Tag Archives: Custer

A Trooper’s Letter

(National Park Service)

A Trooper’s Letter

It is in troubled heart, I write
to you, my love, upon this night.
So many things I’d like to say
before the coming light of day.

And as I lay here ‘neath this tree
my only thoughts are thoughts of thee.
So many things we could have done;
so many tales we could have spun.

I’ve begged my mind to dream you here
so I could hold you close and dear
perchance that I could say goodbye
be it, in battle, I should die.

Before the sun begins to rise,
we want to catch them by surprise
so get good rest, boys, Custer said.
That’s why I’m writing you… in bed.

The Indian camp was found, last day;
its size so great we can’t delay
to get position along the crest
where the river’s bottom…. we see the best.

It’s at this ford, the Sioux will cross;
We must defend it…. at all cost
But if we fail we’ll head up high
and join what others happen by.

So now, my darling,… I must rest
for tomorrow be the final test
And I will follow…. at the General’s side
It’s been an honor….forgive my pride.

My eyes now close…..the  fallen pen
has found its place; won’t write again.
I fall to dream; your eyes are bright….
we walk in hand toward morning’s light.

© 2012  t. j. gargano

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Custer Hill

Eric von Schmidt’s  “Here Fell Custer”

Custer Hill

At the foot of the hill, north of the stream
where the grass had been trampled down,
he halted his horse…stunned by the scene,
at the foot of the hill, north of the stream.
“Give me my field glasses…I hear a scream.”
he yelled at his scout….in frantic frown
at the foot of the hill, north of the stream
where the grass had been trampled down.

On top, on down where they covered the hill,
and laid in the grass, pale white,
except for the grasses, all was still,
on top, on down where they covered the hill.
In the dark of his glasses was a test of his will
and he shivered with terror at the thought of their plight
on top, on down where they covered the hill,
and laid in the grass, pale white.

Off to the east to the side of the ravine,
Where it was first, that he saw the horse –
a claybank… hurt and bleeding, his rider unseen,
off to the east to the side of the ravine.
The state of the bodies, all stripped… was obscene;
And he stared at them, shaking, with a heart of remorse
off to the east to the side of the ravine,
where it was first, that he saw the horse.

As they crossed the Little Bighorn and swarmed in mournful cry
charging into history up that hill
Crazy Horse was yelling “It’s a good day to die!”
As they crossed the Little Bighorn and swarmed in mournful cry.
That Custer stood his ground… is a fact one can’t deny.
When you study it…you can almost hear the cries….still…
as they crossed the Little Bighorn and swarmed in mournful cry
charging into history up that hill.

© 2012  t. j. gargano

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Filed under Custer, Custer Hill, poetry