Nez Perce accounts of the struggle in the village describe it as one of almost indiscriminate slaughter on the part of the soldiers. The Nee-Me-Poo had camped here in the Big Hole Basin on the evening of August 7 on the recommendation of Looking Glass, despite perceptions of imminent danger on the part of some tribesmen. Apparently, too, some of the people had spotted Bradley's men scouting the camp. There had occurred heated discussions about what to do, but nothing was done to improve their security, a dereliction that proved tragic. The site was a traditional camping place, known as Iskumtselalik Pah (Place of the Buffalo Calf), and the tribesmen set to work cutting and preparing lodgepoles to take with them to the plains. [60] They were also hunting and preparing camas. The night before the attack, the Nee-Me-Poo had held a routine dance until late and were sleeping soundly when Gibbon struck them. Accordingly, many noncombatants were killed during the tumult of the opening volleys directed on the camp and before they could even arise. White Bird lamented the deaths of five children together in one lodge. And Nee-Me-Poo testimony reveals that an officer shot in the head by a woman in the camp was likely Captain Logan, who had just shot her husband. A volley from the troops shortly felled her.

Nee-Me-Poo narratives of the opening attack reveal poignant, personal incidents that underscore the trauma that affected so many families. Yellow Wolf, who was in a lodge at the lowermost end of the camp, remembered that it "was just about daylight when I heard it—a gun—two guns! . . . I was half sleeping. I lay with eyes closed. Maybe I was dreaming?" [61] Closer to the action was Husis Owyeen (Wounded Head), who recollected:

The bullets came like hail on the tepee and the poles. Quickly I lay flat to the ground. The guns now continued, and after a short while I thought it my time to get up and fight instead of waiting for the bullets to cease. Getting up, I took my gun and ammunition belt, and stepped out the doorway. I ran up the creek. . . . I met a friend of mine who was wounded, shot above the stomach. I crossed into the tepee and sat down with him, then came out a moment later, going across the creek. I climbed the bank, on the lower side, to join in the battle. [62]

A youth, Young White Bird, aged nine or ten, fled with his mother to the stream and raced into the water, both of them wounded. "Five of us were there, and two more came," he remembered. "One little girl was shot through the under part of her upper arm. She held the arm up from the cold water, it hurt so. It was a big bullet hole. I could see through it." [63] Like many others, Yellow Wolf rushed to where the fighting was going on. "These soldiers came on rapidly," he said. "They mixed up part of our village. I now saw tepees on fire. I grew hot with anger. Women, children, and old men who could not fight were in those tepees." [64] The warrior, Kawownonilpilp, described his role in the fighting in the village:

I saw the . . . warrior who had called the people from the tepees [when the attack began], not far away, crouching low with his rifle. I went to him, dropping close to the ground beside him. In about three minutes, I saw a soldier come around the tepee I had just left. He fired at us, but missed both of us. The warrior, having the gun, shot and killed the soldier instantly. In a few moments a second soldier came from behind the tepee—the same way—firing at us. The warrior killed this soldier also. There were two soldiers going around the tepees—passing on either side—thus circling them. One of them came only a few feet from us and fired quickly. He missed, and the Indian shot, the bullet striking somewhere on his head, knocked the soldier down. He fell, pitching towards us. The soldier's partner, coming around from the other side of the tepee, shot the Indian through the arm. Four other soldiers now came from behind the same tepee. One of them fired and shot my friend, shot him squarely through the breast. [65]

Significantly, as the shooting escalated, the Nez Perces' horse herds that were scattered over the hillside above the camp began collecting "like frightened sheep" and moved off, soon accompanied by mounted warriors, so that the infantrymen and volunteers would never seize the animals. Moreover, it was soon evident that the Nez Perces were not about to give up. Many turned back and took positions behind distant trees and ridges, some in the rear of the command. Their gunfire joined that of warriors still ensconced behind the riverbank against the soldiers engaged in burning the lodges, compelling the officers to first direct a vigorous response and, when that failed, to withdraw the command from before the blistering Nez Perce counterattack that came from every direction. The warriors' marksmanship was deadly. "At almost every crack of a rifle from the distant hills, some member of the command was sure to fall." [66] Clearly outnumbered, the troops could not hold the camp. "There was so much brush and high bluffs," wrote Woodruff, "that we couldn't occupy all the place at once." [67] Furthermore, many of the tipis, some of canvas and the others of skin, were wet from dew and would not ignite.

About two and one-half hours after the battle began, under the rain of Nez Perce bullets, the soldiers abandoned the village. "We lost a lot of valuable time trying to burn the lodges," opined volunteer captain Catlin. "We soon found we had more important work on hand." [68] Rawn's company, deployed as skirmishers, advanced on the Nez Perces in the brush in front and covered the withdrawal, which was confusing and involved some hand-to-hand combat. With what wounded they could retrieve, the men moved back across the stream to the foot of the hill where they had started their assault, then hiked upstream through the willow thickets, driving villagers before them, and began entrenching behind trees and fallen timber on the wooded point they had passed during the night. The point, in fact, constituted an alluvial fan created by a wash emanating from the hill directly west. Some of the men began to run, and it was possibly at this point that Gibbon, who was among them, cried out, "Don't run, men, or I will stay right here alone," at which order was restored. First Lieutenant Charles A. Coolidge was shot through both thighs during the withdrawal (and was later wounded again). Rawn's men, facing the camp, then gradually withdrew to the point themselves. The selected defense site was about one-half mile west of the south end of the village. The warriors followed, taking up position in the timber and bushes above and below, and kept up a withering, unremitting fire on the soldiers, wounding several. It was during this exchange that Gibbon, his horse killed, received a flesh wound in the leg. Adjutant Woodruff was wounded in the heel and both legs. First Lieutenant William L. English was also hit, and his injuries later proved mortal.

It was White Bird and Looking Glass who rallied the warriors into turning about, facing the troops, and driving them back from the village. Incensed at the attack, Looking Glass reportedly called to Shore Crossing, Red Moccasin Top, and Swan Necklace, three of the instigators of the outbreak: "This is battle! These men are not asleep as were those you murdered in Idaho! . . . Now is the time to show your courage and justify">fight[!]" [69] During the movement of the soldiers and citizens from the village, a group of warriors located near the upper end of the camp took deadly aim at the soldiers in retreat, felling many and later recovering their rifles and cartridge belts. As the soldiers withdrew through the willow thickets, the warrior Grizzly Bear Youth got into a hand-to-hand fray with a volunteer who nearly killed him. Another warrior shot and killed the citizen, the bullet breaking Grizzly Bear Youth's arm as it passed through.

As the command took position, the howitzer belched forth two rounds above and southwest of Gibbon's defensive position, having approached and ascended the hillside with its crew to open against the villagers. With the gun came the pack mule bearing the extra ammunition that Gibbon had directed be sent. The warriors presently subdued the gun detachment following a rigorous engagement in which one man (Corporal Robert E. Sale) was killed, two were wounded, and two more fled. The driver, momentarily pinned under a dead horse during the fight for the gun, eventually freed himself; all the surviving soldiers succeeded in making their way back to the wagon train. Nez Perce accounts indicate that one warrior who arrived on the scene after the gun was dismounted lamented its loss, since he had learned how to fire the piece during past army campaigns against the Yakimas and Cayuses. Yellow Wolf and Peopeo Tholekt together identified the Nez Perces involved in this incident as themselves, Old Yellow Wolf, Weyatanatoo Latpat (Sun Tied), Pitpillooheen (Calf of Leg), and Ketalkpoosmin (Stripes Turned Down). And Peopeo Tholekt, who wanted to turn the piece against the soldiers, gave the name of another man—Temettikias involved in the capture of the gun. Stated Peopeo Tholekt: "They . . . left me with the cannon. I tried to drag the wagon [carriage] along, but soon got stuck on a rock. I then unscrewed the wheels, taking them off the spindles. I took the gun from its resting, rolled it down a steep bluff, where I buried [hid?] it." [70]

Through the balance of the day the command was pinned down by the intermittent harassing gunfire. The hillsides north and west, as well as the willow thickets and timber to the east, provided ample cover for the warriors who sent scores of rounds into the defenses. Officers positioned the troops to best advantage and counseled the men to use restraint in their firing, for ammunition had begun to run low. Even Gibbon took an active part in the defense, firing at the warriors with his hunting rifle. When a westerly breeze arose, the Nez Perces ignited the brush in an effort to smoke them out. The troops feared that they might suffocate or that warriors would charge on them, occasioning much suspense and eliciting prayers from both officers and men. Lieutenant Woodruff told his wife: "Some of the wounded covered their heads and expected to be killed." [71] But the grass was too green to catch fire and the wind changed and the attempt failed. Later, amid moans and wails of grief emanating from the village, the soldiers heard Nez Perce leaders exhorting the warriors, and late in the afternoon they watched and listened as the tribesmen began dismantling their tipis and packing, and with their horses started south, leaving the warriors to deal with Gibbon's refuged force. Nee-Me-Poo accounts mention that the soldiers and volunteers suffered greatly from their wounds and from their famished and thirsty condition. Peopeo Tholekt and Yellow Wolf remembered hearing their crying from the entrenchments during the day and into the night.

During the night, several men crawled to the river for water, filling numerous canteens and returning despite the fire of Nez Perce sharpshooters who—undeterred by the darkness—succeeded in killing at least one volunteer. The others labored to raise breastworks, some of the soldiers employing their trowel bayonets to effect, while across the stream the Nez Perces found and killed some of the wounded who had been left behind. "It seemed as if daylight would never come," penned Lieutenant Woodruff.

The nights are cold in the mountains, even in summer; the men have no covering; their clothes have been soaked in crossing and recrossing the river. More than one-third of the command are killed and wounded; they have no medical attendance, and some of the wounded suffer intensely and their groans are very trying. [72]

With ammunition becoming a critical factor, Gibbon sent runners through the dark to find the train. Others departed for Deer Lodge with messages requesting supplies and medical help. Toward dawn, Sergeant Oliver Sutherland of Company B, First Cavalry, managed to gain the defenses, bringing to the beleaguered men welcome news that Howard was on his way. Sutherland had left Howard at the hot springs as his force struggled over the Lolo trail. Some of the volunteers disagreed with Gibbon's management of the situation and set off on their own, somehow eluding the warriors. The Nez Perces kept up their sporadic shooting, but it was clear from their activity that the major fighting was over and they were moving out, leaving but a few warriors to continue harassing the command. By the next morning they were gone. [73]

Gibbon's fears that his train had been captured proved false, and on August 10, although small parties of warriors still hovered in the distance, the colonel sent Captain George L. Browning and twenty-five men to usher it forward while his famished soldiers, their rations having been soaked in their haversacks while crossing the river, carved flesh from Woodruff's dead horse (without salt or fire, however, many "preferred to remain hungry"). Gibbon meantime sent a fan of skirmishers up the slope to determine the fate of the howitzer crew. The Nez Perces had not only disabled the howitzer, but also made off with the gun implements and dispersed the shells after killing the mules. More important, they captured the two thousand-round ammunition supply on its way to Gibbon. Army losses at the Big Hole aggregated twenty-nine (two officers, twenty-one enlisted men, and six citizens) killed and forty (five officers, thirty-one enlisted men, and four citizens) wounded, with two men dying later of their injuries, an exceedingly high casualty rate for an Indian battle and ample testimony of the Nez Perces' resolve and fighting abilities. On the other hand, the Nez Perces themselves apparently endured substantial losses. Gibbon claimed they lost at least eighty-nine killed and with an unknown number of wounded. Later Nee-Me-Poo testimony offered various figures ranging between forty-five and one hundred killed and wounded, although most accounts stress the disproportionate number of women and children among the dead. Young Horace Mulkey said that he counted seventy dead Indians on the field. Nez Perce casualties probably stood at between sixty and ninety killed, with many wounded who expired on the march over the next days or weeks. Regardless, among the dead were prominent Nez Perce fighting men Shore Crossing, Red Moccasin Top, Five Wounds, and Rainbow, and the Palouse leader, Hahtalekin. Practically every Nee-Me-Poo family endured a loss at the Big Hole. The bloodshed had come at the hands of not only Gibbon's troops—which the tribesmen, having left Rawn's soldiers behind without a fight, had not anticipated—but of the Bitterroot settlers, with whom they had an agreement and had but recently transacted business, and that violation of trust contributed to the shock they felt and likely accounted for some of their subsequent actions. [74]

On Saturday, August 11, Gibbon buried his dead. At 10:00 a.m., General Howard with a small escort reached the stricken command. [75] Since detaching himself and Major Sanford's cavalry from the rest of his column on the Lolo trail on the fifth at word from Gibbon, Howard had doggedly pushed on through the Bitterroot, his infantry and artillery complement following in wagons two days behind. At Corvallis on the ninth, he learned that the Nez Perces, followed by Gibbon, had gone through just a few days earlier, and next morning he pressed on hurriedly with his escort of twenty cavalrymen and seventeen Bannock scouts, making fifty-three miles. Nightfall found them just eighteen miles from the battleground where some of the departed volunteers met them with news of the battle and Gibbon's besieged situation. By the time Howard reached the site next morning to exultant cheers of men bathing in the stream, the Nez Perces, aware of his approach, had completely withdrawn. Medical help in the form of Surgeon Charles T. Alexander and Assistant Surgeon FitzGerald, escorted by twenty cavalry, arrived at 6:00 a.m., August 12, and immediately went to work. Major Mason and the remaining cavalry came in that afternoon. [76]

If it had profound meaning, the Battle of the Big Hole served to let the Nez Perces know that their transgressions in Idaho had not been forgotten, despite their relative ease in passing by the troops in Lolo Canyon and their smooth passage up the Bitterroot Valley. It also jolted them physically in the loss of so many of their people and resources, and the repercussions would prove long lasting and probably insurmountable, despite their moral resolve to continue. Big Hole unequivocally played a role in the Nez Perces' subsequent group behavior, too, as the frustration level rose to extended heights needing release. For the army, the bloody confrontation that Sheridan termed "one of the most desperate engagements on record"which militarily has to be classified as a draw at best—did not achieve its anticipated objective of stopping the tribesmen and ending the conflict, although it did partially atone for the embarrassing loss at White Bird Canyon. (As a military operation, Big Hole represented one of the rare instances—and certainly the most dramatic—in the history of trans-Mississippi Indian warfare that infantry troops—i.e., a dismounted force—acting alone accosted an Indian village in a maneuver usually left to the mobility of cavalry to perform.) For the moment, Big Hole became caught up in the romantic fervor that governed media attention of military events in the late nineteenth century. "That the price of victory was paid in the loss of nearly half of the attacking party, makes the victory itself all the more precious," editorialized the Army and Navy Journal, "and we trust that Congress will reward every man that fought at the Big Hole battle for his heroism." [77] And as forthcoming kudos and medals proved, the army was as adept at rationalizing its errors as government policy as a whole was in creating an atmosphere in which they could occur. Nonetheless, six enlisted men received Medals of Honor for their performances at the Big Hole; six more garnered Certificates of Merit. And in 1890 fourteen officers, including Gibbon and the deceased Bradley, Logan, and English, won brevet promotions for their gallant service at the Big Hole. [78]