The Southern March, by Bob Atkinson

"the Southern March”

(c)2010 Bob Atkinson

Was not a career small in nature

had worked hard, a soldier's life

chosen a leader of good men

through hard work
and proper deeds

doubts he had kept hidden

not to worry those he led

about the motives of the soldiers

in this southern land

now directing Apache scouts

orders had been clear

go chase Geronimo to submission

"kill him or bring him here”

a man of much experience

stoic in a natural sense
he kept the scouts keyed upon
the trail of 
very cunning wild Indians

Captain rode proudly, tall and straight

moving the troop on a southerly direction
alert to danger, while living at hell's gate

beyond those rocky mountains

along the flowing rivers

to the south where lives were lost

on each and every mission

to the frontier of a land 
and 
people different from his roots

what he'd seen in far past days

made no sense to his boots

was just duty for hard earned pay

a life he had wanted

take the orders and faithfully

do his best to execute them

saw his country torn apart

by ideas that men had touted

and found ideas can rip apart

flesh and building foundations

across the river were the ones

fighting for much older ways

something they'd decided

was right for them to do

they would live until they died

doing what they knew best

struggling against the wind

in this hot and fertile land

not good, not bad just simply doing

as their ancestors had done

living violently with broad smiles

and hugging all loved ones

until eyes no longer looked

on what their God had given them

the land of which they knew

all rocks, mountains and streams

some of those here in this wild

and sometimes desolate place

had never folded under strains

of others with their different ways

they kept their senses directed toward

the ones who had given lives

Managas, Victorio, Cochise

and others who

had fought and bravely died

maintaining ways of older days

living, as few others do

in complex moves of song and dance

only their peoples knew

to this mixture Crawford came

Apache scouts around him

giving at least to him the pride

of leading an army marching

Contact Bob Atkinson

"The Southern March, Part II”
(c)2010 Bob Atkinson

The scouts had been inducted

into the Army's hard game

of physical exertion and

very disciplined daily ways

wasn't that they saw

this life as superior

just took them away

from the dull times

of the people on the reservation

gave them pride in being part of

something larger than themselves

and pay for tobacco smoke

and wine

if no one were to tell

heading south they did proceed

to destiny's destination

to quash the foe of white eyes

remnants of the Chiracahua Nation

they were of the White Mountains

and did take strong offense

when others said they were unruly

or without some common sense

this was a chance to test their skills

and continue what had been started

by those who came from where 
the sun rose from and then departed

Crawford

they did have much faith in

to do the proper thing

when chaos of the battle

extended its full swing

with each step of their pony
they drew closer to danger
 did not expect to live for long
but, were all natural gamblers

beyond the setting sun

death was all they had ever known

when mortals had big guns
would be no quarter shown

they knew there was a price

on their long black hair and scalps

Mexicans believed all Apaches

should die and go to hell

but, in their present condition

as soldiers of the White Eyes

they didn't think 
they would be attacked

by those of Spanish origin

a scout was knocked from his pony

by a supernatural force

that made no sound
could not be seen

by others of their party

then came the loud crackling sound

many reverberations

through the rocks and canyons

far south of the reservation

another knocked from his horse

threw him back a bit

to lie there in the sand

and bleed 'till he was dead

his name was "Little Deer"
his father had been proud
of his growing to a man
many had wished him well
when he started for southern lands


but, 
now he lay on the ground
large hole in his side
seeping red the fluid from
his body as he died

smoke now arose from a hill

and more from over there

and yet again the loud thunder

rained rifle shot of lead

Crawford saw with his long glass

those who had commenced the attack

they were Mexican soldiers

not of the Chiracauha band

he stood on a large boulder

to show them who he was

a U.S. Army soldier

marching in his own homeland

not attackers on the run

he waved a frantic gesture

"we are not your enemy” he said

"we are not here to do you harm

or, ourselves, be shot dead”

"The Southern March” Part III
(c)2010 Bob Atkinson

to Philadelphia he had been born

in the year of '44

a future Army prospect

a uniform to be worn

his was the best of attitudes

here abouts was no better

a noble bearing on his shoulders

which made his men proud

to be together

He sent Maus to talk with them

and tell them who they were

insuring stopping of the firing

they were Mexican irregulars

not of a trained army

or people that could read

their leader had been the one

to murder Victorio and his people

no more than natives in the garb

of soldiers as they marched

not keeping discipline in their ranks

or at all aware of God

their thoughts were of the mind

to secure bounty for the scalps

of anyone who looked Apache

without a body who could tell?

so when the Captain rose upon

that boulder in the canyon

and Maus spoke to them

in their language, Spanish

was no doubt who they were

who these warriors represented

who's flag was flying high

with its stripes and stars indented

then came blasts of rifle shots

ripping flesh from head bone

of a Captain on the rock

who prior that moment

had just wanted to go home 

Contact Bob Atkinson