Ryan Reynolds (12:23)
This episode is brought to you by Companion. Iris and Josh seem like the perfect match, but when a weekend getaway turns into a nightmare, Iris realizes that things aren't as perfect as they appear. From the creators of Barbarian and the studio that brought you the Notebook comes a twisted tale of modern romance and the sweet satisfaction of revenge. Companion Only in theaters January 31st. Rated R. Under 17 not admitted without parent In St. Paul, 80 miles away from Fort Ridgely, Colonel Henry Sibley had been recruiting a force of soldiers and volunteers to march to the aid of the people in southwest Minnesota. He had heard reports of the initial uprising and the attack on the Lower Sioux Agency, and it became obvious that the US army was unprepared for the speed and intensity of the conflict. But that stood to reason. The army was stretched thin with many of its regular forces engaged in the Civil War. The Comanche and Kiowa down in Texas were realizing the same thing. At the same time, many of the forts on the western frontier of Texas had been abandoned by the US army or were now manned by a sparse regiment of volunteers who were half Texas Ranger, half Confederate soldier. The Comanche and Kiowa were resurgent with cattle raids and attacks on settlements. In Minnesota, the waves of attacks that spilled out onto the frontier from the Lower Sioux Agency shocked everyone in the region. Farms were burned, families were slaughtered and entire towns were emptied as settlers fled for their lives. The situation rapidly spiraled out of control and the state's military forces scrambled to respond. The man who was tasked with leading the US Military response was Colonel Henry Sibley, not to be confused with the Confederate general of the same name, who was leading a column of Texas volunteers in the New Mexico campaign. At the same time, Union Army Colonel Sibley had served as the first governor of Minnesota and had worked extensively in the fur trade. He had been a key negotiator of many of the treaties the Dakota felt had been broken, which had led to the current war. Sibley's knowledge of Dakota culture and language, as well as his political influence, made him a natural choice to lead the effort to suppress the uprising. When news of the uprising reached St. Paul, Colonel Sibley began to raise a volunteer militia to bolster the state's defenses. From the very beginning, Sibley faced serious challenges in forming an effective fighting force. The hastily assembled militia was made up of farmers, clerks and townsmen with little to no military experience. Most of the men were armed with outdated weapons or none at all, and Sibley found himself leading a force that was woefully unprepared for battle. In addition to the lack of supplies and weapons, Sibley had to contend with the fact that his volunteers were terrified. It wasn't a situation like the early days of the Civil War war, when young men joined up in waves from a sense of adventure and had no idea what they were getting themselves into. The volunteers in Sibley's militia left behind their homes and families, and they knew very well what the enemy was capable of. Added to the fear was a daunting logistical problem. Sibley's forces were poorly supplied in every sense. Food, ammunition, and medical provisions. Communications were difficult, with little reliable information reaching Sibley's headquarters about the exact location and strength of the Dakota forces. Furthermore, the sprawling nature of the Minnesota frontier made it difficult to coordinate an effective defense or counterattack. Because of the column's limitations, Sibley marched it out of St. Paul at a slow and cautious pace. He knew he couldn't march his poorly trained and ill equipped volunteers straight into battle with virtually no preparation. If he sent unseasoned men against fierce and motivated Dakota warriors, the fight would likely end in disaster for the volunteers. But at the same time, the cautious approach frustrated his men and the settlers, who were desperate for help. Despite the challenges, Sibley slowly advanced toward Fort Ridgely. Along the way, he encountered burned out farms, abandoned towns, and the bodies of settlers who had been unable to escape the Dakota raids. The site of the destruction galvanized his men, many of whom had friends and family among the victims. And while Sibley's reinforcements slowly made their way toward the conflict, the conflict exploded back to life in the town of New Ulm. One day after the second attack on Fort Ridgely, Dakota warriors launched a second attack on New Ulm. A day and a half after the Dakota war started, approximately 100 warriors attacked the town of New Ulm. The town had about 900 people, but only a hastily organized militia force of 50. Under command of Sheriff Charles Roos, Judge Charles Flandrau, and military commander Jacob Nix, the militia and the citizens defended their town against hours of assaults. The defenders suffered six dead and five wounded, and they successfully repelled the Dakota warriors. But the people of New Ulm knew the warriors would return, and the town needed reinforcements. Judge Flandrau, a well known figure in the region, quickly organized a relief force. Four days after the first attack, volunteers arrived from nearby towns like St. Peter, Le Sueur and Mankato, until about 300 citizen soldiers had gathered in New Ulm. But while their numbers had grown, the defenders were still poorly armed and lacked proper military training. Most were merchants or farmers who were not used to the kind of fighting they were about to face. That fighting started at about 9:30 in the morning. On August 23, the Dakota warriors launched their second and most devastating assault on New Ulm. This time they came in greater numbers, and their attack was more organized. Hundreds of Dakota warriors descended from the bluffs in a U shaped formation, Screaming war cries and surrounding the town. The defenders of New Ulm, outnumbered and outgunned, tried to hold their ground, but the Dakota's disciplined attack soon broke through their outer defenses. The settlers retreated to barricades that they had constructed in the center of town. There, the fight reached its bloody climax. For hours, the Dakota pressed their attack, circling the town and firing from multiple directions. Captain William B. Dodd, second in command of the volunteer force, was killed while leading a charge to try to reinforce a section of the barricades. The Dakota had managed to infiltrate buildings along the perimeter of the town and used them as cover to fire down on the settlers. As the day faded, the defenders became more desperate. Judge Flandrau and Jacob Nix organized a counterattack. They rallied the defenders and charged down the town's main street. The bold move surprised the warriors. The militiamen swept the Dakota from the buildings and forced them to retreat from the heart of New Ulm. The counterattack was the final surge that was needed, and the day long battle was done. The defenders held their town, but the cost of victory was high. As night fell, the residents of New Ulm gathered their dead and wounded. Fires in businesses and homes burned throughout the night, and much of the outer part of New Ulm was destroyed. Judge Flandrau recognized the town was still vulnerable, and he ordered the burning of all buildings outside the barricades to prevent the Dakota from using them as cover for future attacks. By the time the fires were extinguished, 190 structures had been reduced to ash. Only 49 homes still stood for the more than 2,500 people who now sheltered in New Ulm. As dawn broke on August 24, the Dakota briefly reappeared and fired a few shots from long range before retreating into the woods. Flandrau and his officers met later that day and resigned themselves to the fact that New Ulm could not withstand another assault. They were low on ammunition and food, and disease was already beginning to spread among the civilians who were crammed into the remaining buildings. Despite objections from Nix and others, Flandrau made the difficult decision to evacuate the town. The next day, August 25, a column of 153 wagons and 2,500 people departed the smoldering ghost town that was New Ulm. They headed for Mankato and reach the city without incident. The battles at New Ulm, though costly, were a testament to the determination of the settlers and the ferocity of the Dakota warriors. William Watts Falwell, a Minnesota historian, later remarked, this was no sham battle, no trivial affair, but a heroic defense of a beleaguered town against a much superior force. New Ulm had been abandoned, but it had not fallen, and the attention turned back to fort Ridgely. On August 23, 1862, an eerie stillness hung over Fort Ridgely. The sounds of battle, which had filled the air for days, were gone. The Dakota warriors had retreated into the thick woods and ravines, leaving the fort and in a precarious silence. Inside, the defenders cautiously emerged from their battered positions. Smoke still rose from the ruins of the outbuildings, and the walls of the fort bore the scars of relentless attacks. Lieutenant Thomas Geer and Sergeant John Bishop walked the grounds and assessed the damage. The fort had survived two massive assaults, but the cost had been steep. Casualties had mounted, and the men set about taking care of the wounded and removing the bodies of the dead soldiers and civilians. The emotional toll was heavy. Families who had sought refuge at the fort mourned their fallen loved ones. The soldiers were exhausted and on edge, and the fort's supply situation was grim. More than 300 refugees sheltered within the fort. That was more than the number of soldiers who had been stationed at the fort before the war started. Stockpiles of gunpowder and other essential supplies were nearly depleted. Every meal was rationed, and every bullet was counted. The wounded were cared for as best as possible, but there were no doctors, and the limited medical supplies were running out. But despite the dire situation, there was a flicker of relief in the air. The defenders had survived two major assaults from an overwhelming force. Men and women, soldiers and civilians, had defended the last safe haven in the region, and their resilience was a source of pride. There was a chance the survivors might just get out of this alive if they received reinforcements. The Dakota, though forced to retreat for the time being, still loomed as a threat. Little Crow had not given up, and the defenders of the fort knew more attacks could come at any time. Every sound beyond the walls, every shift in the wind, felt like a potential warning. Four days later, on August 27, 1862, salvation arrived when Colonel Henry Sibley and his force of 1,400 men finally marched up to the battered gates of Fort Ridgely. As Sibley's men entered the fort, the emotional toll of the siege became clear. Some of the soldiers collapsed from exhaustion. Others broke down in tears as the weight of the defensive effort and the relief of survival caught up to them. With Sibley's reinforcements, the fort was now well protected. Dakota warriors recognized they were the ones who were now outnumbered and outgunned, and they retreated deeper into the wilderness. In the days that followed, Fort Ridgely became a symbol of resilience. Word of the fort's survival spread quickly, and the men and women who defended it were hailed as heroes. Their names became legend in the area. Sergeant John Bishop, who led the survivors of the Redwood Ferry ambush back to the fort. Lt. Thomas Geer, who commanded the fort through two brutal sieges despite his youth and inexperience. An ordnance. Sgt. John Jones, who turned the tide of battle with his canister shot and quick thinking. They were all praised for their leadership and bravery. The settlers who fought side by side with the soldiers were also honored for their courage. Many of them had never fired a weapon in anger, but they had defended their families with a fierce determination. Women who had picked up muskets or armed themselves with knives were lauded for their resolve in the face of overwhelming odds. But the celebrations and pats on the back only went so far. The war was only a week old, and it was nowhere near done. In the days following the siege of Fort Ridgely, Minnesota's southern frontier was gripped by fear and urgency. The successful defense of the fort had provided only a brief respite, and the threat of further Dakota attacks loomed large. Settlers in the surrounding areas had witnessed the brutal raids, and many had already fled their homes, seeking refuge in hastily built block houses or the relative safety of nearby towns. Governor Alexander Ramsey knew the state had to act quickly to prevent more bloodshed. To organize a defensive line across the vulnerable southern settlements, Governor Ramsey turned to Judge Charles Flandrau. Flandrau had proven his leadership during the defense of New Ulm, and he was well suited to the task at hand. Newly commissioned as a colonel in the volunteer militia, Flandrau wasted no time. He established his headquarters in South Bend, near Mankato, and started recruiting men to secure the frontier. Flandrau quickly gathered 80 men to serve as his personal guard, a dedicated force that would form the backbone of his operations. But 80 men would not be enough. The southern frontier, stretching from New Ulm to the Iowa border, was vast, and the scattered settlements offered little in the way of formal defenses. To protect the vulnerable areas, Flandrau began organizing a series of small forts and blockhouses, simple, crudely constructed outposts that would serve as bastions of defense for the settlers. The Forts positioned strategically along key routes reflected the growing panic among the frontier population. In Garden City, Blue Earth, and Madelia, settlers worked alongside militia members to erect makeshift blockhouses. They cut down trees and constructed rudimentary walls as defensive barriers. Families moved into the blockhouses and the men took up guard positions in case of attack. Across the state line in Iowa, panic spread just as quickly. Though the Dakota had not launched any attacks across state lines, the fear was palpable. Memories of the Spirit lake massacre in 1857, in which Dakota raiders slaughtered dozens of settlers, were still fresh in the minds of many Iowa officials were worried about a repeat of that bloody event, and they began constructing their own defensive line. Blockhouses and small forts were erected from Sioux City to Iowa Lake, and the entire region braced for the worst. While the defensive line lines were being built, the Dakota continued their raids. Isolated settlements became prime targets, and small groups of Dakota warriors launched hit and run attacks on farms, homesteads and supply routes. The stagecoach lines that connected the towns across southern Minnesota were particularly vulnerable. Dakota war parties ambushed stagecoaches, killed passengers and drivers, looted supplies, and set the vehicles ablaze. River crossings, vital for the transport of goods and people, were also disrupted. The Minnesota River, a lifeline for trade, was now virtually empty of boats. Trade and communication across the region ground to a halt, leaving settlements isolated and cut off from reinforcements. Fort Abercrombie, located in north western Minnesota, became another flashpoint in the expanding war. Positioned along critical supply roads, the fort was attacked multiple times by Dakota forces who attempted to cut off the US Army's logistics and further disrupt the government's control over the region. The soldiers stationed at Fort Abercrombie fought fiercely to repel the attacks, and they held the line despite being outnumbered and and under supplied. Colonel Henry Sibley, who had relieved Fort Ridgely, was now tasked with reasserting control over the Minnesota river valley. His force, bolstered by reinforcements from Fort Snelling and local militiamen, grew in size each day. But Sibley still faced the ever present challenge. His inexperienced troops and no experienced volunteers would have to face off against against an experienced, mobile, versatile, knowledgeable and unpredictable guerrilla fighting force. With each passing day, Sibley's army prepared for the next phase of the war. A full scale campaign to drive the Dakota from their strongholds and restore order to the frontier. And Sibley would lead his army into the field. But that did not mean they were on the offensive. In just four, four days, they would receive their first taste of battle. And it would not go well for Sibley's army next time on Legends of the Old West. Colonel Sibley wants to honor Captain Marsh and the men who fell at the Redwood Ferry ambush. But Sibley's noble effort sends soldiers into the same trap that devastated Marsh's column. Then, at the Battle of Wood Wood Lake, the tide finally begins to turn in favor of the settlers and soldiers. That's next week on Legends of the Old West. Members of our Black Barrel plus program don't have to wait week to week to receive new episodes. They receive the entire season to binge all at once with no commercials, and they also receive exclusive bonus episodes. Sign up now through the link in the Show Notes or On our website blackberrymedia.com memberships are just $5 per month. This series was researched and written by Matthew Kearns. Original music by Rob Valerier. I'm your host and producer Chris Wimmer. Thanks for listening. It is Ryan here and I have a question for you. What do you do when you win? Like, are you a fist pumper? A woohooer? A hand clapper? A high fiver? If you want to hone in on those winning moves, check out Chumba Casino. 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