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m. 22 Jul 1866
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1850 census-John; 13; born PA 1860 census-CA-Placer-Michigan Bluffs-shows John to be living in a hotel. He is the bar keeper. He is 21 and born in PA. 1861-1865-www.ancestry.com Civil War Service Records: John L Shissler, Co. G, 1 California Infantry, private, Union Fort McRae, July 26, 1863. Dear Brother: I have waited a long time for an answer to the letters I have written you and the others at home. It is now over two months since I have heard. This shall be the last letter I shall write until I have one from that source. It may be, however, that the letters have been lost on the way for the Indians have robbed and destroyed several mails of late. I shall here attempt to describe this post. It lies about two miles to the left of the Rio Grande and about forty miles from Fort Craig. It was established two months ago for the protection of Government trains and the public in general. Many need to drive in here from the main road between Las Cruces and Fort Craig to water the animals, for there is not a drop of water within ninety miles. The road traverses a desert. This route is called by the Mexicans La Journadad del Muerte, or, in English, the Journey of Death, because so many persons perish from want of water or at the hands of murderous Indians. The latter we are here to exterminate or, at least keep in check. Ours is the only company here at present, and consequently we have plenty to do -- standing guard, patrolling, and keeping a sharp lookout generally for the Redskins. Speaking of Indians -- for want of something more interesting -- I will give you an account of a fight several of us had with them on Sunday, the 19th inst., which came near proving fatal to all of us. There were six in our party -- Sergeant Charley Ashbey and Corporal Jack Davis, Company O, 1st Infantry, California Volunteers, and privates Barton P. Spencer, Chris Pape, Robert S. Johnson and myself, of Company G, same troops. The two former were on their way to join their company some three hundred miles from here. They had been left sick at Franklin, Texas, when their company moved from that place. The four latter were an escort for the ambulance of the 1st Infantry, California volunteers, which contained the camp equipage of Lieutenant Colonel McMullen and Dr. Edw. S. Watson. We left this place on Saturday, the 18th inst., about dark, leaving the Colonel and the doctor to follow us next morning on horseback. The sky was threatening, and we had gone only a mile or so from camp when it became so dark it was impossible to keep the road. Aided by the vivid lightning we soon discovered we were off the road. The thunder claps were deafening and the lightning more and more blinding, so that Bob Johnson, who was driving, said it was useless to try to go further for we would be unable to make the main road. The rain was now falling in torrents. The thunder and lightning kept up their mad display. It was impossible to hear each other speak. There we were -- off the road, in a deep rocky canyon, the haunt of wild beasts of all that territory, and, what was worse, the hiding place of the murderous Indians of the Apache and Navajo tribes. But we had to make the best of a bad bargain. 'Twas impossible to go on and to go back was out of the question, for when any of our boys undertake to do a thing, you may bet high, they will do it or die in the attempt. So we agreed to stay there until the storm abated and the stars shone again, or wait until daylight. That being settled we sought the shelter of the ambulance, all except Bob, who said he would watch until daylight, that is, keep an eye open for Indians. He little thought that for all his watchfulness, in twenty-four hours or less, he would be sleeping in death. But more of this later. There was little sleep for any of us that night. Each took his turn at standing guard -- I relieving Bob -- keeping his ears open, the eyes being useless, for the darkness was so dense that one could not see his hand before his face. About 2 o'clock Sunday morning the clouds broke and the stars shone brightly once more. In short order Bob had his team on the road again and by daylight we were on the Journadad del Muerte, which it proved to be for us before night. 'Twas a pleasant Sunday morning, cool after the rain. Our road lay over a remarkably level country. As the ambulance was very lightly laden we stowed ourselves away as comfortably as possible, and, to pass away the time, indulged in singing, hymns as well as songs. Several of the boys, by the way, were good singers. Now and then a joke was cracked, or an interesting yarn spun by Spencer. He can always entertain a crowd by a recital of his adventures in the mines of California or exciting experiences elsewhere. The monotony of the trip was thus relieved, but every once in a while the night of sleeplessness took its toll. Why not? No accident had befallen us, we were apparently out of all danger, and as for being Sunday morning -- well, we hardly know what Sunday means in the Army unless it means an inspection by our officers. To tell the truth, Ned, I have not seen a real Sabbath morning since I left Port Carbon. But I am getting off the track. We had no provisions with us as it was intended only that we should overtake two empty wagons which had left Fort Craig and to transfer our load into them. The ambulance was then to return to this place with our boys as an escort. The two wagons, it seems, camped for a short time only and we could not have overtaken them unless we had driven very fast. I suppose we had driven some twenty miles when we were overtaken by the Colonel, the doctor, and Lieutenant Baldwin, 1st Cavalry, California Volunteers. We explained to the Colonel our last night's experience, where we had camped, and that it had been impossible to overtake the other wagons. He then gave orders to let the mules take their time as we would have to drive all the way to Fort Craig. Shortly after the officers had lunch. Later the Doctor decided he would ride in the ambulance, not feeling very well, and riding a horse made him feel worse -- a fatal conclusion for him, as you shall soon see. The other officers urged him to accompany them, but to no avail. The Colonel, after admonishing us to drive slowly, accompanied by his orderly and Lieutenant Baldwin, mounted his mustang and started for the fort. It was now about 9 o'clock in the morning and we were once more on our way. By this time we were all sleepy and very tired, and we tried to snatch a few minutes sleep as we rode along. I was sitting in the hind part of the ambulance, leading the Colonel's horse, which the Doctor had been riding that morning. This, along with the jolting of the ambulance, kept me from regaining any lost sleep. We rode along in this manner until we reached a point within six miles of Parajo, a small town about nine miles from Fort Craig I had dozed off for a moment when I was aroused by a shout from Bob, “Oh, boys!” His cry was cut short by a crack of a rifle, followed immediately by the report of small arms and showers of arrows, which perforated the ambulance. We were attacked by Indians. Spencer was the first to jump to the ground, but he had no time to get his rifle. Had he been a half second later a dozen arrows would have pierced his body. He had nothing but his bayonet to protect himself. The Indians were within thirty yards of him, dancing from one side to the other resembling nothing so much as fairies dancing in the air, and shooting their willow sprouts all about him. He managed to escape being hit by a series of fantastic motions that for a time out did the Indians themselves. He saw, however, that he could not dodge the arrows much longer as they were coming thicker and thicker and closer and closer. He thought his time had surely come. Resolved that he would sell his life as dearly as possible, he drew his bayonet from its scabbard and dashed headlong at the Indians, hoping to get at least one of them before he fell. This so astonished the Indians that there was a slight pause in the attack. By this time we had all managed to get out of the ambulance, which was completely surrounded. The well known crack of our rifles was the sweetest sound he ever heard, he said afterward, but he regretted that he had been unable to rip the hide of a redskin with his bayonet. We soon were in possession of the field. But poor Bob was shot through the heart at the first fire. He fell from his mule and lay some 150 yards in the rear of the ambulance. Sergeant Ashby, with a great deal of danger to himself, had succeeded in stopping the mules after Bob had been shot. The Doctor was dead in the ambulance, an arrow cutting through the main artery in the thigh and another piercing his breast. Another body of Indians just come up now made a break for Bob's body to get his scalp and clothes. They were foiled in their design for Spencer and I had made up our minds to lose our lives before they should have Bob's body or even a hair of his head. We fought off ten of them, for Spencer now had his rifle, and, with the assistance of the boys who had been looking after the Doctor, succeeded in bringing him to the ambulance. We then prepared for another attack, which we rather thought would be made because there were now only five of us while the Indians numbered over six times that number. In the fray both Corporal Davis and Chris Pape received arrows through their clothes while getting out of the ambulance. One struck me in the thigh and another went through my shirt under the left arm, neither doing any serious damage. The Indians failed to attack but all fled instead. We stayed on the field for a half hour after the attack. We found the only rifle the Indians had, the one that killed poor Bob, and also a revolver. There were numerous pools of blood where some of them had been wounded. We found no bodies, for Indians make it a point to carry off their dead and wounded on horses they have close at hand for that purpose. I believe they would rather lose the fight than the body of any of their number, dead or alive. Arrows lay over the ground in thick profusion, twenty-three pierced the cover of the ambulance and several stuck in the body. It is the greatest wonder we were not all killed when getting out. We surely expected to be and had made up our minds to sell our lives as dearly as possible. The redskins did not relish fighting in the open against our shining long-range guns, and so on sought safety in flight. Seeing the Indians did not intend to renew the attack, we made the best of our way to the town of Parajo with our dead and reported to the provost marshal, who immediately started an express to the commanding officer at Fort Craig. Thus ended a day, which so pleasantly dawned in jest and song and so sadly ended in bloodshed and murder. Dr. Edward S. Watson was a native of New York State, and Surgeon of 1st Infantry, California Volunteers, a fine scholar, and a perfect gentleman, beloved and respected by the men in his organization. In him our column has lost one of its brightest ornaments. As for poor Bob -- his death has cast a gloom over the entire camp, of which he was the life. He was never downhearted and always had a good word for everybody. Ever interesting were his yarns of adventure with the various tribes of Indians in the Western States and territories, principally with the Arapahos and Sioux. His father was killed some years ago by the Pawnees. Bob spent most of his life in Indian country. He was a native of Missouri and was about twenty-five years old. There, I have written you a long letter and as true an account of the affray as I am able. Whether it will interest you or not is another matter. Excuse my writing, for I have no table and must use my blanket in its stead. If it were not for the inconveniences in writing I might send you many a little sketch, which might awaken your interest in our life here in the far West. I hope you will answer this promptly with a long letter. If you don't I shall believe you have all turned Copperheads and forsaken the Union and all its interests. What is the matter with the Pennsylvanians that they do not answer the Governor's call more promptly? We have very discouraging news from that quarter. As the mail does not leave for three or four days I will hold this letter open and may add a few lines to it. Give my love to Louisa and the little ones and all inquiring friends. Hoping you will be more punctual in answering my letters, I remain, as ever, Your affectionate brother, John Edward Shissler, Esq. Minersville, PA August 1st, 1863. I shall now bring this letter to a conclusion. Since writing the above we have had some very favorable news from the States -- Lee's disaster (Gettysburg), and Grant's victory (Vicksburg). We hardly know whether to believe it or not because we have been so often disappointed. If it is true then I shall have some hopes of getting out of the service before my three years are up. Not that I am tired of fighting for the cause -- for that is one of which I could never tire -- but it is because I am anxious to see the folks at home once more. In fact such news makes me more anxious to return home than since any time I left for California. We California Volunteers rather expected, when we were sworn in, that we would be sent to the Atlantic States. We were much mistaken and sadly disappointed when we were sent down to this God-forsaken country instead. Of course, we have not had any big battles, nor even the same sort of foe to contend with, but for all that our services have not been without their adventures and hair-breadth escapes. There needed to be troops down in this country, and if we had not been sent it would have been necessary to send others. Besides, many of us have likely saved our “nappers” by not being sent to the States. But here's no telling. Some redskin may yet have the pleasure of “lifting our h'ar,” as the Californians say. As this sheet is full, and as I haven't another, I shall bring this letter to a close. Now, don't forget to answer this with a good long letter -- like those you used to write to Your brother, John. Company G, 1st Infantry, California Volunteers, Department of New Mexico 1864-John's army discharge paper is dated 31 AUG 1864. He was a private of Captain Henry A. Greene's Company G, 1st Regiment of California Infantry Volunteers. He enlisted on 01 AUG 1861 for 3 years and was discharged at Fort Craig, New Mexico. He was 5'8"; fair complexion; grey eyes and light hair. His occupation is listed as carpenter. The Oath of Identity, 2 FEB 1867 shows he was a private in the company commanded by Captain Henry A. Greene in the regiment 1st Regl. Cal. Vol. commanded by Edwin A. Rigg; enlisted 10 AUG 1861 for three years and was discharged at Ft. Craig, New Mexico on 31 AUG 1864 by reason of extinction of term of service. 1869-John was "duly elected" Justice of the Peace for the borough of Port Carbon, PA 06 NOV 1869 "for the term of five years". 1870 census-PA-Schulykill-Port Carbon-pg 49-PO Minersville-25 Aug 1870-lines 2-7-dwelling/family 378-John Shissler; 32; druggist; personal estate value $150; Anna; 22; keeping house; Isabella; 3; Louisa; 1; [Lucinda]; Mary; 21; [again, I think this is William C Shissler's child ]; Bridget Cockner; 16; servant; all are born PA 1875-Port Carbon Business Directory-pg 852-John L Shissler; drugs &; Pike & Church 1880 census-PA-Schuylkill-Port Carbon- pg 15-ED 217-9 Jun 1880-lines 3-8-dwelling 122-family 123-John L Shisler; 39; hardware merchant; Annie L; 33; Bella G; 13; Lula L; 11; Wallace E; 9; Annie E; 6; all born PA 1889-Port Carbon Business Dircetory-pg 297-John L Shissler; agent; hardware; Pike nr Lang 1890 Veteran's Schedule-line 20; house 149; family 152 shows Shissler, John L; prvt; Co. G; 1st Cal Inf.; enlisted 10 Aug 1861; discharge 31 Aug 1864; length of service 3 yr 0 mo. 21 days; PO address Port Carbon; disability incurred: diabetes, vericose veins, catarrh stomach 1890-John's date of death was a Thursday at 5:45 AM and he was buried at 2 PM on 15 NOV 1890 at the Presbyterian Church in Port Carbon, PA. John was also a hardware merchant and a member of the Presbyterian Church. 1890-www.ancestry.com: Civil War Pension Index: General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934 - John L Shissler, state filed: PA; widow: Annie Shissler Image Gallery
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