James T. Forrest, Old Fort Garland
“ For many years stock wandered across the parade to nibble of the grass once trod by drilling soldiers—rats and other small animals inhabited the barracks and officer’s quarters. Decay and erosion set to work in earnest in an effort to destroy the old fort. It appeared that the once proud adobe walls would become a part of the soil again and that Fort Garland would be only a memory in the minds of a few old soldiers who had made the garrison their home. ”
James T. Forrest, Old Fort Garland
“ A more unmilitary man I’ve never known—and yet a better commander none of us would ever want. He makes up for his lack of book-learning with his knowledge of everything there is to know of hunting, trapping, Indian fighting and woods lore. He’s a short man, about five feet four, with legs so bowed he looks astride a horse even when he’s walking. Here at Garland, Colonel Carson has kept open house—open to all passersby (Indian and White) and even to soldiers and their wives. The wild tribe of children he brought with him are as untamed as the beasts of the mountains. ”
James T. Forrest, Old Fort Garland
“ Fort Garland, November 21, 1864. Back at the fort life goes on about as before. Nights are getting cold. We sit inside evenings now next to fires of piñon logs. Some spend the hours playing cards, others read or study, and some form small groups and sing. The inside of the quarters look good after months in the open. The white walls and blue furniture and woodwork have come to mean home to me. The wooden beds, designed to sleep two, may be covered only with a straw tick, but it’s a lot softer than the ground. The food is better at the fort than in the field, of course. ”
