The Long Walk’s Shadow: Bosque Redondo and America’s Forged Memory
In the desolate plains of eastern New Mexico, near the Pecos River, lies a place that whispers of profound suffering and an enduring spirit. Today, Fort Sumner State Monument preserves the memory of Bosque Redondo, a site that represents one of the darkest chapters in American history: the forced internment of thousands of Navajo (Diné) and Mescalero Apache people. This ambitious, yet catastrophic, "experiment" in forced assimilation between 1863 and 1868 left an indelible scar on the landscape and the collective memory of these Indigenous nations, a wound that continues to resonate today.
The story of Bosque Redondo is not merely one of confinement; it is a tale of calculated cruelty, environmental ignorance, and the tragic consequences of a nation’s westward expansion at the expense of its original inhabitants. It began with a vision – or perhaps, a delusion – held by Brigadier General James Henry Carleton, commander of the Department of New Mexico during the Civil War. Carleton, a staunch proponent of Manifest Destiny, believed that the "Indian problem" could be solved by removing the Navajo and Apache from their ancestral lands, which he viewed as obstacles to Anglo settlement and resource extraction. His plan was to relocate them to a single, isolated reservation where they would be "civilized" through farming, education, and conversion to Christianity.
Carleton chose a barren, windswept tract of land along the Pecos River, some 400 miles east of the Navajo heartland, near an existing military outpost, Fort Sumner. The site was called Bosque Redondo, or "Round Grove," after a circular stand of cottonwood trees. It was a place utterly unsuited for supporting a large population. The water was alkaline, the soil was difficult to cultivate, and firewood was scarce. Yet, Carleton pressed ahead, convinced of his benevolent intentions. He famously declared, "The flocks of these Indians will be taken from them, and the Indians will be removed from the country, so that it will be a long time before they can steal again." His words reveal the prevailing mindset: the Indigenous peoples were not landholders with sovereign rights, but rather obstacles to be cleared.
To execute this policy, Carleton enlisted the help of Colonel Kit Carson, a legendary frontiersman whose reputation was built on his knowledge of the very lands and peoples he was now tasked with conquering. Beginning in 1863, Carson led a brutal scorched-earth campaign against the Navajo. His orders were explicit: destroy their crops, seize their livestock, burn their hogans, and leave them with no means of survival. Facing starvation and relentless pursuit, thousands of Navajo families, often led by women, children, and the elderly, were forced to surrender.
What followed was the "Long Walk," or "Hwéeldi" in the Navajo language, a series of forced marches spanning hundreds of miles across unforgiving terrain during the harsh New Mexico winter. Groups of Navajo, sometimes numbering in the thousands, were marched from various points in their homeland – Canyon de Chelly, Fort Canby (later Fort Defiance), Fort Wingate – to Bosque Redondo. The journey was a horrific ordeal. Men, women, and children, many already weakened by starvation, were given inadequate food and water. They were often forced to walk barefoot through snow and mud, driven by armed soldiers. Those who fell behind, too ill or exhausted to continue, were sometimes shot or left to die. Estimates vary, but it is believed that hundreds, possibly thousands, perished during these forced removals.
One survivor, Charlie Beyal, recounted decades later, "My grandmother told me that during the Long Walk, when someone died, they just left them there. They couldn’t carry them. They just kept going. They had to survive." This stark reality underscores the brutality of the experience, where the bonds of family and community were tested by the sheer will to endure.
By the end of 1864, approximately 8,000 to 10,000 Navajo, along with about 400 Mescalero Apache (who had been interned earlier), were confined at Bosque Redondo. The conditions at the reservation were deplorable. The promised supplies were often delayed or insufficient. Housing was rudimentary, consisting mostly of hastily constructed shelters or dugouts. Disease – smallpox, dysentery, pneumonia, whooping cough – spread rapidly through the densely packed population, claiming countless lives, especially among children. The alkaline water caused chronic gastrointestinal problems. Firewood was so scarce that people dismantled their shelters or walked miles to find meager supplies, risking punishment from soldiers.
Attempts at farming proved disastrous. The alkali-rich soil yielded poor crops, and those that did grow were frequently destroyed by armyworms or hailstorms. The few tools provided were inadequate. The military’s attempts to "civilize" the Navajo by forcing them to farm in a desert environment, against their traditional practices, were a cruel irony. They were a pastoral people, skilled weavers and herders, whose entire way of life was being systematically dismantled.
Adding to the suffering was the constant threat of raiding from other tribes, particularly the Comanche and Kiowa, who saw the confined Navajo and Apache as easy targets. The U.S. Army, meant to protect them, often proved ineffective or indifferent. The rations, when they arrived, were often spoiled or insufficient. Malnutrition was rampant.
The cultural and psychological impact was devastating. Stripped of their freedom, their land, and their way of life, the internees experienced profound despair. Their spiritual practices were suppressed, and their social structures were undermined. The Mescalero Apache, unable to tolerate the conditions and the confinement, made a daring escape in late 1865, leaving the Navajo to suffer alone.
Even Carleton, initially so optimistic, began to face mounting evidence of his experiment’s failure. Military reports from officers on the ground painted a grim picture of starvation, disease, and discontent. The cost of maintaining the reservation was astronomical, far exceeding initial estimates. The U.S. government, now past the Civil War, began to question the viability and humanity of the Bosque Redondo policy.
By 1868, the situation had become untenable. A peace commission, including General William T. Sherman and Samuel F. Tappan, was sent to Fort Sumner to negotiate with the Navajo leaders. The Navajo headmen, including the eloquent Barboncito, spoke passionately of their desire to return home. Barboncito’s words are etched into history as a powerful testament to the human connection to land:
"I hope to God you will not ask me to go to any other country except my own… When I think of our forefathers, who lived and died in that country, my heart is filled with sorrow. I do not want to go to the San Juan, nor to any other country… If we are to be herded like sheep and kept in a place where we cannot live, we would rather die."
His plea resonated. On June 1, 1868, the Treaty of Bosque Redondo (or the Navajo Treaty of 1868) was signed. It was a landmark agreement, unique in that it allowed a defeated Indigenous nation to return to a portion of its ancestral lands. The treaty established the Navajo Nation reservation, though significantly smaller than their traditional territory, and promised them resources and assistance in rebuilding their lives.
The return journey, while a cause for celebration, was another arduous trek for the survivors. They returned to a homeland scarred by war, their hogans burned, their fields barren. But they were home. The Long Walk and the Bosque Redondo experience had forged an unbreakable resolve within the Diné people. They rebuilt their nation, not just physically, but spiritually and culturally, carrying the trauma and the lessons of Hwéeldi in their collective memory.
Today, Bosque Redondo is recognized as a place of profound historical significance. The Fort Sumner State Monument and the Bosque Redondo Memorial, opened in 2005, serve as a site of remembrance and education. The memorial, designed with input from the Navajo and Mescalero Apache nations, features a circular structure that evokes the confinement, but also the enduring spirit of the people. It tells the story not just from the military perspective, but from the voices of those who suffered and survived.
The legacy of Bosque Redondo is complex. It stands as a stark reminder of the devastating consequences of forced assimilation policies and the human cost of westward expansion. It is a story of immense suffering, loss, and death, but also of incredible resilience, cultural preservation, and the power of a people to reclaim their identity and their land. For the Diné and Mescalero Apache, Hwéeldi is not just history; it is a lived memory, an intergenerational trauma, and a powerful testament to their survival against overwhelming odds. The shadow of the Long Walk remains, urging us to remember, to learn, and to strive for a future where such injustices are never repeated.
