Over the years I have spent researching, writing, revising, and, finally, seeing this book through to production, I have benefited enormously from the thoughtfulness, skills, wisdom, and support of many individuals. I am pleased to be able to offer my thanks to a number of key people in this traditional, simultaneously public and intimate way.
First, I would like to thank Mr. John V. Gibson, who many years ago, in honor of his parents, John J. and Cornelia V. Gibson, endowed the history chair I have occupied at Colby College since 2004. This endowed chair accords me an annual fund that covers a substantial proportion of the expenses associated with my ongoing scholarly research. Without this fund and living in central Maine, my ability to reach crucial archival repositories and other important research sites would be severely limited. Mr. Gibson has never asked me for a thing—not even a thank-you note—in return for his generosity. This is my unsolicited thank-you note.
I would also like to thank my colleagues, past and present, in the History Department at Colby, especially Peter Ditmanson, Ben Fallaw, Jason Opal, Raffael Scheck, Larissa Taylor, John Turner, James Webb, and Robert Weisbrot. These brilliant and accomplished historians are wonderful teachers, too, and over the past eighteen years they have made coming into the office every day a pleasure and an honor. More broadly, I wish to express my appreciation to all of the scholars who have gone before me carving out the rich historical terrain—including Civil War, post–Civil War, African American, Native American, and U.S. military history—into which this particular study fits. I am in your debt.
The staff of a number of libraries have been immensely helpful to me in the course of my research: Colby College’s Miller Library staff are always resourceful and good-natured as they try to locate items for me that can be deeply obscure, or housed in some distant location, or both. Library Director Clem Guthro and Head of Acquisitions Claire Prontnicki deserve a special acknowledgment for having agreed to locate and purchase thirty years’ worth of Army and Navy Journal microfilm for my use. Martin Kelly, our Visual Resources Librarian, was helpful in the end stages of the manuscript’s production, digitizing some of the images I have used here.
Farther afield, I have profited greatly from the expertise and assistance of archivists and other library professionals, without whom this project could not have been completed. At the Library of Congress, I owe abundant thanks particularly to Curator Dr. John Sellers, who offered excellent advice and conversation, and to Paul Hogroian, who carefully walked me through the process of ordering images from the library, and made the entire process much more comprehensible. At the National Archives and Records Administration, I would like to express my gratitude specifically to Archivist Trevor Plante, whose guidance on navigating (not to mention ordering up for examination) the army’s court-martial records was invaluable. At the U.S. Army Military History Institute, in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, Dr. Richard Sommers answered every question with courtesy and wit, and led me to a number of collections I might otherwise not have discovered. At Yale University, the Beinecke Library staff made a point of sharing with me the beautiful artwork of several students from the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, and Dr. George Miles, curator of the Beinecke’s Western Americana Collection, was most gracious in his assistance when it came to trying to lay my hands on a good image of Richard Henry Pratt. From West Point, Archives Curator Alicia Mauldin-Ware provided me with beautiful pictures of the three nineteenth-century black graduates, Henry Ossian Flipper, John Hanks Alexander, and Charles Young. I would also like to thank Matt Blessing at Marquette University for his assistance in obtaining the images of Black Elk and Wovoka.
A very special bouquet of thanks goes to the National Park Service staff at Fort Davis National Historic Site in Texas, and especially to its on-site historian, Mary L. Williams. Although Fort Davis itself is beautiful and well worth visiting for its own sake, Mary made my research visit there a true delight, providing not just archival assistance in abundance but also warm friendship and hospitality. In the summer of 2006, I arrived at Fort Davis, about two hundred miles southeast of the airport in El Paso, without my suitcase, the suitcase having instead been sent on by the airline (in error) from El Paso to Sacramento. Over the next several days, while my suitcase took a long and roundabout journey, first back to Texas from California and then back and forth across the Lone Star State before it finally reached Fort Davis, Mary kept me in good humor, offered me clothes to wear, welcomed me into her home, fed and watered me, and kept me company at the local bus station to which I went night after night to await the delivery of my bag. Since leaving Fort Davis, Mary has remained available for long-distance help: most recently she generously sent me a collection of images from the fort’s collections for use in this book. An excellent specimen of all that is best about humanity, Mary Williams is also a scholar of black men’s postwar military service in her own right. Both I and the black Regulars are lucky to have her in our corner.
As always, I must reserve some of my most enthusiastic words of appreciation for all of the talented and good people at W. W. Norton, but especially for my editor, Amy Cherry, who has shepherded to publication what was once quite an unruly flock of words and ideas. Throughout, Amy has manifested the same wise judgment, keen intelligence, patience, and kindness that I might have come to take for granted had I not been so aware of how rare her particular combination of personal and professional traits really is. I am very grateful.
And I would like to thank my sister Suzanne (“Anna”) Sykora. Suzanne’s courage, steadiness, advice, humor, and love have been invaluable to me over the years, and I dedicate this book to her. As the Germans (and New Yorkers who speak Yiddish) say, “Arbeit macht das Leben süß” (work makes life sweet). My work certainly sweetens my life, but it is my children who provide its most delightful and delectable flavors. I thank my two magnificent sons, Anthony and Joseph Bellavia, simply for being who they are.