He sat with his weathered brown face upturned toward the sky. His stillness belied the thoughts churning in his head as he thought about that day so long ago.
The evening before had been one for celebration. The men had gone on a raid against the White Eyes who had been wasting their food in sport. Previously his people had moved to avoid conflict. This time they had decided to let their presence be known. A group of warriors rode out to greet the hunters. Later that night, the nonviolent raid was retold as they celebrated.
The next morning, campfires smoked with the last embers floating in the gentle breeze. The tranquility of the morning was shattered by sound of pounding hooves. Gunfire and screams erupted. Too late the warriors took up weapons. The women and children tried in vain to reach the protection of the forest. More than half the village was lost.
He sat with his weathered brown face upturned toward the sky. He shifted in his saddle watching his cattle graze. His thoughts turned to that day so long ago.
He had joined the Army in hopes of achieving battlefield glory. The troops had finally received orders to protect their land against the Indian renegades located nearby. The troops celebrated into the night in anticipation of the next day’s mission.
The next morning, horses lathered, they rushed the village. Gunfire and screams erupted. When the retreat horn sounded no glory could be found for so many innocent lives were lost that day.
He lowered his weathered brown face and wept.