The Silence of the Snow: What Was the Wounded Knee Massacre?
On a desolate, snow-swept plain in southwestern South Dakota, a tragic chapter in American history reached its bloody climax. December 29, 1890, etched itself into the national consciousness not as a battle, but as a massacre – a brutal, one-sided slaughter that marked the symbolic end of the American Indian Wars. What transpired at Wounded Knee Creek was not merely an isolated incident, but the culmination of centuries of land dispossession, broken treaties, cultural suppression, and profound misunderstanding between a burgeoning nation and the Indigenous peoples whose ancestral lands it relentlessly consumed.
To understand the Wounded Knee Massacre is to delve into the deep currents of American expansionism, the spiritual resilience of the Lakota people, and the tragic consequences of fear, prejudice, and military might. It is a story of a people brought to the brink, grasping for hope, and meeting a devastating end.
A Century of Broken Promises: The Precursors to Tragedy
The seeds of Wounded Knee were sown long before the first shot rang out on that frigid December morning. For much of the 19th century, the United States pursued a policy of aggressive westward expansion, driven by the concept of "Manifest Destiny" – the belief in America’s divinely ordained right to expand its dominion across the continent. This relentless push brought it into direct and often violent conflict with the Native American nations who had inhabited these lands for millennia.
For the Lakota Sioux, a powerful and proud people of the Great Plains, their world was systematically dismantled. The discovery of gold in the Black Hills, sacred lands guaranteed to them by the 1868 Treaty of Fort Laramie, led to a massive influx of white settlers and miners, violating the treaty and sparking renewed conflict. The subsequent defeat of General George Custer at the Battle of Little Bighorn in 1876, a decisive Lakota victory, only intensified the U.S. government’s resolve to subdue and control the Plains tribes.
The buffalo, central to the Lakota way of life, were systematically hunted to near extinction by white settlers and government-backed initiatives, effectively destroying the economic and cultural foundation of the tribes. Forced onto reservations, their land base drastically reduced, and their traditional hunting grounds gone, the Lakota faced starvation, disease, and the erosion of their cultural identity. Government policies aimed at forced assimilation – outlawing traditional ceremonies, sending children to boarding schools where their language and customs were suppressed – further compounded their suffering.
By the late 1880s, the Lakota people on the Pine Ridge and Rosebud reservations were desperate. Their rations were meager, their future bleak, and their spirit broken. It was into this crucible of despair that a new hope emerged: the Ghost Dance.
The Ghost Dance: A Spiritual Cry for Renewal
In 1889, a Paiute holy man named Wovoka experienced a vision that spread like wildfire across the reservations of the American West. He preached a message of peace, non-violence, and spiritual renewal. The Ghost Dance, as it became known, was a ritual performed in circles, with participants singing and dancing until they entered a trance-like state, believing they would commune with ancestors and hasten a new world order. In this vision, the buffalo would return, the white settlers would vanish, and the Indigenous peoples would reclaim their lands and their way of life.
Crucially, Wovoka’s message was one of peace and reconciliation, emphasizing that the dancers should harm no one. He taught that wearing special "ghost shirts," adorned with sacred symbols, would protect them from bullets. For the Lakota, who adapted the dance with their own cultural nuances, it was a powerful, desperate plea for spiritual salvation and a return to a life of dignity.
However, to the anxious and often ill-informed white settlers, reservation agents, and military authorities, the Ghost Dance was perceived as a dangerous, warlike uprising. The rhythmic dancing, the trance states, and the talk of a new world were misinterpreted as preparations for an armed rebellion. Newspapers sensationalized the movement, spreading fear and paranoia across the frontier. Calls for military intervention grew louder, fueled by the memory of Little Bighorn and a deep-seated distrust of Native Americans.
The Spark: Sitting Bull’s Assassination
The perceived threat of the Ghost Dance led to increased military presence on the reservations. Among the most influential and respected Lakota leaders was Sitting Bull, a Hunkpapa Lakota holy man and chief who had famously resisted U.S. encroachment and played a key role in the victory at Little Bighorn. Though not an active participant in the Ghost Dance, his stature and spiritual authority made him a target for government agents who feared his potential influence over the movement.
On December 15, 1890, Indian Agency police, acting on orders from Indian Agent James McLaughlin, attempted to arrest Sitting Bull at his cabin on the Standing Rock Agency. A struggle ensued, and Sitting Bull was shot and killed. His assassination sent shockwaves through the Lakota community, confirming their deepest fears about the government’s intentions and further eroding any remaining trust.
In the aftermath of Sitting Bull’s death, many of his followers, fearing for their lives, fled their homes. Among them was a band led by Chief Spotted Elk, known to the white world as Big Foot, a Miniconjou Lakota chief who had been adopting the Ghost Dance teachings. Big Foot, already suffering from pneumonia, sought refuge with Chief Red Cloud at the Pine Ridge Agency, hoping to find safety and negotiate peace.
The Encounter at Wounded Knee Creek
Big Foot’s band, numbering around 350 men, women, and children, traveled slowly, hampered by the chief’s illness and the harsh winter conditions. On December 28, 1890, they were intercepted by four troops of the U.S. 7th Cavalry Regiment – the very regiment that had been decimated by Lakota and Cheyenne warriors at Little Bighorn 14 years earlier. The cavalry, under the command of Major Samuel M. Whitside, surrounded Big Foot’s camp near Wounded Knee Creek.
Big Foot, gravely ill and coughing blood, surrendered peacefully. The band was escorted to a campsite on the banks of Wounded Knee Creek, where they were told to set up their tipis. Colonel James W. Forsyth, the commander of the 7th Cavalry, arrived later that evening with additional troops, bringing the total military force to approximately 500 soldiers, including four Hotchkiss mountain guns – rapid-firing cannons capable of unleashing explosive shells. The Lakota, cold and weary, were completely encircled.
The following morning, December 29, 1890, Colonel Forsyth ordered the disarmament of Big Foot’s band. The Lakota men were separated from the women and children and ordered to surrender their weapons. They complied, handing over a small number of old, worn-out rifles. However, the soldiers, searching the tipis, became frustrated by the perceived lack of weapons. A deaf man named Black Coyote, who reportedly did not understand the order to give up his rifle, held onto his weapon.
The Massacre Unfolds
What happened next remains a subject of debate regarding the first shot, but not the ensuing horror. As soldiers tried to disarm Black Coyote, his rifle accidentally discharged, or perhaps he fired it in confusion or desperation. Regardless of the exact trigger, the sound of that single shot ignited a torrent of violence.
The U.S. soldiers, many of whom were young, inexperienced, and on edge, immediately opened fire on the disarmed Lakota men. Simultaneously, the Hotchkiss guns, positioned on a nearby hill, began shelling the camp where the women and children were still gathered. The scene quickly devolved into a chaotic, indiscriminate slaughter.
Lakota men, many unarmed or with only knives, were mowed down. Women and children, attempting to flee or hide in the ravines, were systematically targeted. Eyewitness accounts from both Lakota survivors and some remorseful soldiers describe a horrifying scene: mothers clutching infants shot at close range, children running for their lives cut down by rifle fire and artillery shells, and the wounded pursued and killed.
One soldier, Private Hugh McGinnis, later recalled, "The way the women and children were slaughtered was a terrible sight. The soldiers went crazy." Another soldier, standing on the hill, observed, "I saw the Hotchkiss guns tearing the women and children to pieces… No less than 200 women and children were killed."
When the firing finally ceased, the snow was stained crimson, and the frozen ground of Wounded Knee Creek was littered with the bodies of men, women, and children. Estimates vary, but between 150 and 300 Lakota, predominantly unarmed non-combatants, perished in the brutal assault. In contrast, 25 U.S. soldiers were killed, many by friendly fire in the chaotic melee.
The Immediate Aftermath and Official Narrative
A blizzard swept in after the massacre, burying the dead under a blanket of snow for three days. When the storm cleared, a burial party was sent to collect the frozen bodies, which were then thrown into a mass grave. Survivors, many wounded, were left to brave the elements or were taken to a makeshift hospital at Pine Ridge Agency.
The official narrative immediately sought to frame the event as a "battle" – a necessary military action to quell an Indian uprising. Colonel Forsyth was initially relieved of his command but was later reinstated after a military court of inquiry largely exonerated him, concluding that the soldiers had acted appropriately under pressure. Shockingly, 20 Medals of Honor, the highest military decoration, were awarded to soldiers of the 7th Cavalry for their actions at Wounded Knee, a move that remains a deep insult and source of pain for the Lakota people and many historians.
General Nelson A. Miles, who took over command in the region shortly after the massacre, was one of the few military officers to openly condemn the actions at Wounded Knee, writing to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs that it was "the most atrocious massacre." However, his dissenting voice was largely drowned out by the prevailing narrative. Wounded Knee was declared the "end of the Indian Wars," a final, bloody punctuation mark on a century of conflict.
Legacy and Lasting Impact
The Wounded Knee Massacre stands as a profound symbol of the U.S. government’s brutal treatment of Native Americans and the devastating consequences of its expansionist policies. For the Lakota people, it remains an open wound, a source of intergenerational trauma, and a stark reminder of the injustices they endured.
The massacre extinguished not only lives but also a dream – the spiritual hope offered by the Ghost Dance. As the Lakota holy man Black Elk, a survivor of the massacre, famously lamented, "I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people’s dream died there. It was a beautiful dream."
The site of Wounded Knee continues to be a sacred and mournful place. In 1973, it became the focal point of a 71-day armed occupation by members of the American Indian Movement (AIM) and Oglala Lakota, who sought to draw national and international attention to the continued injustices faced by Native Americans, demanding a review of treaties and a renewed focus on tribal sovereignty. This occupation, while separate from the 1890 massacre, inextricably linked the site to the ongoing struggle for justice and recognition.
Today, descendants of the victims and Native American advocates continue to call for the revocation of the Medals of Honor awarded to the soldiers at Wounded Knee, arguing that they commemorate a massacre, not a battle. The Wounded Knee Massacre serves as a powerful and enduring reminder of the human cost of unchecked power, racial prejudice, and historical amnesia. It compels us to confront the darker chapters of our past, to acknowledge the suffering inflicted, and to work towards a future where such atrocities are not only remembered but truly understood, ensuring that the silence of the snow at Wounded Knee never allows the truth to be buried again.
