John Chivington: The Shadowed Legacy of a Civil War Commander
In the annals of American history, few figures embody such stark, irreconcilable contradictions as John M. Chivington. A towering Methodist preacher who became a celebrated Union military hero during the Civil War, he is simultaneously remembered as the architect of one of the most brutal and controversial massacres of Native Americans in the nation’s history. His story is a chilling testament to the moral ambiguities of westward expansion, the dehumanizing effects of war, and the enduring struggle to reconcile national triumph with national shame.
Born in Ohio in 1821, Chivington’s early life was marked by a fervent commitment to the Methodist church. He was an imposing figure, standing over six feet tall with a commanding presence and a booming voice perfectly suited to the pulpit. He served as a minister in Illinois, Missouri, and Kansas, actively involving himself in the abolitionist movement, which often put him at odds with pro-slavery factions in the turbulent pre-Civil War frontier. His moral compass, at least in this regard, seemed firmly fixed on justice.
However, the outbreak of the Civil War provided a new, violent stage for Chivington’s ambitions. In 1861, he resigned his ministry to accept a commission as a major in the First Colorado Volunteer Regiment. The shift from spiritual shepherd to military leader was swift and absolute, revealing a man capable of both profound conviction and ruthless action.
Chivington’s initial military career was nothing short of heroic. In March 1862, he played a pivotal role in the Battle of Glorieta Pass in New Mexico Territory, a critical engagement often dubbed the "Gettysburg of the West." Confederate forces, under Brigadier General Henry Hopkins Sibley, were attempting to seize the strategically vital Southwest, including the gold and silver mines of Colorado and California, and potentially even the port of San Francisco. Chivington, leading a detachment of Union troops, executed a daring flank maneuver that destroyed the Confederate supply train at Apache Canyon, crippling Sibley’s advance and forcing a full retreat.
This decisive victory effectively ended the Confederate threat in the Southwest, securing the region for the Union. Chivington was hailed as a national hero, promoted to colonel, and recognized for his bravery and strategic acumen. His reputation soared, casting him as a strong, decisive leader essential for protecting the fledgling Colorado Territory from both Confederate incursions and the perceived threat of Native American hostilities.
Yet, even as the Union celebrated Chivington’s martial prowess, the seeds of his later infamy were being sown in the escalating tensions between white settlers and the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes of the Colorado plains. The relentless westward expansion, fueled by the Pike’s Peak Gold Rush, had pushed these tribes from their ancestral lands, leading to broken treaties, dwindling resources, and inevitable clashes. By 1864, the situation in the Colorado Territory was volatile, marked by sporadic raids and retaliations on both sides.
Governor John Evans, a political appointee with a clear agenda to secure the territory for white settlement, issued proclamations urging "friendly Indians" to report to designated forts for their safety, while simultaneously authorizing citizens to "kill and destroy" any hostile Indians. This created a dangerous ambiguity, as many tribes, including bands led by the peace-seeking Cheyenne Chief Black Kettle, genuinely sought to comply.
Black Kettle, a respected leader who genuinely desired peace, repeatedly tried to negotiate with U.S. authorities. He and his people, flying both an American flag and a white flag of truce, camped near Fort Lyon on Sand Creek, believing they were under the protection of the U.S. Army. They had been assured by Major Edward Wynkoop, the commander of Fort Lyon, that they would be safe if they remained in the designated area. However, Wynkoop was later relieved of his command for being too sympathetic to the Indians, replaced by Major Scott Anthony, who harbored a far more hostile view.
Chivington, meanwhile, had become increasingly hawkish. Driven by a combination of ambition, prevailing racial prejudices, and a desire to eliminate the "Indian problem" in Colorado, he openly advocated for aggressive action. He famously declared, "Damn any man who sympathizes with Indians!" and reportedly asserted that "it is right and honorable to use any means under God’s heaven to kill Indians." His rhetoric fueled the growing anti-Indian sentiment among white settlers and volunteer militias.
Ignoring reports of peace overtures and the explicit instructions that Black Kettle’s camp was peaceful, Chivington saw an opportunity for decisive action. He amassed a force of around 700 men, composed primarily of the First and Third Colorado Cavalry Regiments, and secretly marched them towards Black Kettle’s encampment.
On the frigid dawn of November 29, 1864, Chivington’s troops descended upon the unsuspecting village at Sand Creek. The Cheyenne and Arapaho, believing themselves to be under official protection, were utterly unprepared. Despite Black Kettle’s desperate attempts to wave the American flag and a white flag of truce, the soldiers opened fire. The attack was swift, brutal, and indiscriminate.
What followed was not a battle, but a massacre. As the villagers scattered in terror, women, children, and the elderly were cut down. The soldiers, fueled by racial hatred and the promise of plunder, engaged in horrific acts of mutilation. Survivors recounted tales of unspeakable cruelty, of bodies scalped and dismembered, including those of infants. Estimates of the dead range from 150 to 200, with the vast majority—as many as two-thirds—being women, children, and elderly individuals. Black Kettle himself survived, but the trauma of Sand Creek would haunt him until his death in a later massacre.
The immediate aftermath of Sand Creek was a morally fractured landscape. In Colorado, Chivington and his men were initially celebrated as heroes, their actions lauded as a necessary victory against a savage enemy. The Denver newspapers praised the "brilliant feat" and the "chastisement" of the Indians. Chivington himself boasted of his triumph.
However, as details of the atrocity slowly emerged, a different narrative began to take hold. Reports from shocked military officers and a few brave civilians who witnessed the carnage, or its aftermath, began to reach Washington D.C. Major Wynkoop, among others, vehemently condemned Chivington’s actions.
Three separate federal investigations were launched: one by the U.S. Army, one by a Joint Committee of Congress on the Conduct of the War, and one by the Indian Affairs Committee. All three reached damning conclusions. The Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War, in its report, unequivocally condemned Chivington and his command, stating: "It is difficult to believe that beings in the form of men, and disgracing the uniform of United States soldiers and officers, could commit or countenance such acts of cruelty and barbarity… The truth is, as the committee believe, that [Chivington] deliberately planned and executed a foul and dastardly massacre which would have disgraced the veriest savage among those who were the victims of his cruelty."
The investigations revealed that Chivington had knowingly attacked a peaceful camp under a flag of truce, that the vast majority of victims were non-combatants, and that the atrocities committed were beyond the pale. One particularly chilling piece of testimony quoted Chivington allegedly saying, when questioned about killing children, "Nits make lice," implying that future generations of Native Americans should also be exterminated.
Despite the widespread condemnation, Chivington never faced a court-martial or criminal prosecution. He resigned from the army in 1865, shortly after the investigations concluded, thus avoiding direct military justice. Political machinations, the difficulty of prosecuting an officer once he had left service, and the prevailing anti-Indian sentiment of the era allowed him to evade formal punishment.
Chivington spent the remainder of his life largely in obscurity, engaging in various business ventures and occasionally attempting to defend his actions. He maintained until his death in 1894 that he had acted honorably and that the Sand Creek attack was a legitimate military operation against hostile Indians. He even claimed that the flags of truce were merely a ruse. His unrepentant stance underscored a man who either genuinely believed in the righteousness of his actions or was unwilling to confront the horrific truth of his legacy.
Today, John Chivington remains a deeply polarizing figure. For some, particularly within certain historical revisionist circles, he might still be viewed as a tough frontiersman who did what was necessary to protect settlers. However, for the vast majority of historians and, crucially, for the descendants of the Sand Creek victims, he is a symbol of American cruelty, racial hatred, and military misconduct. The Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site, established in 2007, serves as a solemn reminder of the atrocity and a place for remembrance and healing.
Chivington’s story forces a confrontation with the darker aspects of American expansion. It highlights how a man celebrated for bravery and strategic brilliance in one context could simultaneously be capable of unimaginable brutality in another. His life is a stark illustration of how racial prejudice, unchecked military ambition, and the dehumanization of an enemy can lead to unspeakable crimes, forever casting a long, dark shadow over the legacy of a nation that often grapples with its own complex and contradictory past. The Preacher of Glorieta Pass ultimately became the Butcher of Sand Creek, his name forever etched into the painful annals of American history as a cautionary tale.
