As the Pikes Peakers prepared chow around campfires at Pigeon’s Ranch, a lone Confederate rode into the Union camp. He waved a truce flag.

“Major Pyron is asking for a half-day’s truce, a ceasefire until noon tomorrow. The purpose is to provide time to bury the dead.”

Major Chivington agreed, but added, “I want to extend the truce until 2:00 P.M. The burial detail will be slow. There’s a scarcity of shovels here.”

When the rider reported the return message, Major Pyron responded, “Come to think of it, we have no shovels either. We’ll have to borrow some from the Ranch.”

The lack of shovels turned out to be a blessing. It brought men from both sides together digging graves, not only sharing tools but empathy for the deceased, regardless of the color of a soldier’s uniform. They gingerly wrapped each body in a blanket and carefully lowered the deceased in a shallow, common grave. The grave was painstakingly covered with earth. Some men used shovels. Others helped using nothing but their cupped bare hands.

(The record-keeping of number killed from the Gloriéta battle is inaccurate, to the say the least. The circumstances of burial, sometimes in mass graves, sometimes intermingled in smaller unmarked graves, followed by reburials years later when Confederate or Federal remains were no longer identifiable, inhibits any unequivocal count. On the whole, however, some 3 million Americans took up arms in the Civil War Conflagration. And 620,000 of them died or 2% of the entire nation’s population at that time. If one were to adjust for population increase in the past 150 years, that figure of 620,000 dead today would be 6 million. As Joseph Stalin once said, “One dead is a tragedy; a million, a statistic.”  In the end, the Civil War remains the deadliest war in American history.)

Later it became apparent that the agreement for the end of the truce had been miscommunicated—one more snafu similar to that of the cannons without cannoneers earlier in the battle. One of the major Confederate parties had not been notified of the truce.

Early on the morning of March 27, day of the truce, Colonel Scurry arrived at Johnson’s Ranch with the requested reserves and a supply train of some 80 wagons. Shortly after his arrival, knowing nothing about the truce, Scurry gathered a small detachment to accompany him up the Santa Fé Trail toward the Pass. He was eager to get down and dirty, if only to get a good look at the lay of the land.

From Pigeon’s Ranch, Major Chivington was also getting restless. He too decided that a quiet sunup on this day of the truce to care for the dead and wounded would be a fine time to scout the hills and pinpoint choice locations for a future fight.

He gathered a few of his staff: Captains Wynkoop, Downing, Cook and Anthony to accompany him on this short reconnaissance. Chivington knew that Colonel Slough, due at Kozlowski’s Ranch from Bernal Springs, would want a topographical report of Gloriéta Pass.

Suddenly, as the Coloradans rounded a bend, they found themselves staring at the Confederates headed by Colonel Scurry. As a new arrival at Glorieta Pass, Scurry wasn’t recognized by the Federals as a major player in the Confederacy. And since Scurry was not aware of a truce, it didn’t surprise him that the Union also was out and about in the early morning. The men in blue seemed to be all officers. Scurry immediately concluded that their troops marched right behind the Union leaders. He also suspected that these   men, not yet in view, were well armed, heading west, straight for his base camp at Johnson’s Ranch. Scurry had no choice but to stand his ground and give the impression that his entire army was also right on his heels.

Major Chivington too was totally surprised to encounter any Confederates on the Trail on the day of the truce. What are they doing here? The truce is supposed to last till 2:00 P.M., another eight hours. It would be just like them Rebels to be planning a jump start.

Chivington glanced at Captain Wynkoop.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Beats me!” Wynkoop shrugged.

Scurry decided to test the Feds—letting them play their hand first. But he wasn’t going to take any chances. He ordered a barricade across the Trail. Chivington would have erected a barricade also, except that he didn’t have the means.

Scurry sent a Texas Ranger who stopped a few feet away from Major Chivington who had dismounted.

 “I have orders to demand your surrender, sir. Lay down your weapons and follow me,” ordered the ranger.

Chivington burst out laughing. “It’s a cold morning up here, son, but it will be a colder day in hell before I surrender. You can tell your officer in charge that if he has something to say, I’ll meet him half way in the open, armed. Otherwise, he’d better back off.”

Capt. Cook said under his breath to Capt. Wynkoop, “I can’t figure why they’re asking for surrender with a truce in effect.”

The ranger turned around and raced back to the Confederate line.

Capt.Downing, looking through his field glasses, said to Chivington, “I can see we five are far outnumbered, and they want to pull a fast one on us. We’d better get out of here.”

Finally a Confederate officer separated from his men and rode out to the center of a little meadow. It was Lieutenant-Colonel William Scurry. He hailed from Tennessee. The 41-year old cut a striking figure in his well-fitted uniform. Resting a ready hand on his saber, he moved his mount to position himself crosswise in front of Chivington, but due to Chivington’s height he was close to standing face to face with Scurry on his mount.

Downing, peering through his field glasses, provided a running commentary of the confrontation. “Looks to me like the two alpha males are taking stock of each other’s manhood.”

Captain Anthony chuckled and said, “If the determining factor is the size of their personals, I’ll bet Chiv. takes the cake, hands down.” Downing proceeded with his observations, “The Confederate is not flinching. He’s eyeing Chiv. up and down and is not impressed with his size.”

Wynkoop added, “The Rebel is a colonel, and he   has realized his opponent is only a major. He’s going to try to talk down to Chiv.” Neither seemed, however, inclined to underestimate the other’s character or determination.

In a cultured voice Colonel Scurry asked, “Where are your troops, major?”

Chivington replied, “I didn’t know I needed any during a truce.”

(In fact Chivington had moved most of the troops back to Kozlowski’s Ranch where water was more plentiful while the burial detail was in progress.)

“What I want to know is: what are you doing here?” asked Chivington.

Scurry, a little taken aback replied with another question. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“What happened to Major Pyron’s truce?”

The colonel hesitated. He was a good actor. He thrust his chin out and replied, “I’m told it has expired.”

“How do you suppose this scenario will grab General Sibley when he hears that you broke a burial truce?”

Chiv continued quickly with his own opinion. “I think it’s going to reflect badly on you, sir.”