After almost a century of standing watch on the border, Fort Clark was deactivated on Feb. 9, 1946 and turned into, of all things, a dude ranch. Hellbent-for-leather horse soldiers must have turned over in their graves.
Sam Maverick, a renowned signer of the Texas Declaration of Independence, drove a hard bargain with the Army in July 1852. He talked the free-spending strangers into paying $50 a month for the rights to 4,000 acres of western range worth no more than a nickel an acre on the open market.
The isolated site was on Las Moras Creek, 150 miles west of San Antonio and a mere 25-mile gallop from the Rio Grande. It was a hot, inhospitable region where the handful of hardy inhabitants lost count of 100-degree days and rarely saw more than 20 inches of rain in the course of a normally bone-dry year.
The post was named for a Major Clark killed in action during the Mexican War, an ironic choice since the cavalry stationed at Fort Clark spent most of their time chasing renegades and bandits holed up on the south side of the river.
The first detachment of five officers and 109 enlisted men arrived soon after the lease was signed with Maverick in the summer of 1852. Few were thrilled with the assignment, and an AWOL epidemic swiftly thinned the restless ranks taking a crippling toll. Within a month, a first lieutenant disappeared, followed in the fall by the captain and not long after by his replacement. By the time Christmas rolled around, a green second lieutenant was left in charge of only 75 troopers.
The bored recruits believed the searing heat and monotonous routine would be the death of them, but the Comanches, Apaches and other red nomads took care of that. A scared stiff soldier wrote the folks back home that in the wilds of West Texas he was up against “the fiercest savage warriors the Army had ever encountered,” and he was dead right.
Patrols stayed in the saddle for days on end tracking elusive raiding parties as far as 600 miles. These futile manhunts usually came to an abrupt halt on the banks of the Rio Grande after the Indians slipped across the international boundary. The Army tried every trick in the book, including a short-lived treaty, but the marauders continued to run amuck.
Following the secession of Texas in March 1861, the federal horsemen abandoned Fort Clark. The best known incident that occurred during the Confederate occupation involved a lowly private with a lightning quick draw.
In an argument with the cold-as-ice Reb, a mess sergeant reached for his pistol but was shot through the stomach before he ever cleared leather. The bullet registered a second casualty, when it struck a bystander in the leg.
Screaming, “You murderer! I’ll cut you in two!” a young officer drew his sword and rashly rushed the private. A second slug tore through his throat.
After the smoke cleared, the sharp-shooting culprit surrendered and was chained spread-eagle on the guardhouse floor. The officer succumbed to his gaping wound, while the prisoner somehow escaped before a court-martial could be convened. Private Ben Thompson went on to leave a bloody trail across Texas as one of the deadliest gunfighters in Lone Star history.
By 1870 the Army was forced to admit the border cleanup was going nowhere fast. The military turned in desperation to the Seminole blacks living in Mexican exile since their eviction from Florida half a century earlier. In return for serving as scouts, they were promised regular pay and standard benefits plus land grants and full citizenship upon completion of their enlistment.
Lt. John Lapham Bullis assumed command of the Seminole scouts in May 1873. A Civil War veteran from New York, he would later be hailed by many experts as the greatest Indian fighter of all time. Ignoring the waterway which afforded their prey an off-limits sanctuary, Bullis and his outcasts carried the war into the outlaw heartland.
After eight years of no-quarter combat, the borderland was purged of the Indian menace. In countless skirmishes, the remarkable Bullis never lost a single soldier. When he was done, a dozen expeditions crisscrossed the barren countryside without sighting the slightest sign of the raiders.
Texans showed their gratitude by presenting Bullis with an engraved sword inscribed, “He has protected our homes — our homes are open to him.” But his brave scouts were left empty-handed without land or citizenship, as the Army cruelly reneged on all their lofty promises.
A fresh outbreak of border banditry in 1912 saved Fort Clark from extinction. However, the eventual demise of the cavalry as an essential cog in the modern war machine sealed the fate of the outdated installation. Thirty-four years later, the Army pulled out and weekend cowboys took over.
“Texas Entertainers: Lone Stars in Profile” is full of talented Texans who deserve a curtain call. Order your copy by mailing a check for $24.00 to Bartee Haile, P.O. Box 130011, Spring, TX 77393.
