That's good.Maybe that is why more captured white people wanted to stay with their captors and adhere to the Indian culture than Indians captured by whites wanted to stay in so called civilization. They all wanted to go back to their culture, not so with the whites.
The Plains Indians turned their prisoners over to their squaws.
. Originally Posted by LexusLover
Anyways, I know nothing about Gina Haspel.; guess we'.ll hear more on her as the days / weeks go by Originally Posted by Chateau BecotShe’ll get along with Trumpolini as long as she’s a “Yes” person. As in: “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, right there!!! Yesssssssss Donny! Ohhhh fuck!!”
Looks like his new CIA choice has extensive background in Torture and lyingIf those were the only prerequisites for that job, then Pelosi would have been the logical choice. Nothing sez "real torture and inhumane treatment" like a Nancy Pelosi filibuster.....
Perfect Republican choice Originally Posted by themystic
Maybe that is why more captured white people wanted to stay with their captors and adhere to the Indian culture than Indians captured by whites wanted to stay in so called civilization. They all wanted to go back to their culture, not so with the whites..
. Originally Posted by WTF
Colonel Crawford’s Torture & Execution
The Delaware captured Colonel Crawford and Dr. Knight in June of 1782. The Delaware warriors stripped their captives naked and herded them back to camp where they marked Crawford for death by painting his face black and tying him to a stake surrounded by kindling and hickory poles radiating in a circle about six or seven yards out from the stake. Crawford spent the night tied to the stake with full knowledge that he would be tortured the next day.
Before the ceremonial torture began, the Chief Pipe spoke for over half an hour. Afterwards there was a triumphant screaming from the assembled tribe. All the men and at least half the women crowded around the colonel with flintlock rifles loaded with extra-large loads of black powder without shot. The closest were within a few feet when they shot at him in turn.
Grains of powder, saltpeter still burning, peppered his skin. Some of it punctured and continued to burn just beneath the skin. Crawford screamed until he was hoarse, and then until only a kind of whimpering grunt issued from him.
More than seventy powder charges had struck him everywhere from feet to neck, but the greater majority had been aimed at his groin. When they were finished, the end of his penis was black, shredded and still smoking.
The crowd thinned momentarily as the guns were returned to the wegiwas. As soon as all the tribe had reassembled, Chief Pipe stepped up to Crawford with a knife. With two swift movements Chief Pipe sliced off Crawford’s ears. From where he sat watching in horror, fifty feet away, Dr. Knight could see blood flowing down both sides of Crawford’s head, bathing his shoulders, back and chest.
Now came squaws with flaming brands, and they lighted the kindling all the way around the circle, igniting the material every foot or so until the entire circle was ablaze. The fire was made of small hickory poles about six feet in length. The end of each lit pole was about six or seven yards from the post to which Crawford was tied. The poles quickly caught fire on their tips, and the heat became intense causing the closest spectators to fall back, but Crawford couldn't retreat and was left to roast in the center of the searing heat.
A peculiar, hair-raising, animal sound emanated from Crawford. He ran back-and-forth around the post in a frenzy, before he finally fell to the ground and wrapped his body around the stake. After the better part of an hour the fire died down, leaving a fanned out ring of long poles: each with one end a hot, glowing spike.
Crawford’s back buttocks and the skin on the back of his thighs had blistered and burst; curling up into little charred crisps. The animal sounds were fainter now.
…
In groups of four, the Indians then began taking turns at a new torture. Each of the four would select a pole and jab the glowing end onto Crawford’s skin where they thought it would give most pain. Dr. Knight thought Crawford near death by now, but was amazed to see the officer scramble to his feet and begin stumbling about the stake, attempting to avoid the glowing ends which hissed and smoked wherever they touched him. One of the points was thrust at his face, and as he jerked to avoid it, he ran into another which pierced his open eye. A fearful shriek erupted from him.
When the poles had all been used and tossed into a pile to one side, some of the squaws came up with broad boards and scooped up piles of glowing embers to throw at him until soon he had nothing to walk upon but coals of fire and hot ashes.
“Girty! Girty! Where are you?” (Girty was a white man that Crawford had known who lived with the Delaware. He had initially asked Girty for help to get out of the torture. Although he tried there was nothing that Girty could do to help without risking his own life.) These were the first coherent words Crawford had spoken since before the guns were fired. “Girty, in the name of Christ, kill me! Shoot me. Oh my God, Girty, kill me!”
Chief Pipe, hearing Girty’s name, shot the renegade a stern glare, and Girty neither moved nor replied to Crawford’s plea, knowing he was closer to the stake now himself than he had ever thought to be. Most of the Delaware did not understand what Crawford was saying, but the beseeching tone of his voice pleased them, and they clapped their hands and shouted aloud in triumph at having forced the white chief into this outburst of timidity.
When there was no answer to his cries, Crawford began a shuffling walk round and round the stake as if in a trance, scarcely flinching as he stepped on the hot coals. Finally he stopped and slowly raised his head, and his voice came out surprisingly loud and clear.
“Almighty God, be with me now. Have mercy upon me God. I pray you to end this suffering so that I might be with you where there is no pain and suffering. Oh God, dear God, help me!”
Once more he began the same shuffling walk until at last, two full hours after having been prodded with the glowing poles, he fell on his stomach and lay silent. At once Chief Pipe stepped over the ring of ashes and cut a deep circle on the top of Crawford’s head with his knife, wrapped the long dark hair around his hand and yanked hard. The pop as the scalp pulled off was clearly audible to Girty and Dr. Knight.
(The chief made a spectacle by rubbing the scalp in Dr. Knight’s face until an audible murmur rose from the crowd behind him.)
A squaw entered the circle of ashes with a board heaped full of brightly glowing coals, and these she scattered on Crawford’s back and held them with the board against the officer’s bare skull. The murmur that had arisen was occasioned by what seemed wholly unbelievable: Crawford groaned faintly and rolled over and then slowly, ever so slowly, drew up his knees and raised himself to a kneeling position. For perhaps two minutes he stayed like this and then he placed one foot on the ground and stood erect again, beginning anew that queer shuffling walk. A few squaws touched burning sticks to him but he seemed insensitive to them, no longer even attempting to pull away. It was the most appalling sight Dr. Knight had ever witnessed and unable to control himself any longer, he suddenly vomited and then screamed at his captors, cursing them and calling them murderers and fiends and devils, blaming Girty more than anyone else.
The chief then ordered the squaws to build another fire.
When the fire reached its peak, two warriors cut the rawhide cord that bound the still shuffling Crawford, and, with one warrior on each side, let him shuffle toward the fire. When the heat became too intense for them to advance closer, they thrust him sprawling into the blaze. Crawford’s legs jerked a few times, and one arm flailed out. Then, as Crawford’s skin and flesh blackened, all living motion stopped. Gradually, Crawford’s arms and legs pulled closer to his body and took on the pugilistic repose so characteristic of people who are burned to death.
So ended the life of Colonel William Crawford.
