Red Hawk

[claudio]

Apr 9, 2015 6:22:15 GMT -5 v8m8i said:

I can add one more story concerning Red Hawk when he was serving as an Indian Scout in January 1891. It is perhaps one of the most tragic of stories to emerge from that tragic winter. It was written by news correspondent George H. Harries and appeared on page 6 of the 27 January 1891 edition of the Washington Evening Star.

A Prairie Tragedy 

How a Sioux Squaw and Her Three Little Ones Met Death. 

Tracing the Murderers. 

A Sad Scene Near Pine Ridge

The Discovery and Burial of the Victims of a Brutal Assassination

Cowardly Crime by Men Wearing the Blue

For more on the tragedy at White Horse Creek see: Samuel L. Russell, “Investigation of the White Horse Creek Tragedy,” Army at Wounded Knee, updated 18 July 2014, accessed _______, wp.me/p3NoJy-ju.

   A terrifying story that shows just how cruel hatred for different people.

   Claudio

[solx]

as a direct descendant of this event i wish to stand up in responses to add more knowledge to this event.

Testimony of Captain Edward Settle Godfrey, Commander, D Troop, 7th Cavalry
Posted on 4 May 2014 by Sam Russell
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I here opened fire on the Indians who had crossed the ravine, who were attempting to escape.

Captain Edward Settle Godrey, D Troop, 7th Cavalry, at Pine Ridge Agency, 16 Jan. 1891. Cropped from John C. H. Grabill's photograph, "The Fighting 7th Officers."
Captain Edward Settle Godrey, D Troop, 7th Cavalry, at Pine Ridge Agency, 16 Jan. 1891. Cropped from John C. H. Grabill’s photograph, “The Fighting 7th Officers.”

Captain Edward Settle Godfrey was forty-seven years old and had been with the 7th Cavalry since June 1867 upon graduation from West Point. He was a battle tested veteran with a stellar reputation across the cavalry. As a young seventeen-year-old man Godfrey, with his father’s permission, completed a three month enlistment during the Civil War in the 21st Ohio where he experienced his first combat action at Scarey Creek, Virginia. His first decade in the 7th Cavalry Regiment, saw him participate in some forty Indian engagements including the battle of the Washita in 1868, Stanley’s expedition along the Yellowstone in 1873, Custer’s Black Hills expedition in 1874, and of course the Little Bighorn campaign of 1876 and 1877. Godfrey commanded Company K as a first lieutenant in Captain Benteen’s battalion at the Little Bighorn and one of the few officers who received high praise from Benteen for his conduct in the hill top fight. During the Nez Perce campaign in 1877 under the command of Colonel Nelson A. Miles, Godfrey was severely wounded at the battle of Bear Paw Mountain, action in which he eventually received a brevet for gallantry and was awarded the Medal of Honor. Godfrey had been commanding Company D upon appointment to captain in December 1876 and still held that position fourteen years later at Wounded Knee.[1]

At the end of November when the regiment was ordered to deploy to Pine Ridge, Captain Godfrey was at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, serving as a member of the tactical board since February 1889. He applied to the War Department to join his troop in the field, and, upon approval of this application, headed to South Dakota where he rejoined the regiment the first week of December bringing with him a number of recruits designated for the 7th Cavalry. A review of the D Troop muster roll indicates that at Pine Ridge D troop was close to its authorized strength and received only three of the new recruits. There were four troopers that remained behind at Fort Riley, two that were ill including one non-commissioned officer, and two that were in confinement. A fourth recruit designated for D Troop fell ill at Fort Robinson and never joined the regiment during the campaign. Both of Godfrey’s lieutenants were on duty, but First Lieutenant William W. Robinson, Jr., who had been commanding D Troop for almost two years until Godfrey’s return, was detailed as Captain C. S. Ilsley’s acting assistant adjutant. Godfrey’s Second Lieutenant was S. R. H. “Tommy” Tompkins. His first sergeant was German emigrant Herman Gunther, a forty-five-year-old cavalryman with over twenty-two years in the army including fifteen years in the 3rd Cavalry before transitioning to the 7th in 1884.

Being in the outer cordon at Wounded Knee, D Troop suffered only one soldier killed, Private Reinecky, and one wounded, Wagoner York. The following day at White Clay Creek, the troop suffered one soldier wounded, Private Kern. The horses of D Troop fared worse with two killed and one lost at Wounded Knee and one killed and one wounded at White Clay Creek.

During Major General Miles’ investigation into Wounded Knee, Captain Godfrey was the second officer called to testify on the afternoon of 8 January. The court asked him, “State what part you took with your Troop in the Battle with Big Foot’s Indians on December 29th, 1890.” to which he replied:

I was posted on the side of the ravine, with the ravine between myself and the Indian village. I was under command of Captain Jackson, whose Troop was there also, and who was my senior. The troop was deployed with intervals, and mounted about 50 yards behind the line of scouts. Soon after the firing began, the cordon of sentinels and scouts rushed back on the line. I told the men to fall back slowly, which they were doing, until a number of Indians from the village came up, across the ravine, onto the plateau, and the shots from the other lines at those Indians were falling among the men, and one of the shots from the Hotchkiss gun fell near the front of the line, when I ordered the men to rally behind the hill, which was just to our left and rear, where I dismounted to fight on foot. I here opened fire on the Indians who had crossed the ravine, who were attempting to escape.[2]

Several years later Godfrey provided additional detail of his unit’s engagement of the Indians that crossed the ravine in a professional article on cavalry fire discipline:

As soon as the Indians crossed the ravine, perhaps two hundred yards distant, and attempted to escape on the Agency road, I gave the command, “Commence firing!” I know the men did not aim deliberately and they were greatly excited. I don’t believe they saw their sights. They fired rapidly but it seemed to me only a few seconds till there was not a living thing before us; warriors, squaws, children, ponies and dogs—for they were all mixed together—went down before that unaimed fire, and I don’t think anything got nearer than a hundred yards. I believe over thirty bodies were found on our front.[3]

Continuing with his testimony, Godfrey went on to explain further actions in which he and his soldiers were engaged at Wounded Knee. His testimony of one incident, near the White Horse Creek, would result in a subsequent investigation, and have lasting implications in Godfrey’s military career.

As soon as I forced them back or cleaned them out, I saw some going up the ravine. I cut off about 12 men and ordered Lieut. Tompkins to take them to a point that I designated, to cover that ravine and prevent their escape by that line. I was then ordered by Major Whitside to take the balance of my Troop and make pursuit of some Indians who seemed to be going up the hillside to the westward. After I got to the top of the Divide, I saw only one Indian mounted, who made his escape up the ravine. I continued on to the westward to a creek, which I followed down then for the purpose of catching up any Indians who might be secreted in there. I went over to the west of this creek, beyond the divide, to a high point from which I could see the country. I saw no Indians from that point. From there I scouted down the creek some distance. Some of my men called my attention, that they saw some Indians in the creek bottom. I dismounted some men and sent them forward, enjoining them not to shoot if they were squaws or children, and called out “How cola,” which means friend. They, the Indians, made no reply, and the men, as soon as they got a glimpse of the Indians through the brush, fired about six shots. I heard the wailing of a child, and stopped the firing as quickly as possible. My men had killed one boy about 16 or 17 years old, a squaw and two children. Then I took up the scout down the creek, and then turned back to the camp. On my way back I saw a Troop on the Divide at the head of the ravine that led from camp, and I turned to where it was and found Captain Jackson, with his Troop and a number of Indian prisoners. I remained with him a little while, and at this suggestion made a detail to scout down the ravine dismounted, and I was going along on the ridge with the rest of my men to support them in case of necessity. As I was just about to start, we saw a number of Indians congregating on a hill some distance off in the direction of the agency road, between us and the agency. We were wondering who they were, when they started towards us. Several, I don’t remember how many, perhaps 4 or 5, came up, said “How cola,” shook hands and seemed a good deal excited; one came up to me, shook hands and gave a pretty hard pull, as I have thought since, tried to pull me off my horse. A young Indian was standing there who I took to be one of our scouts or an Indian policeman. He had been there some little time before the others came up. He said in English “This is my father.” I asked him what his father meant; he said he did not know. Then Captain Jackson called my attention to the other Indians deploying and advancing very rapidly. I thought they numbered 50 or 60. His lead horses were between our men and the advancing Indians, whose intentions we yet did not know; we were getting these horses back of the line when these Indians opened fire, wounding one of my men [Wagoner George York]. We returned fire, and Captain Jackson said that we would fall back, which we did. The Indians made no effort to follow us up. Soon two other troops came up to us from the battle field, and all returned to the main command. We thought the Indians described were agency Indians; they were evidently strangers to the prisoners, whom we abandoned. I saw no wanton destruction of non-combatants, none that could be helped, in my opinion. I told the men throughout the day not to fire on women or children. Although the Indians that we saw of the Big Foot band were at times about 200 yards off, we could not discern the distinction between bucks and squaws, and firing came from the parties. No firing took place on the part of my men when other of our troops were between us and the Indians. The prisoners that were abandoned had surrendered to Captain Jackson. The number I do not know except from hearsay. I know that there were five warriors, two of whom were badly wounded, and I was told the rest were so also; the rest were squaws and children, some of whom were wounded.[4]

Three weeks after the incident, an Indian policeman named Red Hawk, who had been searching for his sister since the battle at Wounded Knee, found her remains and those of her children near White Horse Creek. He returned to the Pine Ridge Agency and reported his discovery of the bodies. Major General Miles, perhaps concerned with Captain Godfrey’s statement that “My men had killed one boy about 16 or 17 years old, a squaw and two children,” gave Captain Frank Baldwin instructions to locate the bodies and determine what happened. On 21 January 1891 Baldwin submitted the following report:

I have the honor to report that in obedience to verbal orders of the Division Commander, I proceeded this morning at 7 A.M., under escort of a detachment of the 1st Infantry, mounted to White Horse Creek, about eleven miles distant, where I found the bodies of one woman, adult, two girls, eight and seven years old, and a boy of about ten years of age. They were found in the valley of White Horse Creek, in the brush, under a high bluff, where they had evidently been discovered and shot. Each person had been shot once, the character of which was necessarily fatal in each case. The bodies had not been plundered or molested. The shooting was done at so close a range that the person or clothing of each was powder-burned. The location of the bodies was about three miles westward of the scene of the Wounded Knee battle. All of the bodies were properly buried by the troops of my escort. From my knowledge of the facts, I am certain that these people were killed on the day of the Wounded Knee fight, and no doubt by the troop of the 7th Cavalry, under the command of Captain Godfrey.


Goodenough Horse Shoe Mfg. Co. had been supplying the U.S. Army with horseshoes and horseshoe nails since at least 1874.

Tracks of horses shod with the Goodenough shoes were plainly visible and running along the road passing close by where the bodies were found. A full brother of the dead Indian woman was present. He had been on the agency police force for several years. Considering the distressing circumstances attending the death of his sister, his demeanor was remarkably friendly. His only request was that a family of three persons, the only relatives he has living, and who were of Big Foot’s band, may be allowed to remain at this agency. This I recommend be granted. I returned to the agency at 3 P.M. Very respectfully, Your obedient servant, Frank D. Baldwin, Captain, 5th Infantry, A. A. I. G.[5]

Almost a week after Baldwin returned from his ominous burial duty, Correspondent Harries of the Washington Evening Star published an article in that paper that heightened eastern outrage over Wounded Knee. Although run on page six, the attention grabbing headlines undoubtedly shocked the readers in the nation’s capital, “A Prairie Tragedy. How a Sioux Squaw and Her Three Little Ones Met Death. Tracing the Murderers. A Sad Scene Near Pine Ridge—The Discovery and Burial of the Victims of a Brutal Assassination—Cowardly Crime by Men Wearing the Blue.”

Pine Ridge, S. D., January 22,.—War, barbaric at the best, is legitimate, but there can be no possible excuse for assassination. Today I witnessed the last scene in the earthly history of four of God’s creatures. They were Indians and they lacked much. Education had done nothing for them and the softening touch of religion had not smoothed their way to eternity, but they had souls, and those who killed them as the assassin kills are murderers of the most villainous description. No one who looked upon that scene can ever forget it, and not a man or woman who is acquainted with the facts but regards the bloody circumstances with anything save horror. An Indian woman, comely in life, with her three children were brutally murdered at about the time of the Wounded Knee fight and within three miles of the battlefield. Yesterday their bodies were discovered by an Indian policeman; today the remains of the unfortunate quartet were placed in the bosom of mother earth. When it became known at division headquarters yesterday that four dead Indians had been found Capt. Baldwin of the fifth infantry and now on staff duty was instructed to proceed to the spot accompanied by a sufficient force for the purpose of identifying and burying the deceased. Sunshine and frost combined to make this morning pleasant enough to make South Dakota a reputation as a winter resort. Ordinarily two or three men would be able to inter four people, but these are still times of war and the revengeful Indian will lose no opportunity to wreak a portion of his vengeance on weaker parties than the one he commands. For that reason company A, first United States infantry, was ordered to perform escort duty and also to furnish a burial party. Lieut. Barry and his men have only recently been mounted on Indian ponies and there is perhaps a little friction because men and cayuses do not yet understand each other, but the command was ready before the hour specified—7 a.m.—and after a slight and unavoidable delay on the part of others who were to go along the column moved out of the settlement and to the eastward. Two ladies—one of them a newspaper correspondent, the other simply morbidly curious—were with the little expedition, the latter daughter of Eve being in a buggy commanded by Dr. Gardner, the former on one of Gen. Miles’ pet horses. Twelve miles from the agency was the spot to which our guides led us, the place where Red Hawk, an Indian policeman, had yesterday found the bodies of his sister and her children. Red Hawk, the scouts, Interpreter Frank White and myself rode ahead of the column and arrived there some minutes in advance, leaving the main trail and our destination over a bridle path that narrowed at times to a dangerously insufficient footing even for a careful horse. Red Hawk went alone to the little patch of brush in which lay those he loved, the remainder of the advance guard considerately halting on the bank above the bloody scene until it might be regarded as proper for them to approach and see for themselves what a cowardly deed had been done. Oh, it was a pitiful sight. Mother and children had never been separated during life and in death they were not divided. Prone and with the right side of her face frozen to the solid earth was the squaw “Walks-carrying-the-red.” Snow almost covered an extended arm and filled the creases in the little clothing she wore. Piled up alongside of her were her little ones, the youngest with nothing to cover its ghastly nakedness but a calf buffalo robe, which is before me as I write. The positions of the children were changed somewhat from those in which they were found, the discoverer putting them together that he might cover them with a blanket. The first body to be examined was that of a girl about nine years of age. In the horrible moment preceding dissolution she had drawn her arms up and placed them across her face—a pretty face, say those who knew her—and as the features molded themselves on the bony arms and froze her visage became frightfully distorted. A black bead necklace was embedded in the flesh of her throat. The victim was killed by being shot through the right lung, the ball entering high in her breast and making its exit at the right of her back, near the waist. Her sister—less than seven years old—was almost naked. She, too, was facing the murderers when they took such deadly aim and, like the other girl, she had tried with her arms to shut out the sight of the unwavering rifle muzzles. The ball entered her right breast, went through the right lung downward and came out near the spine and just above the left kidney. Seventy grains of powder drove 500 grains of lead through the brain of the boy—a sturdily built twelve-year-old. Of all the horrible wounds ever made by bullets none could be more frightfully effective than that which forever extinguished the light of life in this boy. The wound of entrance was on the upper part of the right side of the head; the wound of exit was beneath the right eye, tearing open the cheek and leaving a bloody hole as large as a dollar. There must have been at least a few seconds of agony before death came, for the right arm was thrown up to and across the forehead and the fingers of the left hand stiffened in death while clutching the long, jet-black hair near the powder-burned orifice in his skull. And the mother. Gentle hands loosened the frosty bands which bound her to the soil and fingers which tingled with the hot flow of blood from indignant hearts tenderly removed from her flattened and distorted face the twigs and leaves and dirt which in the death agony had been inlaid in the yielding features. Her strong arms were bare and her feet were drawn up as the natural consequence of a wound which commenced at the right shoulder and ended somewhere in the lower abdominal region. From the wounded shoulder a sanguinary flood had poured until her worn and dirty garments were crimson-dyed; the breasts from which her little ones had drawn their earliest sustenance were discolored with the gory stream. It was an awful sight; promotive of sickening thought and heartrending memories. While Dr. Gardner, Capt. Baldwin and Lieut. Barry were satisfying themselves as to the direct causes of death a detachment from the escort had prepared a shallow grave. It was on the brow of the hill immediately above the scene of crime. Red Hawk had selected the spot and it did not take long for half a dozen muscular infantrymen to shovel away the light soil until the bottom of the trench was about three feet below the surface. In one blanket and covered by another the bodies of the three children were borne up the slope and laid alongside their last resting place. When the detachment returned for the mother Red Hawk took from under his blue overcoat a few yards of heavy white muslin, which he shook out and placed over his sister’s body. Then everybody went up the hill. The mother was first placed in the grave, and upon and alongside of her were the children. Not a sound of audible prayer broke the brief silence. The warm sun shone down on the upturned faces of Elk Creek’s widow and children and searching January breeze played among their ragged garments. “Fill her up, men,” said Lieut. Barry, and that broke the spell. In five minutes a little mound was all that denoted the place from whence the four bodies shall rise to appear before the judgment seat, there to face four of the most despicable assassins this world ever knew.[6]

General Miles mentioned the incident at White Horse Creek specifically in his 31 January 1891 endorsement to the investigation of the battle of Wounded Knee in which he unequivocally found fault with Colonel Forsyth’s handling of the affair. “I also forward herewith report of Captain Frank D. Baldwin, 5th Infty., concerning the finding of the bodies of a party of women and children about three miles from the scene of the engagement on Wounded Knee Creek. This report indicates the nature of some of the results of that unfortunate affair, results which are viewed with the strongest disapproval of the undersigned.”[7] On 12 February 1891 Secretary Redfield Proctor directed an investigation into the circumstances surrounding the killing of the Indian woman and her children:

The bodies of an Indian woman and three children who had been shot down three miles from Wounded Knee were found some days after the battle and buried by Captain Baldwin of the 5th Infantry on the 21st day of January; but it does not appear that this killing had any connection with the fight at Wounded Knee, nor that Colonel Forsyth is in any way responsible for it. Necessary orders will be given to insure a thorough investigation of the transaction and the prompt punishment of the criminals.[8]

General Miles returned the notarized statements and a memorandum summarizing the event with a full paged endorsement wherein he seemed to blame Captain Godfrey while at the same time relieved him from any responsibility.

The woman and children killed were in the camp of Big Foot on Wounded Knee Creek. In his testimony at the investigation of the Wounded Knee Creek affair Captain Godfrey states that his men killed one boy, one squaw and two children. His testimony as to the locality where these people were killed coincides with the report of Captain Baldwin as to the spot where the bodies were found. Captain Baldwin’s report, which accompanied the papers pertaining to the Wounded Knee Creek investigation, shows also that the tracks of a troop of cavalry horses were found near the bodies, as well as other evidences of the presence of soldiers. The boy, however, was not sixteen or seventeen years of age, but between eight and ten, and the two girls between five and seven. Captain Godfrey subsequently admitted that this party was killed by his men, but gave as an excuse for them that he did not think they could see the Indians on account of the brush. Persons who were on the ground and examined the brush could easily be identified in that locality at a distance of fifty yards. The weight of this excuse, however, is entirely destroyed by the fact that the soldiers could see well enough to take deliberate and deadly aim and kill four persons with six shots, and so near were they as to burn the clothing and flesh of every victim, and one of their United States cartridge shells was found in the midst of the dead bodies. In my opinion, however, Captain Godfrey was not responsible for this crime. All the facts were not ascertained until the regiment was ordered out of this Division, and this incident was regarded in the same light as that of others which occurred in other parts of the field.[9]

Major General Schofield, through the Adjutant General of the Army, next directed General Wesley Merritt, Commanding General of the Department of the Missouri, to whom the 7th Cavalry was assigned, to conduct a further investigation. The task eventually fell to Major Peter Dumont Vroom, Inspector General of the Department of the Missouri. Major Vroom received his orders on 13 March and conducted interviews with Captain Godfrey, and four enlisted soldiers from D Troop on the 17th and 18th. Vroom began with an interview of the Troop commander and asked Captain Godfrey, “Please state the circumstances with the killing of a party of Indians by a detachment under your command on the 29th of December 1890, after the fight on Wounded Knee Creek.” Godfrey replied with the following:

We were scouting down a creek, which I understand now to be White Horse Creek, and were in a gorge. I was looking to the flanks and also to see if there were any tracks on the ground of anybody that had passed there. Sergeant Gunther and some of the men called out: “Look out, there, Captain, there are some Indians down the creek there.” I halted the detachment, I had about twenty men with me and asked how many Indians they had seen. They replied that they had seen three crouching and running across the creek. My detachment was in column of twos. I dismounted half of the men and told Sergeant Gunther to take some men and deploy them across the creek valley. The other dismounted men I sent to the left on the high ground. While they were taking their posts, I called out several times: “Squaw,” “Pappoose,” “Colah,” and tried to indicate in the best way I could that if they were squaws or children they had no reason to fear us. Sergeant Gunther then called my attention and said: “Captain, they will get the advantage of us if we stand here.” I was waiting for the men on the left to get into position and also waiting to get responses from the Indians. When the men first began to go out I cautioned them particularly against shooting squaws and children, and when they were ready to advance I gave this caution again. I then told the non-commissioned officers to move their squads forward very carefully. Sergeant Gunther’s men moved forward crouching down pretty close to the ground, and pretty soon some one called out: “There they are,” and they commenced firing. I heard the wail of a child and called to them to stop firing, but they had already stopped. The party was then about twenty-five or thirty yards from where the Indians were found. I immediately ran forward to where the bodies were and saw at a glance a boy, squaw and two children lying there. The look was sufficient to satisfy me that I could do nothing for the squaw and children. The boy was lying on his face motionless and I supposed he was dead. I had already ordered the men to continue on down the creek and was turning away hurriedly to look after my detachment when I heard a shot and Blacksmith Carey said: “Captain, the man ain’t dead yet,” and I saw that he had shot him. The horses remained back where the men were dismounted. After examining the creek and ravine below, I called for the led horses. The road led down the valley of the creek, which was narrow, crooked and full of brush. The road passed right near where the bodies were, within a few feet of them.[10]

Major Vroom next asked Captain Godfrey, “Did you notice that the flesh or clothing of any one of the bodies was burned?” Godfrey replied, “I did not, nor do I believe that my men were close enough for the bodies to be powder-burned by their fire, except in the case of the boy. I took the boy to be about fifteen or sixteen years of age.” Major Vroom followed up with, “How thick was the brush at the place where the Indians were found?”[11] Godfrey responded with:

It was such that I did not see them at any time until I went up to the bodies. I am satisfied that the men did not know at what they were firing except that they were Indian, because Sergeant Gunther, as soon as he heard the wail of the child, dropped the butt of his gun on the ground, leaned his weight on it and shook his head in a sorrowful manner. Blacksmith Carey was a recruit who had joined us three weeks before, and when he shot a thought went through my mind that he had evidently heard of the ruses and desperation of wounded Indians. It is a well-known fact that old soldiers take no chances with wounded Indians. In conversation with Captain Baldwin, subsequent to his report of the burial of the bodies, he said that the boy had but one gun shot. Of course then the boy had not been hit in the first firing.[12]

Major Vroom concluded his interview with Captain Godfrey with one final question. “Did your detachment move or handle the bodies at all?” Godfrey answered:

They did not. I have understood from parties who were present, and also from a letter of a newspaper correspondent who was present with Captain Baldwin at the time of the burial that the position of the bodies had been changed after a snow had fallen on them, and it is my belief that if the bodies were powder-burned it was done by some parties subsequent to the day of the fight with malicious intent and purpose to deceive. The fight took place on the 29th of December, 1890

IN ADDITION I DO STAND FOR THE GODFREY FAMILY IF MY FATHERS HAVE SHAMED THEM SELVES>


i bow down and hope this brings new interests and clears some things up.  my grand fathers orders as was told to me was to kill every man woman and child. in 3 separate times he disobeyed those orders including the nez pierce incident with chief Joseph and other chiefs. my family does not kill.

if not i respectful request the old ways. to offer my family's honor in blood. this time it must be done in open so that all nations can see the sprite of life we all take so freely. the red hawk family is now gifted with honor from my family. at last closure. and all in our family's shall be right in the world. i shall bear any mark that the descendants of the red hawk family may seem fit. that my family may once again be honored. i wish that my family be accounted for what was once done. for myself this is spiritually correct. and i stand shamed.

i have sought out this information and i now stand with sitting bulls wisdom and descendant.

[v8m8i]

Citation for the previous thread entry: Samuel L. Russell, “Testimony of Captain Edward Settle Godfrey, Commander, D Troop, 7th Cavalry,” Army at Wounded Knee (Sumter, SC: Russell Martial Research, 2013-2014, wp.me/p3NoJy-rp), updated 19 Jul 2014, accessed ______.