Sometimes “official history” becomes recorded incorrectly. A good example is in the report, by General Strange, of his engagement at Frenchman’s Butte, Saskatchewan in 1885. He seems to scoff about the “enemies’ ” poor understanding of military tactics when he reports “the large trenches on the enemy’s left flank, commanding the trail approaching their position, formed a formidable ambuscade.” The General assumed the “enemies” were planning an ambush.
In 1931, the Canadian North-West Historical Society Publication edited by Campbell Innes titled “The Alberta Field Force of ‘85”, page 33, questions whether it was an ambush they planned or defense when it says “These trenches may be seen today, four lines of them in the bush flanking the trail leading up the small coulee from the main ravine. Why were they dug there by orders of Wandering Spirit and Little Poplar? Were they intended as a flank defence or as an ambush? As the Canadian North-West Historical Society has been given custody of this battlefield the trenches will be preserved, and future generations of visitors will try to fathom the mind of the Indian warrior by means of these documents.”
When working with National Historic Sites in 1964, I had the responsibility of placing a plaque and putting up interpretive signs, explaining the features and events of what had taken place there the day of the Battle of Frenchman’s Butte. I suppose I am a “future generation” and had learned enough about the North American Indigenous warrior to have my own questions about the legitimacy of those as defensive rifle pits; and had well at hand, the means to prove it.
The grounds keeper at Fort Battleford National Historic Site was “Bill” Pritchard, youngest child of John Pritchard. John Pritchard and family were captives of the Big Bear Band during the Battle of Frenchman’s Butte (before the birth of “Bill”). The eldest child, Solomon “Sam”, was a youth of about age twenty in 1885 and was with the family. In 1964 Sam was still living with a granddaughter at Cando, SK. A trip was arranged for the three of us, Bill, Sam and me, to go to the site and see what Sam could relate about the events of 1885. It turned out to be one of the most memorable times of my many years with National Historic Sites.
The agility of the mind of Sam Pritchard was just as remarkable as it was of his body. He told story, after story, of his experiences that year, becoming more and more enthusiastic as time went on as we travelled along. After a couple of hours driving, he was first out of the vehicle, through the ditch and barb-wire fence and up the rise to where the rifle pits are. When I joined him, he pointed down and said, “There is where the Indian was that I was telling you about, that got the wound in his face.” That was one of his stories he told as we drove and the only casualty he knew of on the defenders’ side during the battle. A bullet, or shrapnel, had struck a stone on the mound of dirt in front of the pit, the stone flew up and cut the warrior’s cheek.
Sam Pritchard turned to the northeast and said, “Over the hog-back there, is where we dug the holes to hide the women and children.” He led me and Bill back through the heavy growth and finally came to the pits. He stopped and stared at one and said, “There is where I dig the hole to hide my mother and the kids. It sure seemed a lot bigger then.” Even the written word cannot be beyond question.
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