Last Stands

Waterloo
Alexander Yurievich Averyanov
Source

The sun is setting, it can be seen poking through the clouds of powder smoke which cloak the blood-soaked field. Everything is dulled - hearing, senses, emotions, many of the men have been on their feet for hours. Most have marched long distances to arrive at this place.

Deafness must have been a blessing, unable to hear the screams of the dying (men and horses), the pleas of the wounded not to be abandoned, one fought on. But why?

Most of the men around you are comrades you have known for years. Men you've campaigned with, broken bread with, searched for loot with, men who are more than family.

And what is family? A father and mother in some far off village who you perhaps haven't seen for years? A brother or sister? If the brother is of a certain age, he might be somewhere on that very field, or perhaps buried in some foreign land. Died for King and Country as it were. (Or Emperor, or Czar, or some other potentate of whatever name.)

In the Imperial Guard of the Emperor Napoléon at Waterloo, the men would perhaps be of long service (though some recent research seems to indicate that a great portion of the Guard was "slapped together" from anyone who could march, carry a musket, and had seen at least one campaign), men who had served with each other for years.

After the first abdication, many Guardsmen were reluctant to return to their small villages in the French countryside, they preferred the company of their own. Fellow soldiers who yearned for the return of the Emperor, many who would congregate in the cities, particularly Paris, and mutter darkly whenever the King was mentioned.

But a select group of men had followed Napoléon into exile on Elba, less than a thousand, amounting to scarcely a battalion, they went with le Tondu¹ into exile. Duty on the small island was boring in the extreme, many yearned to return to France, but for most that meant with the Emperor, to place him back on the Imperial throne.

Their time did come, they returned and formed the core of an army that grew from maybe a thousand men all told, to an army of 150,000. An army which marched into Belgium and from there into legend.

Their last stand was on the road to Genappe. They withdrew in good order as the rest of the army collapsed around them. They held their ground until the Emperor made his escape. They did not die to the last man, their commander did not shout at the pursuing Allied army, "The Guard dies, it does not surrender."² But die many did, before the last remnants of the Imperial Guard broke up and fled with the rest of the army.

Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument, Montana.
Source

The United States Army went in to the Dakota Territory, the natives were restless and the army was tasked with driving them back to the reservation. After all, though the gubmint had promised the Black Hills to those who held it to be sacred, gold had been found there.

Gold? Did you say gold?

Well yes, gold.

So tear up that treaty, suppress the Lakota, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho. People want that gold!

We call it the Battle of the Little Bighorn, the winners called it the Battle of the Greasy Grass.

Custer attacked, the natives counterattacked, by the end of the day, the Lakota, Northern Cheyenne and Arapaho suffered at least 31 killed, maybe as many as 100, at least 160 wounded, and 10 non-combatants killed. The U.S. Cavalry suffered 268 killed and 55 wounded (6 of whom later died of wounds). Of the 12 companies of the 7th Cavalry, five were completely wiped out. (Custer's battalion.)

The Native Americans won that fight, but they would lose the war.

I see the Guard's last stand as an honorable fight, but still, it was fought for the aspirations and ambitions of a single man. The Greasy Grass? For the Lakota, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho it was an honorable fight, a necessary fight, they were defending their homes, their way of life.

For the men of the 7th Cavalry? I see no honor here, no glory. A dirty little fight on the frontier as the Federal government put Manifest Destiny into practice. The troopers rode to their deaths for an ignoble cause.

But for many (if not most) of the dead in the wars our species has fought over the centuries, there was no glory, no honor. Just death, painful, agonizing death. Crippling wounds and indifferent governments their only reward.

The Greasy Grass ...

My God, it seems like such a lonely place to die.

They obeyed their leaders, they went to the fight, and they died.

Sad, but for all that, there are things worth fighting for.

But not on the 18th of June 1815 for the French nor on the 25th of June 1876 for the 7th Cavalry.

¹ One of the Imperial Guard's odd nicknames for Napoléon. Translates roughly to "the shaved one." (I've also seen it as "the shorn one.") Due to the Emperor's short hair, the Guard wore theirs long, in a queue at the back, and his lack of facial hair. Guardsmen had moustaches, big ones.

² Their commander was captured attempting to flee on foot. He is alleged to have shouted out "Merde!" (shit), which has ever since been called "le mot de Cambronne." (Cambronne's word.)