Following Formation

By editor

Lolo, Missoula County

Now, I’ve seen a good many things in my travels, from the grand Mississippi to the dusty trails of the West, and one thing you learn quick is that folks, no matter how grand their enterprise, do love their rules. Even when those rules seem to have been written by a man who, bless his heart, probably never spent a day chasing a grizzly or navigating a river that didn’t much care for maps. And so it was, it seems, with that grand expedition of Lewis and Clark, a pair of fellows who, by all accounts, covered more ground than a runaway freight train.

Here in Lolo, Missoula County, a place where the mountains stand guard like old, grizzled sentinels, some earnest researchers were scratching their heads, trying to figure out exactly where those intrepid explorers had pitched their tents. A noble pursuit, to be sure, trying to pin down history with a shovel and a keen eye. And who, pray tell, did they call upon for guidance in this endeavor? Why, none other than a Prussian Baron, a fellow by the name of William Frederick Von Steuben, who, a good quarter-century before Lewis and Clark set foot out here, had penned a manual on military discipline for George Washington’s boys. A manual, mind you, that laid out precisely how a proper military camp ought to be arranged, down to the last tent peg and latrine pit.

Now, you might think that after traipsing across six thousand miles of wilderness, battling mosquitoes the size of small birds and rivers that tried their best to drown you, a man might be inclined to, shall we say, improvise a bit when it came to camp layout. But no, these researchers, armed with the Baron’s meticulous instructions, went digging. And what did they find? Why, evidence, clear as a bell, that Captains Lewis and Clark, after all that wandering, still remembered their manners, militarily speaking. The physical signs in the soil, they say, matched the Baron’s blueprint. It’s enough to make a body wonder if those fellows had the manual tucked under their pillows, even in the wildest reaches of the continent.

It reminds a body of the time they had to sort out young John Newman, a private who, it seems, had a bit too much to say for himself. The journals, those dry, factual accounts that sometimes let slip a glimpse of the human comedy, tell us a tale of military justice. On October 13, 1804, a court-martial was convened, and the charges against Newman were laid out with all the solemnity of a Sunday sermon:

"In conformity to the above order the Court martial convened this day for the trial of John Newman, charged with 'having uttered repeated expressions of a highly criminal and mutinous nature; the same having a tendency not only to distroy every principle of military discipline, but also to alienate the affections of the individuals composing this Detachment to their officers, and disaffect them to the service for which they have been so sacredly and solemnly engaged.'"

Now, Newman, bless his impudent soul, pleaded not guilty. But the court, after due consideration, found him guilty "of every part of the charge" and sentenced him to seventy-five lashes on his bare back and to be "henceforth discarded from the perminent party engaged for North Western discovery." Clark, ever the man of few words when it came to such unpleasantries, simply noted: "We Tried the Prisoner Newmon last night by 9 of his Peers they did 'Centence him 75 Lashes & Disbanded the party.'" Ordway, perhaps more concerned with the delay, remarked, "a court Martial was held which detained us 2 hours." And Gass, ever practical, added, "At 12 it rained some, and we halted to hold a court martial."

So, even with the rain coming down and the wilderness stretching out, the rules had to be followed. A man had to be disciplined, and the camp, it seems, had to be laid out just so, according to a Prussian Baron’s dictates. It’s a curious thing, this human insistence on order, even when surrounded by the grand, untamed chaos of nature. But then, perhaps that’s precisely why they insisted on it. A little bit of human order, a little bit of military discipline, to keep the wilderness from swallowing them whole. And to think, all these years later, we’re still digging it up, proving that even in the wild, some things, like rules and human folly, leave their mark.