Campaigning with Crook, and Stories of Army Life — A Reader’s Guide

From Tribute to Tall Tale

The preface establishes King's purpose: to honor Crook and his comrades. He calls the sketches 'rough' and notes they were printed in limited pamphlet form. But the very first excerpt after the preface introduces a comic episode about a correspondent named D——, who fabricated a story about a 'Camelquo' and later wrote a scandalous account of the Slim Buttes battle. King's tone shifts from solemn to wry, and he concludes that 'Camelquo Creek' is the only trace of D——. This juxtaposition—formal dedication followed by irreverent yarn—sets the book's dual character.

The Horse as a Character

King devotes considerable attention to the condition of cavalry horses. He describes how soldiers led exhausted horses along the column, hunting for grass to keep them alive. One company, Montgomery's Company B, lost not a single horse—a feat King attributes to 'unerring judgment and ceaseless vigilance.' Yet he also notes that neighboring companies woke to find their horses missing, implying Company B's methods were not entirely above board. The horse becomes a measure of competence and a source of humor, as King balances admiration for Montgomery's horsemanship with sly digs at his men's thievery.

The Correspondent's Fate

The D—— episode recurs as a cautionary tale about journalism on the frontier. D—— started with Crook's staff but was reassigned to packers, then joined Major Mills's command. After witnessing the Slim Buttes fight 'in a state of abject terror,' he wrote a false account accusing Mills of misconduct. The paper was forced to apologize and likely fired him. King's telling is matter-of-fact, but the moral is clear: the campaign tested not only soldiers but also the reporters who tried to capture it. The only lasting trace of D—— is a creek name, a joke that outlasts the man.

The Voice of the Veteran

Throughout the excerpts, King writes as a participant, not a historian. He uses first-person plural ('we set to work') and addresses readers as comrades. His descriptions of losses—'in horseflesh and equipments the gaps were appalling'—are precise and unsentimental. When he praises Captain Montgomery, he does so by contrasting him with unnamed others who were 'not thorough horsemen.' This insider's perspective gives the book authority, but King's willingness to include absurd stories like the Camelquo keeps it from becoming a dry after-action report.

Readers should approach this book as a hybrid: part memoir, part collection of campfire stories. King's preface promises a tribute, but the excerpts deliver a more varied experience—one that includes humor, criticism, and a clear-eyed view of the campaign's hardships. The narrative voice is that of a veteran who respects his commander but is not above poking fun at his peers. Let the tone of the Camelquo story guide your expectations: this is a soldier's account, not a general's.

Captain King’s campfire yarns, all dust and dry humor, always make me think of another shelf’s quiet companion—The Secrets of the German War Office — Reading Notes. Where one tells of horsemen and bluster, the other whispers of maps and silence. Both, in their own way, are about what men don’t say around the fire.