Never one to believe in the existence of ghosts or other spirits, living on the grounds of the old army fort vacated to become a boys reformatory and later a prison for Arizona inmates, I found out the hard way that spirits do exist and ghosts do roam the earth even though scientific evidence may proof me to be wrong in all instances. Ignoring the rumors and the ghost storytelling that occurred before I moved in, I was certain that these tales were meant to scare me into moving into the warden’s house that sat center of the old fort foundation. The house, a large mansion with six bedrooms and three bathrooms was designed for the warden and his family. I moved into this house when I became the deputy warden of operations at the Arizona state prison Safford in the town of Safford 49 miles away on a dry day. The house sat at the foot of the huge mountain called Mount Graham where nature’s beauty was most excellent and a pleasure to view every morning of the day the sun came out and casts its shadows on the house and the valley. The presence of deer, coyotes, rabbits, rattlesnakes and the often rare Gila monsters was an added enjoyment that took my breath away every time nature I remember that sitting there on the back porch with the mountain staring back at me with the sun going down, it would cast shadows on the house and cool it off quickly even in the summer time but more so in the winter. I could feel the gentle mountain breeze coming off the rugged slopes downward cooling my face and body. The sensation made me feel relaxed and worry free. Thus it was the soothing effects of the mountain air that kept me calm during those times when crisis would take its turn.
Looking up at this Eastern Arizona sky line I would see the vast space in an immensely blue color that was so peacefully dotted with white silvery clouds as they neatly capped the mountain top as if it was crowning it as something of a deity to others viewing the same spot. Other days, especially in the winter time, the sky would turn black with thick heavy rain or snow clouds as the elevation was high enough to sprinkle a few inches of snow on the ground during the cold evenings and frigid mornings. Without warning, the mountain air would bring drenching rain that resembled a God like creature pouring a large bucket of water down the fort as it has stood there since the early days when Indians and soldiers fought to keep the territory safe and peaceful for the settlers coming westward to start a new life.
The fort has an unusual history and to this day, I believe that those stories told to me before I moved in were factual and eyewitnesses by many who spared these stories to avoid being called crazy or insane. At the risk of doing the same it is with the same reservation that I share the stories of the shadows on the wall of the old fort. No matter, history tells tales of the massacre that took place on the very grounds I was sleeping on and as the tale was told to me and written in the history books, there was something very wrong with the way things went down at Fort Grant back in the early 1870’s when the soldiers and Indians lived here in harmony and others interfered in this relationship for evil reasons revealed later on by those who investigated the killing of many innocent people back then.
Made of mortar and red bricks and large stone walls stacked about four feet high surrounding the yard as if a perimeter for self defense, the house was enormous in size and often, when all things were quiet, it would echo your footsteps as you walked the long and narrow hallways. The house was sectioned so the its occupants could have some privacy the fireplace in the center room was huge and often used to warm the chilly air in the cool winter days as wood from the surrounding woods was plentiful and gathered frequently just in case a cold spell would arrive.
Every night, just before going to bed, I would go to the kitchen and make me something to eat or drink as I either watched the TV or read a book before turning in for the night. Falling asleep was not a problem as the days were long and the work was plenty at this state owned prison where approximately 1000 prisoners lived among with the staff that chose to live on grounds in state owned houses in exchange for volunteering to respond to any emergency and assist others on duty to ensure peace and order. As the last light was flicked off and the only sound in the house was that of the television, it was always a little spooky to say the least as the quietness was extreme and when reading a book, it was like you were in a hollow tunnel as every sound, every whisper, every breath you take had an echo attached to it and make a reverberating sound mimicking the first vibrations that could be heard again.
Early in 1871, a 37 year old first lieutenant named Royal Emerson Whitman assumed command of Camp Grant on the San Pedro River about 50 miles (80 km) northeast of Tucson. In February 1871 five old Apache women straggled into Camp Grant to look for a son who had been taken prisoner. Whitman fed them and treated them kindly, so other Apaches from Aravaipa and Pinal bands soon came to the post to receive rations of beef and flour. That spring, Whitman created a refuge along Aravaipa Creek about five miles (8 km) east of Camp Grant for nearly 500 Aravaipa and Pinal Apaches, including Chief Eskiminzin. The Apaches began cutting hay for the post's horse and harvesting barley in nearby ranchers' fields. Whitman may have suspected that peace could not last. He urged Eskiminzin to move his people to the White Mountains near Fort Apache, which was established in 1870, but he refused. During the winter and spring, William Oury and Jesús María Elías formed a Committee of Public Safety, which blamed every depredation in southern Arizona on the Camp Grant Apaches. After Apaches ran off livestock from San Xavier on April 10, Elías contacted his old ally Francisco Galerita, leader of the Tohono O'odham at San Xavier. Oury collected arms and ammunition from his followers
The story of the massacre was told to be factual and described by some as an event that occurred on the afternoon of April 28 1871 when 6 Caucasians, 48 Mexicans, and 92 O'odham tribal persons, gathered along Rillito Creek and set off on a march to Aravaipa Canyon. At dawn on Sunday, April 30, they surrounded the Apache camp. O'odham were the main fighters, while Americans and Mexicans picked off Apaches who tried to escape. Most of the Apache men were off hunting in the mountains. All but eight of the corpses were women and children. Twenty-seven children had been captured and were sold into slavery in Mexico by the Papago and Mexicans themselves. A total of 144 Aravaipas and Pinals had been killed and mutilated that fateful day. The U.S. Army, sparsely assigned and divided among the vast desert regions, were not there to protect these innocent people and could not have anticipated this slaughter as the legend told was that the white people leading this raid were trying to create a hostile situation so that the Army would bring more soldiers to the area and as the troops arrived in the valleys, their economy would be more profitable doing business with the troops and the government. Thus this provocation of killing innocent people was intended to spur the economy for the businessmen in those locations where the troops would settle down and expand their mission against the perceived “hostile” Indians in the area.
The spirits of those men and women killed there near the camp haunt the very grounds of this state prison as others have reported the sounds of after midnight screams in the dark of women screaming for help in strange and incomprehensible languages understood only by those who were Native Americans. Sleeping there every nigh during the year 2008 and 2009, I heard voices talking to each other as every now and then, a scream would shout out loudly as if to warn someone of imminent harm or danger. These events created nightmares for me as I woke struggle to go back asleep after being awakened by these strange and weird sounds as shadows would cross my path on the window blinds outside the house as if there was a person walking the walls of the house looking for an intruder. Thinking I was the only one experiencing this occult like feelings, I invited my wife to come down after several of these unexplainable episodes had occurred as in my opinion, these spirits invaded the house to witness what I had been truly a paranormal event or unexplainable phenomena at the time these occurred. Trying to keep an open mind that ghost may exist, I needed a witness to these events as I became convinced the house was a source of possible haunting by spirits or even those ghosts so fabled in the stories told.
The very next weekend the wife arrived and settled in with her baggage as she laughed at me for feeling so insecure about the house and its spirits. I could not convince her of the reality of the matter and I was hoping that she would experience the same phenomena I had during the time she was here. The night was still as we sat outside to watch the full moon in the sky where it often glows and casts shadows on the mountain side giving off a picturesque fit to frame view. The night was clear as millions of those bright twinkling stars could be seen in the space of the vast black backdrop of the darkened heavens. The time to turn in resulted in turning off every light that had been lit since she arrived in the house that late afternoon. Hoping that the phenomena would not end just because I had company in the house, I was eager to have her witness the paranormal ambience I was struggling with and as we turned out the last light in the huge house, it was only the reflection of the fluorescent light of the television that kept us from being completely in the dark. Regardless, the night was ending and the time sleep had arrived as we resisted the urge to fall asleep but gave in sometime after midnight.
Uneventful as we slept through the night, it was a disappointing occasion as nothing happened that night. No sounds, no vibrations, no screams and no flickering lights as I had experienced before she came. Thinking perhaps this was all a dream I went to the kitchen where she had already made a pot of coffee and shared with me a story of how she was awakened last night by someone tugging or pulling on her ankle as if trying to pull her out of the bed and take her somewhere to show her something. Asking in an irritable like manner I asked her why she didn’t wake me up and she said that at the time it felt like she imagined it but it happened another time and she felt that it was strange but not worth waking me up for.
I shared with her the strange mannerism of my dog as she slept here at the foot of the bed and kept me safe from any intruders that may wander into the house without permission. A faithful and loyal Rottweiler, she knew her job and knew it well. I told her of the night when the door bell rang at about 2 in the morning and how the dog growled at the door making me hesitant to open but when I did there was nobody there. I told her the dog went outside and chased something away but she came back almost immediately as if it was gone or had left the premises.
The day was uneventful as this Saturday was most peaceful as went for a drive around the other side of the mountain and did some shopping for groceries and necessities. Wondering if the paranormal events she had experienced and those that have kept me from getting a good night’s sleep are real, we could only guess they were as we had no evidence to give to anyone else to show the truth. The weekend ending, she left Sunday night to go back to our house in Mesa and go to work on Monday as her job kept her from being here with me all the time.
Since that time of her visit, there have been numerous other paranormal events that are unexplainable but real to me. There have been movements of objects or items put there for a purpose and sounds of footsteps, or other unexplainable sounds were ever present in that house. My dog, very aware of her surroundings slept well but would awaken as her ears would search for what appeared to be unheard sounds to the human ear but seeing her alertness peak, I knew she was tracking something in the distance unseen. Waking up to find the bathroom faucet running was strange as I always double check to make sure the water is off and surely, if it was running all night, I would have heard it.
This experience with the paranormal never ended until the day I moved out to go back to work at the prison where I came from when they transferred me to Safford last year. In the meantime, sharing these stories with only a few to keep my credibility and sanity proper, it was my mother in law that came up with a solution that appeared to diminished the influences of the spirits to some degree as she recommended to me that I leave a glass of water out for the spirit or ghost so they can enjoy a nice cool drink during the time they were occupying the house while I slept. To some degree, this logic worked as the shadows on the walls were less frequent but never completely disappearing as I had wished.
Several years later, as I write this short story about this house that stood on the grounds of the old Camp Grant where soldiers and Indians lived in the days of a wild wild west, it is speculated that these spirits are the shadows of those who lived here before in the past and that they manifest themselves at nigh when nobody else is around to communicate with others about their plight, their wishes and their desires to not be forgotten.
No comments:
Post a Comment