Joseph M. Marshall III (27 page)

Honest self-awareness should be an ingrained characteristic in a leader. Crazy Horse had many positive characteristics as a person and as a man, but I believe that the stepping stone to his rise and his growth as a leader was that he knew himself as well as he could. It was a direct consequence of the mentoring process that began at the age of five or six and continued for ten to twelve years. Its methodology was simple: one teacher (at a time) for one student, so the focus was entirely on the student. The lessons, the exercises, and the information were directed at developing the skills and abilities to be a hunter and a fighting man. At the end of those ten or twelve years emerged a young man who had all the requisite physical skills and basic knowledge necessary to begin fulfilling his role as a hunter/warrior.

Young Crazy Horse, while he was still known as Light Hair or
Jiji,
had a superb mentor by the name of
Tanitahu
or Backbone (of a buffalo). He was called Hump (also mentioned as High Back Bone), a Mniconju Lakota married into an Oglala family. Hump took a liking to the quiet, light-haired boy and became not only his mentor but his lifelong friend as well.

Hump taught the boy all the requisite skills, of course, but the ultimate lesson was self-reliance. The standard by which any boy was measured was, of course, the teacher. A good teacher didn’t make things easy. A wise teacher taught the student to handle failure rather than to revel in the momentary euphoria of success. A wise teacher taught the student that what he held in his mind and heart were more powerful than any weapons he might carry in his hands—in other words, that knowledge and character win the battles more often than the bow, the lance, and the gun, that in the end the most powerful weapon a warrior takes into battle is himself. Therefore, each warrior must know honestly what he can and can’t do and always strive to learn more from every experience.

It would be safe to assume that Crazy Horse, like all his peers, was eager to take his place as a fighting man, the warrior. When his dreams of becoming a warrior were fulfilled, they were replaced with dreams of being as good a warrior as he could be. There were certainly dreams of glory, of performing deeds that would bring individual recognition and honor to one’s family. But dreams of glorious deeds invariably are crushed by the unexpected realities of war and combat. (One of the best non-Indian books on this topic is
The Red Badge of Courage
by Stephen Crane.)

The mentors that guided the young Crazy Horse and his peers through their learning process didn’t say “don’t dream of glory” or “reality is different than dreams.” They knew that experience was the best teacher of all, so they simply placed young men into situations that would teach them the realities of being a warrior. There was glory to be had, of course, if one was willing to take the necessary risks, but young men soon learned that achieving glory was a small part of the path of a warrior. Dreams of glory dissipate with light speed when one catches sight of a live enemy intent on harm and mayhem, when the first shots are fired, and when one realizes that one’s life is measured in mere heartbeats. Dreams then become plain unbridled hope that one will survive from one heartbeat to the next. Difficult situations obviously make or break one. At these moments the untested warrior battles his own inexperience while he endeavors to face the enemy. But if he somehow remembers even some of what he has been taught, he will live through the moment, and learn something about himself.

There will always be the philosophical question: Are leaders born or made?

While he was still a boy, Crazy Horse and some of his peers were taken on raids and patrols into enemy country. They were generally given menial but necessary chores to perform, such as gathering firewood for the camp or holding the horses. But in return they had the opportunity to observe experienced warriors in action, whether it was a scouting patrol or actually facing an enemy in the field. Over time and several outings they learned resilience, endurance, good judgment, courage, and perseverance—all the qualities that would keep them alive and enable them to fulfill their roles as protectors and providers. Just as important, they learned about their own strengths and weaknesses.

Most boys, therefore, basically learned the same lessons and were given the same opportunities to perform as fighting men. So how does a Crazy Horse emerge from a broad cultural blue-print and set himself apart? Perhaps he is testimony to the premise that some things cannot be taught. Perhaps there is something innate that some have and others don’t. Men and women who coach young athletes point out that, while skills and methodology can be taught to any athlete, the physical attributes of speed and quickness are frequently the difference between a good athlete and an outstanding one.

Many people dream of becoming leaders, while others shun the opportunity even when it falls into their laps. General George Patton, of World War II fame, certainly sought the responsibilities of leadership and reveled in its rewards and prestige when he was successful. Crazy Horse, on the other hand, was not as quick to grab the opportunity when it came and literally had no desire to talk about his exploits. But both were exceptional leaders, and their accomplishments could not have been achieved without a certain amount of basic ability, as well as the experience of winning and losing. What is less obvious is that both of them also had inherent characteristics only a few of us have. Those characteristics enabled them to perform daring and reckless deeds and make bold decisions, and to inspire others to follow them. What those characteristics are by name or label is often difficult to identify, but the consequences they enable are not difficult to see.

There were many turning points in Crazy Horse’s life. The Grattan incident of 1854 and General Harney’s retaliatory attack on Little Thunder’s village a year later shaped his attitude as a Lakota toward Euro-Americans. His ascension, if you will, to leadership began on a bitterly cold day in December 1866. That day and, more to the point, his actions on that day set him apart from other men. His actions, of course, were motivated by those characteristics not easily perceived on a day-to-day basis but which can and do rise to the top when it is necessary.

On that December day, Crazy Horse was not aspiring to rise to leadership heights; he was simply doing his best to perform the critically important task given to him by his elders. But because he performed his task so well, from that day on the responsibility of leadership was his, whether he sought it out or not. The lesson we can all take from this episode in Crazy Horse’s life is that leadership is as much based on performance—actions—as it is on anything else, perhaps more. If a leader can demonstrate that something can be done, others will likely attempt to do it. Furthermore, the opportunities for leadership can come at any time, sometimes from directions and out of circumstances least expected, such as the construction and occupation of a log wall fort.

Fort Phil Kearny was built in the summer of 1866 in direct violation of an agreement between the United States government and the Lakota relative to roads and white military installations in Lakota territory. Neither was to happen without Lakota permission. The garrison was to protect Euro-Americans using the Bozeman Trail, which was laid out from southeast Wyoming north to Montana through the Powder River region, which was Lakota territory. The fort was situated on Buffalo Creek at the foot of the Big Horn Mountains (halfway between the present towns of Buffalo and Sheridan, Wyoming), and was one of the few (contrary to Hollywood portrayals) military forts that actually had log palisade walls all around. The soldiers faced constant harassment by the Lakota from the moment they arrived to begin construction.

Although Lakota warriors outnumbered the soldiers in the fort, they were not as well equipped with firearms. When facing a heavily armed enemy, the obvious tactic is to use superior numbers to the best advantage, not to mention knowledge and familiarity with the terrain. But at least two attempts to draw soldiers into a fight away from the fort failed because younger, inexperienced men attacked prematurely. Consequently, the soldiers were doubly cautious. The council of old men in the Lakota camps advised Hump to make a final attempt. Knowing the soldiers wouldn’t leave the safe confines of their fort to face a large force, Hump’s plan was to decoy them with only a few warriors. Thus he chose Crazy Horse to lead and he in turn selected two Cheyenne and seven Lakota, ten in all.

A wood detail of one or two wagons and a small escort of soldiers regularly left the fort in the early morning to foray into the “pinery,” the thick stand of pine a few miles west of the fort, for fuel and lumber. An attack on the wood detail would immediately bring soldiers out of the fort to effect a rescue. The objective was to lure those soldiers into the ambush and defeat them, thereby convincing the whites that the wise move would be to leave the Powder River country and stop using the Bozeman Trail.

No one among the Lakota and Cheyenne knew it was December 21; to them it was the Month of Popping Trees, with the air so cold that tree limbs cracked. But it was cold, very cold, and there was a patchy snow cover.

The wood detail left the fort, it was attacked about a mile from the fort, and, according to plan, a column of soldiers emerged from Fort Phil Kearny. The rest of the plan was simple: lure the soldiers into the ambush. That meant leading them across at least one creek, numerous gullies, steep, slippery snow-covered ridges and slopes, and frozen ground—a distance of five miles. Thereafter, it was up to Crazy Horse and his decoys to win the day.

Crazy Horse was in his midtwenties and his abilities as a fighting man were widely known; his reputation was well established, perhaps even surpassing that of his friend Hump. After Hump announced his choice for leader of the decoys, Crazy Horse was approached by tens of dozens of young men, all wanting to be picked as decoys. Hump was hoping that would happen. (American Horse, His Enemies Are Afraid of His Horses, He Dog, and Little Hawk [Crazy Horse’s younger brother] were the Lakota decoys that most of the old storytellers agree on. The names of three remaining Lakota have been forgotten. The two Cheyenne were Big Nose and Bird Ash.)

Crazy Horse was confident in and realistic about his own skills and abilities and his experience, and he was aware of his limitations as well. Most of the men who wanted to be picked were more than qualified as far as physical skills and abilities were concerned. But Crazy Horse was the only one who could have led the decoy warriors at this particular time for this particular mission. By picking him, Hump had won the battle before the first shot was fired.

The soldiers had two opportunities to prevent the eventual outcome. The first came at the moment the field commander of the eighty-man column saw the decoys. The opportunity was only fleeting, however, lost forever the moment he gave the command to pursue, because from that moment on his fate and that of his soldiers were in the hands of Crazy Horse. There are two kinds of people most dangerous in combat: the lucky one and the battle-hardened fighter supremely confident in himself. On this frigid morning in the Month of Popping Trees, Crazy Horse was both.

To the soldiers, the small force of attacking Indians likely seemed disorganized and uncertain. Some were on foot and running for their horses. Probably feeling certain of a quick victory over such a small group, the soldiers left the wood road and turned north in pursuit. The decoys were like the mother sage grouse with the useless wing that prevented her from flying, so she could barely manage to stay a few jumps ahead of the pursuing coyote. Such a ruse hardly ever failed the sage grouse.

The apparently frightened and disorganized Indians moved north, staying just ahead of the soldiers. Lodge Trail Ridge stood four miles north; beyond it was the waiting trap. And here was the soldiers’ second opportunity to save themselves. Unknown to Crazy Horse, the fort’s commander had ordered the field commander, Captain William Fetterman, not to proceed beyond Lodge Trail Ridge under any circumstances. That second opportunity disappeared the moment Captain Fetterman ordered his soldiers to move off Lodge Trail Ridge in pursuit of the decoys.

Euro-American history labels the battle as the Fetterman Massacre. Every man in the Fetterman column was killed when the trap was successfully sprung in a fight that lasted perhaps forty-five minutes. The Lakota and Cheyenne call it the Battle of the Hundred in the Hand. A seer had a vision of catching a hundred soldiers in his hands, a prediction of victory. But it was not an easy victory. It was a ferocious battle with the soldiers acquitting themselves well and inflicting heavy casualties. Many Lakota and Cheyenne were wounded, although probably not as many were killed as is believed. Analysis of the Fetterman Massacre /Battle of the Hundred in the Hands has been predominantly from the viewpoint of it as a defeat for the Eighteenth Infantry. Indeed, the army branded the fort’s commander, Colonel Henry Carrington, as the scapegoat and relieved him of duty. Rarely is any analysis done on the factors that brought victory for the Lakota. Such a study will reveal that the primary factor was the leadership of one man: Crazy Horse.

Crazy Horse had been given a formidable task: to draw the soldiers away from the fort and then entice them to pursue his decoys for five miles. To make matters more interesting, the air temperature was well below zero and the ground, if not covered with snow or ice, was frozen. Footing for unshod horses was treacherous.

Crazy Horse set the stage by riding back and forth in front of the advancing soldiers, drawing their fire. Others, like Big Nose the Cheyenne, followed his lead. All the decoys carried firearms but were woefully short of ammunition. Crazy Horse had four rounds for his breechloader. All were armed with bows and carried thirty to forty arrows. They fired on the soldiers or launched arrows with enough frequency to draw them into a running fight. The fact that about half of the soldiers were mounted (they were mounted infantry and not a bona fide cavalry unit) and half were on foot slowed their progress. But they were drawn into the ruse.