Detachment Delta

by Don Bendell

  Fila excitedly said, “Oh, he is! His pec muscles are so large, and—”

  She stopped and got very embarrassed as Angela and Dave started laughing.

  “Anyway,” Dave said, “that is the little story of Charlie’s character, which really tells you volumes about the man.”

  Fila smiled and stared at him as he looked down, very embarrassed himself. Angela really noticed how Fila stared at Charlie, and she tapped Dave under the table with her knee and, using her eyes, indicated the glances. He grinned at his wife.

  MAJOR General Damien Percy Rozanski grinned in an evil-looking twisted smile at Alan as the reporter lined up for his putt. He missed the cup by a full foot. Any other golfer would have told him to putt out. Using his pitching wedge, Rozanski had just chipped onto the green from the rough right next to a white sand trap. His ball was only five feet from the cup, but he waited to walk over to his llama to put away his wedge and grab his putter. They were playing Talamore Golf Club in Pinehurst, North Carolina, not far from Fort Bragg, but far enough away that he did not worry about any of Pop’s friends spotting him with the reporter. This was a challenging course in the town where the Professional Golf Hall of Fame was located, and they actually used trained llamas as caddies to carry the bags of golfers around.

  Now, putter in hand, Rozanski had added more drama to the scene, and Alan would be even more impressed when the accomplished golfer sank his putt. He lined it up and saw that the green broke slightly to the left. He aimed for the right edge of the cup and tapped. The ball rolled right at the cup, hit the edge, swirled around it like a bug in a flushing toilet, and spun out two feet off to the left. The story of Damien’s life. When his putter spun through the air like the spinning rotors of a Blackhawk, it whacked against the edge of a bench by the next tee and with a loud crack, the handle broke in half. The story of Damien’s life.

  Alan thought to himself, We are only on the second hole. I wonder how many clubs he’ll have left after nine holes.

  Rozanski hated to get embarrassed, but it happened in his life frequently. It never dawned on him that it was because he was a jerk, and what goes around, comes around.

  Later, in the clubhouse over ice-cold beer, he started filling Alan’s ears and tape recorder even more. He let the young man know everything that he could remember from the planning meeting. The President would be plenty embarrassed, and politically hurt, when the exposé hit the front page of a major NYC newspaper, Rozanski decided. The great thing was that he would not be tied to the leak. This young man had already gone through a trial in New York City, because he refused to reveal his source on a major drug exposé of some bureaucrats in a New York state office. Several went to prison for trafficking in cocaine, and all because of the front-page exposé by Alan. And even facing a jail cell himself, he refused to divulge his source, which was the secretary for the principle perpetrator. Damien Percy Rozanski felt he would finally have great revenge, plus strike a major blow for his political party.

  DAVE, Angela, Fila, and Betty, with Charlie driving the big black SUV, left Pine Ridge, South Dakota, two days later at six o’clock in the morning. The Detachment-Delta operator headed northwest and passed through Gillette and Sheridan, Wyoming, on the trek to Crow Agency, Montana, and the Little Big Horn Battlefield National Monument. They arrived shortly after noon.

  Charlie said, “Back in the 1800s, the drive we made in six to seven hours would take a wagon train well over a month to make. We just traveled 392 miles. Many wagon trains would take forty days to make that trip.”

  They ate lunch and then entered the Little Big Horn National Monument.

  As they drove up the little road from the base of the Grassy Ridge, Charlie pointed out the tree line along the Little Big Horn River and said, “See all that meadow on the flats on this side of the river? That is where the giant encampment was.”

  A half hour later, the group stood just below a series of small gravestones where Custer and some of his command’s bodies were found. The others watched in fascination as Charlie pointed in the direction where Reno’s command had been attacked and Benteen’s command had been attacked. He pointed out Medicine Tail Coulee, where, he said, a distant cousin from long ago had actually fatally wounded George Armstrong Custer as he charged across the Little Big Horn. He had died by suicide at one of the markers, with his brother Tom’s company. The group listened to this modern-day war hero tell what had been passed on to him from father to son to son as the real version of the famous battle. Charlie knew with his forefathers, warriors had been encouraged to boast about battlefield and hunting exploits, but to lie was unforgivable and was actually one of the few grounds that the Lakota had to banish someone from their tribe. Even adultery was not treated as harshly as lying. So Charlie always wondered why the U.S. government did not utilize that and get the real facts from the true survivors who were there.

  The foursome were totally fascinated as they went over the battlefield and Charlie recounted every detail. Fila was especially fascinated, because she knew that this man was essentially descended from royalty, and that this famous historical battle defined Charlie. They looked at the long, rippling green grass on the surrounding ridges and the sparse patches of trees, and pictured the battlefield as he described it in total detail.

  Pointing, Charlie said, “Custer went down there from this big ridge we are on and entered Medicine Tail Coulee. He would attack the giant village by crossing the Little Big Horn at a ford where the ravine ran into the pebble-bottomed river. At that spot, to the left of those trees, the waterway was about forty yards wide, but only knee-deep on the horses. It still is. I crossed it before on a horse. Custer had witnessed several warriors crossing the river there, so he figured it would be a strategically sound place to attack, while Reno was hitting the other end of the village.

  “Just then, the point spotted five Sioux who had been hiding in Medicine Tail Coulee. I think right about in that area. The warriors rode in several circles, yelling and waving blankets in the air, then fled at a dead run down the coulee toward the river.

  “Mitch Bouyer, Custer’s chief of scouts, turned to Curley, the youngest Crow scout, and handed him his field glasses.

  “Mitch said, ‘Curley, you are the youngest. You should live. Go to those bluffs yonder and watch. Those five Sioux are tricking Custer into chasing them. There will be thousands of Sioux waiting to kill us. You watch awhile, and if the Sioux are besting us, you ride as fast as you can and tell No-Hip-Bone’—that was what the Indians called General Terry—‘that we have all been killed. Now go!’

  “Mitch Bouyer and some of the Crow scouts rode up to Custer’s side, and the lieutenant colonel turned to them and said, ‘You have all done your job well. You are not to fight in this battle. Go back and save your lives.’

  “Mitch Bouyer related this to the Crows, and they started to ride back toward the pack train, but stopped when Mitch remained where he was. Hairy Moccasin and Goes Ahead told Mitch he must go with them and join his Crow wife, Magpie Outside, back at the fort. They were cut off by a voice from across the river, in the trees.

  “ ‘The Lakota call someone?’ Goes Ahead asked, in sign language.

  “Bouyer tapped himself and listened as the voice said, ‘Wica-nonpa! Two Bodies! Go back, or you die!’

  “Bouyer said, ‘The Sioux have not forgotten me. They tell me to go back, but I cannot.’

  “He waved at the scouts, wheeled his horse, and took off down the coulee to rejoin Custer at his side.

  “Over seven hundred warriors had charged off to fight against Reno, and they were not yet back. Only four men capable of fighting remained in the camp of the Cheyenne: Bobtail Horse, Roan Bear, White Cow Bull (the only Oglala), and Calf. Bobtail Horse looked across the river and saw the blue-clad soldiers charging at full gallop down Medicine Tail Coulee across the river, headed for the all-but-deserted Cheyenne camp, which was right there.

  “For the umpteenth time that day, Bobtail Horse shouted the ala
rm, ‘Nutskaveho!’ which meant, ‘White soldiers are coming!’

  “White Shield, another Cheyenne, had been fishing upstream, and he saw his four fellow villagers and the soldiers at the same time. Dropping his fish, he rode out of the river and disappeared into the trees with his bow and quiver full of arrows. The other four rode in and out among the trees, firing and yelling, trying to make the noise of a thousand warriors.

  “So four Cheyenne warriors and one Oglala Sioux held off the two hundred and fifteen troopers of Custer’s command at the ford. Custer just halted on the side of the river and waited, possibly expecting an ambush by the thousands of braves who were hidden in the trees.

  “Finally, Custer turned and gave the command for the column to go ahead. He led out, with his horse Vic prancing and dancing in the knee-deep river at the ford. The Crows, who had left when Custer told them to, stopped on a bluff to watch. They saw hundreds of mounted Lakota and Cheyenne charging toward Custer through those cottonwoods along the river. A soldier near Custer toppled backward out of the saddle, but Mitch Bouyer and Custer both kept firing at the four village defenders, Custer with an octagonal-barreled Remington sporting rifle and twin English self-cocking Bulldog pistols.

  “Just then White Cow Bull’s rifle belched smoke, as did two other guns from the four defenders. The lead man crossing the Little Big Horn River, the one with the fringed buckskin jacket and the red sash around his waist, the one on the spirited, prancing, big red horse, that man flew backward out of the saddle, a big bloody spot on the middle of his chest.

  “Suddenly, the charge stopped, and Mitch Bouyer and several soldiers jumped down into the water and grabbed Custer to keep him from going under. He wasn’t dead, but close to it. The soldiers got him up on a horse and turned around and retreated while White Cow Bull, Bobtail Horse, Roan Bear, Calf, and White Shield jumped up and down in celebration.

  “Hundreds of Sioux and Cheyenne alike took off after Custer’s column. Up to this point, because Libbie had made her ‘Autie’ cut his hair short, the Indians still did not know that the man they were fighting was Long Hair Custer himself.

  “The warriors kept arriving in droves from the Reno fight and charging after the fleeing cavalry. The troopers led their horses as they dismounted and, on foot, tried to make their way up here on that grassy knoll above Medicine Tail Coulee. They wanted to form a defensive perimeter and make a stand there. But it was like being attacked by a swarm of angry bees: The more they ran and the more they tried to fight back, the more Sioux and Cheyenne came on the scene to attack them.

  “One of the bravest warriors in the fight was actually a Ute Indian named Yellow Nose. He had been captured by the northern Cheyenne down in Colorado when he was four years old and had grown up Cheyenne. He was the first brave to ride in and capture one of the cavalry company guidons. He even touched one of the cavalry soldiers with it as he rode away, counting coup on the man while a great cry went up among the assembled warriors.

  “Custer was not a factor at all, and sometime during the battle, near death, he turned one of his English Bulldog pistols to his right temple and pulled the trigger. Tom Custer’s company took charge of Long Hair’s body, slinging it across the colonel’s own saddle.

  “Captain Myles Keogh took over the rest of the Custer command and led the men up the north edge of the ridgeline right over there, fighting inch by inch for more ground and hoping to form a defensive perimeter on the higher ground.

  “By this time, Curley was already gone on his horse, heading after No-Hip-Bone to tell him of Custer’s death.

  “Crow King led Hunkpapas and Blackfeet up Medicine Tail Coulee to surround the troops heading that way from the east and probably rode right across where we are standing.”

  Charlie stopped and looked at everybody.

  He said, “I apologize. Is this boring you all?”

  Dave said, “My word, Charlie. I cannot speak for the rest, but I could listen to this all day. This is like getting a fascinating fresh view of history without political motivations in the telling of it.”

  Angela said, “Absolutely. This is kind of like watching Roots in person.”

  He looked at his mother and Fila, and both had tears in their eyes and smiled warmly at him.

  Charlie continued, “Gall, leading more Hunkpapas, as well as Minniconjous and Sans Arcs, rode up out of the coulee and kept attacking the rear of the soldiers. Comes-in-Sight and Brave Wolf led a large group of northern Cheyenne along the left flank of the retreating soldiers over there on that part of the ridge.

  “The bullets and arrows flew at an astounding rate, and numerous warriors started to charge in and out of the troopers’ ranks, winning battle honors. The battle was so one-sided that many Indians were able to return to the village to get fresh horses and more arrows and bullets.

  “Near the end of this part of the command, an entire group of troopers’ horses got away from the dying soldiers and bolted up the hill at one time right across that strip. Some of the Indians thought that the troopers were trying to run away, so they charged and brought down even more soldiers.

  “Suddenly, a whole group of foot soldiers, in sheer hysteria, charged down the hill toward the river, at the Lakota assembled there. The troopers screamed and fired blindly, but all were cut down by withering Sioux fire.

  “At last, several leading warriors yelled, ‘Hokahey! Hokahey!’

  “This was the signal for the assembled warriors to charge, and charge they did, eagle-bone whistles screaming over the gunfire. The horde of Sioux swept over the few remaining troopers, and they all went down in a hail of gunfire.

  “Custer, along with most of his command, was dead. Barely believing their good fortune, braves went from soldier to soldier to collect scalps and battle honors. The severely wounded were quickly dispatched with head shots, then scalped. The L, I, F, and C companies were not in the group that went down. Keogh had kept most of the command in some sort of formation as they advanced up that hogback, but now one thousand more Brules and Oglalas were coming up from the river, right down there and there, where they had served as a blocking force. Crazy Horse led the thousand from the river, up a ravine, to emerge at the end of the hogback where the soldiers stood.

  “Two Moons led another large force of Cheyennes up over the other hillside and struck the fleeing troopers there, so that now the balance of Custer’s command was surrounded on all sides, unable to get away or to fight through in any direction. Most of the Indians now dismounted and started to pick off soldiers with carefully aimed shots. Some of them sneaked in closer and closer to the soldiers, using every bush and gully they could for cover. Some still charged in, counting coup and getting battle honors, but most hung back and picked the rest of Custer’s command apart bit by bit.

  “One of the things that happened in the midst of the battle was similar to what had happened in the Rosebud fight. A very pretty young Oglala woman named Walking Blanket Woman had lost her brother in the Rosebud fight and decided to avenge his death. Fila and I talked about it the other day. She dressed herself in full battle regalia and war paint, just like a brave, and charged into the midst of the battle carrying her brother’s battle staff. The whole time Walking Blanket Woman fought, she sang in the Oglala language, ‘Brothers, now your friend has come! Brave up! Brave up! Would you see me taken captive?’

  “Rain-in-the-Face saw and heard her song and yelled to everyone within earshot, ‘Behold! A brave young woman rides among us! Let no warrior hide behind her!’

  “Some of the braves who won battle honors that day were talked about for a long time to come. Not the least was Sitting Bull’s eldest nephew, White Bull, who was my great-great-great-uncle. He rode up to many cavalry troopers and struck them with a club, then yanked them from their horses. He was considered by all the Sioux and Cheyenne to be the bravest warrior in the entire battle, even besting Crazy Horse.

  “On one of White Bull’s courageous charges at the remaining troopers, a bullet toppled his
pony. The brave ran forward and got into a hand-to-hand fight with the trooper he had been charging. The trooper grabbed White Bull’s rifle, but the brave struck him across the face with his quirt and made him let go. Finally, the soldier grabbed White Bull by the hair, yanked him forward, and bit the warrior’s nose, trying to bite it off. White Bull screamed for help and two warriors came, but finally White Bull broke free and butt-stroked the soldier in the face with his rifle.

  “White Bull and a Cheyenne were side by side in a ravine by the hill, shooting at the ten soldiers there, and the troopers finally got up and charged White Bull’s position. White Bull shot one of the two leaders of the charge, who was already severely wounded, and the Cheyenne shot the other. The other eight kept charging, which forced White Bull and the Cheyenne up over the edge of that ravine. But up above, White Bull stumbled and fell down. He had been hit by a ricocheting bullet, which numbed his leg and made it swell, but never broke the skin.

  “The attack went on, with soldiers trying to mount up and break away. So terrorized were the troopers that, near the end of the battle, some of the soldiers started to shoot at each other. Finally, there were only four left in that group, and they all mounted up and made a mad dash for freedom. Three were overtaken easily and killed, but the fourth, Lieutenant Harrington of C Company, had a fast-moving horse. He outran the pursuing Cheyenne and made his way to and along the river right down there, running that way.

  “They chased him for a distance and finally caught up with him. Instead of killing him, however, they rode up alongside and lashed his horse’s rump with their quirts and bows. Several times they fired at him but missed. Finally, Harrington pulled out his gun. Instead of shooting at them, he stuck the barrel beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.