Nov. 28th, 1864, Sand Creek. 150 years ago. For two hundred Southern Cheyenne people the sun is setting for the last time in their lifes. The peace efforts of their leaders betrayed, they will awaken to the sound of thundering horse hooves, gunfire and mountain howitzers and get slaughtered, scalped and mutilated. For the survivors, most of them wounded, shell-shocked and with little more saved than their naked lifes in the freezing cold, the following night will be the worst of their lifes. What will follow is three US investigations with damning findings, one crown witness murdered and nobody punished. Restitution, pledged in the following year, will never be paid. Many of those who survived, will be slaughtered almost to the day four years later at the Washita in Oklahoma. Sand Creek will achieve its goals of killing the best and displacing the rest. From this day on the Cheyenne council of 44 will never be reinstated as the political body that decides the fate of the nation. Soon not a square foot of Cheyenne and Arapaho land will remain in Colorado, Kansas and Nebraska. White veterans will stand by Sand Creek for the rest of their lifes, knowing that they executed the exterminatory agenda of the white colonial settler population. The Cheyenne and Arapaho people, although uprooted, marginalized and impoverished, have refused to vanish and are still there. Losing a conflict of ethnic cleansing is a terrible curse. But so is winning it. That is one of the lasting, cruel ironies of Sand Creek which are likely to stay with us for a long time.