They died with their boots on

They died with their boots on . . .

Just off Interstate 90 in Montana, sits the Little Bighorn Battlefield. It resides on the edge of nowhere. And if you ever get to walk the paths, you’ll get a glimpse of hell, the hell that Custer must have felt that fateful day, oh too long ago.

In a sea of endless hills and valleys, it is said over 3000 braves hid and waited for this man, they called ‘Yellow Hair’. And you’ll learn of his misguided deeds, many say led to his demise, huddled with just a handful of men and his most famous brother Tom.

And if you go in July, you’ll most likely sweat in the God awful heat, constantly bitten by Noseems and Black Flies. Occasionally, you may see a park attendant attempting an eviction of an unwanted guest from the warm worn path. Those pesky rattlers, how they do like sun themselves. And from the bluff you’ll see the white markers doting, the landscape, the only remaining evidence that battle had ever occurred there.

And I wonder do their spirits walk the night, the same paths that we walked during the day? Can one hear shots in the dark and their cries?

Little Bighorn Battlefield


Dan Hanosh
Dreams are yours to Share


My Books: The World Outside My Window, AuthorHouse, 2004
Soon to come, Sleepless Nights


Links: Dreams Are Yours To Share
Warriors and Wars
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Dan Hanosh poemhunter.com
Dan’s Room 2 Write


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