Miracles and Massacres (18 page)

“No, sir.”

He threw down a copy of
Harper's
. Then the
Evening Star
, a Washington, D.C., newspaper. Then a heap of other newspapers from all across the country.

“How about these?”

“No, sir.”

Miles was furious. “How can I conduct a fair board of inquiry if people believe the lies in these publications?” He picked up the
Evening Star
. “In this story they claim that Sitting Bull ambushed Custer at the Battle of the Little Bighorn and they call him ‘the assassin of the brave Custer.' Nothing could be further from the truth!
Custer
was the one to attack and he was outmaneuvered.”

He traded the
Evening Star
for
Harper's
. “In this issue, the artist Frederic Remington turns the Wounded Knee massacre into a glorious triumph and writes that Big Foot's band was the worst of their race. His illustrations are pure fiction.”

Then he picked up
Leslie's
and read from it. “In the annals of American history, there cannot be found a battle so fierce, bloody, and decisive as the fight at Wounded Knee Creek between the Seventh Calvary and Big Foot's band of Sioux. This affair at Wounded Knee was a stand-up fight of the most desperate kind, in which the entire band was annihilated.”

Miles violently swept the newspaper and magazines off the table and onto the floor. Where had this information come from? He did not believe reporters invented stories, so someone had to be feeding these accounts to the newspapers. Ever since he had relieved Colonel Forsyth of his command pending an investigation, army officialdom seemed intent on hiding the real story. He suspected that Whitside was part of the effort to recast the massacre as an honorable battle.

Miles supported his weight with two fists anchored against the table. He breathed hard for almost a full minute before lifting his head and looking Whitside directly in the eyes.

“Major, I called you here for a simple question. I want a yes-or-no answer. Will you testify truthfully at the hearing?”

Whitside answered without hesitation, “Yes, sir.”

Pine Ridge, South Dakota

January 14, 1891

“These are your findings?” General Miles asked.

The investigating officers, Major J. Ford Kent and Captain Frank D. Baldwin, had concluded their investigation the day before. They'd found little fault in Forsyth's conduct.

Kent answered. “Yes. Testimony supplied no evidence or indication of fault by Colonel Forsyth.”

“I saw the field of battle three days after the incident, but still frozen in time,” Miles said. “Anyone with two eyes could see fault. Did you examine Major Whitside's map of the troop and gun placements?”

“We did,” Kent said. “It was deemed flawed, but not negligent.”

After his personal examination of Wounded Knee, Miles had ordered Whitside to go back and draw a detailed map of the Sioux and cavalry positions. He wanted an accurate drawing for the record because he believed the troop placement had been reckless.

“And all the dead women and children. No fault?”

“Testimony showed great forbearance by our troopers. Major Whitside testified that the Sioux fired fifty shots before his men returned fire. Every witness testified that some noncombatants were unfortunately shot by our men due to the warriors running amongst them, but that Sioux warriors killed the large majority of them by firing into or across their own women and children.”

“Do you believe that?” Miles asked.

“We have no evidence to the contrary.” Kent glanced at Baldwin for reassurance and got a nod. “The testimony was very consistent.”

“I want you to reopen the inquiry. Find testimony that is consistent with the facts on the ground, not a story concocted after the fact.”

“But General—”

“That's an order, Major. Dismissed.”

Pine Ridge, South Dakota

January 20, 1891

Major Kent and Captain Baldwin sat nervously in front of the general's desk.

General Miles read the conclusion of the revised report aloud: “Colonel Forsyth's command was not held at a safe distance, and the attack of the Indians resulted in a surprise to the troops.”

He threw the report on the table, and looked at Major Kent. “That's it? He positioned his troops too close and thus allowed himself to be surprised? That's the most mild censure I've ever read.”

“General, we have no evidence of malfeasance . . . and we have a surfeit of testimony to the opposite. We can rule no other way.”

“Perhaps, but I can make my own recommendation.”

“General, may I speak freely?” Kent asked.

“You may.”

“There is word going around that you are intent on railroading Colonel Forsyth because the Sitting Bull and Wounded Knee incidents will hurt your career.”

“Does that make sense to you?” Miles asked.

“Sir, I have never known you to be vindictive.”

“I was speaking logically, Major. If the army wants to portray Wounded Knee as a stand-up victory over heavily armed savages, wouldn't I be best served by going along with that story? Wouldn't a military victory
enhance
my career?”

Kent looked confused. “Then why so many inquiries, sir?”

“Because I promised the Sioux survivors that I would investigate and punish any wrongdoers.”

“Sir? You're doing this because of a promise you made to Indians?”

“No, I'm doing this because it is right.”

Washington, D.C.

February 7, 1891

General John Schofield, commanding general of the United States Army, read the recommendation that accompanied the Board of Inquiry
findings. General Miles had been harsh on Colonel Forsyth, and, by doing so, had by default been harsh on the United States Army.

“Troops were not disposed,” Miles's report read, “to deliver its fire upon the warriors without endangering the lives of some of their own comrades.” Later, Miles commented on the fact that many of the Indians had already been disarmed, writing: “A large number of the 106 Sioux warriors were without firearms when the outbreak occurred.”

Throughout the document, General Miles had used words like “inexcusable,” “apathy,” “neglect,” “contempt,” and “incompetence.” He went on to make the worst accusation that can be leveled against a field-grade officer. “Colonel Forsyth was inexperienced in the responsibility of exercising command.”

Schofield knew that this report would not only ruin Colonel Forsyth's career, it would reflect badly on the army. And for what purpose? Miles's recriminations were at odds with most newspaper accounts of the battle, not to mention the testimony of soldiers present that day. Even retired general William T. Sherman, who had been Schofield's predecessor as commanding general of the army, had taken Forsyth's side. “If Forsyth was relieved because some squaws were killed,” Sherman had written, “then somebody had made a mistake, for squaws have been killed in every Indian war.”

Schofield picked up a pen and paused briefly before writing to his boss, the secretary of war.

The interests of military service do not, in my judgment, demand further proceedings in this case, nor any longer continuance of Col. Forsyth's suspension from the command of his regiment. The evidence in these papers shows that great care was taken to avoid unnecessary killing of Indian women and children.

In my judgment, the conduct of the regiment was well worthy of the commendation bestowed upon it by me in my first telegram after the engagement.

He concluded that the soldiers had displayed great forbearance and that units under Forsyth's command had shown excellent discipline.

General Schofield reread his report. He was pleased. This would finally set the record straight.

Pine Ridge, South Dakota

February 17, 1891

Col. Forsyth Exonerated, His Action at Wounded Knee Justified, Decision of Secretary Proctor on the Investigation—The Colonel Restored to the Command of His Gallant Regiment

The headline couldn't have been clearer, and General Nelson Miles couldn't have been more depressed.

The crushing futility sapped every bit of his energy. He was not angry, he was not bitter, and he certainly was not surprised—but he was weary. It had been an agonizing political battle, but now it was over and he had lost.

After receiving Commanding General Schofield's report, Secretary of War Redfield Proctor had penned what would become the official government position on the Battle of Wounded Knee.

The disarmament was commenced and it was evident that the Indians were sullenly trying to evade the order. They were carried away by the harangue of the ghost dancer, and wheeling about, opened fire. Nothing illustrates the madness of their outbreak more forcibly than the fact that their first fire was so directed that every shot that did not hit a soldier must have gone through their own village. There is little doubt that the first killing, of women and children was by the first fire of the Indians themselves.

The firing by the troops was entirely directed on the men until the Indians, after their break, mingled with their women and children, thus exposing them to the fire of the troops and as a consequence some were killed. Major Whitside emphatically declares that at least fifty shots were fired by the Indians before the troops returned the fire. Major Kent and Capt. Baldwin concur in finding that the evidence fails to establish that a single man of Col. Forsyth's command was killed or wounded by his fellows.

This fact and, indeed, the conduct of both officers and men through the whole affair, demonstrates an exceedingly satisfactory state of discipline in the Seventh Cavalry. Their behavior was characterized by skill, coolness, discretion, and forbearance, and reflects the highest possible credit upon the regiment.

The concluding sentence crushed General Miles' spirit:

The interests of the military service do not demand any further proceedings in this case. By direction of the President, Col. Forsyth will resume the command of his regiment.

St. Louis, Missouri

June 1891

“General, here are the citations for Wounded Knee.”

The staff officer was newly assigned and unaware of General Miles's disapproval of the army's actions at Wounded Knee. At least the general preferred to
assume
that the staff officer was unaware; otherwise he would be annoyed at his cheerful delivery of more than a dozen Medal of Honor citations for bravery at Wounded Knee.

Miles had thought his anger over Wounded Knee had ebbed, but when he'd heard about these citations working their way up to him, he'd lost his temper again. This was the greatest number of Congressional Medals of Honor ever awarded in any single engagement. He should have seen it coming: The army does not merely bury its blunders; it decorates them with so many ribbons that no one can question the veracity of the official report.

There had already been a couple of Medals of Honor awarded, and this new round would bring the total to seventeen. He sighed.
There will be more to come
, he thought.

“Is this an inconvenient time, sir? I can return with them later.”

Miles held his hand out. “No. This won't take but a moment.”

He rifled through the citations quickly, making scant comments on just a few. He handed them back to the staff officer. “You may forward these to the War Department.”

“Sir, if you'll excuse me . . . you hardly added any comments. Would you like to keep them overnight? At this late juncture, there is no hurry.” The confused staff officer held up the citations. “These men fought bravely under your command.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Miles asked testily.

“I read the reports before reviewing the citations.”

“You shouldn't believe everything you read. These men didn't fight; they killed. They had disarmed the majority of the Sioux before the first shot was ever fired.”

“Sir?” The officer looked thoroughly confused. “Congress wouldn't approve Medals of Honor without endorsement. The president has commended the action. Why would everyone in the chain of command participate in a deception?”

“Because governments do not make mistakes.”

EPILOGUE

Pine Ridge Reservation

February 2013

Calvin Spotted Elk had made rescinding the twenty Congressional Medals of Honor awarded for Wounded Knee part of his life's work. So far, that work wasn't going very well. He'd been rebuffed every step of the way.

Elk's ancestor, Chief Spotted Elk, had been killed in the massacre, and Calvin did not believe his spirit would rest as long as the slaughter at Wounded Knee continued to be referred to as a “battle.”

In 1917, retired general Nelson A. Miles had written that “[a] massacre occurred, not only the warriors but the sick Chief Big Foot, and a large number of women and children who tried to escape by running and scattering over the prairie, were hunted down and killed.”

Calvin Spotted Elk believed that Miles's report was the truth, and he had futilely tried many times over the years to get attention for his cause. Now, with a newly reelected president in office, Elk had hope that something would finally be done to right this historical tragedy. He chose his words to President Obama carefully.

Mr. President, what happened at Wounded Knee was not worthy of this nation's highest award for exceptional valor. The actions of the soldiers have been justly criticized because this was a massacre, not a battle. This tragedy, for many, remains a blemish in American history.

My relatives and I pray for this never to happen again and we pray you will hear our plea to put this to rest. The healing process takes time, but through prayer, acceptance, awareness and forgiveness, it is possible. For many of us, acknowledgment of what happened is at the root of our healing.