Letter: Shadows of defiance

Submitted by Greg Alderete.

The dusty winds of Montana swept across the plains as the 7th Cavalry marched toward the Little Bighorn. Over a century later, in a city half a world away, the deafening hum of rotors filled the air above Mogadishu as helicopters descended into a labyrinth of hostile streets. Two battles, separated by time and geography, were united by a tragic parallel: overwhelming hubris, cultural misunderstanding, and a miscalculation of the enemy’s resolve.

In 1876, Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer rode with confidence toward the Lakota and Cheyenne encampments along the Little Bighorn River. He believed his cavalry was invincible, that the Sioux warriors led by Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse would scatter at the first volley. His orders were clear: subdue the Indigenous resistance and secure control over lands coveted by settlers. But as he split his forces and charged toward the encampment, he underestimated the sheer numbers and unity of the Lakota, Cheyenne, and Arapaho tribes.

The warriors met Custer’s men with ferocity and precision, their arrows and rifles cutting down soldiers before they could regroup. Custer’s belief in the technological and tactical superiority of his men blinded him to the determination of a people fighting for their way of life, their families, and their freedom. His arrogance led to the annihilation of his command. The plains were littered with the bodies of the fallen, a grim testament to a battle fought without understanding or respect for the enemy.

In 1993, thousands of miles from the Montana plains, a similar miscalculation unfolded in Mogadishu. American forces, part of a United Nations operation, sought to capture Mohamed Farrah Aidid’s top lieutenants in a lightning-fast raid. The plan, reliant on the technological superiority of Black Hawk helicopters, armored vehicles, and precision tactics, was meant to last no more than an hour. But just like Custer’s assault, the operation underestimated the will and capabilities of the local population.

The streets of Mogadishu erupted in chaos as Somali militia fighters and civilians—armed with AK-47s, RPGs, and an unrelenting spirit—surged against the American forces. When two Black Hawk helicopters were shot down, the mission transformed from a quick raid into a desperate fight for survival. Pinned down by relentless fire from all directions, the soldiers faced a hostile city that seemed to rise against them, every alley and rooftop a new danger.

Like the warriors of Little Bighorn, the Somalis were fighting for more than tactical advantage—they were fighting against foreign intrusion, defending their homes and asserting their sovereignty. To them, this was not merely a battle; it was a statement of defiance against an outside force they perceived as arrogant and oppressive.

In both battles, the invaders found themselves isolated, surrounded, and outnumbered. At Little Bighorn, Custer’s troops were annihilated to the last man. In Mogadishu, the Americans fought with grim determination to hold their ground, eventually escaping under cover of darkness. Yet, the psychological scars remained. The loss of 18 soldiers and the horrific images of their bodies dragged through the streets shook the American psyche, much as the news of Custer’s defeat had stunned the nation a century earlier.

Both battles were failures born of the same fatal mistakes: overconfidence in superior technology and a dismissal of the enemy’s resilience. At Little Bighorn, the Indigenous tribes proved that unity and determination could overcome the might of an empire. In Mogadishu, Somali fighters reminded the world that even the most advanced military force can falter when it underestimates the human spirit and the complexities of local resistance.

History, it seems, has a way of repeating itself. From the windswept plains of Montana to the chaotic streets of Mogadishu, the echoes of defiance ring loud—a sobering reminder of the cost of arrogance in war.