When The Orders Were Inhumane, He Chose to be Human

A brutal account, featuring the words of Captain Silas Soule

They declared their intention 

to massacre the friendly Indians 

camped on Sand Creek 

I was indignant 

as you would have been 

were you here 

Any man who would 

take part in the murders, 

knowing the circumstances we did, 

was a low lived cowardly 

son of a bitch 

Chiv and all hands 

swore they would hang me 

before they moved camp, 

but I stuck it out 

Lieut. Wilson cut off their herd, 

made a circle to the rear, 

two hundred yards from the village, 

opened fire 

Poor Old John Smith 

and Louderbeck ran out 

with white flags 

I heard an officer say 

that Old Smith 

and anyone who 

sympathized with Indians 

ought to be killed 

and now was 

a good time to do it 

I refused to fire 

and swore none 

but a coward would, 

for by this time 

hundreds of women and children 

were coming towards us, 

getting on their knees 

for mercy 

Anthony shouted, 

“kill the sons of bitches” 

The battery came up in our rear, 

and opened on them 

No organization among our troops, 

they were a perfect mob 

My company was the only one 

that kept their formation, 

and we did not fire a shot 

The massacre lasted 

six or eight hours, 

and a good many Indians escaped 

It was hard to see 

little children on their knees 

have their brains beat out 

by men professing to be civilized 

One squaw was wounded 

and a fellow took a hatchet 

to finish her, 

he cut one arm off, 

and held the other 

with one hand and 

dashed the hatchet 

through her brain 

One squaw with her two children, 

on their knees, 

begging for their lives 

of a dozen soldiers, 

within ten feet of them 

all firing 

When one succeeded 

in hitting the squaw in the thigh, 

she took a knife, 

cut the throats of both children, 

then killed herself 

One Old Squaw 

hung herself 

in the lodge, 

not enough room 

for her to hang, 

she held up her knees, 

choked herself to death 

I saw two Indians 

hold one anothers hands, 

chased until they were exhausted, 

when they kneeled down, 

clasped each other 

around the neck, 

and both were shot together 

Our best Indians killed, 

Black Kettle, One Eye, 

Minnemic, Left Hand 

White Antelope, War Bonnet, 

and a number of others 

had ears and privates cut off 

Squaws snatches 

were cut out for trophies 

You would think it impossible 

for white men to butcher 

and mutilate human beings 

as they did there, 

but every word 

I have told you 

is the truth, 

which they do not deny 

Chivington has gone to Washington 

to be made a General, I suppose 

I spent New Year’s day 

on the battle ground 

counting dead Indians, 

One hundred thirty killed, 

most women and children, 

all of them scalped 

2 Dec 2019

*All words are from Soule’s letters to his mother and Major Ned Wynkoop. Some words were trimmed for poetic purposes, none added. Captain Soule was murdered two months after testifying before an Army commission in Colorado as a witness to the atrocities.