Family stories . . . every family has them. Stories are the means of bringing facts to life, of making the abstract concrete, and bringing the listener into a realm that allows meaning and connection. Then, again, stories are also entertainment and meant to be nothing more than they are . . . stories. They can be factual. They can be mythical. Odds are that the truth is somewhere between. That is the fun and joy about stories.
That’s why so many of us jump down the genealogical rabbit hole. We want to know. We want to know the truth or a semblance of the truth. We want to know whether or not our family stories are the truth or a whole bunch of hooey. As I said in my last blog post, it was the story of my mother’s childhood that had me leaping down the rabbit hole. That story revealed the thin nexus of truth and how others attempt to explain things. As much as I had wanted my mother’s story to be true—it was not. The downfall wasn’t in the words that were spoken, but in the DNA test that was submitted.
As long as I am wallowing in the rabbit hole, I want to share another story from my mother. This one I remember being told during my elementary school days and beyond. It is a great story. The story is set during the Great Sioux Wars that occurred 1876-1877. Her story had to do with a relative who she claimed survived the Battle of the Little Bighorn. You might know the battle under its more popular and white culture name of Custer’s Last Stand. That was her story . . . a relative survived the battle and lived to talk about it.
In all honesty, that story fascinated me when I heard it way back in grade school . . . and it still does today. Like millions of others the story of the demise of George Armstrong Custer at the battle at Greasy Grass (Little Bighorn River) grabbed my attention. To discover a connection to the battle through the story only makes the battle more intriguing. I remember being taken to the small museum in Marion, North Carolina and seeing the newspaper account of the battle as recalled by this relative.
Who was this relative who survived the infamous Custer’s Last Stand? If the genealogy is correct, it is my cousin four times removed—a fourth cousin. His name was Daniel P. Kanipe, a sergeant in Company C of the Seventh Cavalry under the command of Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer. He would be the first of two couriers sent with the message from Custer to bring the pack team to the battle. Little did Custer realize that in sending my cousin back he was saving his life. Neither he nor the pack team would make it back before Custer was wiped out. That is how my cousin, Daniel Kanipe, survived the battle.
Of course, being a survivor of the worse military defeat in the history of the United States Army had its advantages. It made my cousin famous . . . a celebrity of sorts among the admirers of the “Old West” and researchers of the battle. Sharing his experience of what took place made him quite popular. His recollections have been the basis of many of the accounts of the battle. Over the years some of the details of his account have come under scrutiny. Especially as the accounts of the Native American survivors of the battle have been shared about their experiences in the battle. It seems as if ol’ cuz told a fluctuating story as he got older. Much has been written about his changing story. The great debate is over whether or not he was a hero or a coward.
Whatever he was . . . he survived.
When I moved to Montana fifteen years ago, one of my goals was to find proof of my cousin’s presence at the actual battleground. The battleground is approximately 90 miles east of Joliet, next to Crow Agency (the Crow Nation’s tribal headquarters) on the Crow Reservation. I made one pilgrimage to the battlefield during the first year to look for any mention of my cousin. I scoured the museum and found nothing mentioning him in the displays. I couldn’t find anything. Being short on time I vowed to return another day. I also bought a bunch of books about the battle. He was mentioned in the books.
But it still didn’t seem real. On a visit to Montana, my sister and I made another trip to the battlefield with the intention of finding something. I figured two sets of eyes would be better than one. And, again, we struck out in the museum. Striking out in the museum we decided to take the “auto tour” of the battlefield. Down the road we wandered as it started to rain and snow to explore the battlefield. Having reached the area known as Benteen’s Hill, with the snow now beginning to stick to the road, we decided to start back and head home. We turned around and headed back. It was not long before we came upon a historical display on the side of the road. So, we stopped. Why we stopped in the heavy snowfall we didn’t know, but we stopped and looked at the sign.
Lo and behold, there it was! Getting out of the car I noticed a picture of a soldier. Under the picture was the name of Sergeant Daniel Kanipe and his story. We were elated . . . the story was true. We were at the battlefield . . . standing on the actual battlefield . . . where we had pictorial evidence of our surviving relative. The National Park Service confirmed it. Needless to say, we were both excited about our discovery.
Since then, I have found an endless array of evidence about Daniel Kanipe’s presence at the Battle of the Little Bighorn. It is astounding how much has been written about this battle—hundreds, if not thousands of books. It is the most written about military battle in history. In most, Daniels Kanipe is mentioned. Sometimes in a good way, other times in a bad way. The verdict on Daniel Kanipe and his role in the battle is an argument for the generations. Was he a hero or a coward? I don’t know. What I do know with certainty is that he was lucky that day. Lucky that he was chosen to be the courier to retrieve the pack train. Unlike his mates in Company C . . . he survived.
The story my mother told was plain and simple . . . our cousin survived. For years I sort of gloated at my connection to the battle . . . gloated that a relative had survived. It is kind of neat being “connected” to a famous place. I liked telling the story. Unfortunately, no stone shall be left unturned in searching for the truth. The battle has been analyzed and picked apart from the day it took place.
One Christmas my wife got me a book analyzing the story and letters my cousin wrote during his lifetime about the battle. The author scoured the material with a fine-tooth comb. It seems that the story was something that changed as my cousin got older. Contradictions started appearing. Questions arose. It challenged the story against the reality . . . questioned the “heroics” of the storyteller. In short, it set out to debunk my cousin’s role in the battle.
I don’t think my wife intentionally set out to “pop my balloon”, but it sure felt like it by the time I had finished the book. Whatever, she gave me the book. That was years ago, and I have forgiven her. But the question remains . . . was he or wasn’t he? Hero? Coward? Or just some smuck making the best of a situation? Who knows. We weren’t there and all we have are the stories as they are best remembered by those who told them. The truth of those stories are between here and there. It is up to the listener to decide for themselves what they believe.
What I do know is that Daniel Kanipe—cousin, four times removed, survived the battle, and got to live another day. The story as my mother told it and as I heard it was true. It is verified with evidence. He was there. He survived. It is a great story. I don’t brag about it much anymore, but neither do I shy away from repeating the story as I know it. It is a story that can be passed down as certifiably authentic. One I can tell my children and grandchildren.
In this jump down the rabbit hole the story was true. It is a historical record and just some fanciful family story told around the dinner table. It has been cool traveling down the genealogical rabbit hole . . . cool to see who I might run into. Even cooler is when all the pieces of the family puzzle come together.
There is more to come! Next, I encounter some of the stories on my father’s side.
(The picture accompanying this blog is a drawing by the artist Kills Two.)
No comments:
Post a Comment