By Forrestine C. Hooker, Steve Wilson
This memoir through Forrestine Cooper Hooker info her formative years and younger maturity in the course of the frontier cavalry. Hooker's father, Charles Cooper, was once an officer within the 10th U.S. Cavalry, one among regiments with black troops, often called the Buffalo infantrymen, commanded through white officials. Hooker's tales seize the drama of turning out to be up within the frontier military, the Indian wars at the plains, the Geronimo crusade within the Southwest and Mexico, her love for the regiment and the Buffalo squaddies, their admiration for her, or even her misplaced love for a speeding younger cavalry officer. Her narrative is by means of turns compelling, captivating, funny, and hot. As Laura Ingalls Wilder depicted farm lifestyles at the frontier, so Forrestine Cooper Hooker depicts military lifestyles.
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Extra info for Child of the Fighting Tenth: On the Frontier with the Buffalo Soldiers
R OA D M A K I N G O N T H E P RA I R I E The trip to Fort Sill required twenty-one days, camping each night. At times it was necessary to make a road. The river had cut away any sign of a crossing, leaving only a high bank overhanging a steep bluff. In order to get our wagons across and continue our journey, the soldiers, armed with picks and shovels, cut a road down the embankment, though the ground was frozen hard. That accomplished, another problem had to be met. The riverbed was so narrow that it would not permit a team of four mules to stand on it level, and even four mules could not possibly drag our heavy wagons up the opposite grade.
Two men came to the ambulance just then. My father introduced Captain Nicholas Nolan, commanding officer of Troop A, and Second Lieutenant Levi P. Hunt of the same troop, my father being the first lieutenant of the troop. T 52 CHILD OF THE FIGHTING TENTH My mother looked at these officers who wore scouting clothes, as they had just returned from a long, hard chase after Indians. Their trousers were of the kind issued to enlisted men, coarse cloth, lighter color than the handsome dark blue broadcloth used by officers.
So the packing turned into a comedy and broke the army tragedy that is attendant on moving from familiar places and separating from dear friends. Thus I said goodbye to Ship Island and my loyal little Guard of Honor. Without adventure the trip to New Orleans was completed in regulation time, and we went at once to the old St. Charles Hotel. As my mother sat with me in the big “parlor,” while my father registered to obtain accommodations, she noticed quite a large group of men and women at the rear of the room.