It seems that the Indian police brought Major McLaughlin information as
to the intentions of the famous medicine man. The Major became convinced
that Sitting Bull must be arrested and confined, and he therefore sent a
squad of police under Lieutenant Bull Head. Among the thirty-nine Indian
policemen who made the arrest were four relatives. Aside from the
officer in charge, Bull Head, Red Tomahawk and Shave Head seem to have
been the most prominent.
Sitting Bull’s settlement consisted of a number of houses stretched on
the banks of the Grand River for a distance of four or five miles. The
group surrounding Sitting Bull’s cabin was comprised of half a dozen
log-cabins and a corral.
The police entered upon their mission in the night and arrived at
daylight. “Many of the houses were deserted, the Indians having been
engaged in dancing the greater part of the previous night. The entrance
of the policemen awakened the camp, but they saw no one, as Bull Head
wheeled his men between the Sitting Bull houses and ordered them to
dismount. Ten policemen, headed by Bull Head and Shave Head, entered one
of the houses, eight policemen the other. In the house entered by Bull
Head’s party they found the old medicine man, his two wives, and Crow
Foot his son, a youth of seventeen years.
“The women were very much frightened and began to cry. Sitting Bull sat
up and asked what was the matter.
“‘You are under arrest and must go to the agency,’ said Bull Head.
“‘Very well,’ said Sitting Bull, ‘I will go with you.’ And he told one
of his wives to go to the other house and bring him his best clothes. He
showed no concern at his arrest, but evidently wanted to make a good
impression and dressed himself with some care. He had also asked that
his best horse, a gray one, be saddled, and an Indian policeman had the
animal at the door by the time Sitting Bull was dressed and ready to
leave.
“There had been no trouble in the house, and the police, when they
walked out, were surprised at the extent of the demonstration. They came
out of the building in a little knot, Bull Head on one side of Sitting
Bull, Shave Head on the other, and Red Tomahawk directly behind. They
had been twenty minutes or more in Sitting Bull’s house, and it was in
the gray of the morning when they came out. They stepped out into a mass
of greatly excited Ghost dancers, nearly all armed and crowding about
the main body of the police, who had held the way clear at the door. As
Sitting Bull stepped out with his captors he walked directly toward the
horse, with the evident intention of mounting and accompanying the
police. He was some distance from the door when his son, Crow Foot,
seeing that the old man intended to make no resistance, began to revile
him:—
“‘You call yourself a brave man and you have declared that you would
never surrender to a blue-coat, and now you give yourself up to Indians
in blue uniforms,’ the young man shouted.
“The taunt hit Sitting Bull hard. He looked into the mass of dark,
excited faces, and commenced to talk volubly and shrilly, and there was
a menacing movement in the crowd.
“The last moment of Sitting Bull’s life showed him in a better light, so
far as physical courage goes, than all the rest of it. He looked about
him and saw his faithful adherents—about 160 crazed Ghost dancers—who
would have gone through fire at his bidding; to submit to arrest meant
the end of his power and his probable imprisonment; he had sure news
from Pine Ridge that he, only, was needed to head the hostiles there in
a war of extermination against the white settlers. He made up his mind
to take his chance, and screamed out an order to his people to attack
the police.
“Instantly Catch-the-Bear and Strikes-the-Kettle, who were in the front
rank of the crowd, fired at point-blank range, Catch-the-Bear mortally
wounding First Lieutenant Bull Head, and Strikes-the-Kettle shooting
First Sergeant Shave Head in the abdomen. Lieutenant Bull Head was a few
yards to the left and front of Sitting Bull when hit, and immediately
wheeling, he shot Sitting Bull through the body, and at the same instant
Second Sergeant Red Tomahawk, who with revolver in hand was rearguard,
shot him in the right cheek, killing him instantly; the lieutenant, the
first sergeant, and Sitting Bull falling together.
“Sitting Bull’s medicine had not saved him, and the shot that killed him
put a stop forever to the domination of the ancient regime among the
Sioux of the Standing Rock reservation.
“The tale of the bloody fight that ensued has been told, and the world
knows how those thirty-nine Indian policemen, with four of their
relatives who volunteered to accompany them,—a total of forty-three in
all—fought off 160 Ghost dancers, eight of whom were killed and five
wounded; how Second Sergeant Red Tomahawk, after the two higher ranking
police officers had been mortally wounded, took command and drove the
Indians to the timber; how Hawk Man No. 1 ran through a hail of bullets
to get the news to the cavalry detachment, and how six faithful friends
of the Whites, policemen of the Standing Rock reservation, laid down
their lives in doing their duty that morning. Two days later, on
December 17, 1890, we buried Shave Head and four other Indian policemen
with military honors in the cemetery at Standing Rock, and, while
Captain Miner’s entire company of the Twenty-Second U. S. Infantry fired
three volleys over the graves of these red heroes, and a great concourse
of the Sioux of the reservation stood in the chill bright sunlight of a
fair winter’s day, mourning aloud for their dead, I quietly left the
enclosure and joined a little burial-party in the military cemetery at
Fort Yates, situated about five hundred yards south of the agency
cemetery. Four military prisoners dug the grave, and in the presence of
A. R. Chapin, Assistant Surgeon, U. S. A., H. M. Deeble, Acting
Assistant Surgeon, U. S. A., Lieutenant P. G. Wood, U. S. A., Post
Quartermaster, now Brigadier General, retired, and myself, the body of
Sitting Bull, wrapped in canvas and placed in a coffin, was lowered into
the grave.”[18]
Naturally the death of Sitting Bull caused great commotion and many
Indians joined the Ghost dancers. In spite of promises to the contrary,
they imagined that all those who had incurred the ill will of the
authorities were to be killed.
About this time Major Brooke sent out American Horse with Two Strike and
others to persuade the rest of the Ghost dancers to come in. There were
a number of skirmishes in which a few persons were killed on each side.
[Illustration:
THE CATHOLIC MISSION NEAR WOUNDED KNEE BATTLEFIELD, PINE RIDGE
]
On December 28th, Major Whitside in charge of the Seventh Cavalry came
up with Big Foot’s band. This same Indian, Big Foot, and his people were
traveling toward Pine Ridge agency. According to Mooney’s account,
Whitside demanded unconditional surrender which was at once given. The
Indians and the soldiers went into camp twenty miles northeast of Pine
Ridge agency. All of this was communicated to Major Brooke, who sent
Colonel Forsythe with four companies of the Seventh Cavalry to join
Whitside. This gave Whitside a total of 470 men as against 106 warriors
and a number of women and children, frequently estimated from 200 to
250. The other Ghost dancers under Kicking Bear and Short Bull had been
persuaded by American Horse and Little Wound to come in to the agency
and were encamped at the Catholic mission, five miles out. December 29th
(the next day) the officers ordered the Indians to be disarmed. In the
center of the camp of the Indians a white flag had been erected. Early
in the morning a battery of four Hotchkiss guns had been posted, and
these were trained on the Indian camp. The cavalry was placed in squads
at various angles, almost entirely surrounding the Indians, or at least
on the flank. Chief Big Foot was ill with pneumonia, and the troops had
provided him with a tent warmed by a camp stove. About eight o’clock in
the morning the men were ordered to give up their guns. Following
Mooney’s account further, twenty of them came out with only two guns.
The Indians seemed unwilling to give them up, and some of the soldiers
were ordered to go into the tents and secure them. Mooney says that this
search consumed time and created excitement. My information is to the
effect that the soldiers threw things about in the tents and took guns
away from those who had them; many children were badly frightened and
began to cry, and the Indians were now told by the shaman, Yellow Bird,
that they were to be disarmed and then killed. I was told that the
medicine man threw dust high in the air and it broke like a little cloud
and then the massacre began. Mooney presents the same idea, in a little
different form.
While this searching had continued, a large part of the soldiers had
been ordered up to within ten yards of the Indians, which further added
to their terror and convinced them that Yellow Bird spoke the truth,
that they were all to be shot down.
One or two Indians drew revolvers or rifles and fired upon the soldiers,
who returned the fire, killing almost half the warriors at the first
discharge of their guns. Many sticks were afterwards set up at this
place by the Indians. The survivors sprang to their feet, seized knives,
clubs or the few remaining guns, and fought desperately.
While this was going on, other troops operated the Hotchkiss guns and
sent a storm of shells and bullets among the women and children standing
or running about the tipis. Mooney says “the guns poured in two-pound
explosive shells at the rate of fifty per minute, mowing down everything
alive.
“The terrible effect may be judged from the fact that one woman
survivor, Blue Whirlwind, with whom the author conversed, received
fourteen wounds, while each of her two little boys were also wounded by
her side. In a few minutes 200 Indian men, women and children, with
sixty soldiers, were lying dead and wounded on the ground, the tipis had
been torn down by the shells and some of them were burning above the
helpless wounded, and the surviving handful of Indians were flying in
wild panic to the shelter of the ravine, pursued by hundreds of maddened
soldiers and followed up by a raking fire from the Hotchkiss guns, which
had been moved into position to sweep the ravine.
“There can be no question that the pursuit was simply a massacre, where
fleeing women, with infants in their arms, were shot down after
resistance had ceased and when almost every warrior was stretched dead
or dying on the ground. On this point such a careful writer as Herbert
Welsh says: ‘From the fact that so many women and children were killed,
and that their bodies were found far from the scene of action, and as
though they were shot down while flying, it would look as though blind
rage had been at work, in striking contrast to the moderation of the
Indian police at the Sitting Bull fight when they were assailed by
women.’ The testimony of American Horse and other friendlies is strong
in the same direction. Commissioner Morgan in his official report says
that ‘Most of the men, including Big Foot, were killed around his tent,
where he lay sick. The bodies of the women and children were scattered
along a distance of two miles from the scene of the encounter’.”
I agree with Mooney, that a man should not criticize the soldiers of his
own country. As for the shooting of armed warriors, we will all give
assent. As to the murder of women and children, whose only thought was
to escape with their lives, one may not trust himself to write in
moderation. The Indians told me that many of the Seventh Cavalry troops
cried out, “Remember Custer,” as they pursued little boys and girls and
destroyed them. We might as well draw the veil of charity over the
concluding scene—the pursuit and the butchery.
There was one heroic character, Father Kraft, of the Catholic mission,
Pine Ridge. He spoke Sioux fluently and endeavored to stop the fight. He
was stabbed through the lungs, yet with bullets flying about him, he
administered the last rites of the church to the dying until he fell
unconscious. Mooney pays him a deserved tribute. The Indians were so
excited that they did not recognize him, claiming that he had on a
soldier’s overcoat because of the cold. Mooney affirms this is not
correct, but that he wore his priestly robes.
The immediate result of the massacre of Wounded Knee was the stampeding
of all the Indians into the hills. They believed that they were to be
murdered.
General Miles adopted harsh measures against the Indians and they soon
surrendered all their guns and came in to the agency.
Doctor McGillicuddy, the former Agent at Pine Ridge, who was entirely
familiar with the events, stated to Mooney on January 15, 1891, “Up to
date there has been neither a Sioux outbreak nor war. No citizen in
Nebraska or Dakota has been killed, molested, or can show the scratch of
a pin, and no property has been destroyed off the reservation. Only a
single non-combatant was killed by the Indians, and that was close to
the agency. The entire time occupied by the campaign, from the killing
of Sitting Bull to the surrender at Pine Ridge, was only thirty-two
days. The late hostiles were returned to their homes as speedily as
possible.”
The Indians quit, but the white people did not. On January 11th, some
white people led by three brothers named Culbertson,[19] pursued an aged
Oglala, who was a very friendly Indian, for many miles. His name was Few
Tails, and he was accompanied by his wife, another Indian named One
Feather, his wife and two children. They had been hunting in the Black
Hills and had a pass from the agency. They were returning in two wagons
loaded with meat. The Culbertson brothers and these other white men
fired on Few Tails, killing that Indian and both ponies attached to that
wagon. His wife jumped out and received two bullets, bringing her down.
Mooney says that the murderers then attacked the other wagon shooting
the wife of One Feather, but as she was not badly hurt, she drove away
as rapidly as possible and the Indian leaped upon one of the spare
ponies and held off the white men for eight or ten miles. They again
came up, and he turned and fought them off while his wife drove ahead
with the wagon.
The senseless panic had seized upon all settlers in the country because
of the Ghost dance and the Wounded Knee fight. This is illustrated by
Mooney’s concluding description of the first part of the fight.
“As they drove they passed near a house, from which several other shots
were fired at the flying mother, when her husband again rode up and kept
off the whole party until the wagon could get ahead. Finally, as the
ponies were tired out, this heroic man abandoned the wagon and put the
two children on one of the spare ponies and his wounded wife and himself
upon another and continued to retreat until the Whites gave up the
pursuit. He finally reached the agency with the wife and children.”
To give readers an adequate conception of what has too frequently
occurred in the West, I desire to state that while One Feather and his
family escaped, wounded, the wife of the other Indian, Few Tails, was
shot twice, and lay helpless on the ground all night. In the morning she
found one of the ponies alive, and mounted it and reached a settler’s
house fifteen miles away.
“Instead of meeting help and sympathy, however, she was driven off by
the two men there with loaded rifles, and leaving her horse in her
fright, she hurried away as well as she could with a bullet in her leg
and another in her breast, passing by the trail of One Feather’s wagon
with the tracks of his pursuers fresh behind it, until she came near a
trader’s store about twenty miles farther south. Afraid to go near it on
account of her last experience, the poor woman circled around it, and
continued, wounded, cold, and starving as she was, to travel by night
and hide by day until she reached the Bad Lands. The rest may be told in
her own words:
“‘After that I traveled every night, resting daytime, until I got here
at the beef corral. Then I was very tired, and was near the military
camp, and early in the morning a soldier came out and he shouted
something back, and in a few minutes fifty men were there, and they got
a blanket and took me to a tent. I had no blanket and my feet were
swelled, and I was about ready to die. After I got to the tent a doctor
came in—a soldier doctor, because he had straps on his shoulders—and
washed me and treated me well.”
“A few of the soldiers camped near the scene of the attack had joined in
the pursuit at the beginning, on the representations of some of the
murderers, but abandoned it as soon as they found their mistake.
According to all the testimony, the killing was a wanton, unprovoked,
and deliberate murder, yet the criminals were acquitted in the local
courts. The apathy displayed by the authorities of Meade county, South
Dakota, in which the murder was committed, called forth some vigorous
protests. Colonel Shatter, in his statement of the case, concludes,
referring to the recent killing of Lieutenant Casey: ‘So long as Indians
are being arrested and held for killing armed men under conditions of
war, it seems to me that the white murderers of a part of a band of
peaceful Indians should not be permitted to escape punishment.’ The
Indians took the same view of the case, and when General Miles demanded
of Young-man-afraid-of-his-horses the surrender of the slayers of Casey
and the herder Miller, the old chief indignantly replied: ‘No; I will
not surrender them, but if you will bring the white men who killed Few
Tails, I will bring the Indians who killed the white soldier and the
herder; and right out here in front of your tipi I will have my young
men shoot the Indians and you have your soldiers shoot the white men,
and we will be done with the whole business.”
“In regard to the heroic conduct of One Feather, the officer then in
charge of the agency says: ‘The determination and genuine courage, as
well as the generalship he manifested in keeping at a distance the six
men who were pursuing him, and the devotion he showed toward his family,
risking his life against great odds, designate him as entitled to a
place on the list of heroes’.”
[Illustration:
“This monument is erected by surviving relatives and other Oglala and
Cheyenne River Sioux Indians in memory of the Chief Big Foot
Massacre, Dec. 29, 1890.
“Col. Forsythe in command of V. S. Troops.
“Big Foot was a great Chief of the Sioux Indians. He often said ‘I
will stand in peace till my last day comes.’ He did many good and
brave deeds for the White man and the Redman.
“Many innocent women and children who knew no wrong, died here.
“The erection of this monument is largely due to the financial
assistance of Joseph Horncloud, whose father was killed here.”
* * * * *
This was paid for, and put up by Indians—not white people.
]
I present as an illustration in this book, the little monument erected
on the Wounded Knee battlefield by the Sioux themselves some years after
the massacre. It was dedicated in the presence of a great concourse of
Indians. The inscription is given in Sioux on one side of the shaft, in
English on the other. The War Department rather objected to it, so I was
told, but it still stands as a monument typifying our treatment of the
Indian in these modern days.
Some of the Sioux are still backward, and there are quite a number who
do not attend the Protestant or Catholic missions. If one will talk with
these so-called “non-progressives,” one may hear them say, “We have not
forgotten Wounded Knee.”
A few brief concluding statements are in order. A perusal of this long
narrative indicates that at the first the dance was a purely religious
ceremony. The Sioux were deadly in earnest, they were sincere. They
danced day and night until they dropped from exhaustion. There was
nothing like it, so far as I can ascertain, in recent times in North
America. They were in a frenzy. Yet there was no thought of war.
Revivals among Protestant denominations in this country (especially in
remote districts) frequently develop religious mania. Many older persons
remember the “Camp Meetings” of the West and South in which people “got
religion.” The interference of police or troops at such a gathering
would bring on a riot among the white Christians participating in the
services.
Negroes of the South have been known to become insensible for hours—to
enter a cataleptic state—and to relate visions on recovering. Hysteria
at religious gatherings in the South is common among negroes.
In view of these facts, a religious mania is not surprising among
Indians, who sought, as we have seen, salvation out of troubles. In fact
the craze was induced by their wretched condition.
There was no danger at any time at Pine Ridge. What we did, not once,
but on many nights, is proof of the assertion. There were a number of
newspaper men in the little log hotel at Pine Ridge, and they sent many
sensational accounts to the Eastern papers. Not one of them ever left
the agency, until the battle of Wounded Knee had occurred, when a few
went out to look over the field. Mr. Bartlett, who spoke Sioux quite
well, and myself, were the only men to my knowledge who left the agency
and visited the camps in the valley, one or two miles distant. The fact
that we were able to do so, is sufficient refutation of the statement
that the Indians desired to fight, or were savages. Both of us would
have been killed were this statement true. We never experienced the
slightest trouble, but on the contrary were afforded every facility. We
often felt guns and revolvers under the blankets on which we reclined in
the tipis. Force caused Wounded Knee. Humanity would have prevented it.
-----
Footnote 18:
My Friend the Indian, pages, 219–222.
Footnote 19:
One had served time in the penitentiary.