"Officers and soldiers were prohibited from wandering from the marching column as no man's life was safe outside of military protection. One day two civil employees went to the Yellowstone River, evidently tempted by the attractions of abundant water and shelter under the trees fringing the stream. Their bodies were found transfixed with arrows, showing how they met with their death. Such were the existing conditions when we were astonished to see approaching in the distance a wagon drawn by one horse. As it drew nearer, it proved to be a covered wagon surmounted by a cross. In the vehicle was a driver arrayed in a black robe. He came up to the command which was halted, descended and conversed a while with the higher officers, re-ascended to his seat and drove on out into the plains in the midst of the hostile Indians with as little concern as he would have driven along the street of St. Paul or Minneapolis I mention these cities, as I remember he was a Jesuit priest from Minnesota.
As we watched this lonely man drive away over the plains in midst of hostile savages, unarmed and protected except by the symbol surmounting his carriage and his own reputation and clerical garb, I thought it one of the most notable examples of heroism that I ever saw."
I recall the priests of my school days in all their authority and virtue, as in virtus or manliness. But even then, lesser types were appearing, weak, inadequate men for whom the priesthood was a place to hide and cultivate their vices.
It's past time for the Church to clean house. Better a handfull of real priests than legions of deviate parasites.
Text from Jerome A. Greene's Indian War Veterans - Memories of Army Life and Campaigns in the West, 1864-1898