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Two Monuments

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I wrote this after a visit to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in 1991.
I went with some friends to a Vietnam Veterans Pow-Wow.
While there, I visited the site of Wounded Knee and the cemetery.

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Horn Cloud...Courage Bear...Crazy Bear...
	As I solemnly stood on the low hill, reading name after name etched in the stone monument, I felt the goose bumps rising on my skin. 
...Chief Standing Bear...Mr. High Hawk...Mr. Standing Bear...
	I thought to myself, "I've had feelings like this before - another time, another place, another monument - my monument, the monument of my war."
...Long Bull...White American...Black Coyote...
	That same sense of sadness that I felt at that monument came over me again, as I gazed from the stone marker to the white flag billowing at the entrance of the burial site and back to the marker.
...Ghost Horse...Living Bear...Afraid Of Bear...
	As I closed my eyes, it was like stepping back into history.  And, as I allowed my mind to drift back, I experienced an overpowering feeling of shame.  Ashamed of being a white man.  Ashamed of having been a fighting man.  The term "fighting" man sounded so very inappropriate for what took place here.
...Young Afraid of Bear...Yellow Robe...Wounded Hand...
	I tried to console myself with the fact that I was a Marine, not a soldier.  To a Marine, the term soldier usually means the Army, and this marker stands here because of soldiers.  Yet, I was a fighting man, whatever branch of service.  I tried to rationalize that I shouldn't feel the guilt I felt.  But, I  did feel it - and the shame.
...Red Eagle...Pretty Hawk...William Horn Cloud...
	This was beginning to become a very different set of feelings than I've felt at my monument - My monument was hundreds of miles away from here, in our Nation's Capitol.  While visiting my monument, I felt personal guilt - for not being able to prevent the deaths of my friends, but not the shame.  Here I felt the guilt and the shame of a whole nation resting on my shoulders.
...Sherman Horn Cloud...Scatter Them...Red Fish...
	My mind began to drift back and forth - from my monument, the long, shiny black granite wall that is the Vietnam Memorial - to the deteriorating pillar of stone in front of me.  I began to see faces - faces of friends, whose names are on The Wall - and those faces became mixed with faces I imagined - faces belonging to the names in front of me. 
...Swift Bird...He Crow...Little Water...
	And as the faces raced in and out of my mind, I felt that overpowering feeling that pierces the heart - the feeling of total helplessness.  Helpless to do anything but turn and stare toward the flat piece of ground below, just 500 feet to the East.
...Strong Fox...Spotted Thunder...Shoots The Bear...
	This is where the Wounded Knee massacre took place on December, 29, 1890, and the tall stone marker bears the names of 47 Sioux (listed in italics throughout the story) buried here.  The marker stands on the North side of a large common grave where many of the bodies are buried.  The 47 names represent only the prominent Sioux warriors who were identified.  Many were women and children whose names were not known.  Between 140 and 160 bodies were laid to rest here, including that of Big Foot.  
...Picket Horse...Bear Cuts Cody...Chase In Winter...
	It is estimated that 300 of the 350 Sioux men, women, and children encamped here were killed.  Those that were able to flee, some of them mortally wounded, crawled away through the two ravines that ran North and South behind the Sioux camp.  The Sioux Chief, Big Foot, was shot as he lay on a litter in front of his tipi.  He was already deathly ill with pneumonia and could not move about or speak, but that didn't seem to matter to the soldiers who shot him.
...Roots Its Hole...Red Horn...He Eagle...
	Big Foot and his people were on their way to the Pine Ridge Agency to surrender when they were halted by the cavalry.  They set up camp that night in the bitter cold and snow, and the next morning, the camp was searched for weapons by elements of the Seventh Cavalry under Col. J. W. Forsyth.
...Lodge Skin...No ears...Wolf Skin Necklace...
	It is said that an accidental shot was fired when disarming a young brave, and the soldiers panicked.  When they did, they started firing and the Hotchkiss guns on the western hillside opened up.  Some say that the 7th Cavalry extracted their revenge that day.  Revenge for Custer and the 7th's defeat, 14 years earlier, at the Little Big Horn River.  Since the men, women, and children had few weapons to start with, they never had a chance. 
...Lodge Napkin...Charge At Them...Weasel Bear...
	The bodies, that hadn't been dragged away by friends or relatives, remained frozen on the ground where they fell for three days.  Once the blizzard lifted, a mass grave, 50 feet by 6 feet by 6 feet was dug and the bodies placed to rest.  
...Bird Shaker...Bug Skirt...Brown Turtle...
	Today, all that remains is a green, two sided sign on the site of the encampment and the little cemetery, surrounded by a chain link fence, with the white flag flying over it, just west of the massacre.  The white flag - the symbol of surrender.
...Blue American...Pass Water In Horn...Scabbard Knife...
	While my monument is grand and polished and well taken care of, their monument is showing the signs of age.  Perhaps, in a hundred years, mine will, too.   But, the spirit and the feelings that surround both will always exist.
...Small Like Bear...Kills Seneca.
	In retrospect, I came away from Wounded Knee with confused feelings and emotions:
Two different wars - Wounded Knee is classified as one of the Indian Wars (?) and my war.  No, that's not right.  Mine wasn't really a war either, but a conflict. 
Two different times - Mine was in modern times.  Progress?  Somehow the names of My Lai and Lt. Calley keep invading my mind.
Two different purposes - At least mine was fought to free a people.  
	One last, sad note - There were sixteen Medals of Honor awarded to cavalry and artillery troops for bravery (?) at Wounded Knee.

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