Tag Archives: Souix

Do You See Them !

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Young Warriors – Battle of the Little Bighorn

In the excitement of battle, the dust swirls up obscuring visibility, the sounds of the fighting seem to come from every direction, the eagerness on the part of these young men to enter the action, all play into the frenzy of making war. These young warriors are desperate to join the others and the fighting and are terrified they won’t get to take part in it before its over. The possibility to leave their youth behind and enter manhood as a respected battle proven warrior is their single driving force. This is their chance to make a name for themselves and gain honor by engaging the enemy. If they can only find them.

The battle is spread over a large area and the different engagements that make it up are constantly moving as fortunes shift and events unfold. It can be confusing trying to enter the action especially if your desire is to get up close to the enemy so you can fight them face to face, thereby winning much honor and the right to boast of your prowess to anyone who will listen. To be taken seriously as warriors not just untested young men. A very important thing to young men trying to move up in the warrior society. Every opportunity missed is an obstacle to their advancement.

As destiny would have it these young men barely out of their childhood will find the battle, and will find out what their future holds. Only the gods of war know what that future is.

Shadows On The Ridgeline

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Earlier that week a small band of Sioux led by Bloody Otter and five of his braves jumped the reservation and headed out onto the plains. Raging with battle lust, anxious to be tested, they wanted a fight and the honor and valor they could earn. To a man they were ready and looking for scalps. They found some and after a short and bitter fight removed them from a group of buffalo hunters that had the poor fortune of being too engrossed in skinning and stacking the hides of their recently harvested animals instead of setting a watch. It was a short battle for the braves but an eternity for the buffalo hunters. Flushed with their victory and the Sharps rifles and other spoils they had acquired they set off again for more easy pickings.

The scout had cut their trail several times over the week and followed them until he found what was left of the buffalo hunters. Seeing that they had picked up and armed themselves with the new .50 caliber Sharps that the buffalo hunters carried, some of which even had the new Creedmore Tang sights, he was wary of getting too close. Those guns could take down a buffalo at well over 800 yards. A man wouldn’t stand a chance if he got hit with that slug that weighed a little over and ounce and a half. Although the Indians weren’t really known for being expert marksman, one hit from the Sharps would end the day for him even if it was just a flesh wound.

 It was up to him to get word back to the troops that were several miles behind him. They would be in for a rough go of it if they walked into a trap facing those Sharps. The trick was to see and not be seen. It was fast approaching dusk and the sun was behind him, its light spinning the grasses into gold and highlighting everything in its warm glow. The war party was just cresting the second hill back a quarter-mile or so making their outlines crisp and sharp on the ridgeline, the sun in their eyes, when Dotter barked once and faced towards the hills. That was all the warning the scout needed. He pulled up short, checked once to make sure they hadn’t seen him and rode like all the devils in hell were after him, which had they seen him they would have been, and headed back to where the main party of troops would be camped.

This deadly game of hide and seek was played out many times as the battles and skirmishes took place during the middle to late 1800’s. Sometimes the Indians won sometimes not. Toward the end of the century, outnumbered, outgunned, it was mostly not.

Misses His Friends

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Young men and war. How glorious it is. Sitting around the campfire, hearing the elders talk about battles they had when they were young warriors. Riding out across the prairie with a comrade and speaking of brave deeds you would do if given a chance. Scalps you would take, coup you would count, enemies dying on your lance or from your arrows. The excitement, the stories to bring back to the lodge of your prowess in battle, the admiring glances of the young maidens. All this and more if you can only get into the next fight. How agonizing not to have participated yet and be a respected warrior.

Then it happens. You get your opportunity to wage war with your sworn enemy. In this case it is the blue coats that have been relentlessly entering your land, running off the game, killing anyone they see. They’re coming and it will be a big battle, the biggest anyone has ever seen. The biggest in the memory of even the oldest old man in the village. Bigger even than the old mans grandfather could have remembered were you able to ask him. All the tribes are joining together to take part in this exciting, exhilarating, awful, incredible magnificent event. The medicine men have been singing of visions they have had where the Greasy grass is covered with the dead, the women going from body to body making sure no one is alive. Guns, rifles, and pistols laying about for the taking. Reputations made, brave acts to sing about for generations. And you and your friends will play a part. You will  be the relentless, merciless warrior and be victorious in this battle just as you have dreamed of since you  were a child.

 And then after a time filled with smoke and war cries, violence and death it is over. The Greasy grass is indeed covered with the dead just as foreseen by the visionaries and the spoils of war have been collected and it’s time for feasts and celebrations, and dancing and story telling, and a time to come down from that glorious battle high and look around you for your friends. That’s when you find that several of them are not at the celebration and never will be again. They’re among the dead laying in the Greasy grass. Killed by the enemy you were victorious over.

Suddenly in the aftermath of what was your greatest adventure you see that those friends that you rode with and boasted with and fought alongside of are no more. They are the same as the enemy now, lifeless and scattered across the land waiting for loved ones to come gather them for preparation to spend eternity in that other world where the dead reside. Songs will be sung about them that will live in the hearts of some for a while but the truth is they are gone forever now and will not share anything with you ever again. This death today is permanent. There will be more conquests and defeats for you to come, very likely more  of the latter than the former but those boyhood friends will not be a part of them. Now you think and mourn, the shine has gone off the day and in reflection you find that there is a high price to pay for glory. Perhaps too high but that’s something to think about later. His name tonight is Misses His Friends.