Post by biggordie on Jun 10, 2008 11:03:23 GMT -6
dc:
I'm going to expand upon my mention of the old man, and then let the whole matter go.
In 1960, I spent almost two months at Busby being "hosted" by some Cheyenne families and men, most of whom were older than me, although some were young . I was taken under the wings of several of the men, who took me on many, many, many trips around the battlefields and environs. We retraced the route of the Seventh Cavalry from their camp near the mouth of the Rosebud to the battlefields.
By special arrangement, I was allowed to visit and speak with several very old men, who, I was informed, could give me the basis for the stories which had been handed down for almost 90 years. When I was taken to see them by the man who was to act as translator, I was prepared to be respectful and to listen without interrupting, and to only ask questions when invited to do so. In actuality, I probably wouldn't have had much to question, as I knew very little at the time, especially about the LBH.
It proved to be a remarkable, and for me unforgettable experience. When the translator and I entered the lodge, the old men rose up and started talking rapidly amongst themselves - I of course having no idea of what they were saying - and it appeared that they were not particularly happy to see me, although they had never seen me before, and I had yet to open my mouth.
The seeming spokesman, who was very old, pointed at my chest and raised his voice, saying something which caused the translator to grab me by the arm, and lead me outside. When I asked him what the hell that was all about, he said that they had refused to talk to me, and said a few other things which I will not repeat here for fear of ridicule. I hate ridicule.
Somewhere, on one thread or another, someone had posted or did post an article about the last Cheyenne who had been at the LBH having died, and while I don't remember the exact date [I'll see if I can find it somewhere], I recall that it was such that he might have been the old man who harangued me and refused to talk to me in 1960. I speculated to that effect on that thread.
I NEVER TALKED TO THIS MAN, and so have based none of my thoughts concerning the fights on whatever he might have said, except obviously that he might have been one of the sources for the tribal histories, parts of which were recounted to me.
When one stands on one bank of the Little Horn and his companions point out an area on the opposite side and says that their grandfathers and/or fathers used to take them there and told them that that is where Custer came down toward the Cheyenne camps, and that there is the ford he obviously wanted to use to get into the camps, and there and there is where the warriors went out to stop him, one finds it more believable than a theory based on a hoofprint or a shell casing. Especially when it fits in with accounts from participants on both sides.
Gordie
I'm going to expand upon my mention of the old man, and then let the whole matter go.
In 1960, I spent almost two months at Busby being "hosted" by some Cheyenne families and men, most of whom were older than me, although some were young . I was taken under the wings of several of the men, who took me on many, many, many trips around the battlefields and environs. We retraced the route of the Seventh Cavalry from their camp near the mouth of the Rosebud to the battlefields.
By special arrangement, I was allowed to visit and speak with several very old men, who, I was informed, could give me the basis for the stories which had been handed down for almost 90 years. When I was taken to see them by the man who was to act as translator, I was prepared to be respectful and to listen without interrupting, and to only ask questions when invited to do so. In actuality, I probably wouldn't have had much to question, as I knew very little at the time, especially about the LBH.
It proved to be a remarkable, and for me unforgettable experience. When the translator and I entered the lodge, the old men rose up and started talking rapidly amongst themselves - I of course having no idea of what they were saying - and it appeared that they were not particularly happy to see me, although they had never seen me before, and I had yet to open my mouth.
The seeming spokesman, who was very old, pointed at my chest and raised his voice, saying something which caused the translator to grab me by the arm, and lead me outside. When I asked him what the hell that was all about, he said that they had refused to talk to me, and said a few other things which I will not repeat here for fear of ridicule. I hate ridicule.
Somewhere, on one thread or another, someone had posted or did post an article about the last Cheyenne who had been at the LBH having died, and while I don't remember the exact date [I'll see if I can find it somewhere], I recall that it was such that he might have been the old man who harangued me and refused to talk to me in 1960. I speculated to that effect on that thread.
I NEVER TALKED TO THIS MAN, and so have based none of my thoughts concerning the fights on whatever he might have said, except obviously that he might have been one of the sources for the tribal histories, parts of which were recounted to me.
When one stands on one bank of the Little Horn and his companions point out an area on the opposite side and says that their grandfathers and/or fathers used to take them there and told them that that is where Custer came down toward the Cheyenne camps, and that there is the ford he obviously wanted to use to get into the camps, and there and there is where the warriors went out to stop him, one finds it more believable than a theory based on a hoofprint or a shell casing. Especially when it fits in with accounts from participants on both sides.
Gordie