The air over southern Minnesota turned thick with smoke and the stench of death on the afternoon of August 23, 1862, as an estimated 650 warriors under the command of Little Crow launched a full-scale assault on the frontier settlement of New Ulm. The attack, which followed a smaller raid just days earlier, marked the climax of the Dakota War and pushed the young state to the brink of collapse. Eyewitness accounts from Dr.

Asa Wilder Daniels, a physician who served for seven years at the Lower Sioux Agency, describe a scene of utter chaos, with the dead lying in all directions and the town reduced to a burning shell.

The siege, which began at approximately 9:30 a. m. , was not a random act of violence but a coordinated military maneuver.

Little Crow, mounted and leading his warriors on foot, formed a long line with flanks curved forward, advancing in silence until they were within a quarter mile of the town’s defenders. Then, with a terrifying war cry, they rushed forward, holding their fire until they had absorbed the initial volley from the townspeople before delivering a devastating close-range barrage. The defenders, a hastily assembled force of volunteers from St.

Peter, Mankato, and Le Sueur, initially fell back in a panic before rallying behind barricades and stone buildings.

Dr. Daniels, who had just returned to St. Peter from the agency and was awaiting a potential deployment to the Civil War, joined the relief column as a surgeon.

His firsthand account, later published in 1910 as “Reminiscences of the Little Crow Uprising,” provides a harrowing minute-by-minute chronicle of the battle and its aftermath. He noted that the successful defense of New Ulm, which involved nearly 2,000 lives, largely women and children, was the most momentous event of the Indian War of 1862 and 1863. From that defeat, the Indians turned westward and abandoned further combined raids upon the settlements.

The initial attack on New Ulm occurred on Tuesday, August 19, when a small group of warriors killed six residents before retreating, partially due to a thunderstorm. That first raid sent a wave of refugees pouring into the village, many arriving destitute, having fled with little clothing and no provisions. Dr.

Daniels described the scene as one of “most pitiable condition,” with every house thrown open to the refugees, filling them “from cellar to garret.” The vacant Euing House, a hotel of 50 rooms or more, and an uncompleted stone store building were soon filled, providing safety and comparative comfort, but many were forced to resort to sheds and barns.

The news of the outbreak had reached St. Peter during the night of Monday, August 18, having commenced at the Lower Sioux Agency at 7:00 that morning. By noon the next day, the village of St.

Peter was crowded with refugees, and Captain Dodd and Major Flandrau had enlisted about 140 men to march immediately to the defense of New Ulm. Dr. Daniels joined them as surgeon.

The men were armed with double-barreled shotguns, a few rifles, and other arms of “uncertain efficiency.” Some were on horseback, a few in buggies, and they set out on a 30-mile march before the close of their eventful day.

Reaching Redstone, two miles from the village, just as it was getting dark, the relief column saw what looked like the entire town on fire. They crossed the ferry and pushed on, reaching the vicinity of the Dakota House about 10:00 at night. They were joined by a command under Captain Tsley of Le Sueur of nearly 100 men.

With them as surgeons were Dr. Otis Ayes and Dr. William Mayo, father of the two distinguished surgeons at Rochester.

It was midnight before they found quarters, with Dr. Daniels sharing a bed with Dr. Ayes after a long and strenuous day.

Early Wednesday morning, the grim reality of the previous day’s engagement became clear. On a vacant lot near the center of town lay six dead, brought in from the scene of the engagements. Others had been cared for by their families.

During the forenoon, Captain Beerbower came in with nearly a hundred men from Mankato, and a few men came from Nicollet under Captain Samuel Coffman. An organization was formed, with Major Flandrau selected as commander, Captain Dodd as lieutenant, and S. A.

Bule as provost marshal. Pickets were established on the outskirts of the town, and guard duty was set for the night.

Thursday morning, a company of 100 men under Captain Dodd was ordered to go to the Little Cottonwood settlements six miles south to bury the dead and rescue any who might be hiding or wounded. Dr. Daniels and Dr.

Ayes were detailed to accompany the command. They had hardly made half the distance before they were fired upon from ambush, though none were wounded. Three mounted Indians soon showed themselves at a safe distance, observing their course and waving their blankets in derision.

Upon reaching the settlement, Dr. Daniels described the “saddest scene that humanity has ever called to witness.” The massacre had likely taken place on the Monday before, and the dead were lying in all directions about the farmhouses, in bed, in different rooms, in the yard, near grain stacks, and on the lawn.

The bodies had been exposed for three days, and the flies had done their work, leaving the faces of the dead a revolting spectacle. Trenches were dug, and the bodies were gathered together and laid within. Blankets were spread over them, a prayer was offered, and then “earth to earth, ashes to ashes,” the command turned sadly away.

On their return to New Ulm late in the afternoon, they learned that the day had been spent strengthening defenses, providing ammunition, and fixing upon positions of advantage. News also came in of fighting at Fort Ridgely and of Captain Marsh’s defeat at the agency.

Friday brought another perilous mission. A detail of 140 men under Captain Tusley was sent toward Leavenworth, south of Fort Ridgely, expecting to find persons unable to escape. Drs.

Ayes, Mayo, and Daniels joined the command. They had not proceeded far before discovering three mounted Indian scouts to the north, keeping in line with them. Late in the afternoon, they heard cannonading from Fort Ridgely for the first time.

Dr. Daniels told Dr. Ayes that the Indians had attacked the fort in great force and that, since scouts had been watching their course, the warriors would certainly withdraw from the fort and cut them off.

Dr. Ayes agreed and consulted with Captain Tusley, who called a halt and asked the command to express their wishes. The vote to go forward carried by two or three votes.

They continued for another hour, the warning notes of the cannon coming regularly. With the sun nearly setting and fatigue telling on the command, a second halt was called, and another vote resulted in an order to return to New Ulm. They reached their destination after midnight, thoroughly worn out and disgusted from the long and useless march, which might have resulted not only in the destruction of the command but perhaps in the capture of New Ulm.

The morning of Saturday, August 23, was warm and fair, and at first, they hopefully looked forward to an uneventful day. Much time had been taken in preparing for an attack by burning outer buildings, digging rifle pits, and loopholing walls.

The first surprise came at guard mount west of town when Lieutenant Edwards was instantly killed by an Indian so concealed in the grass that danger was unsuspected. About 8:00 a. m.

, a watchman from the roof of the Herbs building saw Indians collecting some two miles west of town and signal smokes from the northwest. The certainty of a deadly conflict with a barbarous foe, where no quarter is expected, is a most trying test of courage. Women and children were hurried to places of safety.

The command was got under arms, and the physicians selected rooms for receiving the wounded. Within one hour, the large body of Indians seen forming on the west was moving rapidly upon the town.

Colonel Flandrau posted his men upon the slope of one of the terraces on the west, with a line of skirmishers in front. Little Crow led his warriors, who approached in silence within a quarter mile before giving a terrific war cry and rushing forward. The defenders fell back in a panic, retreating to the barricades.

The assault was well executed, and had it been pushed to its limit, it might have resulted in the capture of the town. But the men soon rallied behind the barricades and buildings, which arrested the onward rush of the Indians and compelled them to seek protection of the outer buildings. Lieutenant Huie with 75 men was ordered to the ferry to prevent the Indians from crossing to the north side, but he crossed his command to the north side, met a large body of the enemy, and retreated to Nicollet, not seen again until the following day.

The firing from both sides became rapid, sharp, and general. The Indians gradually pushed their way in, surrounding the town by midday. They fought with the utmost boldness and ferocity, and with the utmost skill and caution from every hollow and grass patch, and from behind every house and log.

The crisis came at 2:00 p. m. when the Indians fired buildings on both sides of the avenue in the lower part of town.

A strong wind was blowing from the east, and the conflagration threatened the destruction of their only defense. Colonel Flandrau rallied a sufficient force and, charging down the street, drove the enemy from the avenue. Just at that critical time, the wind changed direction, and clouds shed a sufficient shower of rain to prevent the further extending of the flames.

The most tragic incident of the day was the death of Captain William B. Dodd. About 5:00 p.

m. , there appeared beyond the Indian outer line at least some 40 or 50 men charging in single file under the command of an officer carrying an American flag. They were dressed in citizens’ clothing and had all the appearance of the reinforcements so anxiously expected.

Captain Dodd, believing them to be reinforcements, delivered a short, impassioned speech and volunteered to lead any who would follow to clear the avenue of Indians and join the reinforcements beyond. Some 20 men fell into line. Captain Dodd, leading the small volunteer force, rushed forward with a cheer, hardly coming within the Indian lines before receiving a deadly volley.

He wheeled his horse and reached a log blacksmith’s shop, where the horse plunged forward and fell. Dodd had received three mortal wounds. He survived only about one hour, meeting his death with courage and giving messages to his wife and Bishop Whipple.

The party they had supposed to be reinforcements proved to be a stratagem to draw out some of the men and cut them off. The Indians had become possessed of many suits of citizens’ clothing, as 22 months before, 150 suits had been issued to them by the government under the pledge of becoming farmers. The assault, which commenced at 9:30 a.

m. , was kept up without interruption until dark, when the Indians withdrew in the direction of Fort Ridgely. During the evening, all buildings outside the barricades were burned.

In total, 190 buildings were destroyed. The defenders lost 10 killed and 50 wounded, a small loss accounted for by the fact that they were fighting from loopholed buildings and barricades. The Indian loss has never been known.

Sunday morning, it seemed from heavy firing that the assault was to be renewed, but it gradually lessened and ceased by noon. A search was made for the recovery of the dead. Jerry Quain, a St.

Peter volunteer, had the totem of Little Crow attached to the clothing over his breast—the skin of a crow preserved in its natural form, symbolic of his family name. The parting with such a treasured emblem was to boastfully inform them from whom the brave defender had met his death. Early Monday morning, the order was issued for the evacuation of the village.

Colonel Flandrau was wholly responsible for this move. The medical officers were not consulted and were entirely ignorant of it until a short time before the movement commenced. They had received reinforcements the day before, and their position was stronger than ever.

General Sibley was at St. Peter and would have arrived within a very few days. Therefore, it was a mistake to retreat from New Ulm until relieved by him.

The route was a part of the way through a forest, and had a few Indians attacked, a panic and massacre would have followed.

Nearly 2,000 men, women, and children took up the march for Mankato, 30 miles distant, bearing the wounded in conveyances. Fortunately, the long march was uneventful, and they reached their destination late in the evening, where they received a generous reception. On Tuesday, the volunteers from St.

Peter reached home and disbanded. Dr. Daniels brought with him Reverend Mr.

Saunders, severely wounded, who had volunteered with the Le Sueur company. A hospital was established in the courtroom of the courthouse in St. Peter, with Dr.

Daniels in charge. The cases were severe: Mr. Summers of Nicollet, shot through the spinal column, died; Rufus Huggins, shot through the knee joint and refusing amputation, died; a New Ulm volunteer shot through the mouth, severing the tongue, recovered; a Sibley County volunteer with a compound comminuted fracture of the arm bone near the shoulder joint had amputation and recovered; Reverend Mr.

Saunders with an abdominal wound recovered; Mr. Bean with a shot through the face, fracturing his lower jaw, recovered; a St. Paul volunteer with a penetrating gunshot wound to the brain lived two or three years and died insane at St.

Peter.

From the time the news of the outbreak was received, the citizens of St. Peter were active in providing for the refugees and the protection of the city. Night and day guard duty was kept up.

Earthworks were thrown up, rifle pits dug, and barricades erected. During the fall and winter of 1862 and 1863, St. Peter was garrisoned by two companies of the Sixth Regiment, and Kasota by a cavalry company.

This period was marked by an unusual amount of sickness. Cases of smallpox, typhoid fever, diphtheria, measles, and scarlet fever were very frequent, the result of overcrowded conditions and a lack of sanitary conditions. Through the next winter of 1863 and 1864, St.

Peter was the regimental headquarters of the Sixth Regiment under Colonel Crooks. The quarters were without proper conveniences for personal cleanliness, crowded, badly ventilated, and without sewage. The water supply was from shallow wells and soon became polluted.

Nine deaths occurred from smallpox, with a sad mortality from other diseases.

The loss of life in the Sioux massacre, according to an estimate by Agent Galbraith, was 654. The additional loss of life caused directly and indirectly by the outbreak across the extensive frontier has never been known but must have been very large. Dr.

Daniels, who was so long and intimately associated with the Indians as a government official, desired to say that he found this people possessed of many of the virtues common to the human family. He concluded that the outbreak was induced by a long-continued violation of treaty obligations on the part of the government, inflicting upon these unfortunate wards untold want and suffering. “Like violent acts of mobs among civilized communities, the massacre was a barbarous and unreasoning protest against injustice,” he wrote.

“Had the government faithfully carried out the treaty obligations and dealt with the Sioux justly and humanely, the outbreak would not have occurred.”