TVR Review Five Years of Cavalryman - Premium Review
Long Review
H.H. McConnell’s Five Years a Cavalryman: Or, Sketches of Regular Army Life on the Texas Frontier, Twenty Odd Years Ago is exactly what the subtitle promises: a boots-on-the-ground, episodic account of U.S. cavalry service as lived—mud, monotony, gallows humor, and sudden danger included. In this annotated, illustrated edition, McConnell’s original 19th-century “sketches” are framed by modern additions and family-historical stewardship (including new material credited to DuAnne Redus and a foreword that situates Fort Richardson and the book’s local gravity).
The book’s core appeal is its unvarnished attention to texture: the lived mechanics of frontier military life rather than a tidy “campaign narrative.” McConnell writes as a participant-observer, moving between anecdote, character portrait, and situational comedy. The structure is chaptered and scene-driven, with an emphasis on incidents and environments rather than a single building plotline—closer to a serialized memoir than to modern narrative nonfiction. That makes it easy to dip into, but it also means pacing varies: some sections are brisk and story-forward, while others linger in digression, cataloging, and the author’s asides. Readers looking for a clean arc may find the movement episodic; readers who want period flavor, situational detail, and a sense of “how it felt” will find the looseness part of the charm.
McConnell’s voice is often wry and unexpectedly literary for a soldier’s reminiscence, especially when he turns to the absurd improvisations of frontier culture. A standout example is the extended detour into post newspapers—how a makeshift paper like “The Flea” is born, traded, mocked, and celebrated, with an almost self-satirizing confidence about “occupy[ing] … all sides of all questions.” That sequence highlights one of the book’s best qualities: the frontier is not presented only as violence and hardship, but also as ingenuity, boredom-management, and social performance—men inventing status, entertainment, and identity with whatever materials are at hand.
When the book does move into higher-intensity territory, it can land with striking immediacy. The depiction of Satanta’s handling and public arrival—the binding, the physical description, the crowd’s attention—shows McConnell’s eye for staging and physical detail, even as it also reveals the era’s attitudes and power dynamics in ways modern readers may find bracing. The writing is frequently vivid without being “cinematic” in a modern sense; it relies on observation and accumulation—bodies, weather, animals, equipment, routines—so that moments of conflict feel like eruptions inside a larger system of waiting, marching, and paperwork.
This edition’s concept—pairing a period military memoir with modern annotation and family-context material—adds value, especially for regional historians, museum educators, and Texas readers who care about place. The result is not only a document of Army life but also a living artifact: a book that has clearly functioned as a memory-anchor for descendants and community historians.
Limitations are real and should be named plainly. First, the prose is of its time: rhetorical flourishes, editorializing, and occasional tonal whiplash are baked in. Second, the book reflects 19th-century frontier frameworks—especially in its language and depiction of Indigenous people and racialized groups—which can read as biased, reductive, or offensive today. Third, because the narrative is built from “sketches,” some readers may want more connective tissue, clearer chronology, or a stronger through-line.
Even with those caveats, Five Years a Cavalryman succeeds as a primary-source reading experience that stays readable: it’s detailed without being purely technical, colorful without becoming fiction, and frequently sharp about the gap between romantic frontier myth and the daily reality of service. For readers interested in Texas frontier history, the lived culture of Army posts, or the human texture behind period markers and fort ruins, it’s an absorbing and often surprisingly entertaining companion.
Short Review
Five Years a Cavalryman is a lively, episodic memoir of U.S. cavalry life on the Texas frontier—less a single “war story” than a string of on-the-ground sketches that capture routine, improvisation, and periodic danger.
McConnell’s voice is observant and often wry, especially when describing frontier culture at the margins of official Army business—like the ad hoc newspaper scene around “The Flea,” where swagger and satire become survival tools in a place with too much time and too little polish.
The book’s strongest feature is texture: barracks life, local characters, and moments where the frontier’s tension spikes into violence or spectacle. The Satanta sequence, for example, is written with physical specificity and a strong sense of crowd dynamics, even as it reflects the period’s power assumptions.
This edition also matters: it’s not just a reprint. The modern framing and credited new material position the text as both history and family/community artifact, adding context for readers who come to the book through Fort Richardson, Jacksboro, or Texas heritage interest.
Potential sticking points: the structure is “sketch” based (pacing and focus vary), and the language/attitudes are unmistakably 19th century—sometimes biased or offensive by modern standards. For readers who want a readable primary source with grit, humor, and lived detail, it’s a strong pick—especially for Texas history and frontier-military enthusiasts.
One-Sentence Review
A vivid, episodic frontier memoir that trades tidy plot for lived detail—wry barracks life, improvised post culture, and flashes of violence—made richer (and more complex) by its modern annotated edition.
Book Rating
📘📘📘📘 – Strongly Recommended: A vivid, readable primary-source account with memorable scenes and an engaging voice, even if its episodic structure and period attitudes may limit its appeal for some readers.
Pull Quotes (1–2)
- “A surprisingly readable slice of Texas frontier history—full of lived texture, dark humor, and the unglamorous realities behind the myth.”
- “More than a soldier’s reminiscence, it’s a working document of how people entertained themselves, endured boredom, and navigated danger on remote posts.”
Content Notes
• Language: Mild to moderate; period terminology and attitudes may include biased or offensive references typical of 19th-century writing.
• Violence: Moderate; frontier conflict, capture/restraint, and murder/trial material.
• Sexual Content: None to minimal.
• Drugs/Alcohol: Light; occasional period-typical references may appear.
• Sensitive Topics: War/frontier trauma, bigotry/racism, depictions of Indigenous people through a 19th-century lens.
ReadSafe Rating
• Rating: PG-13
• Labels: V, ST
• Genres: Military History; U.S. Frontier/Western History; Memoir/Autobiography
• ISBN: 979-8993181202
• Explanation: The overall content includes recurring frontier violence and conflict, including capture/restraint and murder/trial material, but is generally described rather than graphically lingered on. Period language and viewpoints may include sensitive, biased depictions consistent with the era, which can affect the reading experience for modern audiences.