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PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Oct 25 2017, 07:02 PM
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Nov 22 2017, 07:10 PM
I hear that train a comin'
tag: Kimi || words: 1,331 || wearing: Colonel Uniform
1876. Election year. Democrat Samuel J. Tilden and Republican Rutherford B. Hayes were the forerunners for the elected position of the President of the United States. On November 7th, the citizens of this great country would run to the polls. The North was carried up in a political swell of debate and contentions, and it would remain one of the highest votes per U.S. citizen years that the country had ever seen. Tilden was the governor of Colonel Stone’s native New York, but the high-ranking army official was a Republican through and through, and would not waste such an important vote on the likes of a Democrat. The Democratic party was the party of the South, reluctant wishy-washers incapable of taking a hard stance on any subject matter.
The next elected president would affect several working areas of the United States Military, including the support – or lack thereof – for the fight in the western native lands of their country. Thaddeus became disenchanted with current President Ulysses S. Grant after the Civil War. Grant had rolled over like a young pup, pardoning several of the traitorous Confederate generals from any war crimes. He went beyond what was necessary or even reasonable in support of rights for freed slaves, and now he wanted to meddle in their affairs with the Natives. Replacing several of the reservations’ military leaders with Christian missionaries proved to Thaddeus that Grant had become not only soft, but delusional in his beliefs that missionaries could not only contain the savages, but improve upon the reservations by giving into the whims and fancies of the spoiled natives who lived there. In short, this political election was one of great importance to Thaddeus Stone, and for the future of the U.S. military in the west.
A soft disposition had no business in war, and they always were always at war, as there was always an enemy in their midst. If you didn’t have the stomach to do what needed to be done, you were a liability, not an asset. Lieutenant Donald B. Gibbons and his company had captured a young native yesterday evening from a local tribe that had been giving them particular trouble. He had been bound and tortured for information. There was no negotiating with savages. They would turn their back on a deal as easily as cutting butter, but physical pain was a universal language. In their broken tongue, Gibbons had communicated with the child-warrior and discovered that a neighboring Lakota tribe was traveling in this area. Based upon their current maps of tribal nations, this was beyond their territory. Though there were many possible reasons for their encroachment, he took an offensive approach. They were to assume the Lakotas were hostile, and to attack before they attacked first.
Truth be told, Thaddeus wouldn’t consider it a misfortune if most of the natives were driven off from these lands or exterminated outright. Those who deserved to be assimilated, such as his daughter Chelsea, did so willingly. Most of them were too old and set in their ways for change, and their primitive way of living was a waste of potential; the rich soil on which they stood should be built upon and expanded, not neglected and wasted. After obtaining the details of the last known location of this band of Lakotas, the young native was released, watered, and shipped off at first light for a reservation. He would live among other natives from different tribes on a small, designated plot of land sanctioned by the government. It was of no concern to white men if the natives could not speak each other’s language, or had different cultures.
As the new day wore on, preparations were made. A small, initial company would set out first. If they appeared to be engaged in combat, a few would fall back and return to camp to let Thaddeus know. Then he would send in the rest of his 400 men strong battalion to squash any remaining indian resistance. Those who gave up their weapons would be taken into captivity and sent to a reservation. Those who fought – died. Stone didn’t plan on any escaping back into the safety of the plains.
When a young and squat, bleeding soldier burst into his tent and exclaimed that they had encountered the natives and a battle had ensued, Thaddeus ordered Captains James Brandon and Charles Burke to lead their troops to the rendezvous point immediately. Stone rode in at the back of his Calvary unit on his strong, thoroughbred Quarter horse. The chaos of the scene did not faze the experienced Colonel, and as he rode past some of his troops and into the central point of the battle, he shot a charging native square in the chest with his pistol. Another lean and muscular man came to attack him from the back, but the trained horse reared up and kicked him in the abdomen, cracking the man’s ribs and throwing him backwards to the ground. Stone continued to plow through the field on horse, until he was grabbed by the leg and wrestled to the ground by a bearish adversary.
They tossed and tumbled, struggling in the dry dust of the earth to gain an advantage. Thaddeus was trained in hand-to-hand combat, but the native was much larger, with a body used to constant physical labor. Stone was laid out on his back while the enemy reached for a discarded tomahawk a few feet away. Thaddeus used the time to his advantage and wrapped his hand around a large, lumpy rock, so that when the native was swinging his weapon up in the air, Stone had already hammered him in the side of the head. He knocked the other man off balance, enough that Stone was able to sit up and hammer him again and again, until the native was on the ground instead, having been bludgeoned to death by a “Stone. Ironic,” Stone said, breathing heavily as he pulled himself to his feet. His uniform was stained and there was blood on the collar, but he wasn’t injured.
With the toe of his boot, Thaddeus kicked the limp man to make sure he was good and dead. He looked around him, making sure he didn’t get surprised attacked instead. His troops seemed to be overwhelming the band of Lakota simply by their sheer size in number. His horse, unfortunately, was nowhere in sight, so the Colonel had to continue on foot. Retrieving his pistol, and pulling his sharp dagger from the inside of his jacket pouch, Thaddeus fought one after another, forcing his way into their camp. It had been some time since he had had a good fight, spending hours in a hot tent, bent over maps and battle strategy charts. Numbers divided by days divided by soldiers, all for the benefit to stay out of the thick of the fighting, in hopes of coming home to his Chelsea again.
He came upon a Lakota woman with a mutilated brave in her arms. He was missing a good deal of his face, and Thaddeus was unable to discern if this had been an intentional maiming, or simply the result of a gunshot wound to the face. Thaddeus lifted the pistol in his hand and pointed it directly at Kimimela. “On behalf of the United States government, I demand that you lay down your weapons. If you do not comply, I will dispatch each and every one of you, including that wretched man with his head in your lap. Do you understand me?” Many of them weren’t smart enough to learn and articulate the English language, but a few of them at least had broken English phrases and words mastered. Thaddeus cocked the loaded gun, never wavering for even a second. If she even sneezed, he would put a bullet straight through her forehead. “Throw your weapons off to the side. You are outnumbered.”
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Nov 23 2017, 02:37 AM
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Nov 27 2017, 09:39 PM
I hear that train a comin'
tag: Kimi || words: || wearing: Colonel Uniform
girlwhowaitThe country could be divided into three main bodies: Upstanding citizens, children, and the morally corrupt. Children were exempt from most judgements because of their delicate shaping minds, but eventually, they would fall on either side of the line. The morally corrupt were those who committed crimes, however great or small. Thieves, murderers, adulterers, counterfeiters – all the same. Thaddeus believed that most had a disease that was incurable. If you let one out of jail, they may be straight for a time, but they all came back to the same debased form of crime some time or another. They were broken, unfit for society. These natives fell into the latter category; only the children, like Chelsea, could be reeducated and civilized. The rest had to be removed from prosperous lands and allocated to a safe place, preventing them from corrupting their own, or else wiped entirely from the earth.
This tribe clearly chose destruction as their future. If he was chosen to be God’s wrath upon the sins of this people, he could not argue with it.
Though a stalwart Protestant, he had initially sent Chelsea to a Catholic school for her education, as it was renowned for its success in the reeducation of native children. He had not only been disappointed, but infuriated over their inhumane methods, and quickly switched his adoptive daughter to private tutoring sessions, free from the overbearing brutality of Catholic nuns. Thaddeus Stone believed it was by divine authority that his ancestors were able to come to this great land and cultivate it, but with that blessing came the burden and responsibility of introducing the faith to the dirty and primal peoples who already lived there. As many of them had not accepted the one true God into their lives, the suffering they experienced was their punishment. Because of his own self-discipline, dedication, and devotion, he had be called to this task.
The woman before him was one of those, stubborn and unruly. They allowed their women to behave as indecently and wildly as their men. She fought in their wars and committed villainous acts; she dressed like an infamous lady of the night with skin unveiled for all to see. If he must put her down here and now, he would do it with a clear conscience, with the sword of righteousness by his side.
“You are in no position to make demands.” Thaddeus gestured with his gun to the man dying in her lap. “But on my honor, I will see that he receives medical attention.” Not that it would matter, he was likely to die within minutes. He had enough experience with the terror and violence of the battlefield to know which injuries were survival, and those that simply were not.
Thaddeus looked over his shoulder as a member of her tribe was shot in the back by a Calvary officer, impeding him from the target he had made of Stone’s back. The fighting was dying down, but it was still a war zone. His eyes returned to the fiery warrior in front of him, observing as she dropped her own weapon as promised into the dirt. With his foot, he kicked the gun further away, to make it impossible for her to retrieve even if she dove for it. Her perfect English had not gone unnoticed by Thaddeus; it was rather unexpected of someone who had shown herself to be so opposed to assimilating. However, he did not have the time to muse over this interesting development. “Help her to her feet, and find a stretcher for the man. They’ll be taken with the others back to camp, provided they do not resist.” Thaddeus shot Kimi a look, a warning that was all too evident. “Shoot anyone who falls out of line. They can easily be made examples of.”
The last rays of light were descending behind the hills before the wagons were brought and their captives loaded, packed tightly together so one could barely stand let alone sit. The enclosed space had small windows for air, but prevented escape with thick metal bars across them. The ride was not only uncomfortable, it was inhumane. The saving grace was how close they were to the base already, so that muscle cramps had no time to set in. Thaddeus permitted the hostile woman to be in the back of one wagon that was much less secure, and had more space for the stretchers that carried the grievously wounded natives. Of course, it was separate from another carriage that held the wounded of the United States army, and the natives were only provided with thin, moth-eaten blankets.
After the large, fortified doors of the fort were opened and the prison-on-wheels had all rolled in, the gate was sealed once more. Armed soldiers stood just on the inside, and snipers lined the top of the walls, giving them a good vantage point for gunning down any nearby enemies. Most of the prisoners were roughly handled and dragged out of the back of the wagons, corralled together into a large, open area with a high fence that had sharp spikes on top. It was the makeshift jail, one that could be occupied by a large volume of people, but was sure to be miserable as it was unprotected by the elements. Tribe members that were injured were brought indoors to the mess hall, where members of the army normally had their meals. Under the scrutinous eyes of some soldiers, any medics that could be spared from attending to their own were brought in and bandaged, removed bullets, and sewed up those that they could. A priest made his rounds, giving last rites to any soldiers that wouldn’t make it, and shaking his head at the “godless” natives, asking them to accept Christ before they died.
Stone went to his “war room”, practically his second home and most of the time, the place he could be found most often when he wasn’t asleep. It was actually a military strategy room, rather plain and empty, a good place for a small gathering of high-ranking members of the military to meet and discuss. When a couple hours had passed, he ordered one of the corporals to find the woman of which he gave a brief description on, and to bring her to him. He then emphasized that she should have her hands bound. He was in no mood for tricks, and he was fully aware of just how wily they could be. After bringing the wrong woman not once, but twice, they finally brought the she-warrior he had encountered, her clothes drenched in the blood of her comrade. After a brief silence on Thaddeus’s part, he addressed Kimi, who had been plopped down in a chair in front of him. “Did your friend survive?” The way he said it sounded disinterested, because it was simply a formality. “Your comprehension of English is surprising. It’s unusual for your kind. Did you learn it from missionaries?” That was generally the most common reason they could speak the language. Missionaries were very tireless and patient when it came to that sort of thing.
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Nov 30 2017, 02:18 AM
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Today at 12:25 am
I hear that train a comin'
tag: Kimi || words: 1,331 || wearing: Colonel Uniform
You had to be a man of strong character to withstand the eyes of the devil burning into your back. He was well hated by the Indians, for whom did Satan hate more than the man who fought so hard against him and his followers? Expansion was for the good of God’s holy believers. They had been gifted this land to use as their own; to flourish and prosper on the green of the earth before them. They must convert or cast out those who made to bring hell to their world with their brutal sacrifices and debased ways. So while he could feel their many imaginary daggers digging into his shoulders, Thaddeus Stone would not relent. To be hated was just another example of your commitment, and he would take all the wagging tongues over living his one life as a passerby with no honorable acts or mentions to his name.
But it wasn’t for the attention that Thaddeus continued his command. When he saw the red blood of his own men staining the mud beneath his feet; as he heard their anguished, dying cries and felt their terror when the merciless bullet of a raging savage pierced their flesh, Stone recalled the sacrifices of his forefathers for this great land. Having paid so much for this precious earth they stood on, there was no way of going back – not until the last of the enemy fell, and became part of the dust.
Throughout the course of the evening, the camp was in mild disorder. Thaddeus and the generals above him would never allow it to erupt into chaos, but they had captured more natives than expected. Their experience had proven that most natives preferred to die – at their own hand, even – than be given over to the will and discipline of the United States army. Their “prison” was at full capacity and food was limited. Priority was always given to the soldiers, then the pigs – and then, if there were scraps left over, to the natives in the pens. They were provided with murky water and very little to eat, surely nothing that could sustain life among so many. This was an issue that continued to perplex and frustrate the lieutenant colonel. He was no monster, and feeding prisoners held greater importance to him than other officers. Unfortunately, he was not in charge of the entire garrison and he had been outvoted on this subject a number of times.
Meanwhile, Stone’s limited time prevented him from so much as exiting the war tent. Several inferior officers came to him to give reports on their respective companies, how many deaths, injuries and etc. He did his best to multitask (as was one of the main elements of his job) and draw up a hasty but sufficient report of his own for the commander of their post. Thaddeus executed the meetings as swiftly as possible as hunger was beginning to gnaw at him. He turned to look at the black and white photo of his daughter Chelsea, which sat in a little wooden frame on the corner of his desk. A smile came to his face at the memory of it. It was last year, and getting a good photograph had been quite the challenge. Having Chelsea hold still in one pose long enough for the picture to develop and flash took some skill on the part of the photographer, and a promise of a sweet treat afterward from Thaddeus. She was a beautiful and precocious little girl, and he suffered from extreme worrying on her part. With him away so much of the time, she was in the care of her teachers and governess. After removing her from that abusive catholic school, her temperament had greatly improved, but as a protective father, being away from her and not having the ability to supervise her interactions at all times was troublesome.
It had only taken three different corporals for them to retrieve the correct native woman in this amount of time. When she was brought into the room, she was set down in a chair before him and Thaddeus began his questioning. She had an obstinate personality and would likely be unreasonable to deal with, but she had the ability to speak clearly in English and this was an asset to him. When she explained that her comrade had died, he nodded his head solemnly. With a few rare exceptions, he did not believe in speaking ill of those once dead, as their souls were now to be judged by a creator much higher and more intelligent than himself. “His injuries were too severe.” He had fulfilled his promise to have his medics try to help him back at the fort, but if he died before the journey’s end, nothing could be done. In a way, it was a mercy for him. What kind of life could he have lived if he survived with such a deformity?
Stone’s lip twitched as she called the missionaries monsters. Naturally she would feel that way, as they opposed her corrupted way of living and tried to introduce something more pure and wholesome to her people. He walked over to the oak carved desk that was in the center of the room, the only object that wasn’t plain and stripped of any bells or whistles. He sat on the edge of it, steepling his fingers as the native woman went on in her crazed manner, lies spouting from her lips. “As it stands, I’m not interested in listening to your lies today. I will not try to reason with a savage on this matter.“ He found her descriptions of them rather perplexing. Stealing children, beating them? How do they so easily swallow these falsehoods that their elders tell them? It sounded ridiculous in his head, let alone speaking it out loud. “We came to a compromise before, so I believe it is possible for us to do it again.”
He could see that she was fighting off showing any signs of weakness to him, but even the strongest spirit eventually succumbed to exhaustion. She was tired, likely burdened by hunger and there were pains and scrapes on her body that had not been attended to. This was a point of leverage for Thaddeus. While it was beyond his power to improve the conditions for all of the prisoners, he could easily arrange for better treatment for this woman if she assisted them in return. “I would like you to communicate with your people, be a translator for us. I know not all of them speak our language. If you speak any other natives languages besides that of your kin, that would also be useful. In exchange, you will be fed the best food we have to offer, and you will have a warm place to sleep.”