24 Hours

One day (June 13th, 2003) before a particularly dangerous mission, it occurred to me that I hadn’t taken a photograph of all of the 150 soldiers of Crazy Horse. At dawn I set about to remedy that, systematically going from Squadron to Squadron, beginning at dawn and ending at dusk. It was the first time I’d taken posed portraits of the troop, and they were quick to recognize the grim motive of my endeavor (that I wanted to take their pictures in case they didn’t live through the next day), but they complied. In most cases one frame was enough—“Relax and look into the camera,” I said. Flash, then on to the next.