Act II, Scene 4

[Apron.  Enter Bell.  He walks into a spotlight.]

Bell:       My name is Henry Bell.  I was born in Alabama to William Montgomery Bell.  I don't know who my father was.  William Bell was my owner.  I was his property.

I was eighteen when the war broke out.  I ran away with three other slaves and joined the Union Army, the 101st Regiment.  The white man who recruited us said that we had the chance to fight for the freedom of all peoples of my color.  That's what he said.  All peoples of my color.

We worked hard.  We trained hard.  I leaned to shoot a rifle and march in a straight line.  And to say "yes, sir" to the white officers in charge.  Wasn't all that much different from being a slave, except I had a gun and the promise that things would be better, after the war.

We saw action at White's Ranch, Boyd's Station and Stevenson's Gap.  Johnny Reb in his grays fought hard and killed many of my fellows.  We killed many of them.  Emanuel Greaves said when he looked at the grays he saw the face of his white master.  The man who beat him and took his woman.  The man who wouldn't let his boy into the house to sit by the fire the night he froze to death. 

When I looked into the face of the gray man, lying in the mud, his chest all torn and red, all I saw was the face of a man who'd never see his family again.

After the Union victory, I was discharged.  There was no where for a man with this face to go.  The South saw a traitor, good only to be strung up and bled.  The North saw someone illiterate and untrustworthy.  A few were taken into the factories and given demeaning work.  They were the lucky ones.

Colonel Edward Heath began recruiting for the Ninth U.S. Calvary Regiment in 1866.  It was a colored troop.  Those of us who fought in the war were prized.  We already had discipline.  We'd already proved we could fight.  I joined.  The pay was scant; $16 a month.  But it included food, shelter, clothing.  (smiles)  And the chance to have your own horse.

We trained while we waited for them to get enough intelligent coloreds to do the work, and to find enough white officers to lead a colored troop.  George Armstrong Custer refused to serve with us.  I think we might have refused to serve with him as well.

My first posting was Texas.  In 1876 I went to New Mexico.  The white government wanted us to herd up the Apache and settle them on a reservation at San Carlos, Arizona.  A group of cattlemen and lumber barons wanted the land the Apache were on.  They wanted the colored man to move them out.

The Apache didn't want to go.  Many turned renegade.  We were sent out to ride them down.  San Carlos is a desolate waste.  The Apache are magnificent warriors, fearless, resolute.  Their ponies raced across the desert like the wind of fire.  They knew the land as well as you know your beloved's face, every dip, every valley, every river, every tear. 

I fought the Apache for years.  Or I should say, I chased the Apache for years.  He's crafty.  We rarely caught him.  Most surrendered only after they had grown tired of the chase, too weary to continue.

Their numbers dwindled.  When you are being chased across the desert by an enemy with the resources of the United States Army, even if you are the Apache, you eventually wear down, diminished, broken. 

I retired after twenty five years in the U.S. Army.  When I was discharged I rode east in the company of a white lieutenant who had also finished his service. 

We were near Fort Sill when we saw a line of maybe forty Indians headed west on foot.  There was a commotion.  Three white men on horses were pointing guns at the Indians, who were piling blankets and other items on the ground in front of them.  I drew out my rifle and the two of us, still in our Union blues, rode hard the three white men.  They fled when they saw us approach.

We told the Indians to pick up their things.  They thanked us and shambled on.  Lieutenant asked me, "Henry, what you got waiting in Alabama?"  I said, "I reckon nothing much but the long end of a short rope."  Lieutenant said, "I don't think I've seen everything there is in the West, yet.  Maybe I should have me another look around."  So we followed those Indians.  They got to where they were going, even if we didn't.

[Exit Bell.]