Copyright © 2004 NLThomas
All Rights Reserved

Travis Snell, Cherokee Phoenix And Indian Advocate Staff Writer

We first heard it shortly after the start of the basketball game between the Sequoyah High School Indians and the Riverside Indian School Braves. More than 8,100 fans, media and Oklahoma high school basketball officials had packed into the Oklahoma City State Fairgrounds Arena March 11 to witness history - a first-round, state playoff game between two Native American boarding schools. And I think it would be safe to say that 99 percent of the people in the arena were Native. Everywhere you looked it was a sea of Native Americans - a beautiful sight - all there to support the teams.

Before the game and before we heard it, the crowd got to see a show of camaraderie and respect as the teams lined up at center court and took a group shot together. A respectful applause swept through the building, along with a few hoops and yells, as the crowd realized they were attending something special.

The game started shortly after, and that’s when we heard it - the cavalry charge over the public address system. Let me repeat. The cavalry charge over the public address system.

Da da da - da da! Silence followed. No "Charge!" was heard. I looked to a fellow journalist on press row and asked, "Did they just play the cavalry charge? Are you kidding me?"

As a Cherokee, I was offended. But looking back into our history, I can’t think of any instances when we had to face the U.S. Army’s Cavalry or hear the bugle charge. However on Riverside’s team were players from the Cheyenne, Arapaho, Sioux and Apache nations, and I know those tribes in their histories have heard the bugle call more than once. And when they did hear it, it wasn’t a good thing.

For example, in the 1860s Colorado Territory Gov. John Evans looked to open Cheyenne and Arapaho hunting grounds to white development. But the tribes refused to sell their lands and settle on reservations. So Evans called out volunteer militiamen under Col. John Chivington to quell the Native resistance.

In 1864, Chivington launched a bloody campaign against the Cheyenne and their allies, attacking any and all Indians. The Cheyenne, joined by neighboring Arapahos, Sioux, Comanche and Kiowa went on the defensive. Evans and Chivington reinforced their militia, raising the Third Colorado Calvary. On Sept. 28 near Denver, Indian and representatives met at Camp Weld. No treaties were signed, but the Indians believed that by reporting and camping near army posts, they would be declaring peace and accepting sanctuary.

Black Kettle, a peace-seeking chief of some 600 Cheyenne and Arapaho, reported to nearby Fort Lyon and camped on Sand Creek about 40 miles away. Shortly afterward, Chivington led about 700 men into the fort and gave his plans for an attack on Black Kettle’s camp. Although informed that Black Kettle had surrendered, Chivington pressed on to further his cause for Indian extinction. On Nov. 29 he led his troops to Sand Creek and positioned them around Black Kettle’s village.

Black Kettle raised both an American and a white flag of peace. In response, Chivington had the cavalry charge sounded as they hunted down Indian men, women and children. The soldiers killed anything that moved, and the colonel proved to be heartless. An interpreter living in the village testified, "They (Indians) were scalped, their brains knocked out. The men used their knives, ripped open women, clubbed little children, knocked them in the head with their rifle butts, beat their brains out, mutilated their bodies in every sense of the word."

By the end of the Sand Creek Massacre as many as 200 Indians, more than half women and children, had been killed and mutilated.

To many Native Americans, that’s what the cavalry charge means. To non-Natives it means a cheer to get the crowd going at sporting events. As I sat and watched the game, I wondered if the PA person played the cavalry charge because the place was packed with Indians or because the person just wasn’t thinking. Either it was played to spite the crowd or out of ignorance and both are inexcusable. It was the wrong cheer at the wrong time with the wrong crowd.

I think whoever was running the PA system (either the State Fairgrounds Arena crew or the Oklahoma Secondary School Activities Association or both) should apologize to the Sequoyah and Riverside schools, their fans and especially the descendants of the tribes who suffered at the sound of the cavalry bugle.

The Cherokee Phoenix And Indian Advocate is published monthly by the Cherokee Nation with offices at the W.W. Keeler Tribal Complex, Tahlequah, Oklahoma.