Warrior Song by Robert F. Clifton (books to read in a lifetime .TXT) 📖

Chapter One Dreams And Nightmares

 

 

 

 

Warrior Song

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Warrior Song

Copyright 2015 by Robert F. Clifton

all rights reserved. No part of this book may be

reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

means without written permission from the author

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dedicated to the Memory

Of

Albert and Edith Aspenberg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this book is

a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons, places and/or events is purely coincidental......R. F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He heard again the sounds of pounding horse hoofs as they charged into the village. Then came the rifle and pistol shots as women screamed and cried. Old men and women came out of their lodges that had been erected near the Washita River and gazed upon on coming, blue uniformed, mounted troops and as they did they began to sing their death songs. A few warriors attempted to protect the fleeing women and children but were cut down by a volley of rifle fire and as his mother carried him to safety and placed him deep in the high bushes her heard her voice, telling him to be still and silent.

From his hidden place he saw her stand then stagger and fall as a bullet struck her. Then a man appeared, a man with bright red hair and a red beard and the Cheyenne boy, named

Avanaco (Lean Bear) watched the red headed officer lift the scalp of his mother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table Of Contents

 

Chapter One......Dreams and Nightmares

Chapter Two......Assignment, New York

Chapter Three...Carlisle

Chapter Four.... The Waldorf-Astoria

Chapter Five..... Malfeasance-Misfeasance

Chapter Six....... Sixty Five Acres

Chapter Seven... Drum Beats

Chapter Eight.... Carlise Barracks

Chapter Nine..... For The Record

Chapter Ten...... Command Decision

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Dreams and Nightmares

 

The sleeping boy the white teachers called Charles Lean Bear tossed and thrashed in his bed. His buttocks were still red and sore from the switch that was used to discipline him because he still spoke the Cheyenne language instead of English demanded by the teachers. The pain he was experiencing in his fitful sleep brought again the dreams and nightmares that began to reoccur night after night since his arrival at the Indian School in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. The good dreams were of the days with his mother Nandita, days when she took his hand in hers and walked with him along the streams and river beds teaching him things, things that he needed to know in order to survive in the world. Most of all she taught him how to hide, to remain still and quiet in times of danger. At her side he learned how to endure pain and not to cry out or produce tears. Here at the Indian School the use of the disciplinary switch failed to induce cries of any kind, forcing the punishment to stop for fear of permanent injury to the boy.

Now, as usual, the pleasant dreams turned into the nightmare. It was always the same. In his sleep he heard again the sounds of a bugle as it came brash and suddenly on the still, morning air. Then came the thundering sounds of hoof beats as the Calvary charged into the village. There was the rifle and revolver shots as women screamed and cried. Old men and women came out of their lodges that has been erected near the Washita River and gazed upon the on coming, blue, uniformed, mounted troops and as they did they sang their death songs. The few warriors that were in the village attempted to protect the fleeing women and children, but were cut down by a volley of rifle fire. When his mother carried him to safety she placed him deep in the high bushes. He heard her voice telling him to remain still and silent.

From his hiding place he saw his mother stand, then stagger and fall as a bullet struck her. Then, a man appeared, a man with red hair and a red beard and the Cheyenne boy named Avanaco (Lean Bear) hiding in the tall weeds watched the red headed officer lift the scalp of his mother.

Avanaco was born in a tipi lodge erected beside a flowing stream in Colorado Territory during the month of September, 1863. His father was a hunter and warrior called, Occunnowhurt (Yellow Wolf) The boy had no actual memory of his father and knew him only from the tales his mother told him such as the warriors bravery and skills as a hunter. Then, there was the tale of the warriors death at a place called, Sand Creek, on November 29, 1864. Nandita told of how his father and other men, young and old fought the white pony soldiers allowing some women and children to escape the killing. It was the first time his mother carried him to safety. The next and last time the bushes weren't high enough to hide both of them and the man with the red hair saw her.

As he lay face down in the high bushes he gazed upon the lifeless body of his mother. The sounds of injured and dying Cheyenne ponies came to him as the soldiers shot and killed the tribes pony herd. When the cries of the horses stopped he heard only the wailing of the women. About an hour later an old woman, called Stays Behind found him. She picked him up and carried him to a wagon. Many of those survivors who were camped on the Washita were sent to the Southern Cheyenne Reservation in Oklahoma and it was there that Avanaco was raised by Stays Behind. The old woman died in 1880 and the Indian Agent decided to send the then seventeen old, orphan boy to the Indian School in Pennsylvania.

At the school he was told to forget the old ways of his people. They cut his long, black hair, styling it short like the white mans. They changed his name from Avanaco to Charles and when he refused to answer to that name he was punished. When he spoke the Algonquian language of his people he was punished again.

Night time, in bed he brought back the sight of the red haired officer in his mind, the man that had murdered his mother. He did that deliberately not wanting to forget what the man looked like. He had to remember because he intended to find him and take his revenge. Then, it came to him one evening that if he was to succeed in finding his mothers killer he needed things. Most of those things were the knowledge of the white man's ways. He would need to know the language, the ways to dress, how to act in cities, what to eat, what to drink and where the pony soldiers were stationed. Just down the road was the place called the Carlisle Barracks. It was a good place to start. From that day on, Charles Lean Bear became an outstanding student.

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At nine o'clock on the morning of Monday, April 15, 1897 Elsie McCarthy, a maid at the Hotel Waldorf-Astoria in New York City knocked on the door of room 301. “Maid service”, she said loudly as she entered the room. She stopped suddenly noticing that the hotel guest was still in bed. “I'm terrible sorry sir. I didn't mean to disturb you. May I return to do your room in say, about another hour?”, she asked. Hearing no answer, out of curiosity she moved closer to the bed where the man lay on his back. What she saw made her stop and it took several tries before she was able to scream, “MURDER!”

*************

Tuesday May 22, 1897 began as an extremely hot morning as Lieutenant Alan McKenzie carefully opened a small wooden crate containing sticks of dynamite. As an Army engineer he was stationed at Fort Crockett, Galveston, Texas. His assignment was the construction of gun emplacements for the purpose of protecting the harbor. He was familiar with what was known as TNT, but had only used it a few times. His knowledge included the fact that one of the components of dynamite was nitroglycerine which by itself was unstable and dangerous. However, dynamite was considered safe if handled correctly. A problem could present itself if the dynamite sticks sweated the nitroglycerine stored in its makeup. If that occurred it meant that the explosive material was unstable as well as dangerous.

McKenzie carefully removed three sticks, doing so one at a time and as he did he carefully examined each one, finding them dry and safe. He then turned to select a detonator when he looked up to see a young corporal walking towards him. When the soldier stood in front of him he saluted and said, “Lieutenant McKenzie, I have a message for you sir”.

McKenzie returned the salute and took the one sheet of paper unfolded it and read, “Office Of the Commanding General, War Department, Washington, D.C. to: First Lieutenant Alan McKenzie Fort Crockett, Texas.: Sir, on orders of the Commanding General you are to report to his office no later than 09:00, May 25, 1897. The message was dated, Thursday, May 20, 1897. “That's it? Nothing else?”, asked McKenzie turning the paper over and looking for more information.

“No sir. Sorry sir. That's all that I was given to present to you”, said the corporal.

“Very well, thank you”, McKenzie replied.

Due to railroad schedualing it took two days by train to reach Washington, D.C. during that time he traveled in mufti not wishing to draw attention to himself. Arriving in Washington he hired a horse drawn Hansom cab which then took him to Fort Myer, located just outside of the city. There he was assigned a room in the Bachelor Officers Quarters. The next day attired in his dress uniform he presented himself at the Commanding General's Office. There he went from the Sergeant who met him to the lieutenant who escorted him to the office of Colonel Alonzo Willett and after military curtsey McKenzie was asked to take a seat.

Colonel Willett looked at McKenzie and smiled. “I believe that it is about time we relieve you from the apprehension you must be feeling right now. Allow me to inform you why you are here and what your new orders and assignment will be. We and when I say we, I mean General Miller and I, believe that any criminal acts caused by or to any member of the United States Army should be investigated by army personnel. Naturally, one must agree that the nations police forces have jurisdiction over the military. Be that as it may, we and again I mean the General and myself, we dislike the fact that currently the Pinkerton Detective Agency is responsible for the investigation of any crimes committed on or by members of the army. This is where you come in”.

“Me? Why me?”, asked McKenzie.

“Because it has been brought to our attention that you, as a cadet at West Point wrote and submitted a paper on the exact same subject. Am I correct?”, asked Willett.

“Somewhat sir. As I recall I wrote that paper in relation to a private detective investigating a fellow cadet. At that time I strongly felt that the investigation should have been done by the army or at least by those at the Point”.

“And the General and I agree. Nonetheless, currently those type of investigations are being conducted by the Pinkerton Agency and have been since the Civil War. Now, let me get right to the point. On April 15, of this year Major Conrad Parker, a Calvary Officer was found murdered in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City. His death as far as we know was caused by his throat being cut. At the same time his body was mutilated. When I say mutilated I mean that his eyes had been cut out, his scalp removed and both index fingers severed and left on the bed where he was found. Presently, we have heard very little from the New York, City Police.