Post by herosrest on May 28, 2024 10:38:37 GMT -6
Ducemus
Suddenly the tables were turned, and the Indians—now heavily reinforced—went over to the offensive. They hit the skirmish line in front and flank, threatening to overwhelm the bluecoats before they could mount an adequate defense. Indian rifles crashed out, the hail of slugs supplemented by a steady shower of lethal arrows. By this time the reserve platoon was to the right of the hard-pressed skirmish line, riding abreast of their comrades. The reserve platoon was heavily engaged, but the real crisis was with the skirmishers.
All dissolved into chaos as the warriors smashed into the troopers’ skirmish line, “uttering their peculiar Hi-Hi-Hi and terminating it with a war-whoop.” War bonnets flashed white in the sun, the long, feathered tails floating in the wind like silken streamers as the warriors galloped in.