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Nine Years Among the Indians, 1870-1879: The Story of the Captivity and Life of a Texan Among the Indians
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Nine Years Among the Indians, 1870-1879: The Story of the Captivity and Life of a Texan Among the Indians

3.96  ·  Rating Details ·  174 Ratings  ·  17 Reviews
Here is a genuine Little Big Man story, with all the color, sweep, and tragedy of a classic American western. It is the tale of Herman Lehmann, a captive of the Apaches on the Southern Plains of Texas and New Mexico during the 1870s. Adopted by a war chief, he was trained to be a warrior and waged merciless war on Apache enemies, both Indian and Euro-American. After ...more
Paperback, 235 pages
Published May 1st 1993 by University of New Mexico Press (first published October 1985)
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Mar 24, 2015 David rated it it was amazing
Herman Lehmann was a boy from a German family settled in the vicinity of Fredericksburg, Texas. At the age of 11 in 1870 he was captured by Apache raiders. At first Lehmann resisted Apache ways, but after time came to regard the Apaches as his people and was initiated as a warrior. Lehmann's memoir is an account of those years. While deeply attached to Indian life, the narrative spares no details of bloody raids and counter-attacks.
Eventually Lehmann's Apache father was killed in a feud and Lehm
Nov 29, 2016 Lisa rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: history, memoir
Being captured by Apaches was an ordeal for Herman Lehmann and his family! This is an amazing book for history and memoir buffs.
Feb 27, 2008 Holly rated it liked it
Recommends it for: those with an interest in Native American history
Recommended to Holly by: Kay
This book relays the story of a white Apache captive, taken at the age of 11 years. The writing is choppy and seems to be a narrative, as told to the writer. Herman relates incidents as he remembers them during the nine years he lived as an Apache and then Comanche. He does not try to defend or blame either the whites or the indians and it is clear from this account that both groups are guilty of horrendous acts of cruelty and no more savage than the other.

Herman was fortunate
Aug 17, 2016 Nancy rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Captive of the Indians

Captive of the Apaches when he was nine years old, Herman Lehman lived among them as a warrior and performed many acts of brutality that were esteemed highly by his captors. Leaving the Apache he joined the Comanches. When returned to his family he eventually became a valued citizen. In later years, he returned to his Comanche family and lived with them until his death.
The book is a first hand account of a captive, and is of interest to the general reader, as well as the re
Mar 20, 2010 Becky rated it really liked it
A fascinating story. I think the Apaches' nihilism, in the face of their culture's destruction, was so powerfully illustrated in this book because Mr. Lehmann seemed entirely unaware of it. Of course, as an eleven-year-old, he would have assumed that the Apaches had always been as they were when he met them. He and his compatriots were men of action, not introspection. Stories have so much more power when the narrator doesn't tell you what to think about them.

This book was particularly enthrall
Jul 01, 2012 Helen rated it really liked it
Engrossing account of a boy, Herman Lehmann, kidnapped by the Apaches and raised by them. After nine years he was returned to his own family and had to adjust to western ways. It seems to me this is a faithful account of his years with the Apaches and later the Comanches, their customs and effect of the "white man" on their culture. It was a time of hardship for all, both the whites and the natives.

Especially interesting was his relationship with Quanah Parker.
Jennifer Blaine
Aug 22, 2011 Jennifer Blaine rated it it was amazing
This is a fascinating account of an 11 year old boy kidnapped by an Apache tribe. When I was a child I always wanted to be an Indian. After reading this account by Lehmann I can be grateful I wasn't an Apache or a Commanche. They must be why the name savages was assigned to Indians. Although the white men often deserved the same title. This man who told the account is a man of few words. Often I desired more details, but he gave enough to understand most of what life was like for him.
Apr 20, 2012 Betty rated it really liked it
Shelves: american
This should be read along with other histories, such as the new biography of Victorio by Katherine Chamberlain to provide much needed context. This narrative takes place near the end of hundreds of years of colonial imposition on the Apaches and other native Americans. Nonetheless, it is a highly readable and interesting perspective on this period of history.
Sharon Lee
Sep 26, 2009 Sharon Lee rated it it was ok
Shelves: read-in-2009
Herman is a charming rogue, but I feel he was not...entirely candid in his account of his captivity. This may, I suppose be lain at the door of his transcriptionist, interesting book to be read with the salt shaker in easy reach
Nov 05, 2010 Heather rated it really liked it
Interesting true story about a boy taken captive by Apaches at age 11. He lived with them many years and then with the Comanche before being reunited with his family. Though he leaves out many things, he has insights and experiences that are very interesting.
Mar 16, 2013 Jay rated it liked it
A very real look into the life of an Apache or Comanche Indian. Told in a matter of fact way. If you read this put a tick mark down for every man that he kills. I wish I would have.
Long considered one of the best in the Indian Captive genre. The true story of Herman Lehmann's nine years living, not with, but AS a native American.
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“I could hear talking, singing, shouting, crying, and other sounds, and I noticed everybody wore different clothes on that day. Men and women with fine clothes were going down there, and soon two or three men wearing long black coats passed me and followed the crowd. Everybody respected those fellows, and I decided they were the medicine men. I resolved to see what was going on down there, so I slipped through the bushes and watched them. I saw one of the men whom I thought was a medicine man get up and read something out of a book; occasionally he would look at his congregation and then up, and I wondered why he did not smoke; then I concluded it was a council of war, but there were too many squaws there for that. The audience rose and sang, then they all got down on their knees and covered up their faces; some groaned while others wept, and one man mumbled a lot of words; then they all got up and sang a song. The medicine man came to the front and went through a long talk and gesticulations and everybody watched him. The sober-looking man with the long coat mumbled something at first, but gradually grew louder and began singing off his speech, while the tear drops trickled down his cheeks and his face wore a sad expression. His audience seemed to lean forward and drink in every word he said. He kept talking and all the people arose and commingled their voices in a mighty chorus, while the melodious strains floated on the zephyr breeze and reached my ears and seemed as a balm to the aching pains of my breaking heart. Then shouts of laughter, shrill screams, merry faces, sad-eyed spectators, some shouted, others rushed to the center and began dancing, shaking hands and general confusion reigned supreme. It was a sure-enough old fashion Methodist shouting meeting, but of course I did not know this. I thought it must be a new kind of a war dance, rain dance or some kind of a religious ceremony, so I rushed in, gave the Comanche yell, cleared several benches and landed in the midst of the revival. My manner of worship did not suit those white people and they stampeded, leaving me “monarch of all I surveyed.” I gave a few more whoops and a little dance anyway, and looked around to see what had become of all the council, and I saw the big medicine man tearing along with his coat tails flapping as he headed for my mother’s home. My people never permitted me to go to another Methodist revival until I could understand English and knew how to behave myself. True, I broke up the meeting that day, but I was just as earnest, just as fervent, just as candid and sincere as the most sanctified among them, only my mode did not conform to their theories. I have seen just as much earnestness and less hypocrisy among the Indians in their worship as I ever have seen since I came among the whites.” 0 likes
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