Joseph Medicine Crow and our Native American Veterans
Among Native Americans, the Crow Nation once occupied the entire
Yellowstone River Valley, living in large teepees which accommodated extended
families. The women of the Crow kept
their hair braided, while the men let it flow down to their waist. They hunted the bison, where well known for
their bead work and were dramatic and skilled riders.
Women within
the Crow held more influence than other groups of Native Americans. They could even become chiefs. But a woman could not become a war
chief. That was a uniquely male
designation, and it required four specific actions. The warrior had to conduct a raid behind
enemy lines. He had to steal his enemy’s
horses. He had to disarm an enemy and,
finally, he had to “count coup” on the enemy.
That is, he had to touch him, without killing him.
The last Crow
to have successfully completed these tasks, becoming their last War Chief—the Sacred
Pipe Carrier—was a man named Joseph Medicine Crow. He completed his four tasks while fighting
for the United States of America during World War II. Medicine Crow was a scout for the U.S. Army’s
103rd Infantry Division and served in Germany. He had been sent behind enemy lines for a
rear-guard action. During this
successful skirmish he found himself in hand-to-hand combat with a German. After disarming the man, Medicine Crow got
him by the throat. In his own words,
Medicine Crow’s blood lust was up, but then he heard the dying man say “Mama,
Mama.” those words “…opened my ears” and he spared the man’s life. Later in the war he led another raid and
stole 50 horses from a Nazi SS officer.
As he led the horses away in the dead of night Joseph Medicine Crow softly
sang the Crow victory song.
Joseph
Medicine Crow went into battle with war paint under his G. I. uniform; he
placed a sacred eagle feather tucked inside his helmet.
In his later years he became a
well-known historian for the Crow, best known for his oral history of the
Battle of the Little Bighorn. President
Obama presented Joseph Medicine Crow with the Presidential Medal of Freedom in
2009.
Joe Medicine Crow, a veteran of
World War II, died on April 3, 2016. He
was 102 years old. But he is not whom
this editorial is about.
My husband and I first learned
about Joseph Medicine Crow at a Pow-wow in Sheridan, Wyoming. In one of those odd coincidences that offer
up a chance to test both one’s sensitivity and perception, we had toured the
battle field at Wounded Knee on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in
Southwestern South Dakota, on our way to Sheridan.
The Wounded Knee massacre of 150
Native Americans, most of them women and children on December 29, 1890 is one
of those events that make you hang your head in shame. It is dismaying to think what can happen when
men abandon reason for hate, but I did not weep until we got to the Wounded
Knee Cemetery.
What we saw, stone after stone, in
uneven rows, were the names of men who had laid down their lives—not at Wounded
Knee—but in Korea, World War II, Viet Nam, and Desert Storm. They died in the Pacific, in North Africa, in
Europe and on every miserable, blood-soaked, hellish, killing field where
American’s military forces have had to fight.
One must wonder why Native
Americans, whom we treated so shabbily, have offered up their men time and
again to fight for us. Why, after the
Trail of Tears? After Wounded Knee? After Sand Creek? Why? Maybe
it is because they still see this land as their land. Maybe the People of the First Nations know
this earth has a soul that goes back farther than Europeans, farther than the
Nations themselves. Whatever the reason,
the Native Americans in this country, like Joseph Medicine Crow, and like those
men resting at Pine Ridge Cemetery have shown me a grace I can only hope to
share.
Veterans Day falls in Native
American History month. This year I am
going to remember that some of our veterans have chosen to serve this country
despite, not because of, its history.
They have chosen to honor us with a strength that comes from tradition,
and pride, and a deep sense of self.
Some of our veterans fought with war paint under their uniforms. They put eagle feathers in their
helmets. And they put the past behind
them and charged forward for a country that they decided, in the end, needed
them.
They were right, we needed them
all. They keep the faith.
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