ROADSIDE HISTORY...

We hear a lot about stories of 'The Wild West' but, unfortunately, most only hear the ACCEPTED versions. The history books and what is taught in schools is seldom the whole truth, if any truth at all. The victors write THEIR version and that is suppose to be taken as the truth.
American history is packed with stories of heroes fighting off the wild  'Red Man', which(according to the writers) did nothing but attack the innocent settlers without good reason. OK! That's one version...

Although it has been many years since all that passed, and I'm sure much of the world thinks the American Indians are all gone, nothing can be farther from the truth. A little bit at a time, more of the truth finds it's way to the surface. Truths, that never were meant to be known, and in time, hopefully forgotten or rendered unimportant enough for anyone to notice. If it were not for some good hearted souls that realized the Indians got the short end of the deal, in the settling of the western United States, the lies might have gone unnoticed.

In the mid 1800s a unit of the Colorado Militia, under the command of Colonel Shivington, rode down on a peaceful Cheyenne Indian village in eastern Colorado, along what is known as Sand Creek. Before attacking,  he ordered his soldiers to remove their jackets, in anticipation of the blood he intended. He had already made up his mind to slaughter as many as he could. As the story goes, the Chief of the band was known as BLACK KETTLE. This particular band had made peace with the whites and he was  given an American flag to fly over his village to keep them from harm. That meant nothing to Colonel Chivington. He only wanted DEAD Indians...
The battle raged, most of the village was killed; men, women and children. There were to be no survivors...

A few years ago I was driving down across a secluded back road in western Kansas and dropped down into a small ravine and as I crossed  the bridge I saw some sort of  home made monument off to the side of the road. I needed to take a break so I stopped in a wide spot there and decided to look.  I was curious what this crude sign and park were all about. What could be so important that anyone would go to the trouble of erecting a monument; Monument to what? It was,  for sure, home made; Nothing official, like the State would put up.

Was I ever surprised when I realized  what some local historian had done here. I had never read anything about SURVIVORS, from the Sand Creek massacre...But apparently, many living locally had heard the story over the years, and one man decided to do something about acknowledging this lost band of Cheyenne survivors.
As the story goes, Chief Black Kettle and a few had managed to get away and made their way to this small, obscure valley, where they hid out for some time, before it was safe to move on.The sign was made of heavy, rough,sheet metal and the inscriptions were all roughly hand painted There was a list of the names of the Indians that survived. I have to say, I was amazed that this man went to all the trouble, and he was not even an Indian. Some descendant of one of the settlers that realized what the Indians had been subjected too.

In the above picture, the rough iron statue of an Indian on his horse, stands majestically atop the hill, for those who might forget. If  this one man  hadn't cared enough, this remembrance of a once proud people might have been lost. Obviously, it wasn't important enough to make mention of it in the OFFICIAL history books.

A LONELY ROAD And WHATEVER...

Everyone has their opinions on what exists and what they can't believe... might...
Back in the early 1970s, some of the highways across the western US, were not so sophisticated as they are now, and particularly, in West Texas. There were still a lot of narrow two lane highways, and a long distance between towns, or anything big enough to be called a town. On a dark night between Ft. Stockton and Sonora , a driver might be lucky to see another vehicle for a long time. It was dark and it was lonely. Almost, as if, one was out there, all alone.

Back in those days, I always carried food and water in the truck, in the event that I might have a breakdown and be stranded. Today, we have lots and lots of truck stops, but back then, we had to be prepared to 'Camp Out', if necessary. Nobody ever plans a camping trip like that , BUT...just in case...

On the particular night I remember, I was making my way across 'no man's land', and hadn't seen another vehicle or any sign of life for 2-3 hours. The truck was running fine and everything seemed alright. It was a hot summer night and with NO air conditioning, I was running with all windows open. I have no idea why I had my CB radio on, since there was no body to talk to, or anything to hear, but there was the low, scratchy static coming out ; the only sound, other than my engine, that I heard. The radio I had was only good for a short range; Nothing fancy, or over powered. It had to be close or I would never receive a signal...

The monotony of the night and the road ahead was about to put me to sleep. It was such a flat, uneventful stretch of road that, even IF I had fell asleep and driven off the road, there wasn't much to hit. It was beginning to be a struggle to stay awake. I considered pulling off and taking a short nap, but hadn't been able to find a spot wide enough for a big truck...

Suddenly, I begin to hear a faint sound. At first, a slight beeping sound, and I thought of something like a tracking collar one might put on an animal. I knew that sometimes, they collared certain animals to track their movements. As I drove, the sound seems to be getting ever louder; as if whatever it was, was getting closer, rather than farther away. I reasoned that if it was a animal, he should be getting farther away, besides, I was running about 65 miles per hour. What sort of animal would be moving that fast, and WHY...in my direction.
What the heck was it?

I kept heading east and the sound got constantly louder,  till I finally reached up and and turned the radio off.

I didn't want to think about what had popped into my mind, but I had read some time ago that THIS area was well noted for...UH... reported UFO sightings?
 Call me crazy, or please explain to me WHAT is was. And don't tell me it was a Jack rabbit running along beside my truck. It was still another 90 miles to Sonora, AND I made it, but have always wondered what it was out there with me that night. Some might say a satellite, but back then, the heavens were not cluttered with such technology, as it is today...Anyone have a better explanation??