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Soldiers Falling into Camp: The Battles at the Rosebud and the Little Bighorn
This New and Enhanced Second Edition of Soldiers Falling Into Camp , the highly controversial book that shocked historians and rocked TV audiences from coast to coast. Out of print for years, this new and dramatically enhanced second edition features over fifty five pertinent photos from that era as well as prints of original art drawn by Chief Red Horse. The historical pictures and other drawings in the work are courtesy of The U.S. Army, the Denver Library, the Library of Congress, the Smithsonian Institute, and by Native American artists. Nine Maps of the battle area and terrain expand the readers understanding of battle strategies and their short comings. The work is fully indexed and referenced. The authors have been invited guests and interviewed by major TV and radio networks including such shows as the "Tonight Show", "Good Morning America" and "Larry King Live". In addition the work was featured in "USA Today" and the "Wall Street Journal."
276 pages, Paperback
First published September 15, 2006
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
February 26, 2023
This book is written by three authors, two of them Native American, so the reader gets a fully rounded view of the events. A brilliant approach, combining the opposite sides in one book.
My view of US leadership in these fights has become one of hubris, political infighting and personal grandstanding at the expense of the common soldiers involved. Given the timing of these events, right after the Civil War, I guess a lot of savagery was to be expected from the American military.
"There is many a boy here today who looks upon war as all glory, but boys, it is all hell..." - Gen. Sherman
"What brought all of this about were the charges he'd made against Secretary of War Belknap, the specifics that Belknap was profiteering in the revenues of traders at Army posts. This was bad enough, but rashly Custer had left no stone unturned when he also accuses President Grant's brother, Orville, of influence-peddling and receiving payoffs."
"...an old, old warrior walked slowly through the camp. After a time he would grow tired, then rest and walk again. Tears flowed down his face as he walked. Tears of joy and sadness. He was joyful for such a gathering, because he had not seen such a sight for many, many winters. He was sad because he knew it would be the last to happen in his lifetime. ... Uses Cane was nearly eighty winters old. Born in a time when the whites in Lakota country were like an occasional drop from a slowly melting icicle, he had watched their coming grow into a menacing flood. That was another reason for his sadness, and he prayed that this great gathering would not be the last for many lifetimes to come."
"Any enemy would be foolish to stand in the path of such power. Only the white man would. He who spoke many empty promises and killed women and children. Old enemies, like the Pawnee, Snakes, Crow, and Blackfeet, were people of the Earth. To fight them was to fight enemies who knew the Earth, and the meaning of honor. Not so the whites. The whites, as a group, were no speakers of truth. They were bringers of death for the people of the Earth. They raised one hand in peace while the other held a gun."
"Suddenly, out of the blue wave of chargers, two riders bolted ahead and rode straight for the Hunkpapa lodges. Warriors forming in small bunches saw these two bold ones. One horse slightly ahead of the other, both soldiers broke over a rise and down into a shallow ravine, straight into a waiting group of warriors, breaking through their outer line. And then, in an instant, both were knocked from their horses. It was a sign that this day the great Hunkpapa medicine man's vision would come to pass. The soldiers had fallen at the very edge of the Hunkpapa camp circle."
"Guns were beginning to jam. Dust billowed and swirled, kicked up by the flying hooves of Lakota war horses, making it difficult for the soldiers to take a good shot even when their guns were not jamming. And there was not one heartbeat of time unfilled with noise. Guns boomed. Bullets passed by with a high-pitched whine. They tore into chests and lungs with a hollow thud, and into arms and legs with a lihghter crack. They hit the dust and ricocheted with a lower, longer whine. Here and there, a soldier would suddenly grunt and crumple to the dust. Some jerked their arms and legs as they died."
"Bullets hit the water behind them. Soldiers were firing in blind panic, perhaps knowing htey were in a hopeless way. The brush fires helping to push them along. There was not time for the soldiers to take a deep breath."
"West beyond the end of the soldier lines, Crazy Horse sensed that the fighting was nearly over. On the rise, the beleaguered soldiers were fewer and fewer. Most of their horses were gone. Stampeded away by young warriors and a few daring boys. Many, many horses were dead. Some killed by the soldiers themselves, for barricades to hide behind. The Oglala warrior looked across the slopes and rises, at the power of Sitting Bull's vision. A vision which gave the power of the whirlwind to the hearts of Lakota and Cheyenne warriors."
"But Crazy Horse could find no softening in his heart for them. He remembered the Grattan Fight, where a wise old Sicangu had died because of a young soldier leader's impetuous reach for glory. He thought of the Blue Water, where many Sicangu relatives had died. And there was Sand Creek and the Washita River. Remembrances which brought tears to the eyes of the strongest Cheyenne warriors. Still, this day was no atonement. There could be no such thing, ever, for all of the human beings killed by soldier bullets and soldier hatred. But perhaps now the Lakota and Cheyenne could gather their power and drive the whites away. Yes. Other whites must learn of the power of the Lakota. As on this day, these soldiers did."
"A hunter and a warrior, a family's protector and provider, was the hardest and most frightening kind of a loss. It was hard because the hunter and warrior was also a man, a husband, father, son, grandson and friend. It was frightening because the empty place at the back of the lodge was a dark hole in the tomorrows yet to come. That many, many bluecoats had died was no consolation. One warrior, one man, one true human being lost dimmed any victory. And a memory could not hunt, or hold his children, or be a warmther beneath teh sleeping robes. The price of victory had been high."
My view of US leadership in these fights has become one of hubris, political infighting and personal grandstanding at the expense of the common soldiers involved. Given the timing of these events, right after the Civil War, I guess a lot of savagery was to be expected from the American military.
"There is many a boy here today who looks upon war as all glory, but boys, it is all hell..." - Gen. Sherman
"What brought all of this about were the charges he'd made against Secretary of War Belknap, the specifics that Belknap was profiteering in the revenues of traders at Army posts. This was bad enough, but rashly Custer had left no stone unturned when he also accuses President Grant's brother, Orville, of influence-peddling and receiving payoffs."
"...an old, old warrior walked slowly through the camp. After a time he would grow tired, then rest and walk again. Tears flowed down his face as he walked. Tears of joy and sadness. He was joyful for such a gathering, because he had not seen such a sight for many, many winters. He was sad because he knew it would be the last to happen in his lifetime. ... Uses Cane was nearly eighty winters old. Born in a time when the whites in Lakota country were like an occasional drop from a slowly melting icicle, he had watched their coming grow into a menacing flood. That was another reason for his sadness, and he prayed that this great gathering would not be the last for many lifetimes to come."
"Any enemy would be foolish to stand in the path of such power. Only the white man would. He who spoke many empty promises and killed women and children. Old enemies, like the Pawnee, Snakes, Crow, and Blackfeet, were people of the Earth. To fight them was to fight enemies who knew the Earth, and the meaning of honor. Not so the whites. The whites, as a group, were no speakers of truth. They were bringers of death for the people of the Earth. They raised one hand in peace while the other held a gun."
"Suddenly, out of the blue wave of chargers, two riders bolted ahead and rode straight for the Hunkpapa lodges. Warriors forming in small bunches saw these two bold ones. One horse slightly ahead of the other, both soldiers broke over a rise and down into a shallow ravine, straight into a waiting group of warriors, breaking through their outer line. And then, in an instant, both were knocked from their horses. It was a sign that this day the great Hunkpapa medicine man's vision would come to pass. The soldiers had fallen at the very edge of the Hunkpapa camp circle."
"Guns were beginning to jam. Dust billowed and swirled, kicked up by the flying hooves of Lakota war horses, making it difficult for the soldiers to take a good shot even when their guns were not jamming. And there was not one heartbeat of time unfilled with noise. Guns boomed. Bullets passed by with a high-pitched whine. They tore into chests and lungs with a hollow thud, and into arms and legs with a lihghter crack. They hit the dust and ricocheted with a lower, longer whine. Here and there, a soldier would suddenly grunt and crumple to the dust. Some jerked their arms and legs as they died."
"Bullets hit the water behind them. Soldiers were firing in blind panic, perhaps knowing htey were in a hopeless way. The brush fires helping to push them along. There was not time for the soldiers to take a deep breath."
"West beyond the end of the soldier lines, Crazy Horse sensed that the fighting was nearly over. On the rise, the beleaguered soldiers were fewer and fewer. Most of their horses were gone. Stampeded away by young warriors and a few daring boys. Many, many horses were dead. Some killed by the soldiers themselves, for barricades to hide behind. The Oglala warrior looked across the slopes and rises, at the power of Sitting Bull's vision. A vision which gave the power of the whirlwind to the hearts of Lakota and Cheyenne warriors."
"But Crazy Horse could find no softening in his heart for them. He remembered the Grattan Fight, where a wise old Sicangu had died because of a young soldier leader's impetuous reach for glory. He thought of the Blue Water, where many Sicangu relatives had died. And there was Sand Creek and the Washita River. Remembrances which brought tears to the eyes of the strongest Cheyenne warriors. Still, this day was no atonement. There could be no such thing, ever, for all of the human beings killed by soldier bullets and soldier hatred. But perhaps now the Lakota and Cheyenne could gather their power and drive the whites away. Yes. Other whites must learn of the power of the Lakota. As on this day, these soldiers did."
"A hunter and a warrior, a family's protector and provider, was the hardest and most frightening kind of a loss. It was hard because the hunter and warrior was also a man, a husband, father, son, grandson and friend. It was frightening because the empty place at the back of the lodge was a dark hole in the tomorrows yet to come. That many, many bluecoats had died was no consolation. One warrior, one man, one true human being lost dimmed any victory. And a memory could not hunt, or hold his children, or be a warmther beneath teh sleeping robes. The price of victory had been high."
November 5, 2012
A compelling recount of the battles at Rosebud and Little Big Horn from the Native American perspective. Turns on its head, the assumptions we bring regarding the story of westward expansion in the Americas.
September 23, 2017
Not especially well written (and very poorly edited), but an interesting account of a huge moment in the history of expansion into the western part of the continent. I really enjoyed the bits that followed particular soldiers as they went about the day fighting. I like to think of them telling the stories to their kids and grandkids.
February 10, 2013
Banned from the bookstore of what was then Custer Battlefield National Monument as "revisionist history," this is the first book of the battle at Little Big Horn to be told from Sioux and Crow oral traditions. This book's place in history may be due most to its influence on the renaming of the place now called the Little Big Horn Battlefield National Monument.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews