All language subtitles for S1E05 - Casualties of War

BLACK HILLS GREAT SIOUX
RESERVATION JULY, 1874

- Go, go, go!
- Yeah! All right!

Well, Jake.

What do you make of it?

It's an Indian sacred place.

Like a church.

The hell you say.

You may tell your readers, gentlemen,

that this expedition
has thus far exceeded

my most sanguine expectations.

We have discovered
a rich and beautiful country,

abundant game, fertile land.

In short, all the bounties necessary
for the establishment of civilization.

The Laramie Treaty of '68
made this Indian land, General Custer.

Part of the Great Sioux Reservation?

Now, the Sioux, they may not
take too kindly to trespassers.

I shall recommend
the extinguishment of Indian title

at the earliest moment practicable
for military purposes.

If Congress should support
the settlement of the Black Hills,

rest assured,
the Army will do its duty.

Gold!

Gold! Gold!

Jake, come on!

Pay dirt, boys.

Gold! Gold!

Gold!

HILLSGATE, DAKOTA TERRITORY
THREE MONTHS LATER

Officially, the Army sent Custer into
Black Hills to map out the site

of a new fort to protect
the northern railroad,

and though the gold he'd found didn't
amount to more than a 50-cent diggin',

it wasn't long before the newspapers

proclaimed the place
"the El Dorado of America."

Every day, immigrants came
in hope of striking their fortune.

Like so many before them,

most brought only their dreams
and the clothes on their backs.

Some would make
a new life for themselves.

Others would find only heartbreak.

With the people came the towns
and the camps, hundreds of 'em.

For every man who got rich on gold,

another ten made
a killing on the miners.

Nobody seemed to care that the land
wasn't theirs to claim.

Some men of business,
like Robert Wheeler,

found themselves in the
right place at the right time.

The opportunities
seemed downright endless.

One at a time, gentlemen.
One at a time.

Please don't shove.
There's enough to go around.

- How do you get to the Black Hills?
- Freedom Trail.

Ten dollars'll get you
a ride in my wagon.

- Ten dollars?
- Yes, sir.

It cost me half that
by train from Chicago.

Well, sir, you can wait until they
build a railroad to the Black Hills,

or you can hand over
ten dollars and hop on.

All right.

Here you go.

- One over there on the left.
- Yeah, that's it.

Who needs pans?
There you go.

I trade with the Sioux at the agency.

They know me as a friend.
They'll give us safe passage.

Whoa, whoa.

What about them?

They friends of yours too?

Those aren't Indians.
Bushwhackers!

RED CLOUD AGENCY
DAKOTA TERRITORY

Red Cloud had won for his people
a protected place in the sacred lands.

Now the country promised
forever to the Lakota

was being overrun with white men.

For hot bloods like Red Lance
and his brother Voices That Carry,

the time for fighting was drawing near.

The White Father has sent me a
message on the talking wire.

He says the soldiers will chase away
the men who seek the yellow dust.

The peace talkers will come.

Red Cloud once drove the
Long Knives from their forts.

Now he lives on the white man's
reservation,

and speaks the white man's words.

Because one man makes a mark

on the white man's paper,
we will not move from our lodges.

These are our lands.

Those who think...

we can fight with the white man...

as we did seven winters past...

speak like young men seeking
to take their first scalp.

Let us wait for the peace talkers.

Even White Bird, your grandson,
wishes to fight.

I saw myself kill
Long Knives in a dream.

A man cannot ignore
his dream, White Bird.

But be sure it is your dream...

and not that of another.

My clan will follow Sitting Bull.

Voices That Carry is still a boy.

Let him stay with me. I will
teach him to keep the winter count.

I have never killed a buffalo,
and I have never taken a scalp.

I want to be like you.

Your time will come to be a warrior.

The great Cheyenne warrior Roman Nose
gave this to me.

Take care of it.

HILLSGATE,
DAKOTA TERRITORY

"Gentlemen may cry peace, but there
is no peace. The war is actually begun."

Do you see this exclamation point

that Mr Patrick Henry
put there after "begun"?

A little stronger next time,
Hans, but very good.

Mr Kurtz?

"Is life so dear, or peace so sweet,

as to be purchased at the price
of chains and slavery?

Forbid it, Almighty God!"

Very good!

Very good. Very good.

I think that's enough for today,
and you all need to be gettin' home.

I will see you next Sunday.

Oh, children, your gifts are
so sweet but entirely unnecessary.

Please, just get and go.

Get. Shoo.

You put in paper like so,
touch the keys, and presto!

Out comes a letter with all
the quality of newspaper print.

Behold.

With this device,
and a little manual prestidigitation,

the tedious labour of business
correspondence may be cut in half.

Most ingenious.

May I put the lady proprietress
down for an order?

- I'll take one!
- Yes, sir.

Pickings were good out there, Clara.

Better than I expected.

Ran out of supplies
before I ran out of miners.

I figure it'll require a trip to Omaha,

maybe Kansas City, to restock.

I won't have you going
back into those hills!

I couldn't sleep,
not knowin' whether you were alive

or out mouldering on
the plains somewhere.

Hey.

Hey, hey, hey.

I didn't mean to cause you grief, Clara.

It's just...

I have ambitions.

For both of us.

One day, you'll have a proper gold band
and not some old saddle ring.

Iron is stronger than gold.

I wouldn't trade this ring
for the world.

It was made for a simple purpose,
just like the man who gave it to me.

What's wrong?

Somethin' happened.

What happened?

I killed two men.

I looked down the barrel of my Sharps...

...and I thought
I'd never see you again.

So I shot.

Even though I didn't have to.

So much for purpose, I suppose.

RED CLOUD AGENCY
SEPTEMBER, 1875

It will be hard for our government
to keep the whites out of the hills.

To try to do so will give your people
and my government...

...great trouble.

Because the whites who may wish to
go into these hills are very numerous.

I want our Great Father to send us meat.

And flour and coffee.

And sugar and tea... and bacon.

And corn and beans.

And tobacco.

I want this for all the people

and for the children
and seven times their children.

Firm offer is $400,000 a year
for the mineral rights.

Now if you should wish
to sell the Black Hills outright,

the price will be $6 million,
payable in 15 annual instalments.

I will go to the White Father
in Washington and smoke pipe with him.

You have heard his words,

which cannot be altered
even to the scratch of a pen.

What kind of harvest?

Just shy of a hundred.

Been a while.

Buffalo harder to find than a job.

Southern herd's almost gone.

What are you asking?

Three dollars per. You buyin'?

I can offer you a dollar per hide,
and I consider that more than fair.

- I'll take one more.
- I consider that to be robbery

with a smile under
a high top hat, Hillman.

Last time the price was $6.

The rage for buffalo bedspreads and
other accoutrements back east has ended.

Most definitively.

Leave the buffalo
to their extinction, sir.

They've served their purpose.

On the train from New York to Hillsgate,
I saw the future.

- Bones.
- Bones?

Buffalo bones.

The detritus of sporting men
lured by a $3 rail pass

and the promise of game
there for the taking.

Carcasses left to rot
create a mighty stench.

But in that smell, an enterprising man
may detect the odour of money.

Bones can be ground to make
fertiliser and fine china.

And that's only the beginning.

A man can earn himself eight, nine,
perhaps as much as ten dollars a ton.

Damn it!

I broke away from my father
so that we could have a life together,

and I mean to make it a good one.

I know, but your dreams
are not your own.

They're your father's.

Clara, all the money
we made on the miners,

we lost on the hides.

- I wouldn't be gone long.
- You're gone often enough.

Give me a reason to stay.

You spend all your time
wet-nursing those squareheads.

- Robert...
- It makes me sick to my stomach

to see... to see you
teaching those damn kids

when you're too afraid to have
another child of your own!

I'm sorry.

- I didn't mean it.
- Yes, you did.

Come on.

RED CLOUD AGENCY
DAKOTA TERRITORY

I can't afford to feed
them I've already got,

and now the government sends me more.

- Sign here to accept custody.
- Yeah.

Since the time of Washita.

Margaret Light Shines remained
a prisoner of the Long Knives,

who herded their captives from camp
to camp like so many cattle.

She became mother to
the many children left orphaned by war.

They were her blessings,

and she promised to never
leave them unprotected.

Get in one line!

You understand me? Back up!

Against the wall.

Ain't buying any more hides.

Not buying?

Not selling 'em.

Watch it.

Go on.

I commend you, sir.

Captain Pratt, 10th Cavalry.

Robert Wheeler.

Allow me to say, Mr Wheeler, that...

...you are the exception
that proves the rule.

And what rule is that, captain?

I find the majority of traders to be
unprincipled, unscrupulous rogues.

A pack of veritable scoundrels,
if you don't mind my saying so.

That's a fine sentiment...

...coming from a man who makes widows
and orphans his stock-in-trade.

Call me a rogue?

Perhaps we both are, Mr Wheeler.

We've denied these people fraternity.

We've driven them
from their ancestral homes.

It has cost our people
hundreds of millions of dollars

and led to the present shameful impasse.

- Just can't stop progress, captain.
- What is progress but what men do?

Most men do what they will.

Others, what they deem to be right.

Where do you stand, Mr Wheeler?

To be honest with you, sir,
sometimes I'm not so sure.

Now that is a promising beginning
to a man's education.

Good day, Mr Wheeler.

This is the best I can do for you.

Rations are the first of every month.

No. We will not beg.

You suit yourself.

But you be damn sure you
and these other squaws stay put.

Orders went out that any Indian
that's not on agency land

by January 31
will be considered a hostile.

Are you savvy?

- We will not make trouble for you.
- Well, you already have.

This is our home now.

We will live well here...

and depend on no one. No one.

Do you understand that?

SITTING BULL'S CAMP

ROSEBUD CREEK
MONTANA TERRITORY

You will go back to Dog Star.

No. They do not live like men
over there and I'm a man.

My son, so you are.

Where are the soldiers?

What soldiers?

Dog Star said if you didn't return
to the agency...

the soldiers would come.

When is this to be?

Tell it.

After the Moon of the Popping Trees.

It is good you have
brought us this message.

Sitting Bull sensed the spirits
of the Long Knives,

who had been sent to
capture him and his people

and force them to live like white men.

He sought a vision to prepare himself
for the great struggle.

He promised a scarlet blanket
of his own blood to Wakan Tanka.

The sky was full with soldiers

and they fell into our camp.

A voice in the sky said this.

"Take these soldiers."

"They don't listen.
They have no ears."

"I give you these soldiers,
but leave what belongs to them."

The Great Spirit
gives us those soldiers.

YELLOWSTONE RIVER
MONTANA TERRITORY

JUNE 14, 1876

Listen to this:
"General George Armstrong Custer,

dressed in a dashing suit of buckskin,

is prominent everywhere, taking in
everything connected with his command

with the keen, incisive manner
for which he is so well known."

Yeah, well, ain't every command's

got its own pet newspaperman
tagging along.

I want you, Reno and Benteen
to follow their trail up the Rosebud.

Gibbons and I
will march up the Yellowstone

to a blocking position here
at the mouth of the Little Bighorn.

Now don't be greedy, Custer.

There's Indians enough for all of us.

Wait for us.

No, I don't think I will.

Answer me something.

If you think Custer's so infernal bad,
why do you ride with him?

It's better to know a devil
and confound his purpose

than to just leave him be.

LITTLE BIGHORN RIVER
MONTANA TERRITORY JUNE 25, 1876

Sitting Bull's vision inspired
warriors to leave the reservation,

They pledged themselves to the death
to defend the sacred Paha Sapa.

Sitting Bull moved the people

to the banks of the river
called the Greasy Grass,

where the game was plentiful.

There the warriors readied themselves.

They waited for the day
the sky would rain Long Knives.

What did you see, Mr Wheeler?

- Horses.
- Horses?

More than I can count.
Looked like a brown wave

across the hills, just on
the other side of Little Bighorn.

We will strike the village immediately.

Sir, with all due respect.

I think it best that we wait
for our reinforcements to arrive.

I will not risk the chance
of our quarry escaping.

Major Reno will lead his men across
the river to flush out the hostiles.

I will lead five companies north
to cut off the Indians' retreat.

Yes, sir.

If I go to other side,
I go as crow, not white man.

Deliver this to Captain Benteen
on our left flank.

He is to join the attack after we
have engaged and routed the enemy.

- Yes, sir.
- What are they doing?

Bad omens.

They see death.

You've done your work.
You found the Sioux.

If you're so afraid of them, go now.

Leave the fighting to us.

Looks like us Reno boys
get the honours today, Jake.

Major's offering 30 days furlough
to the man who takes the first scalp.

I want you to take this.

If anything happens,
make sure it gets delivered to my folks.

Sure thing, Jake.

Hey, Jake.

Least we ain't ridin'
with ol' hard-ass Custer.

- Good luck to you.
- You too.

Soldiers! Soldiers!

Warriors! Be brave!

Fight with courage.

That day there would be many battles.

First came the man Reno.

Indians, they had told him,

would run at the fearful sight
of his horse hooves.

But these Indians did not run.

The scouts had spoken to the long hair
Custer, but he had no ears.

He was certain of his great victory.

He led his men towards those he knew
would be escaping the battle,

but met only warriors.

The hunter was about
to become the hunted.

I am Lakota!

Please, God, not like this.

The fighting on the ridge

lasted no longer than a hungry man
takes to eat his meal.

The vision of Sitting Bull
had come to pass.

The Long Knives
had fallen into his village.

The people did not heed
Sitting Bull's warnings

to leave the soldiers'
possessions untouched.

Sitting Bull knew these matters
weighed heavily with Wakan Tanka.

While many celebrated,
others sang death songs.

You will take White Bird
back to his father

and you will tell this to Dog Star...

White Bird fought bravely.

HILLSGATE, DAKOTA TERRITORY
JULY, 1876

No.

Congress and the Army better
do something, and damn quick too!

Kill every one of them
bloodthirsty heathens!

This town's been sitting on
a powder keg better part of a year.

Only a matter of time
before it exploded.

Storekeep! You give me a gun
and all the ammo you got!

We're closed, sir,
out of respect for the dead.

I wish he'd open and let us
take care of this. He wouldn't open.

We'll get 'em somewhere else.

It's horrible to think of children
coming into such a world.

What happened to the baby
wasn't your fault.

- We need more ammo!
- We'll make them pay!

You're a good mother, Clara.

Yes.

Only...

...don't shut me out.

The baby was...

He was my son too.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

So am I.

You.

Stay inside!

He was first in battle.

There are no wounds on his back.

Are you proud of this?

Will you use such fine words
when your sons lay dead?

Those poor boys.

I salute you, sergeant.
You're a hero.

- Thank you.
- Let me give you some food.

- Thank you kindly.
- Sir? Here you are.

Here you go. Good job.

- For you.
- Thank you, ma'am.

God bless you.

- Godspeed, boys.
- Water your horses.

This town got a postmaster?

That'd be me.

You're first civilization
we've seen since...

What can I do for you, trooper?

I... promised a friend...

...his folks would get this.

I'll see to it.

He was a good man.

He always spoke well of his family.

Please take this.

Thank you kindly, ma'am.

Dearest mother and father,

I'm off on a fool's mission and
cannot be certain of the outcome.

There's not time for me to write
all the things I wish to tell you.

Many a time have I thought
to abandon my charge here

rather than submit
to the wilfulness of others

who have been placed above me.

I have always tried to act according
to the lessons of duty and honour

that have been your legacy to me.

I've travelled far and seen too much,
but always I think of home.

You are both in my prayers.

I remain forever your loving son, Jacob.

Can I help you, ma'am?

Yes. We're looking
for the person who sent this.

Robert?

He was your son?

Yes.

I'm sorry.

The man who gave you the letter.

Did he tell you anything?

Only that your son was a good man,
and he loved his family.

Thank you.

I want to see the place
where it happened.

Battlefield's two days
by wagon, ma'am.

That's perilous country.

Army can't vouch yet for its security.

And there's no telling
where your son might lie.

We'll pay you anything you ask.

Please?

Keep your money.

Do you have any children?

I had a son.

A beautiful boy. William.

A fever took him.

Life is very fragile.

Most of the things I ever loved
have been taken from me.

Do you love your husband?

With all my heart.

Then always hold that love close to you.

Let it sustain you.

Like this.

I heard tell of a Jacob Wheeler.

Well, there are Wheelers
scattered all over this country.

They say that this one...

...took off with a mountain man.

Married an Indian woman.

Grandfather used
to tell me stories about him.

What kind of stories?

About how he rode
with Fremont to California.

Struck it rich.

Well, if a man lives long enough,

he gets to hear
the stories and the legends

folks tell about him.

I reckon I've lived that long.

Maybe too long.

I need some tobacco.

Find my son, Wakan Tanka.

Take his hand and lead him on his
journey across the hanging road.

Let his spirit...

...and the spirits
of all these young men

who died before their time...

...shine like the stars in the sky.

There may we mothers
find them and say,

"There.

That is my son."

Many Long Knives came to avenge
the death of the man called Custer.

Because they could not find
Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull,

their anger fell on those
already on the reservations.

The great council in Washington declared
all Indians to be prisoners of war.

The Lakota, they said,

had broken the promise
of the treaty paper.

The most sacred of sacred lands,
the Paha Sapa,

promised forever to the Lakota people,
now belonged to the white man,

and he would never give it back.

Loved by the Buffalo
had begun to see the truth

of Growling Bear's vision,
and it pained his heart.

He felt the loss of the power
of Wakan Tanka

and knew that the time was soon
coming to return to his people

without having found the answers
he had sought for so long.

HILLSGATE, DAKOTA TERRITORY
1879

Mr Wheeler.

Captain Pratt.

You remember.

Well, not likely to forget
our last encounter.

"Exception to the rule,"
I believe you called me.

Not only that, I see,
but a man of many skills.

Nah, this just keeps
breath and bone together.

I come from a family of wheelwrights.

Your business prospers?

Ice storm killed
most of the cattle last year.

Destroyed most of the wheat.

Drought finished off the rest.

Farmers who bought goods on credit,
they had nothing left to sell or barter.

Nature can be a stern taskmaster.

The idea of a general store's
becoming obsolete.

Man can find everything he needs
nowadays in Montgomery Ward

or Sears and Roebuck catalogues.

Everything but purpose, Mr Wheeler.

I guess.

Can I offer you a brandy
and cigar, captain,

or do you abstain from ardent spirits?

I should, but I do not.

Thank you, Mr Wheeler.

I had occasion to observe
your classroom today, Mrs Wheeler.

- Your way with children is commendable.
- Well, thank you.

The parents bring so many
of their old ways and prejudices.

If you don't help the children early on,
they'll never adjust to their new lives.

My view precisely.

- Thank you.
- You mentioned a proposition.

Yes.

Indeed.

It is a great mistake

to think that the Indian
is born an inevitable savage.

He is born a blank,
like the rest of us.

Left in the surroundings of savagery,
one naturally becomes a savage.

But transfer the savage-born infant
to the surroundings of civilization,

and he will grow to possess
a civilised language and habit.

President Hayes and the Congress

have granted me the use of barracks
in Carlisle, Pennsylvania,

for a model Indian school and
authorised me to recruit 125 children

from here and the territories
for its inaugural class.

That's so far away.

Surely the reservation
is a better place.

The reservation works
to colonise the Indian,

not individualise him.

If the Indian is to be assimilated,

he must be gotten into the swim
of American citizenship.

He must feel the touch of it
day after day

until he becomes saturated
with the spirit of it.

Immerse the Indian
in the waters of civilization

and hold him there
until he is thoroughly soaked.

In short, sirs,
by being placed in good schools,

taught our language and industries
and going out among our people,

your children
can become useful Americans.

You see yourselves the evidence
that this is now the white man's land.

There's nothing left for you
but to become a part of it all.

White man smart.

He speak many promises.

More and more.

White man keep one.
He say he take our land.

Now he take our land.

And why was that land taken?

Because you can neither read nor write.

Because you are not educated.

These mountains, valleys and streams
have passed from you.

The people who take these mountains,

these valleys, these streams,

they steal, they lie.

If you were all as smart
as the white man,

you would've known that there was gold
in the Black Hills and dug it out.

You leave your affairs
in the hands of the white man.

This is why you come to grief.

The white man will walk right over you

unless you get up and
stand in front of him as his equal.

The way to do this
is to get his education.

You see that I do not
come with soldiers

to take your children
from your very arms.

I believe there are wise men among you

who will themselves allow
their fortunate sons and daughters

to partake in the white man's learning.

Red Cloud has no children
to send to school...

so why does he want to send ours?

The whites are never satisfied.

They have our land...

and now they want our children.

The man named Pratt came here...

and I think he speaks from the heart.

Our children must do
better than we have.

Why can't we go to school?

There is power
in the white man's knowledge,

but it can be dangerous too.

So can you teach us?

My grandchildren will go to school.

Voices That Carry will watch over them.

You can't make me go.

I am not your son.

No.

My son and grandson are dead.

Only with the white man's knowledge...

can we keep what little we have left.

Do you understand?

Yes.

You believe that much in Pratt's idea?

I believe in us.

I believe in what we can do together.

After all that's happened?

I want to stop dwelling in the past.

Everything I have that's precious

is right here in this moment.

No! Let me keep one son!

Remember your promise.

Fortitude, Mrs Wheeler.
Our task awaits.

Move 'em out!

Keep moving.

CARLISLE, PENNSYLVANIA
OCTOBER, 1879

Do what Mr Mortensen says.
Stay in line.

One behind the other.

I'll take that.

There.

You're gonna be all right.

Come on, boy.

- Easy, child.
- Hey.

- Don't make this more difficult.
- He's just scared.

Do you see these marks?

Each word is a white man's name.

You will choose
one of these names for your own.

Begin, please.

Hiram.

Meredith.

Walter.

Pearl.

George.

Abigail.

Voices That Carry.

Come along, children.
Get your clothes.

Right this way.

- Move.
- For you.

Find a bed. Keep moving.

- Take these and put them on.
- Move along.

- Trousers.
- Find a bed.

This is for you.

Get your clothes.
Keep moving.

Move.

Move along.

Keep moving.

Go in that room.
Find a bed.

Get your clothes.

Go in that room.
Find a bed.

I can learn the white man's ways
just as well with long hair on.

Stop that boy, Mr Wheeler!

There he is!

- Don't let him get away!
- Come on, now!

I got him! I got him!
I got him!

Hold on to him!

This is to be expected.

Stop struggling, you!

An Indian man only cuts his hair
in times of great mourning.

- If it's their tradition...
- Old habits must be unlearned.

The sooner the better.

Got the devil in him.

- Enough of that.
- Nowhere to go now.

Thank you, everyone.

Back to your duties.

- Quickly now.
- Come on, now.

We won't have to go through that again.

You too, Mr Wheeler.

Something wrong with his hair.

Mrs Wheeler.

Is it right what we're doing?

It all made so much sense.

We have to give it more time, Clara.

Captain Pratt's a decent man.

He knows what he's doing.

Great Spirit be compassionate to me.

The universe is made of circles.

No beginning and no end.

The earth goes around the sun
and the moon goes around the earth.

The cross touches the circle four times.

Yesterday, you were Indians.

Today, you are Americans.

Hereafter, you will not speak
in your native tongue.

You will speak only English.

Our purpose here at the
Carlisle Indian Industrial School

is to make you ready to take
a useful place in the white man's world.

There are four directions, four virtues.

Who knows them?

Courage.

Strength.

Wisdom.

Generosity.

Remember, there is no shame
in hard work.

In work, there is freedom.

Make the most of your time here.

You have no right to waste your own.

Still less, the time of others.

Each of us is born with one of these.

All of you must find
the other three within you.

Dismissed.

My great grandfather
made and fixed wheels

as he marched with Washington.

George Washington?

Potomac?

Cherry tree.

Forget it.

Let me show you how a wheel's made.

- Hub.
- Hub.

Spokes.

- Spokes.
- All right?

- Wheel.
- Wheel.

Wear these under
the white man's clothes,

that way you will remember
the Sun Dance.

George, why don't you give it a try?

All right.

Now find "A."

Now "B."

Good.

Please, continue.

And "C"?

Go ahead.
You were doing so well.

Outside.

Now you listen to me, young man...

Unbutton your jacket.

Now!

He stole barbed wire from your shop
and made these for other boys.

If we succeed, Mr Wheeler,
Carlisle will be the model for dozens,

perhaps hundreds of other
Indian schools all over the country.

I believe that if we can
turn George around,

we can turn around
the most recalcitrant of them.

I agree. I wonder if a slower
transition wouldn't be...

There is no time left for half-measures.

To save the child,
we must kill the Indian,

fully and completely.

Use your spoon. Very good.

Remember what you learned.

I cannot abide that man.

How can he be so right
and so wrong at the same time?

Bite it. Bite it!

Bite it! Chew!

Chew! Chew!

Never speak Indian again! Never!

You got your spokes set.
Now attach your felloes.

Make your rim.

Where's George?

George?

"Lesson 24: The Storyteller.

Peter Parley was a great storyteller.

This is known to all children
who have read his books."

I thought they might be sick.

Are you sick, boy?

The white man's ways
are like this fire. It burns,

but if we are strong
it cannot harm our spirit.

It hurts.

When you can touch the white man's way
and not feel the pain,

then you have won.

The younger boys
were no doubt corrupted.

But George is a different matter.

With all due respect, you might
be asking too much of these children.

Too much?

You demean them, Mr. Wheeler.

We don't demand the Germans,
for instance,

become thoroughly American
before we admit them to this country.

They arrive on our shores old and young,
and must become Americans at once.

We don't feed
our civilization to immigrants.

We feed immigrants to our civilization.

So let it be with the Indian.

Give me a chance to bring George around.

I think I may have
some currency with him.

Very well, Mr Wheeler.

I have come to
the regrettable realisation

that you no longer share
my views on education.

But I'm willing to accede
to your methods.

This once.

Captain Pratt reminds me of my father.

He's an immovable wall.

I wonder that he may not
be right in the end.

Will our child say that about you?

George.

My name is Voices That Carry.

You are welcome.

I know you can understand
some of what I say...

...and whatever you think,

Captain Pratt
means well for your people.

No.

I'm a simple man, but I know this:

Knowledge is power.

And if you don't study our ways,
how will your great-grandchildren

know the meaning of your holy wheel?

How will they know of your history?

Of your great victories?

We tell these things.

That's not enough, George.

See, cos what we call history
is written by those who win the battles.

So you must make your voice heard.

You must preserve your culture.

You must write it down.

In English.

Not for Pratt, but for your children
and their children.

Why I do what you tell me?

White men say many things,
mean nothing.

That is true of some white men...

...and some Indians, I expect.

You're a young man, George.

Believe me, I know the nature
of a young man's dreams.

Don't stop dreaming.

But remember, when you wake up,
you're back in a white man's world.

You have dream?

I still got a few left.

Maybe it's not too late
to make them happen.

And it is my considerable pleasure
on this signal occasion to introduce...

SIX MONTHS LATER

...our commencement theatrical,
Columbia's Roll Call,

presented by the students
of Mrs Clara Wheeler.

A round of applause, please.

Are we the same boys who,
with trinkets and toys,

moccasins, blankets and paint,
and a costume most quaint,

on the sixth of October,
the long journey over,

came to this friendly roof
six months ago?

Yes, we are the very same
who to these good barracks came,

where kindly friends a welcome gave us,

did all they could to teach and save us

from idle habits and bad ways

and carried us safely through the maze

of reading, writing and of talking,

and even improved our walking.

Heralds of fame and history,
unroll your scroll of mystery.

Then with your silver trumpets blast,

unloose the shut gates of the past

and call Columbia's heroes forth,

proclaim them East,
West, South and North.

Then boomed the Pinta's signal gun,

the first that ever broke
the sleep of that new world.

The sound echoing to forest depths,
a continent awoke.

I see a train of exiles stand
amid the desert desolate,

the fathers of Massachusetts land,
the daring pioneers of fate

who braved the perils
of sea and earth...

You've taken our rivers and mountains,
the plains where we loved to roam.

Banish us not to the mountains
and the lonely wastes for home!

Our clans that were
strongest and bravest are broken

and powerless through you.

Let us join the great tribe of white men
as brothers to dare and to do.

And still the ways of peace
we would follow,

sow the seed and the sheaves gather in.

Share your labour,
your learning, your worship,

a life larger, better to win.

Then foeman no longer nor aliens,

but brothers indeed we will be.

And the sun find no citizens truer

as he rolls to the uttermost sea.

You disappoint me, Mr Wheeler.

Comes from me trying
to please people too much.

But a man's gotta stand for something,
or he doesn't count for much.

And what do you stand for, Mr Wheeler?

Do you even know yourself?

I do... now, sir.

It's time for me to go home...

...where I can do some good...

...my own way.