national anthem is played.  After 20 years, I can get through the first part mostly.  I still lose it at the beginning of the 3^rd stanza.  The wife may find it amusing.  I don’t.

Guys, where ever you all got to, I'm still thinking of you.