By Nancy Kirkpatrick Wright
I wonder how many people in the Prescott area have received the Medal of Honor? Awarded for "Gallantry in Action," this prestigious medal was authorized by Congress during the Civil War and was the first permanent U.S. military medal or decoration. Often called the Congressional Medal of Honor, it is the highest military decoration that the United States grants to members of its armed forces.
Did Buckey O'Neill receive it for losing his life with the Rough Riders in Cuba?
Did Ernest A. Love, Prescott's World War I hero, receive it?
Any women in Prescott? Yavapai County? Arizona?
Perhaps you have a Medal of Honor displayed with pride or tucked modestly away.
I became interested in the Medal of Honor when researching Will C. Barnes' Arizona Place Names. In his autobiography, Apaches and Longhorns, Barnes tells how, hoping for action and adventure, he first tried to enlist in the Coast Guard (then called the Revenue Cutter Service) but by the time he passed the tests there were no vacancies. However, in 1897 at the age of twenty-one, he enlisted in the U.S. Signal Corps. The Indian wars were almost over, but this young man was to engage in the kind of exploits Hollywood Westerns and Dime novels have plumbed for years.
After graduating from Signal Corps. school, where he studied meteorology and made unusually high marks in telegraphy, he finagled an assignment to Arizona's Fort Apache. He was indeed the right man at the right time and the right place--for adventure. Communication was so important and so difficult that his exceptional skills as telegrapher kept him on duty up to thirty-six hours at a time. During one year over 4,000 messages went in and out of his office at Fort Apache. Personal messages could be sent at a penny a word, but military reports always took top priority.
Meteorological reporting was part of Barnes' job description, too. He had to make four weather reports to Washington each day: "This happened four times every blasted day, rain or shine, peace or war, Indians or no Indians, unless the line was down; which it often was." Because of the time difference, instruments had to be read at 3:39 each morning and coded to be ready for the 4:00 a.m. call from El Paso. "If you weren't there to answer," he said, "you had a painful few moments of wire conference with the Chief Operator, a commissioned officer."
Barnes writes, "The slender strand of wire which connected Fort Apache with the outside world in 1880 was very primitive. To the Apaches it was an exceedingly mysterious affair." But the Apaches, knowing the importance of communication, not only cut the line, but learned to cut it in several places far apart and hide the extracted pieces of wire. Repair was not an easy task.
In August of 1881, while most of the Fort Apache troops were on their way back from being bested by Apaches at Cibecue, the few remaining soldiers at the Fort were told that a group of Indians was on its way to attack Fort Apache. The nearest help would be from Camp Thomas, ninety miles away. Telegraph wires had been cut between Camp Thomas and Fort Apache the day before and two men had gone out ten miles but couldn't fine the breaks. So Will Barnes and a man named Owens volunteered to travel along different trails to find the break. That evening when Owens rode to a spring near an Apache camp to water his horse, he was killed.
As Will Barnes approached an Apache camp, he tied each hoof of his horse with a piece of saddle blanket to muffle the sound of horseshoes on rocks. He made it across the creek so quietly that the Apaches didn't realize he was there until after he had crossed. They fired, but missed. Fortunately Barnes eventually met a detail from Camp Thomas en route to Fort Apache. The next day they were able to repair the telegraph line in several places where the wire had been cut and dragged away. Communication was reestablished. Reinforcements came from Camp Thomas and the Apaches didn't dare attack.
Sergeant Will C. Barnes was given the Congressional Medal of Honor for his bravery. Not many medals had been issued up to that time and it was his proudest hour. In fact, later in life when he met President Teddy Roosevelt, Roosevelt noted the insignia on Barnes' lapel and said, "I would give ten years of my life to have one of those medals." A proud moment indeed.
As for Buckey O'Neill, Ernest A. Love and the Women of Arizona, I have a disappointing report: The Medal of Honor web page (http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/moh1.htm) contains names of over 3,400 recipients of the Medal of Honor. They are listed by military engagement. Buckey's name is not there. Neither is Ernest Love, but Frank Luke, after whom Luke Field is named, received the Medal of Honor for bravery in World War I. Incidentally, among the 428 honored during the Indian Wars, I found the Apache Scout, Alchesay, and William F. Cody, the erstwhile Buffalo Bill. Alas, only one woman was ever awarded this prestigious medal and she was from upstate New York.
Each Medal of Honor is a tribute which brings with it stories of daring-do, of sacrifice, and suffering; but also of winning and glory and appreciation for a job well-done. Congratulations to Congressional Medal of Honor winners everywhere.
(Nancy Kirkpatrick Wright, retired librarian from Yavapai College, is active in Prescott Art Docents and Sharlot Hall Museum. She enjoys investigating the historic confluences of the arts and sciences.)
Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number: (ina165p). Reuse only by permission.
Apache Scout Alchesay was born in what was to become Arizona in 1853. He is among an elite group of individuals who have received the Congressional Medal of Honor. Will Barnes, also an Arizona recipient, worked at Fort Apache during the "Indian Wars" as a meteorologist and telegrapher.