All For Show

Thursday, 28th May Have been having a rather lazy time since our arrival, drilling but for an hour or two. On Monday, the 25th, we celebrated the Queen's Birthday by a review and a general salute, or was it a Royal Salute...

Victoria Day for the victors.
We marched up and down
the slightly muddied grounds
impressing a pair of crows
and a few gophers. The grass
and weeds, downtrodden by our feet,
spring back in the dewy mornings.

The bark of our guns echoed
smartly down the banks, rolled
across the valleys and the water.
I was more impressed by what caught
my eye as it flitted drunkenly by: black
and orange and brown, spring's first butterfly.
***
It would be a comfort if we prisoners
could be together, but isolation is always
the tactic. Divide and conquer. The rustle of
uniforms, canvas, drills called out by day, snoring
of these Easterners by night, all I wish for is my own
family around me. The sight of sky. To be a free man once more.

The smallest things count for my happiness now.
Today, I
saw a mouse.
With my eyes I placed my love for my wife and children
in that tiny body and wished it a speedy
trip south.

Before riding off, our warriors sold
beaded moccasins, tobacco pouches,
horse decorations
to the soldiers from the east,
eager to take mementoes home.

Then they rode south to Eagle Hills - knowing
we would know, despite their unflinching faces
their shrugs that leaving their men, their Chief
behind was of no great consequence or loss

- south is where sorrow is taken. They walk
to the South Wind, Sawan, to release
grief and pray for healing.

My hands are bound so tightly they've lost
all feeling.

The Hostage

On Tuesday evening, the 26th, Chief Poundmaker came in with his band and surrendered. He had a big pow-wow with the General (at which I was lucky enough to be present) and justified his action at Cutknife by a plea of self-defence. Many of his braves too are rather fine-looking men. The General kept the Chief and a few of his principal followers prisoners and sent the rest away.

We have won this thing
cheaply. We sit in forts
accepting terms of peace
from rebels and Indians.

When Poundmaker put his hand out
in peace, Middleton waved it aside
saying he did not shake hands with
rebels. The translator hesitated,
explained in Cree there is no such
word.

Both men expounded at great lengths
words drifting off and away like gulls
or clouds or so much smoke
from a campfire.

I confess, I favoured the Cree.
***
Poundmaker speaks much verbatim, c/o Stan Cuthand
"From the beginning, the Great Spirit created
Indians and white persons.
He put them on separate countries.
He provided us with buffalo.
He provided you with cows and sheep.

We lived in contentment.
We were well off.
The whole country was ours.
From the place of the rising sun,
to the place of the setting sun,
the buffalo roamed in great numbers.

We did not covet your land,
neither did my father.
But the white persons seemed unhappy.
They left their land.
They came across the great waters.

When you came, we treated you well.
What did you do in return?
You stole our land.
You shared a little food with us.
And you said you paid for it.
You killed off our buffalo for no useful purpose for you.
We did not destroy the buffalo. We know they are useful.
Everything we needed came from them. What will you destroy next?

When I was a young man, I often went on a war party.
We rode all day. And all day we passed through herds of buffalo.
The plains were black as far as one could see with herds of buffalo.
We killed one only for food.

After the whites came, the buffalo became fewer and fewer.
We all know that.
We began to hate the white persons.
They were robbing us of our birthright.
We became very poor.
We wandered to the south.
The buffalo were not coming back.
We were told, "the land is not yours anymore."
We were to stay only on our small patches of land that were leftover (iskonikana).

Our grandfathers travelled on these great plains and called it their own.
Why do I now have to live on a small patch like the white persons?
I only want my freedom."

Poundmaker spoke of Aniyen-they-call-Riel, of his own fear
for our people, of me and his other warriors
who hungered to take action against the many
whites, no matter their strengths and numbers.

Then he spoke of Cut Knife and holding
us back. He called it "a gentle war"
and it is true. All their men would have died
but for him. The prisoners also, he treated
like his own children.

"Now I urge you to be gentle,
as I have advocated with my men.
Let all be 'given back' (forgiven).
Let the tribes (Cree and Assiniboine)
be reinstated upon their reserves.
Rations and payments be continued.
That is all I have to say."

As Poundmaker turned around to face his people his wife said, "I also must speak for the women and children."

"Ahaw, tapwe!" was expressed by the warriors.

The Chief Soldier looked confused, replied to Poundmaker,
"You are speaking for all your people."

A quick reply came from the crowd, "You always tell us that the Great White Queen speaks at the Supreme Council."

"Why should not a woman speak?" added Poundmaker.

Middleton laughed, said, "She does not speak in her Parliament. Her men
do all this for her. This is a war conference and we will listen only to warriors."

Poundmaker was a Chief, not a warrior. Middleton
was wrong. And his wife wanted to speak not only
for the women and children, but on behalf
of a mother whose innocent son had been taken prisoner.

The Chief Soldier said we had defied the government
by taking up arms (this is their right alone?)
and that our men must be given over, tried,
and punished. (also their right, alone.)

Poundmaker, as chief, would be taken hostage
and remain a prisoner
for the good behaviour of his people.

All good men, it seems,
go the way of the buffalo.
This is my sorrow.

Rendezvous

Sunday, 24th May ...Went up to the Q.(ueen's) O.(wn) R.(ifles) camp and saw all my old Varsity and Toronto friends, who bombarded me with questions concerning the victory at Batoche.

Reunion so far from home,
knowing much as I missed
the action, there were those
even further removed. Unexpected pocketful
of coins, to have
seen the battlefield, walk
on the ground where we manufactured
our success in warfare, a currency
worth possessing. Easy enough
to imagine ourselves back on campus
but for our surroundings: flapping tents,
well-worn uniforms, issue equipment. And some
years from now, students will discuss us
as part of their class on Canadian warfare.
We are a noble chapter in history.

Some supply wagons were waylaid:
food is scarcer and less palatable
than in college days, even.
The atmosphere: convivial. Some men
showing off souvenirs.
***
We are marching south to Battleford
from the foot of Eagle Hills.
Their Chief Soldier
is camped among them. Unknown:
what our victory at Cut Knife Hill means.

Poundmaker as our leader
must let them know we are not afraid to meet.
He would sooner have gone southwest and away, but
his burden is to carry out
the hopes and wishes of our people.

I saw him at dawn, greeting our day,
trouble on his brow. There are worries
that can't be smudged away.
But his words, when they are brought
to the Queen's Chiefs, will be strong.

Parade

Tuesday 19th May Reached Prince Albert at noon today...The people of Prince Albert have been shut in from the rest of the world for several weeks and they welcomed us with joy as their deliverers.

Poplar, spruce, tamarack
farms tucked in between
dappling glades: a man
could grow roots here,
like the ones that surface
serpentine, twist
and coil along resined
groves. We are
heroes for these
shut-ins, blockaded and
held hostage, separated
from bastions of civility by
the rebels and their
savage uprising.
The occasional sullen
look that I catch
is, confessably,
quite surprising.
* * *

May 10, 1884 1 year earlier, the Prince Albert Times says of the Dominion Government, "Where they get the information which induces them to believe the people are likely to submit much longer , we do not know; but we can answer them that they need not look for their friends among the Canadians, half breeds, or Indians, as they are likely soon to be made aware of in a manner at once startling and unpleasant." The editorial is translated into French and circulated among the Metis communities, too.

The town is filled with
redcoats and despair;
but civility hides
hostility like red hides
the true colours of these
men from the East, drawing
wage to teach us who
calls the shots, who
fires them, too.
Even a borrowed American
complete with the latest
war machine.

Dealing death
efficiently, what else are taxes
for.
Save your breath
in cheering them on, they've won
the battle, not the
war.
***
Poundmaker
resumed control of the
bands today. Fine Day's
war lodge
was taken down. Father
Cochin
has been sent to sue
for peace.
And we ate well five days, from
supply wagons. There is that,
at least.

Wagon Train

Thursday, 14th May Slept in the trenches last night and today marched to Lepine's Crossing, where we encamped for the night.

Lepine's Crossing is quieter.
Dried grasses from last summer
hiss in the wind, the canvas snaps overhead.

Middleton's zareba
was our bed last night.
Trenches reinforced by wagons
and meal bags, near the silent battlefield. I woke
to a horrific scream
floating down the river - was told
it must be a cornered rabbit.

***
Poundmaker
We heard the news: the Métis defeated.
The same guns and cannons firing on us
at Cut Knife Hill had routed the men of
Batoche. My men were restless, and game
still scarce when a wagon train
appeared from nowhere. It was clearly
a gift from Creator, the strong-spirited said.

My job as their leader - prevent bloodshed.

I stepped in and guaranteed the 21 men
safety. As our bands went through the food:
I saw one prisoner's knife taken
and gave him my own from my pouch, in lieu
of what he'd lost.

Yes, supplies for our people - but we'd soon
pay the cost.