By the close of the year 1850, settlement in Texas extended to the north and west as far as the Trinity river. The greatest check to further migration in the state was the bands of roving Indians. The United States Government then adopted the policy of establishing military posts between the Indians and the white settlements. Fort Phantom Hill became one of the links in a great chain, extending from the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico. The first troops, Companies C and G of the Fifth Infantry, arrived November 14, 1851, at the point known locally as Phantom Hill. Here Lieut. Col. Abercrombie, the commanding officer, established the Federal fort known as the Post on the Clear Fork of the Brazos. The site selected was on a hill located midway between the Elm and Clear Fork of the Brazos, and about a mile and a half above the point where they unite to form the main Clear Fork. This site afforded a view of the surrounding country for miles around. The general character of the surrounding country was prairie with stunted mesquite trees scattered over it. A few miles to the west was a thicket several miles in extent, which consisted of scrubby oaks and green briers so dense as to make it almost impenetrable. Elm, Pecan, and hackberry trees grew along the stream. The fort itself was built in a grove of scrub oaks about five miles in extent. On the hill the soil was poor and thin, but the area near the river was productive. Soon after the arrival of the soldiers, work was begun on the fort. The buildings were put up by the labor of the troops, with a Mr. Leonhardt given the contract for the masonry work. The fort consisted of commanding officer’s quarters built of stone, a hospital of logs, a magazine of stone, bakehouse, guard house, store house, a blacksmith shop, and about forty houses for soldiers’ quarters. The soldiers’ quarters were built of split oak logs, stockade fashion. Each building had a large rock chimney, pine doors, glass windows, and sandstone floor. A few of these had a basement. All the buildings were covered with thatched roofs except the magazine, which was shingled. Timber was very scarce, and it was necessary to go from eight to forty miles to get it. Life at this frontier post must have been a most trying one. Its occupants, no doubt, always felt the fear of a possible Indian attack. No records has been found of a battle between Federal troops and Indians at Phantom Hill, but we do know that Indians were frequent visitors at the fort. On the west bank of the Clear Fork were the camping grounds of the Delaware and Caddo Indians. Wichitas were occasionally seen in the vicinity of the post. The Tonkawa, living near Fort Graham, were not feared, and often seen about Phantom Hill. Comparatively few buffalo were to be found in this region, at this time, and these nomadic Indians raised no corn nor melons, and they were frequently in want of food. Several bands came into Fort Phantom Hill during the winter of 1851, and were furnished with provisions. Mrs. Emma Johnson Elkins, who lived at the fort, gives us an account of a visit of the Comanches to the Post. The soldiers had heard the reports of threats, which these Indians had made against further encroachment of the white men into their territory, and fearing an attack, prepared to defend themselves. A trench eight feet wide was cut around the garrison, and the artillery was placed on a parapet in the center. Early one morning all the soldiers were called to arms for some twenty-five hundred Indians were seen approaching. They passed to the west if they approached, but in a short time began to return in small squads making friendly demonstrations. They entered the fort begging for everything they could see, and stealing everything they could lay hands on when not watched. They were such a nuisance the soldiers drove them away from the fort. It is believed now that Indians were responsible for the deaths of two of the soldiers stationed at Phantom Hill. These two men left one day for the purpose of hunting a short distance from the post, but when they failed to return in a few days, they were reported as deserters. Later charred human bones were found in the ashes of a campfire not far away and then it was believed that the men were killed by Indians. There were never a very large force kept at Phantom Hill. A report made for 1852-1853 gives the number as eleven commissioned and two hundred and eight enlisted, with forty-five absent. These belonged to the Fifth Infantry, and one feels that the WAr Department knew little of frontier conditions or they would never have sent foot soldiers into an Indian country to protect the advancing white settlers. On August 24, 1853, four companies of the 5th Infantry were withdrawn leaving only one company until September 24, 1853, when it was joined by Company I of the Second Dragoons. This furnished the garrison until the fort was abandoned on April 6, 1854. The force now was only one hundred and six men on duty with thirty-three absent, but while reduced in number, was a more effective organization than former ones because of the addition of calvary. When soldiers are mentioned, one usually pictures an array of faultlessly uniformed men, trained so they move in unison. Such a picture one would not have seen had he visited an inspection of the soldiers at Fort Phantom Hill. These troops had only fatigue clothing, and while clean, many had to wear their overalls and jackets unaltered to fit their person. Part of the soldiers were armed with percussion muskets, others with musketoons. But Lieut. Col. W.G. Freeman, who visited the fort on August 30, 1853, writes that “The battalion could not be reviewed or exercised owing to the large number (123) of raw recruits who had joined a fortnight before, and the few old soldiers in the rank. In some companies there were half a dozen instructed men under arms — three detachments (all old soldiers) being absent on escort and fatigue duty. Upward of fifty recruits appeared on parade without arms, there being none in the company store for issue. The lives of these frontier soldiers were indeed strenuous. Scouts were continuously kept out hunting for Indians, who were constantly reported killing men, women, and children, and driving stock away. Escorts from the fort were sent out to meet government trains; stage coaches carrying mail and its few passengers received for their protection; and even the paymaster was escorted into the fort. During the period of “northers,” which was from November to April, from eight to twelve teams were kept busy hauling firewood from a black-jack thicket some five to eight miles away. To others was assigned the duty of keeping the post in supply of water, which was hauled most of the time four miles. Most of the supplies for Phantom Hill were hauled in wagons. Twelve horses, ninety-three miles, and twenty-six oxen were used for this. In addition to all these arduous tasks, the men must drill, for after all, their duty on the frontier was that of a soldier. Perhaps the greatest of the frontier hardships was isolate. It was seventy-five miles from Phantom Hill one hundred and sixty miles distant, in 1852 was the farthest down on the Red River. Its population was about one hundred. The nearest post office was Waco. A weekly mail service through Fort Belknap was established, but the many streams on this route frequently prevented it reaching Fort Phantom Hill. It is likely that the few women at the post felt their isolation more keenly than did the men. There is no record of how many women and children were at Phantom Hill during its occupancy as a federal post, but we do know there were several families. A small grave west of the magazine bears testimony of the unhappiness that entered one home at the fort. “Here lies the remains of the two-year-old son of Lieut. W.W. Burns.” A neatly dressed sandstone was placed to cover the grave. In about 1879, a man, who was living near Phantom Hill, took this stone to make a grind stone, but for this act he was indicted by the grand jury at Albany. The stone was returned, but years late removed again so that a curious person could satisfy himself that no gold was buried under it. To the southwest of this grave are several others. Mrs. Elkins says that men by the names of Miller, Culver, and Charles Bennett rest in these graves. The paymaster was almost the only connecting link between the fort and the outside world. Albert Sidney Johnson was this most welcome person. Once every two months he arrived and would usually spend four or five days at the fort. He brought these isolated folks bits of news and messages from their old homes and friends, and willingly attended to business these people could not leave to transact themselves. “To buy a horse, a gun, a pair of boots, a ribbon, to have a watch mended, to run taxes, to adjust some entangled business.” These and other favors were asked of him. Health conditions at Phantom Hill were not the best. Assistant Surgeon Alexander B. Hasson reported in 1852 that in a period of seven months, two hundred and ninety-three cases of illnesses had been reported and treated at the fort. This would make, according to his figures, every man ill once in every five and one-half months. He reported two deaths, one from scorbutic a one from pulmonary apoplexy. Eighteen other cases of illnesses were treated by the fort physician. Intermittent fever was the most prevalent disease at the time. Scurvy was still common. This disease was due to the lack of a vegetable diet, and to overcome this, pickles were added to the soldiers’ diet and rations. So eager were the soldiers for vegetables that in the spring they gathered wild onion and ate them with a relish. The soldiers tried to raise a garden. The soil on the high ground immediately surrounding the fort was poor and thin, but the soil at the foot of the hill seemed rich enough for gardening. There was a drought during the two- and one-half years Phantom Hill was a Federal Post, and the soldiers were not able to raise the vegetables so much needed. The most serious inconvenience felt by those at the fort was the lack of an adequate supply of drinking water. During the first winter, the soldiers drank the water from the near-by creek; but when the weather became warm, the water became offensive after standing a short time. A spring was discovered, which furnished enough water for drinking and cooking, but as the dry weather continued, this source failed. Then it became necessary to haul all water four miles. The reports made by the officers at the fort continually made mention of this lack of water supply. It was finally this lack of water supply, together with the inability to secure fresh vegetables for the troops that led to the abandonment of Fort Phantom Hill on April 6, 1854. Early settlers in Jones County found Phantom Hill a charred ruin, and there has been much speculation as to by whom it was burned. There are some who believe and still tell it was the destructive work of the Federal soldiers during the Civil War. This is not true in the light of evidence. On September 22, 1858, W.L. Ormsby passed through Phantom Hill, and he writes that the fort, he found, was practically a burned ruin. Mrs. Emma Johnson Elkins, who lived at the fort when orders were received to abandon it says, “the fort was burned the first night of its abandonment.” In the light of this evidence one can see that Fort Phantom Hill was burned before the Civil War. With the passing of the troops from Phantom Hill on April 6, 1854, silence reigned amid the crumbling ruins of the old fort. Perhaps curiosity led Indians in and out among these ruins. Likely, some seeking their fortunes in California and Oregon, stopped here to prepare a meal or to seek shelter for the night. Passengers en route between Fort Belknap and Fort Chadbourne, perhaps exchanged their first stories as to the burning of the fort as they passed its ruins along the old military road. In 1858 repair work was done on the old fort and again man attempted life on this barren hill. This time it was known as Station No. 54, located on the Southern Overland Mail or Butterfield Stage Coach Line which ran from St. Louis to San Francisco. Mr. Burlington, the station master, and his wife lived there alone, ready at all hours of the day and night to prepare a meal for “Big Dick,” the driver, and any passenger he might have with him. A change was made in both horses and drivers at Phantom Hill. The first of these transcontinental stage coaches reached Phantom Hill on Wednesday evening, September 22, 1858. The only passenger was W.L. Ormsby, a special correspondent of the New York Herald, who was making the entire trip through to California despite the warnings given him by his New York friends. He was told his way would be beset with hostile Indians; that he would suffer hunger and thirst; and he would run into the dangers of grizzly bears and poison snakes. He, however, made the trip without seeing any hostile Indians. He said he did not suffer from hunger and thirst; the grizzly bears did not bother him; and he reported that he killed all the rattlesnakes he saw. From notes compiled by Miss Hibernia Grace of Anson, Texas |