The Chameleon Soldier: NOW AS AN ALIEN BLUE HE CANNOT DIE. (5 page)

“You are not an Indian,” the medicine man grunted as he came nearer.

“No, I am not. I’ve come to you for answers.”

“Come inside,” said the medicine man, as he led Killian into his tent.

The two men sat on bear rugs, and looked at one another.

“Become who you are,” the medicine man demanded.

Killian slowly changed to a red-bearded white man.

“The Star Warriors have blessed you. We thought they only honored the red man.”

“It might have been a mistake. I don’t think it was intended.”

Killian proceeded to tell his story to the medicine man. At the end the old man nodded.

“During the ceremony of the Star Warriors, giving our people the power to become a Blue, a bowl of the Star Warrior’s blue blood is passed among those chosen. When they drink from the bowl they receive the gift of being a Blue. You drank the blood of the Star Warrior who you killed, and sent him back up to his Sky People.”

“It is strange, but I understand.” Killian hesitated for a few moments. “I have other questions. I don’t know the Indians’ history with the Sky People and Star Warriors. I don’t know what is expected of me. I don’t know my capabilities. Why don’t I age? Why do my wounds heal? Why don’t I die? Yet a Navajo named Lupan said he would kill me with fire. What does it all mean?”

A slight grin appeared on the medicine man’s lips. “That is a lot of questions from a man who has received a great gift from the Star Warriors.”

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds.

“The Grays, called the Sky People, are the gods of the heavens, who came down to the Indian nations years ago. They taught us many things, skills that were beyond the capabilities of humans. But the Sky People do not give this knowledge freely—it is earned. The way to learn is to be led to discovery, and by your own efforts. From the Sky People we have learned you must pursue your passion, follow your own way. You must know what, and who, you are. They teach that passion is an inner feeling, a thing of love. They teach that harmony occurs when ones heart beats in time with another. It is passion that makes all things possible. They teach hozoji, which is kindness and goodwill, the right way of life. It is a spiritual belief that a man must find balance between individuals, self and his world. One must live in harmony with nature.”

Killian nodded, taking in everything the old man said.

The medicine man continued. “The Sky People came to help our people. When they returned to the stars in the sky, they left many of their warriors here on earth to carry on their teachings. It was the Star Warriors who chose many Indians to carry out their work and teachings. They wanted our land to prosper and be strong. Those to be Blues were selected in a special ceremony. Over the years there were many such ceremonies. The Star Warriors gave those people strength, knowledge and everlasting life. Most Blues are good, and live both among the Indians and white men. However, a few turned bad, like the Navajo Lupan. He and his followers only have hate for the white man for killing our people, and taking our land. Even before Lupan, some Blues became Skinwalkers, who are able to transform into any animal—but mostly the coyote or wolf. They use their powers to seek revenge. When finished with their task, they transform back to the human form. They are known as ‘yenaldlooshi’, which means ‘he who trots along on all fours’. They are not what the Star Warriors wanted for the Blues, and much of the blame falls to the white man.”

“It seems the plans of the Star Warriors have gone awry,” observed Killian.

“Yes, sadly it has not turned out as they planned. Nevertheless, to them time is unbounded. We believe in time the Star Warriors will have things their way.”

“You said that we, who are blessed, have everlasting life. Then how is Lupan going to kill me with fire?”

“Knife, gunshot and other wounds will heal. The body of those who have become a Blue can only be destroyed by fire. It has been told that when set on fire, a Blue’s body will burst into flame; there will be flash of bright blue light and a ribbon of blue-white smoke will ascend into the sky. However, it is said that when a Skinwalker or evil Blue Warrior, as they are known, is set on fire, for an instant, they transform from human to a wolf standing on its hind legs and howling.”

“I now understand what happened, and how I became a Blue. But, how did I kill the Star Warrior with my knife?”

“You did not kill him. Earlier, the Star Warrior had transformed into a Navajo Indian. You only caused him to spill some of his spiritual blood, and then he transformed back into a Star Warrior, and returned to his Sky People in the heavens.”

Killian gazed at the medicine man. “What’s expected of me?”

“Do well with your time, and pursue your passion, Taglito Silaada.”

Killian smiled. “You knew who I was when I rode into your camp.”

“Yes, you are well-known throughout the Indian nations.”

Later that morning, when it was learned Killian had escaped, there was all hell going on at Fort Custer. It was concluded that he had somehow snuck out when the guards let the old Crow Indians free. The fort was thoroughly searched. When Killian was not found Major Hiram Liddle convinced the commanding colonel to send search patrols out in all four directions. The major, having the feeling Killian was on his way south, headed up that patrol.

When Killian left the Crow reservation, he wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he had to go someplace where he would be safe from the clutches of Major Liddle. After his meeting with the medicine man, he had lost the last of his desire to kill Indians, except Lupan, whom he knew he must kill before he himself was killed.

Killian headed due south. Along the way he learned the cavalry was chasing the Indian war Chief Geronimo. He was the prominent leader of the Bedonkohe Apaches, who were evading the cavalry in southeastern Arizona, and northeastern Mexico. Killian thought about Lupan, the grey fox, who like Major Liddle, was presumably looking for him. He wondered if Lupan was with Geronimo. Either way, he knew he needed to escape from both of his pursuers. He needed to leave the area, or transform into someone whom they would never recognize.

Days later, Killian rode into Fort Huachuca in Arizona. Upon entering the fort, he realized the place was occupied by both infantry and cavalry regiments. He had heard about the 10th cavalry, one of the Army’s two black mounted regiments that were widely referred to as “Buffalo Soldiers.” Killian, who was dressed in civilian clothes, saw the opportunity to make a swift change in his life. He grinned as his skin slowly turned brown.
No way will Major Hiram Liddle or Lupan find me as a Buffalo soldier.

He stopped in front of a small building, dismounted, tied his horse to a post, and went in. A Negro sergeant sitting at a desk looked up. “What can I do for you, son?”

“I’d like to join up, Sergeant.”

“You look like a strapping lad. Can you ride and shoot?”

“Not to brag, Sergeant, but yes, I can, and with the best.”

“Ever been in the military, son?”

Killian knew he couldn’t tell the whole truth. “Out in California, I was a part-time scout for the cavalry.”

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Killian Kilkenny, Sergeant.”

“I take it your pappy was Irish,” grinned the sergeant.

Killian smiled back. “That he was.”

The sergeant chuckled. “All right, we’ll get you signed up, and see if you can back up your bragging about riding and shooting. Since you have some scouting experience, I’ll assign you to the reconnaissance unit.”

“That sounds great to me, Sergeant.”

A week later, under the command of General Nelson A. Miles, the 10th Cavalry was ordered to pursue Geronimo and his renegade band into the Pinito Mountains in Mexico. Killian thought it somewhat odd that he was trying to avoid Lupan, and now he might come face to face with him, if Lupan was with Geronimo. But, it was not until a few months later, in September 1886, that Geronimo finally surrendered, to Captain Henry Lawson, and First Lieutenant Charles Gatewood of B troop, 4th Cavalry.

Geronimo’s capture did not the end the Indian Wars. For the next few years, Killian continued to serve with the 10th Cavalry, being stationed at various posts while fighting the Apaches throughout the southwestern states, and the Great Plains region. During that time Killian heard various stories of a vicious band of Navajos led by an Indian named Lupan, but the Buffalo soldiers never came in contact with them.

In May of 1892, Killian’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel David Perry, was ordered to move the 10th Cavalry to Fort Custer, and take station. Upon arriving at the fort, Killian, who had been promoted to sergeant, noticed a company leaving Fort Custer. It was being led by Major Hiram Liddle.

He couldn’t resist the temptation to ride over to him. “Hiram, I see you’re
still
a major. Are you having a problem getting promoted?” Killian grinned as he stared at the major, and rode away.

The pompous Major Liddle quickly turned in his saddle, and glared at the Negro sergeant, who had been so impudent to speak to him in such a familiar and rude manner. Killian was laughing as he disappeared amongst his own regiment of Buffalo soldiers.

Six months later
Killian, at the age of sixty-one, retired from the Buffalo Soldiers, and returned to his home in El Paso. When he rode into the ranch he saw two black teenage boys leading horses into the old barn. Killian dismounted, and stood looking around the ranch, and at the old farmhouse. Chester and his wife Martha were sitting on the porch. Killian walked toward them as Chester came down the steps to meet him. They hugged.

“God Almighty, Killian, don’t you ever age? You look the same as the day you left here.”

“Army life is good for me, Chester,” laughed Killian.

After dinner, Killian and the four Freemans sat in the living room. He told them he considered them to be his family, and they needed to know how, and why he didn’t age. He cautioned them not to be frightened by what he was about to tell them. He cautioned them, for his safety, they must never reveal the secret he was going to bestow to them. They all agreed. He related his story. Even though they were nodding as he told them about his transformations, Killian could tell they were not a hundred per cent convinced. So he slowly changed into a black man. They stared. Then he turned into an Indian. They shouted in fear. He told them not to worry, and changed to the red haired man they knew.

“I know this is a strange and weird thing to know, and to see. But, it is what has happened to me. I don’t know if it is some sort of curse, or a blessing, I’m not sure which; nevertheless, it has served me well these past years.”

They had many questions, and they talked about his situation long into the night. However, after that evening, the subject was never mentioned again. None of them ever told what they knew about their friend.

Over the years,
Killian’s old farm had slowly grown into a large ranch. It was located southeast of El Paso and the large military base of Fort Bliss. Now that Killian was back, the ranch continued to grow. He bought more land, and they rounded up, and corralled hundreds of wild Mustangs from the vast herds reaming free across the Texas prairies. He, Chester and the two boy’s saddle broke, and bred the Mustangs. They had a ready market for their horses at the military post at Fort Bliss. The 1st Cavalry under the command of Major General Pershing had a great need for good horses.

All was going well until 1917, but in April, the United States entered World War I. President Woodrow Wilson named Pershing Commander of the American Expeditionary Force, and promoted him to a four star general.

A month later, Killian decided to follow General Pershing, and enlisted in the Army.

I
t was dusk
on a stormy day, July, 14, 1918, when Killian Kilkenny entered the 3rd Army headquarters located in the old railroad depot at Château-Thierry, France. A corporal led him into the room occupied by the commanding officer. Sergeant Kilkenny stood at attention in front of the colonel’s desk.

“At ease, Sergeant,” said the colonel, smiling. “I realize it’s a miserable night, but I need you, and two of your men to reconnoiter the Marne River. French and American trench-raiders have captured some German prisoners who’ve told us the Germans are going to launch a major assault, and are going to cross the Marne. We need to confirm it, and learn where the main thrust of the attack will be.

“Do you have a plan, Colonel?” asked Killian.

“Yes, the plan is to put each of you in a small flat-bottom canvas boat. One of your men will enter the river south of Dormans; the other man will enter at Mézy; and you here at Château-Thierry. That way we’ll be covering an eight-mile area. You will coordinate the mission with your men.”

“Yes, sir I’ll have them work down river toward me as I head up toward them. If we see any heavy activity we’ll explore the area, Colonel.”

“Very well Sergeant and good luck. We need to know where the Germans plan to hit us.”

Killian saluted and left the colonel’s office. Twenty minutes later, his two men were being trucked to their starting points. Sergeant Kilkenny quietly pushed his small canvas craft into the water, and paddled up the river, gradually maneuvering the boat toward the north bank. The pouring rain made it difficult to see, but it also provided good cover for him, and his two men. After he had paddled about six hundred yards Killian heard the clinking of metal. He let the boat drift and listened. There was definitely some activity going on nearby. Killian paddled toward the far shore, while keeping an eye out for German patrols. He landed near some large bushes, got out, and pulled the canvas boat onto the bank, and covered it with branches. As Killian walked up the embankment to a well-worn pathway, he transformed. Moments later, he encountered two German soldiers, who were staring up at him from a muddy trench. They were clearly surprised to see a German sergeant walking openly down the path.