Sunday Sept 10th “Wake up…breakfast is ready.” I heard my mom softly say as she tugged the covers back. Apparently the soft chanting music that was played as our “wake up” call had eased me deeper into sleep instead of the apparent desired effect. For those of you that don’t know me outside of this blog, to say that I’m “not a morning person” is well, just being nice. I stumbled into the kitchen to get coffee and tried to convince my body that it was not allowed to be on PST and that it was not indeed 4am, as it kept swearing that it was.

After breakfast, we promptly loaded the bus for Wounded Knee. I knew that it would be an emotional morning but had no idea how intense it would be there. When we arrived, we parked at the bottom of a steep hill and started to walk up. Prior to arriving at the gate was Re-Member founder, Keith Titus and his wife, Jinny. From the back of their pick-up truck, they proceeded to tell us the story of what happened there in the winter snow of 1890.

“The U.S. 7th Cavalry was itching for a fight. These were the same Indians who mercilessly shot down Custer and 300 of the 7th Cavalry and they were seeking out vengeance for the blood taken at the Battle of the Little Big Horn. Five hundred troops of the 7th Cavalry, supported by four Hotchkiss guns (a lightweight artillery piece capable of rapid fire), surrounded an encampment of Minneconjou Lakota with orders to escort them back to the railroad for transport to Omaha, Nebraska. The commander of the 7th had been ordered to disarm the Lakota before proceeding.

They feared that some of the Lakota men were hiding weapons and ordered a physical search of the men, as well as their tents. During the search, the troopers became agitated, lifting the skirts of the women to look for weapons and laughing, still half drunk from the night before. One account says that a deaf indian was approached and when his gun was about to be taken from him, he lifted it into the air saying, “I paid good money for this.” Somehwere amidst the confusion, all hell broke loose. Historians still can’t say whether an Indian or a soldier fired first. But with that shot, every soldier surrounding the camp began discharging his weapon at a rapid pace, barely bothering to aim.

The small arms fire was supplemented by the chatter of the four Hotchkiss repeating cannons dug in on the hilltops overlooking the Lakota camp. The big guns were capable of firing 50 two-pound explosive shells per minute and had a devastating effect on the largely unarmed Indians. Women picked up their babies and tried to flee, only to be gunned down by mounted troops. The men tried to defend themselves and their families with no luck. The firepower facing them was too great.”

The massacre of as many as 300 men, women and children at Wounded Knee, was perhaps the worst massacre ever perpetrated by the U.S. Army on American soil. The soldiers piled the bodies into a mass grave, which is marked by the stone shown in the photo at the top of this post. Wounded Knee, disgustingly, resulted in the most Medals of Honor ever awarded for one battle in the history of the U.S. Army. Currently, a movement is under way to rescind all of the 20 “Medals of Dis-Honor” that were handed out for the vicious slaughter.

I don’t think there was a dry eye as we stood with heavy legs upon the ground of the massacre. Chris, a lady from Chicago who I would come to be friends with, began playing her native flute and we were all silent as the hollow notes echoed over the hills and ravines.

Keith invited us to partake in communion, a ritual that I had not participated in for over a decade. It had a deeper meaning on this occassion, one of honoring those that were buried in the mass grave at the top of the hill, and of remembering the injustices that were… and are… forced on the Lakota people. Mom and I were the last ones to accept the sacraments… later we would realize that this was a trend throughout the journey. After the emotional breaking of bread, we were each to go, alone, to pay respect to those in the mass grave. With a heavy heart, I walked around the cemetery before entering the site of the mass grave. I took a few photographs, noticing the many gifts that were laid on the graves… toys on the site where children were buried and many gifts of tobacco, sodas, dreamcatchers, and sage. I waited for all of the other volunteers to exit the fenced area of the mass grave, before I walked to the site and offered tobacco to the four directions. The “Recovering Lawyer” must have noticed my great reverence and respect because when I exited, he approached me. “I want you to come with me to clear the sacred elements from the mass grave.” He explained that all the perishable gifts, such as sage and tobacco, were gathered and burned in ceremony by a local Lakota woman. I was extremely honored to be invited to participate in such a special task.

Everyone pitched in for the cemetery clean-up. Some of the men mowed as the ladies pulled weeds and cleared garbage piles. I could tell when we were about to be done, so I went around and took a few more pictures before my chance was gone.

As I was walking around, a Lakota boy, probably in his late teens, approached me. He said he was the grounds keeper and expressed his great appreciation for our help. In less than an hour, we did more work than he could have done in a weeks time. His name was Little Moon and I invited him to join us that night for the community dinner, but he said he would have to hitchhike. We offered to get him back home if he could get a ride out there but he never showed.

Mom and I were the last ones to leave the grounds… deciding that there were never enough hours in the day to pay respect to all those that deserved it.

Who is Lost Bird?
Lost bird was one of the the few Lakota survivors of the Massacre at Wounded Knee. Sheltered by her mother’s corpse, her infant body lay protected for four days after the slaughter. When moving the many bodies to the mass grave, a soldier heard the cry of a child… who came to be known as Lost Bird.

Her story was the last one that we heard that morning. I laid an offering of tobacco at her grave before we silently walked away.