Rat a Tat Tat: A Horse Warrior’s Story

By Scott Robertson

Life on an Indian reservation is not easy. The average American believes that the enrolled Native Americans are lucky because they get a monthly payment for being enrolled, they are tax exempt, and they can’t get their land foreclosed on. While in many cases this is true to some extent, the reality is that these “benefits” keep the enrolled natives imprisoned in poverty with all the problems that follow. This is one Native’s story of growing up in poverty during the Great Depression, traveling the world, and realizing his people’s dilemma of trying to maintain a tribal heritage within a foreign government.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546272250

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© 2019 Scott Robertson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/13/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7226-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7225-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018914723

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Foreword

Chapter One Childhood

Chapter Two Adolescence

Chapter Three War!

Chapter Four Basic Training

Chapter Five Advanced Training

Chapter Six Over There

Chapter Seven Over Here

Chapter Eight Danzig Ship Yards

Chapter Nine Mariensburg Fighter Factory

Chapter Ten Bremen Ship Yards

Chapter Eleven Base life changes

Chapter Twelve Hamburg Submarine Pens

Chapter Thirteen Munitions Plants

Chapter Fourteen Bochum Steel Smelter

Chapter Fifteen Armored Vehicle Production

Chapter Sixteen Transport Infrastructure, Rail, Road, Bridges

Chapter Seventeen Northern Port

Chapter Eighteen The Final Mission

Chapter Nineteen Back Home Again

Chapter Twenty Back Home Again, in Texas

Chapter Twenty one Back Home Again

Chapter Twenty two Leo Gunrunners Family

Chapter Twenty three Wild Horse Racing

Chapter Twenty four Post war, Post Children

FOREWORD

This book is the story of Leonard Isaac Gunrunner. It is a fictional account of a boy growing up on the Yakama Indian Reservation between World War 1 and World War 2, and going on to complete a full tour (25 missions) as a belly gunner on a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress over Nazi Germany. Any references to specific individuals are unintentional. This is not intended to be an accurate historical account of World War Two. There are multiple resources for that, with reliable documented references and research. This account is based on testimony from family members about their ancestor’s accounts of that time period. Any reference to a specific individual is unintended, and coincidental. All rights reserved.

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CHAPTER ONE

Childhood

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Born on July 20, 1924 to Isaac and Loretta Gunrunner, Leonard Isaac (Leo) was now ten years old. He lived on a large farm that his family leased allotment land to. He had two brothers and two sisters, one of each older and one of each younger, and they all slept in the same bedroom, on mats on the floor that were weaved from Tule bushes, and had Pendleton wool blankets for covers. The shack that they lived in was on the farm. It had another room his mother and father slept in, and one large room that had a wood cook stove, kitchen table and chairs, and shelves and benches. There was an outdoor outhouse and a water pump at a well. This had been the farmer’s original home many years ago when he got started. He built a new home after some modest prosperity, and gave this house to the Gunrunners. Prior to that, their family had lived on site, and worked the farm, from a teepee.

His left shoulder hurt, really bad. He was thrown from a horse yesterday that was supposed to be broke to ride, but obviously, it still needed some more wet blanket time. This was a common occurrence, but usually Leo could just hop off and hit the ground running. This was the family business, on the side from farming for the lessor of the allotment land. His dad and older brother broke the horse to ride with a western saddle, and then Leo finished them with leg pressure, gathering the bit, reining, etc. The mare had caught him off guard. He was day dreaming when he should have been paying attention to the horse. She bent her neck to the right and her nose was by her tail. Then she bucked, and bolted to the right, all in an instant. He was launched over the front, went head over heels, and landed on his shoulder blade. It felt like he broke something by the crunchy feeling he had when he lifted his arm over his head. His mother gave him some sort of root to chew, which tasted terrible with a very bitter after taste, but it did help him to sleep. Of course, there was no trip to the doctor. His dad held his shoulder blade with the palm of his right hand, and rotated his arm with his left hand, and told him there was nothing anyone could do, he just had to move his arm and work through the pain.

But he did not have to ride today. He still had his chores to do. He filled the water buckets from the outside pump for his mom. He split wood for the stove. This wasn’t as bad in the summer because they didn’t need the stove to burn all night to heat the rooms as they did in the winter. He still had to feed the horses, cows, pigs, dogs, and chickens, and gather the eggs. There was no school this time of year because every hand was needed for the farming.

He was going to hunt magpies. The farmer had given him a used single shot Remington 22 caliber bolt action rifle for his tenth birthday. What a gift. Ironically, the only guns that the Gunrunners had was a 30-30 lever action Winchester rifle and a 44 caliber Colt pistol that his father used for putting down horses. He didn’t know why the farmer was so kind to him, but he truly appreciated the gift.

The Farmers Co-op had a bounty on magpies. They paid 10 cents a pair for the feet. The magpies would land on the cattle, and try to peck the flies off the cows face, pecking their eyes and blinding them. He could shoot the magpies, and they just kept coming back. On a good day, he could make one dollar. The Co-op was at the end of town, by the railroad station. On the other side of the Co-op building was the General Store, where you could buy flour, or ammunition, or candy, or books and magazines, or cloth for sewing. Leo would tie his horse at a hitching rail at the Co-op, turn in his magpie feet, and walk next door to the Store to shop. He thought this was immensely fun, and it was a treat not available to most of his friends, because they did not own a rifle. The Store was owned and run by some white folks. Leo did not appreciate them following him around the store watching him; he supposed to foil any theft. They didn’t do this to the white kids that he had witnessed hiding items in their shirts several times to walk out with.

This was Leo’s only access to cash. His father was not paid by the farmer. They were given a shack to live in, and had limited access to the various crops grown. He helped them out with items like the wood cook stove. The farmer had replaced it with an electric range. It was an 1850 Monarch stove, manufactured in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin. His mom called it Archie from the ARCH in Monarch. His dad didn’t believe in paper currency. Generally, no enrolled Yakama’s trusted anything on paper from the white man. His dad understood the value of gold or silver coins, and preferred those to greenbacks.

Their family business was horses. They provided horses for sale as cavalry horses, saddle horses, plow horses, or wagon teams. They also bred and trained fine quality herding and hunting dogs. They generally traded for items in the transaction, such as the Rendezvous days of his grandfather’s trapping. Back in those days, the Company for the trappers would bring sailboats up the Columbia River as far as they could. Sometimes they pulled the ships with mules and ropes to go inland further. These were French, Russian, and English traders. They would trade furs for clothing, boots, coats, hats, alcohol, tobacco, matches, firearms and ammunition, and other items not available to them. This transaction was referred to as the Rendezvous, and is believed to be the foundation for reservations. Of course, the natives owned all the land, rivers and lakes. They allowed trappers to live in a certain area, say along a creek bank from here to there, and take only certain animals (beavers, elk). These trappers were the reason for the Rendezvous. In general, there was one per year, after the river was passable.

But in this manner, the Natives became accustomed to assigned living in geographically defined areas with rules. There were several attempts at forcing the Natives to acclimate to the white man’s lifestyle, including forced schooling for the children, often sent away from home, and refusing to allow them to speak in their native tongue, and allotment’s in which the government divided up their reservation, which was already theirs, and gave them a piece of land, usually 80 acres, along with a plow and mule, to farm with. If you are a hunter or fisherman, you’re not going to stay home and plow. So generally, they sold the mule and plow, and rented out their land, and went hunting or fishing as was their custom.

His father also preferred trading. But nowadays some things required currency. Especially items the women desired. His dad was a softie at heart. He raised his boys just like he trained horses, with a firm hand and constant vigil. But girls are different. A strong hand could destroy their drive. So he would sell some horses so mom could buy things for his sisters. Also, money was required for roe-buckers which were new farm overalls that his older brother got first, then he got them, then his younger brother got them. Every time new clothes were purchased, everyone got a new (to them) outfit.

He would walk to town, or take a horse that needed finishing, and cash in his magpie feet, and go to the general store and buy more 22 cartridges and some candy. As there were no quiet horses currently, today he would walk the six miles each way. He would take a dog with him.

On a typical day, Leo would ride a green broke horse out in the sage brush. In this manner, Leo became a sort of wildlife expert, at least within the reservation boundary. He learned the individual species migrations for the seasons, and their food sources. He was particularly interested in the birds. The red tail hawks, bald eagles, and golden eagles. The swallows and the ravens. The great horned owls. His grandfather had told him he was done finishing a horse when he could ride it through the sagebrush with no hands on the reins, leg pressure only, and the horse would not spook at the brush poking its belly, or when the birds, rabbits, coyotes, or snakes did not spook the horse. Leo would study the different ways that the birds flew, and floated in the mild winds or drafts to maintain elevation without flapping their wings. He got to know when a certain bush in a certain area at a certain time of day would have a critter ready to jump out as he and his mount walked by.

On these training rides, Leo considered what the future might hold. He reckoned that this way of life would not be available to him or his children when he was older, as it was for his father and grandfather. He also learned to control his own emotions. The horse picked up on Leo’s apprehension, and mimicked it. If Leo was tense or afraid, the horse would be also. Leo learned to separate the various parts of his body, and relax his calf and thigh muscles as he looked for a snake that he heard rattling. He learned that his balance had to be in one with the horse, or two sharing one body, to gain the top performance. His grandfather discussed this with him at times, but for the most part, Leo learned how to separate his mind and body functions, and combine them with the horse’s instincts for maximum success.

The horse business had changed over time, from before he was born. His grandfather told stories after dinner about the stories his grandfather had told. Many moons ago there were no horses, before the arrival of the white man. Transportation was on foot, unless you were near a river or lake, This Yakama country was all sagebrush.

Horses began to arrive after European soldiers began invading the Mayan, Aztec, and Inca societies’ way down south. Some of the horses had escaped, and bred naturally, or were captured or stolen. Eventually they arrived in the Yakama Country. Not long afterward, a Yakama’s wealth was measured by their horse count.

They became fierce horse warriors. While the Yakama’s did not yet have firearms, or at least not enough for every person, they would nonetheless attack armed soldiers with bows and arrows or lances.

Leo could not get enough of these stories. Indeed, he was day dreaming about counting coup when the mare bucked him off breaking his clavicle. Counting coup is an act of bravery. It began when warring tribes ran across each other. The Natives had a deep respect for any life, handed down by The Creator. They did not indiscriminately kill as the white man did. Wildlife that they killed was for sustenance, not sport.

Counting coup was charging the opposing warriors, bare back on a horse, and either throwing a lance at their feet or beside them, or doing the same shooting an arrow. The goal was not to maim or murder. It was an act of bravery, to prove that you could kill them if need be. Of course, the party that you charged could easily kill you with the same instruments, but again, murder was not the objective. This was a Native warriors act of sport. Leo’s great great grandfather was the most highly respected coup counter in the entire territory. Leo constantly dreamed, asleep or awake, or charging the enemy on a good horse, and counting coup.

His father was extremely brave, but not stupid. He had witnessed him stand up to a stud horse that was threatening, until it backed down and walked away moping, ears back and head low. He wanted to be the man his dad and grandfathers were. These thoughts eased the pain in his shoulder.

Another change in the horse industry over time was the changes in making war. Their family history preceded the Treaty of 1855, which was an executive order ratified by Congress. Leo had no idea what any of that meant, but as he understood it, the United States knew that it would be at war with its southern half soon. They didn’t want wars on two fronts, and they didn’t want the Indians to assist the rebels, so they entered into treaties with the tribes they currently didn’t have them with. Thus, the Treaty of 1855 was entered into just before the Civil War. The Yakama War of 1855 immediately followed the signing of the Treaty because Chief Kamiakin felt the white man had not kept his promise of not allowing settlers in for a period of time, as was agreed to when they gave up 12 million acres and accepted 1.4 million acres as their reserve. The excuse was that the delay was getting Congress to ratify the executive order, whatever that meant.

The Gunrunners were renowned for their horse quality. As this interaction with the Calvary went on, the Army wanted to buy their horses. The Civil War was a foot soldiers battle to begin with. Only the officers were mounted. But the territory to cover was vast, with supplies, canon, food, ammunition, all requiring transport. There were mounted cavalry units, which was a soldier with a saber or sword, usually swung right handed while the horse was running. Leo understood that much of the language used in horsemanship came from the cavalry. As an example, the side that a person gets on the horse from is called the near side and is always the horses left side. Why? The horse doesn’t care. Leo has mounted multiple times on the right side of the horse. The reason is a right handed man wears his saber on his left side, and pulls it out crossways in front of his torso. You can’t swing your leg over a horse with a saber lashed to it. So they placed their left foot in the stirrup, stepped up, and swung their right leg over the saddle.

A horse doesn’t like things swung around its head. They don’t like charging or meeting other horses running either. Leo reckons it’s because they’re smart. But this is where the game of polo comes in. As Leo understood it, the British Army brought polo to England from India. They had discovered it during their colonization of that country, and their Indians. In polo, swinging the mallet all around a horse’s body is commonplace. Charging other mounts to get to the ball first is a rule. The British thought that utilizing this game in making horses would aid their Cavalry, and it was compulsory that officers played polo, in their white pants. A good polo pony was a good cavalry horse. In this manner all the breeding, tack industry, horsemanship, etc. was maintained during times of peace, often 30 or 40 year stints, or, in horse years, two generations.

His grandfather had played a lot of polo. Indeed, half of the 32 Yakama horses sent to the 1937 world championship in England to represent the United States were Gunrunner horses. There were no groomed grass fields that were kept short by grazing sheep as in Scotland. The polo fields he played on were dirt lots covered with oil. Indeed, by the eighth chukka you couldn’t tell the teams apart