Pioneer Handcart Trek
June 23 -25, 2016 ~ Wolf Creek State Park
Springfield Illinois Stake
Pioneer Stories
Stories submitted by the Giraud-Carrier family
Angels of God
William R. Palmer wrote that some years later in a Sunday School class (reportedly taught by Nathan Tanner Porter of the Hodgett Co.), “the subject under discussion was the ill-fated handcart company that had suffered so terribly in the snow of 1856. Some sharp criticism of the church and its leaders was being indulged in for permitting any company of converts to venture across the plains with no more supplies or protection than a handcart caravan afforded. One old man in the corner [Francis Webster] sat silent and listened as long as he could stand it, then he arose and said things that no person who heard him will ever forget. His face was white with emotion, yet he spoke calmly, deliberately, but with great earnestness and sincerity. He said in substance, ‘I ask you to stop this criticism. You are discussing a matter you know nothing about. Cold historic facts mean nothing here for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. Mistake to send the handcart company out so late in the season? Yes! But I was in that company and my wife was in it, and Sister Nellie Unthank whom you have cited here was there too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church, because everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities!
I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, "I can go only that far and then I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it." I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there. Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.
John Chislett
“The storm which we encountered, our [rescuers] from the [Salt Lake] Valley also met, and, not knowing that we were so utterly destitute, they encamped to away fine weather. But when Captain Willie found them and explained our real condition, they at once hitched up their teams and made all speed to come to our rescue.
“On the evening of the third day after Captain Willie’s departure, just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind the distant hills, on an eminence immediately west of our camp, several covered wagons, each drawn by four horses, were seen coming towards us. The news ran through the camp like wild-fire, and all who were able to leave their beds turned out en masse to see them. A few minutes brought them sufficiently near to reveal our faithful Captain slightly in advance of the train. Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sunburnt cheeks, and little children partook of the joy which some of them hardly understood, and fairly danced around with gladness.
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“I was installed as regular commissary to the camp. The brethren turned over to me the flour, potatoes, onions, and a limited supply of warm clothing for both sexes, besides quilts, blankets, buffalo robes, woolen socks, etc. I first distributed the necessary provisions, and after supper divided the clothing, bedding, etc., where it was most needed. That evening, for the first time in quite a period, the songs of Zion were to be heard in the camp, and peals of laughter issued from the little knots of people as the chatted around the fires. The change seemed almost miraculous so sudden was it from grave to gay, from sorrow to gladness, from mourning to rejoicing. With the ravings of hunger satisfied and with hearts filled with gratitude to God and our good brethren, we all united in prayer, and then retired to rest.”
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“The day we crossed the Rocky Ridge it was snowing a little – the wind hard from the north-west – and blowing so keenly that it almost pierced us through. We had to wrap ourselves closely in blankest, quilts or whatever else we could get, to keep from freezing…. My duty was to stay behind everything and see that nobody was left along the road… The ascent of the ridge commenced soon after leaving camp, and I had not gone far up it before I overtook a cart that folks could not pull through the snow, here about knee-deep. I helped them along, and we soon overtook another. By all hands getting to one cart we could travel; so we moved one of the carts a few rods, and then went back and brought up the other. After moving in this way for a while we overtook other carts at different points of the hill, until we had six carts, not one of which could be moved by the parties owning it. I put our collective strength to three carts at a time, took them a short distance, and the brought up the other three.“
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John Chislett, a member of the Willie handcart company, described how the stranded Willie company received news that help was on the way:
“We traveled on in misery and sorrow day after day. Sometimes we made a pretty good distance, but at other times we were only able to make a few miles progress. Finally we were overtaken by a snowstorm which the shrill wind blew furiously about us. The snow fell several inches deep as we traveled along, but we dared not stop, for we had a sixteen-mile journey to make, and short of it we could not get wood and water.
“As we were resting for a short time at noon a light wagon was driven into our camp from the west. Its occupants were Joseph A. Young and Stephen Taylor. They informed us that a train of supplies was on the way, and we might expect to meet it in a day or two. More welcome messengers never came from the courts of glory than these two young men were to us. They lost no time after encouraging us all they could to press forward, but sped on further east to convey their glad news to Edward Martin and the fifth handcart company who left Florence about two weeks after us, and who it was feared were even worse off than we were. As they went from our view, many a hearty ‘God bless you!’ followed them.”
John Chislett narrative published in T.B.H. Sternhouse, The Rocky Mountain Saints. New York: D. Appleton, 1873
George Cunningham
George describes his experiences with the Willie handcart company: “The nights now began to get very cold and feed was poor, also our provisions were running out fast. Starvation looked us in the face. We were put on rations of six ounces of flour each per day and nothing else. The old and the weak began to die for want of proper food, and a great many of the young and strong ones soon followed suit. I, myself, have helped to bury tent to fifteen in a single day. We who could stand it were barely kept alive and after several weeks of this ration [of flour] it was reduced to half this amount. I, however, stirred my three ounces with some water and gulped it down.
“… We used to boil the bones and drink the soup. Every particle that could be used was taken, even the hide was rationed and after scorching the hair off, we would roast it a little over the coals and cut it in small pieces and made what we considered a delicious supper.
“… We built large fires with willows which were abundant at this place. Everybody stood around the fire with gloomy faces, as if in a death trap.”
George Cunningham, in “The Handcart Pioneers.”
In Kate B. Carter, Comp., Treasures of Pioneer History, 6 vols. Salt Lake City: Daughters of Utah Pioneers, 1956, 5:252-56.
John Jaques
“One man’s hand-cart broke down one afternoon in the hills, and by some mischance the company all went on, leaving him behind, alone with his broken cart and his and his family’s little stock of worldly goods thereon. He was drawing his little child in his cart, as he had drawn her most of the journey, and as he subsequently drew her to the last crossing of the Platte, but when his cart broke down he had to transfer her to somebody else’s cart, anxiously expecting somebody to turn back and help him, but no one came. Night drew on apace, and still he was all alone, save and expecting the presence of a prowling wolf, which could be seen in the streak of light on the western horizon, a little outside of ordinary rifle range. Happily, just as darkness was settling down, Captain Hodgetts’s wagon company was observed coming down the opposite hill, from the east, at the base of which it encamped, a quarter or half a mile distant from the benighted and lonely hand-cart; he eagerly went and told his tale of misfortune to the wagon people, and they took him in for the night.”
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John Jaques tell of camping at Independence Rock, November 1, 1856 with the Martin handcart company: “There was a foot or eighteen inches of snow on the ground which, as there were but one or two [shovels] in camp, the emigrants had to shovel away with their frying pans, or tin plates, or anything they could use for that purpose, before they could pitch their tents. Then, the ground was frozen so hard that it was almost impossible to drive the tent pegs into it. Some of the men were so weak that it took them an hour or two to clear the places for their tents and set them up.”
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“The meeting of the emigrants with relatives, acquaintances, and friends… was very solemnly impressive. Some were so affected that they could scarcely speak, but would look at each other until the sympathetic tears would force their unforbidden way. In a short time, however, the emigrants were taken into the homes of their friends and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit them to be while they thawed the frost out of their limbs and recruited their health and strength. The new comers would eat and eat and eat until they were literally and perfectly ashamed of themselves, and then retire from the table hungry. It took a long time for an emigrant to fill up and reduce his appetite to its normal condition. It was a serious affliction upon those who had it, as well as upon their hospitable friends.”
Stella Jaques Bell, ed., Life History and Writing of John Jacques, including a Diary of the Martin Handcart Company. Rexburg, Idaho: Ricks College Press, 1978
Joseph Elder
“Many can never forget the scenes they witnessed that day [October 21, 1856]. Men, women and children, weakened down by cold and hunger, weeping, crying, and some even dying by the roadside…. Oh, how my heart did quake and shudder at the awful scenes which surrounded me.”
Joseph Benson Elder, Diaries. Utah State Historical Society, Salt Lake City, Utah.
Josiah Rogerson Sr.
“Aaron Jackson… was found so weak and exhausted when he came to the crossing of the Platte, October 19, that he could not make it, and after he was carried across the ford in a wagon [I] was detailed to wheel the dying Aaron on an empty cart, with his feet dangling over the end bar, to camp.
“After putting up his tent, I assisted his wife [Elizabeth] in laying him in his blankets. It was one of the bitter cold, black, frost nights, … and notwithstanding the hard journey the day before, I was awakened at midnight to go on guard again till 6 or 7 in the morning… Passing out through the middle of the tent, my feet struck those of poor Aaron, They were stiff and rebounded at my accidental stumbling. Reaching my hand to his face, I found that he was dead, with his exhausted wife and little ones by his side, all sound asleep…
“Returning to my tent from the night guarding, I found there one of the most touching pictures of grief and bereavement in the annals of our journey. Mrs. Jackson, apparently just awakened from her slumber, was sitting by the side of her dead husband. Her face was suffused in tears, and between her burst of grief and wails of sorrow, she would wring her hands and tear her hair. Her children blended their cries of ‘Father’ with that of the mother. This was love, this was affection, grief of the heart, and bereavement of the soul, the like of which I have never seen since.”
Salt Lake Tribune, January 14, 1914.