3. Mission

In 1864, while continuing to ride the range and hunt coyotes, he "had an occasion to go to Provo" to buy a cow. While at Bishop Johnson's house, he met the girl that would change his life; a fellow Danish immigrant named Marinda Ipson. Marinda had come to Utah just a year or two before Hans. Like Hans, her father had died on the way, and her mother had married Bishop Johnson. Her mother would soon after die, leaving Marinda to be raised by her step-father. She had a good upbringing, and I'm sure Hans did not mind the fact that they came from the same country with similar circumstances. They quickly fell in love and courted until Hans was called on a mission.

Hans' mission was not to proselyte though, as is common for most Mormon men. He was asked to drive a team to the Missouri River to transport the struggling immigrants who were making their way to Utah. He left his girl at the gate on April 10, 1864, and left Goshen for Salt Lake City on April 13th. In Salt Lake, he met Brigham Young and had an interview with him. Brigham then addressed all the teamsters and prophesied that none of them would lose their lives and would return home safely if they did half way right. By half way right, Brigham meant they should, "leave the girls alone." Hans had great confidence in his sayings.

The only medicine that Brigham would allow was a 40 gallon barrel of whiskey, which was to be used for those who did the swimming. With that counsel they started their journey backward along the Mormon trail, following the North Platte River. Hans soon shot a large deer and used his Indian skills to jerky the meat to save for later. It is along the North Platte that the climax of his story occurs. I defer to his own words:

"The next place was 80 miles down the river. Our assistant wagon master had formed camp with eight wagons a little ahead of the rest. They had unyoked their oxen. It was a very sultry afternoon. The oxen went to the river to drink and then started to swim the river for a small island about half way across. One of the teamsters thought he would undress and follow them. He caught hold of the last oxes tail. The current was so swift that the oxen did not get to the island, but floated across to the other side. He tried to bring them back, but they refused to come.

By that time the train had all got in. It began to rain and hail. There were about 65 of us sitting on the opposite bank of the river listening to his cries. He cried out if he had any friends, now was the time to help him as he was about frozen. The wagon master walked along the line and called each man by name and asked, "Can you swim that river and help that man?" The answer was "no" until he came to me. I said I could swim the river, but I could not swim it back with a man on my back, nor could I drive the oxen into the river so he could come back the way he went across with them. Our wagon master said for me to try to swim a horse across. I tried and got about one third of the way by swimming by the side of the horse. The horse began to lunge for the bottom. I turned the horse back and we both swam back to shore again. The wagon master gave me another horse and said, "Swim him across or drown him." I swam him a little over half way across when he began to sink. I then went on and left him to drown.

When I reached where the man was he had quit hollering, and I could not find him. I spoke and he answered faintly. He was about chilled to death. The wagon master hollered for me to come back. I told the almost dead man what he had said. He then began to realize the situation. "Are you going to leave me here for the coyotes to eat me?" he asked. I considered one minute and said, "No, I will save you or die with you." I then concluded to pick him up and find the train that I had seen that afternoon.

We were both stark naked, and it was still hailing and raining. I started with him in the dark with his arms around my neck and my arms around his legs, which warmed both of us when we touched each other. I packed him about three miles through prickly pear as thick as stubble in a wheat field. We found the road. I let him down and tried to get him to walk, but he could not as he said that he was tired and wanted to sit down and rest. I knew it would be our last rest on earth if we did. I put him on my back again and packed him 7 or 8 miles.

We arrived at the camp about 4:00 o'clock in the morning. Two men were on guard. I told the guard my story. He pulled off his overcoat and gave it to me. He hunted a blanket for the man with me. I asked him if there was any liquor in the camp. He said "yes" and found one quart bottle. We drank the liquor and rubbed each other with it until it was gone. Then we called for more and got it. Pretty soon the people began to get up all over camp. We ate a good breakfast, and by that time our wagon master had come up the river. He called across to find out if we were alive and what we were going to do. I told him that I could swim the river, but could not get the other man nor the cattle back without going about 80 miles up river to the bridge. He said to make any arrangements that you can for the man and the cattle, but you come back to our train. I told the master of the train where I was that if he would get the sixteen head he could have his choice out of the bunch and take the rest up to the bridge, which he promised to do.

I never met the man since, nor I don't know his name, but he came from Tooele. I then walked to the bank of the river with the guard, pulled off his coat and gave it to him and bid him goodbye and plunged into the river. I swam down river about a mile to my train. They were there looking for me. I tried to get out by grabbing a willow with my hand, but I could not hold it. They saw that I was chilled. They reached down and pulled me out and packed me to my wagon. I was paralyzed with the cold for three days which none of them expected me to live through. My captain got paper and pen and asked me if I had any friends or relations at home. He said that he would write to them for me. I told him that I expected to meet my friends and relations in good condition if he would furnish me what I wanted. He stayed right with me, gave me all the whiskey I could drink and rubbed me with it. At the end of three days I was able to do it again.

This is my experience of the last three days and nights. My first night out, when I picked the man up to pack him through the prickly pear, the first few bunches hurt me very much as I was bare footed. I then began to pray to God, my Eternal Father, to give me strength in body and brain that I might be able to endure. I realized that me and him were not out there alone, but there was a third party with us. I figured up my account for life, weighed myself on the balance for good and evil. I found that my evil out weighed the good qualities. I prayed for time and it was granted for forty years to amend my past ways to the future of doing good. I made a solemn covenant that if God would spare my life that I would return to Utah and change my program of life, and I would get married and endeavor to live the life of a true Latter Day Saint; which I have endeavored to comply with according to my promise."

Hans continued his journey, swimming several more times to guide the oxen and wagons, and swam again to save another man. He made many friends of the immigrants he helped, and even confronted some hostile Indians. He spent all the gold dust he had on expenses without expecting or receiving any repayment or reward.

On October 5th he arrived again in Salt Lake City and interviewed with Brigham Young. Brigham advised him to go home, get married, plant trees, build a house and fence a farm. "A good home would be better than a dugout," he told Hans. Hans followed this counsel, returning to Goshen to find his love in Provo and get married.

On his way he mentions meeting Porter Rockwell and William Price. This is the only evidence we have that he knew the famous Rockwell, but he knew him well enough to call Rockwell his "old friend." Hans mentions seeing one of his pigs that weighed over 800 pounds, which coincides with reports of an enormous pig sold at Jennings Meat Market at Christmas that same year. Rockwell was also involved in the settlement at Ephraim, the Overland Company, and the Battle of Bear River, which gave Hans ample time to get to know this famous Mormon lawman.

The story of Hans' mission has inspired me throughout my life. I remember listening to my grandmother relate this story while I looked at his picture and the family heirlooms she had from him. According to Hans' children he carried the scars from the prickly pears all his life, supposedly even picking out slivers that had remained even when he was an old man.

Hans' cowboy days prepared him for this special mission he was to accomplish. If he had not been able to swim, the man may have died alone on the other side of the river. Hans must have had great confidence in Brigham's prophesy to refuse to write a final testament to his family while thought to be on his death bed.

As for his first night in the prickly pears, Hans prayed to God and received the help that he needed, even though he considered himself a less than righteous man. God sent His angel to assist Hans, and though he still had to suffer hardship, his burden was made light for I know no one who can carry a man on his back through 3 miles of cactus as thick as wheat stubble. By this extraordinary experience, Hans received a witness that God does truly live. He was promised, and indeed given more than forty years to live the life of a latter-day saint. Yet the lesson to learn is for all of us. Just because Hans received a special witness of the power of God, he did not become a prophet or apostle, he did not seek for political position, and indeed he was even at times chided publicly by church authorities for his mistakes, yet he remained faithful to the witness he received and lived his life righteously as an ordinary man, as should all of us. Hans is living proof that among the titles of president, governor, apostle or prophet, the greatest title that can be bestowed upon any man is that of father and patriarch of his own home.