Washita Battlefield NHS, Cheyenne, Oklahoma

As with the post on the Sand Creek Massacre, this history contains accounts of graphic violence. Do not read any further if this will upset you.

The 7th Cavalry attacking Black Kettle's camp on the Washita River
(From the exhibit at the Washita Battlefield NHS)

On November 26, 1868, the Peace Chief Black Kettle had just returned to his Washita River camp from a strenuous 100 mile mission through the snow to request permission to move his camp closer to Arapaho, Kiowa, and other Cheyenne tribes downriver. Permission was denied. His wife, Medicine Woman Later, uneasy with the rumors of U.S. troops in the area, wanted to move that night. She had good reason to feel uneasy. In 1864, at Sand Creek in Colorado, U.S. troops had attacked their peaceful camp, killed 125, and shot her nine times. She survived, but now at their winter camp, she had a premonition. The council of elders decided to wait until the next morning to move.

The Army was indeed nearby. The Osage and Lenape scouts had found tracks through the snow, possibly Black Kettle’s party returning to camp. The Army decided it led to a hostile encampment. That next morning, as dawn broke, Lt. Col. George Custer and some 700 soldiers of the 7^th U.S. Cavalry stormed into the campsite and shot the Indians as they struggled out of their teepees. Warriors desperately fought to cover the retreat of the elderly, women, and children. Medicine Woman Later and Black Kettle hopped on a horse and then were killed as they crossed the Washita River.

Map of Battle (From Washita Battlefield NHS web site)

Looking at the hills to the northwest over which Custer and his troops rode to attack the camp among the trees in the middle of the picture (Photo by Hunner)

At one point, Ben Clark, Custer’s Chief of Scouts, rushed in and told him that soldiers were killing women and children “without mercy.” Custer ordered his soldiers to stop shooting and instead take prisoners. The attack lasted only thirty minutes with estimates of forty to a hundred men, women, and children killed. Twenty-two soldiers lost their lives, seventeen of them from Major Joel Elliot’s attempt to chase down those trying to escape. He and his men ran into warriors from the Cheyenne and Arapaho camps downriver riding to the sound of battle. Custer had attacked the weakest camp, and now several thousand warriors started to surround the 7^th Cavalry.

Some Cheyenne hid in the tall grass to escape the soldiers (Photo by Hunner)

The soldiers had orders to destroy the camp – burn the lodges and all the blankets, food, and supplies in them to deprive the Cheyenne of sustenance at the beginning of winter. Custer also ordered his troops to kill the Cheyenne horse herd so they sliced the throats and then when that proved too difficult, shot over 800 animals. Warriors from the other camps watched in horror from the nearby hills, afraid to attack since the soldiers had taken some fifty elders, women, and children captive.

Place where horses and mules were slaughtered (Photo by Hunner)

With ammunition running low and a growing force of enraged warriors nearby, Custer feinted a move to go downriver which sent the warriors retreating to protect their own camps. Relieved of a possible counterattack, the 7^th Cavalry and their prisoners stole away into the fading light.

This is the second act in the tragedy of the southern plains Indian War. As Ranger Joel Shockley recounted, the first act happened at Sand Creek. When Col. Chivington and his soldiers attacked Black Kettle’s camp of peaceful Cheyenne and Arapaho in 1864 at Sand Creek, a Plains War erupted that lasted for years, culminating in the Battle at Little Big Horn (Joel’s third act). In response of the Sand Creek Massacre, warriors from the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers rampaged across the southern Plains to avenge their fallen comrades and family members. Peace treaties came and went, and Black Kettle signed some of them, but he had little control over the attacks by the warriors.

Francis Gibson, a lieutenant in the 7^th Cavalry, later estimated that between August and November in 1868, 117 people were killed in the southern plains by the Dog Soldiers, with others scalped or captured, and almost 1,000 horses and mules stolen. As Western historian Paul Hutton said in the movie at the Washita visitors’ center: “The Army was humiliated. This was the Army that had defeated Robert E. Lee.” Something had to be done.

The Commander in charge of the Department of the Missouri, Major General Philip Sheridan, called for total war against the Indians. His aide-de-camp, Schuyler Crosby wrote: “The General’s policy is to attack and kill all Indians wherever met and to carry war into their own villages so that they will have to withdraw their marauding bands for the protection of their own families.”[1]

Lt. Col George Custer as he looked during the winter campaign at Washita (https://www.nps.gov/common/uploads/photogallery/imr/park/waba/)

Total war and winter campaigns were not new. Union troops scoured the Shenandoah Valley during the Civil War to remove the Confederates’ source of food. Kit Carson had conquered the Navajo in 1863 with a summer campaign of destroying crops and homes followed up with a winter attack. The massacre at Sand Creek also occurred as winter set in in November 1864. In regards to Washita, Paul Hutton concluded: “This was total warfare at its worst. With the dawn attack, they were the most vulnerable…. Total war against the Cheyenne was absolutely effective and forced them onto the reservation.” But he added that the Cheyenne “would have their revenge on Custer and the 7^th Cavalry at Little Big Horn.”[2]

As I left the film about the massacre, I noticed that the other guy in the room had a t-shirt from Fort Pulaski. I struck up a conversation with Tim Sprano from Lynchburg, Virginia. He is a veteran park goer, having visited 371 of the 412 in the system over the last fifteen years. He teaches mathematics at Liberty University, but his other passion is our national parks. He remarked that every park has its own reason to exist, so take what it gives you. Here at Washita, he commented: “Obviously, we wouldn’t do stuff now that they did 100 years ago. We have different values today than of the past so it’s important to see and hear the whole story.”

After the movie, Park Rangers Joel Shockley and Richard Zahm spent over an hour chatting with me about what happened at Washita. Richard said this was an important site because people truly learn about our past here-- people who just stop by to stamp their NPS passports end up staying here all day. He said: “It’s so much more complicated than just cowboys and Indians…. I thought when I came out here, it would be a lot of black and white and it’s not. There are good guys and bad guys on all sides.”

NPS Ranger Richard Zahm (Photo by Hunner)

Joel agreed: “This is one of the best kept secrets in American history. It is far more complicated. This was like the Oklahoma City bombing for the tribes or like 9/11. There were not just Cheyenne here, there were a lot of Indians involved, and Mexicans too. Half of Custer’s command were immigrants from Ireland and Germany, a way to become citizens. All these cultures came together by happenstance…. This is part of your heritage, whether you have Indian in you, have soldier in you. It’s part of our heritage – all our warts and blemishes.”

After the Indians were forced onto reservations, many of their children were taken to boarding schools to further remove them from their tribe and culture (Photo from exhibit at Washita Battlefield NHS)

The Plains tribes lived on land that was a route to the gold and silver mines in Colorado. The Cheyenne, Arapaho, Kiowa, Comanche, and other tribes had roamed and fought over the Great Plains for thousands of years but then got in the way of Westward Expansion. As they protected their land, their families, and their cultures, they clashed first with the pioneers and miners moving in or through their homelands, and then with the U.S. Army. A Cheyenne Chief, Leg in Water, in 1864 said: “We loved the whites until we found out they lied to us and robbed us of what we had. We have raised the battle axe until death.”[3] After the Civil War, the Army used the tactics and weapons to wage total war to force Indians to move to reservations and kill those who refused to go. This last chapter of the Indian Wars in North America played out over the decade or so right after the Civil War. The legacy of conquest lives with us today, and as Richard, Joel, and Tim note, it is a complicated story viewed from our 21^st century eyes.

Everywhere I have traveled in Driven by History, I have run into the deep heritage of our land, which starts with Native American peoples. They had rich and complex civilizations before Europeans arrived, they lost much of their ancestral lands and their culture, and they are still here.  

The Washita Battlefield became an Oklahoman state park in October 1966 and a National Historic Site on November 12, 1996.

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[1] Mark Gardner, Washita Battlefield National Historic Site (Western National Parks Association: 2002), 8.

[2] “Destiny at Dawn,” documentary film shown at the Washita Battlefield NHS.

[3] From exhibit text at visitors’ center for the Washita Battlefield NHS.

Route 66 National Historic Trail from Illinois to California

Route 66 sculpture on Central Avenue in Albuquerque (Photo by Hunner)

At the end of July, I kicked off the East Coast leg of my Driven by History road trip driving on Route 66. I headed east from Albuquerque, New Mexico on Interstate 40 and hopped off at times to follow the two lane remnants of the Mother Road. It’s a story of multiple narratives, some faded, much like history in general. What’s left of Route 66 sometimes serves as a frontage road for the Interstate, and at other times, it winds through the countryside and small towns. To see the changes in our country since the 1950s, all you have to do is pull off the superhighway and drive the old route.

The United States has a long history of roads connecting our nation. In 1806, President Jefferson signed an act to create the National Road to connect the mid-Atlantic coast of Maryland and Washington D.C. with Illinois. Even during the late 19^th century, as railroads spread across the continent and sped people and goods around, roads continued to serve vital routes for wagons, buggies, and bicycles. The safety bike came over from England and by the 1890s, 1,000,000 had been sold in the U.S. The suffragette Susan B. Anthony claimed “Bicycles did more to emancipate women than anything else.” The rage for bicycles also spawned a Good Roads movement.

At the turn of the 20^th century, automobiles entered the scene. At first, cars served only the rich. Their price, their unreliability as they tended to break down, and the lack of good roads all made them more playthings than reliable transportation like horses or bicycles. Then in 1913, Henry Ford pioneered the automobile assembly line which radically reduced their cost. With the assembly line, a Ford car took only ninety-three minutes to make. Working people now could afford a Model T and for some, such a vehicle became essential for getting their produce to market or delivering goods to clients. Needless to say, cars revolutionized many aspects of 20^th century living. We are all descendants of Ford, Dodge, and the other many automobile innovators.

Model T (From exhibit at National Route 66 Museum, Elk City, Ok.)

Cars required different roads than wagons. Steep hills and mountains, deep rivers, and muddy routes all impeded the horseless carriages. A demand for good roads grew as cars proliferated, and as adventurous souls began to drive across the country. As a result, a federal highway system began to unify the various routes and standardize the numbers for roads—odd numbered roads went north and south while even number ones went east and west.

Standard federal highway sign as the National Route 66 Museum in Elk City, Ok (Photo by Hunner)

One of the first of the unified federal road system, Route 66 came into being on November 11, 1926. It ran from Chicago, Illinois, through Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and ended at Santa Monica, California. Its total length was 2,448 miles (3,940 km). From the beginning, Route 66 sought to connect small towns and villages to the rest of the country.

The Mother Road transported Great Depression refugees fleeing the Dust Bowl like the fictional Joad family in Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath and played a vital role in rushing people West during World War II as the government chose many places along the route for military facilities and war industries. It helped facilitate the greatest mobilization of workers and material in U.S. history as people flocked to Southern California for jobs. After the war, the road inspired both the TV show Route 66 which ran on CBS from 1960 to 1964 and Bobby Troup, Jr. who penned the hit song about getting your kicks on Route 66. Postwar popular culture embraced the Mother Road as an icon for the mobile American Dream.

Route 66 and Main Street (Photo in the National Route 66 Museum)

 Today, there is little historic fabric left of the Mother Road. Some segments still exist, and a few motor courts and buildings survive along the route. For those seeking Route 66, they must use their imagination and memories. Local efforts to preserve the route like the National Route 66 Museum in Elk City, Oklahoma, and the restored Conoco station in Shamrock, Texas are interesting parts of the great road. Car clubs and booster organizations work to preserve and publicize what is left to attract tourists. And it works. I heard of a group of Norwegians who flew into Chicago, rented Harley-Davidsons, drove the route, and then shipped the bikes back as they returned to Oslo. I also saw a Route 66 Diner on a highway in Sweden years ago. The Mother Road still attracts die-hard fans from around the world.

Restored Conoco gas station in Shamrock, Texas (Photo by Hunner)

The decline of Route 66 came about with the passage of the Federal Aid Highway Act of 1956. President Eisenhower experienced both the frustration of traveling cross country in pre-war U.S. as well as the ease of using Germany’s Autobahn highways. Using the German model, he helped pass this act to fund the building of limited access superhighways, partially justified as a way to get people out of big cities in case of a nuclear attack by the Soviets. By 1970, almost all segments of Route 66 were replaced by the interstate highways. The final patch of the Mother Road was bypassed by Interstate 40 at Williams, Arizona in October 1984.

Abandoned Esso Station on the Mother Road (Photo by Hunner)

As I drive to history, I see layers of the past side by side with the modern. Two lanes black-tops hugging the contour of the landscape next to broad ribbons of grey cement slicing through hills and leaping over valleys. I witness vehicles rocketing along at 80 and 90 miles an hour, and giant trucks pulling two, even three trailers charging down the highway. For the most part, interstates efficiently move vehicles, people, and goods across our vast country. I admit, when I have to make good time, I often jump on an interstate to make it to the next historic destination.

To be sure, interstates are engineering marvels. Overpasses soar through the air like ribbons of concrete. Interchanges weave cars and trucks at high speeds in an intricate dance to connecting routes. And people fly down the highways at breakneck velocities, far exceeding the speed limit and still arriving safely. It is a wondrous road system essential to the wellbeing of our county.

So here’s my concern. In the 1980s, I drove trucks full of art around the country. Back then, I enjoyed country cafes, often on main streets in the small communities. Today, I vainly search for small locally owned restaurants in these small towns. To find a meal or even a cup of coffee, one must often go out to the interstate exits and have a franchised meal.  The blur of speeding along at 75 miles per hour, the homogenization of the franchises on interstate highway system dull us to the rich diversity of our country.

Traffic jam at rush hour in Indianapolis on I-470 bypass (Photo by Hunner)

William Least Heat Moon published Blue Highways in the 1982 about his road trip on the country byways off of the interstates. He is an elegiac writer with a great eye for the life in people and landscapes. He advocated for slowing down and enjoying the trip as opposed to rushing to our destinations. In Blue Highways, he taps into who we are as a country as he interacts with the people of America. It serves as a counter-narrative to our fast paced lives and perhaps evokes what Route 66 fans seek when they travel the Mother Road.

Classic gas pumps at the Conoco station in Shamrock, Texas (Photo by Hunner)

In a land as big as ours, we need roads to connect us. Thomas Jefferson knew as much when he signed a law creating a National Road. Dwight Eisenhower also knew this when he advocated for the interstate highway system. But roads don’t just get us to where we are going. They take us through the vast cornfields of the Midwest and wheat fields of the Great Plains, through the hot deserts of the Southwest, through the dense cities of the Atlantic seaboard, and through the thick forests of the South. Underneath our modern highways lay two lane roads, under those lay pioneer tracks, and under those lay Native American trails. Our transportation network is built upon more ancient routes and shows us that humans embrace mobility, that from our first steps on this continent we immigrated, we traveled for trade and for adventure, and we pursued a dream of finding a better place for ourselves and our families.

The Mother Road in Missouri with Interstate 40 in the background (Photo by Hunner)

My next blog which I also post tonight is a short detour off of Route 66. I visited the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site in western Oklahoma. We see Cheyenne Peace Chief Black Kettle again as well as George Custer.

The Wagon Wheel Motor Court in Missouri on Route 66 (Photo by Hunner)