The general and Mrs. Custer had been away all winter up to this time,
sight-seeing in New York. Now they returned by a hard trip through a
blizzard—and they returned just in time. Orders had been sent out by
General Sheridan, commander of the Division of the West, to General
Terry, commanding the Department of Dakota, that the Department must
bring the disobedient Sioux to task. Of course, the Seventh Cavalry
would take the van, and the Long Hair would lead his warriors.
Reports said that the march was to begin at once; that General Sheridan
was anxious for another campaign. And it looked that way, with General
Custer bustling about at Fort Lincoln, and with supplies and troops
(according to talks among the officers) being collected at St. Paul in
readiness for the first trains through to Bismarck.
“Aw, just put the Seventh in the field. That’s enough. We can lick the
Sioux and make ’em eat at the Government’s table,” was the slogan in
Fort Lincoln.
The plans seemed to be that the Department of Dakota was to attack from
the east and the west, and the Department of the Platte from the south.
Thus it would be pretty hard for the Indians to escape, except by going
north into Canada.
The spring was late. The winter kept coming back again, to snow a
little more; and after the snows there were many freezes and cold
rains. The general would have started out at any time; but General
Terry, at St. Paul, was not ready. He would accompany the column from
Fort Lincoln, although General Custer was to command in the field.
Meanwhile the general was letting his hair grow long again, after
having had it cut short for his stay in the East, and was preparing
his command. There were many drills. Everybody was eager to be gone.
Some of the officers, like Captain Benteen and Lieutenant Calhoun and
Captain (he had been promoted) Tom Custer and Lieutenant Smith and
“Queen’s Own” Cook and “Bandbox” Yates had fought Indians before;
others like the new major, Major Marcus Reno, and Lieutenant Reily and
Lieutenant Sturgis, were rather green at the business; and so it was
with the enlisted men.
As for Ned, he had been transferred to Captain Benteen’s company, which
was Troop H. Captain Tom now commanded Troop C.
Word went out that the regiment would take the field in April, sure, if
the snow ever quit. Then, amidst the preparations, suddenly General
Custer was summoned to Washington. All knew that he hated to go; yet go
he evidently must. He had been summoned to testify before a committee
appointed by Congress to look into some alleged frauds at the Indian
trading-posts. Of course, it was expected that he would come back soon;
for who else was there to outfight the warriors of the great Sioux
nation?
March passed. Already the army further west, in Wyoming where the snows
were not so deep, had fought one battle with the Sioux. On March 17,
or Saint Patrick’s Day, the Second and the Third Cavalry out of Fort
Fetterman, under General J. J. Reynolds, sent by General Crook the
“Gray Fox,” had attacked Crazy Horse’s village at the mouth of the
Little Powder River and had destroyed it.
But the Indians had escaped, and had recovered their pony herd, too;
so that in the opinion of the Seventh, the job could not compare with
the fine job done down on the Washita. However, it was tough luck to be
on waiting orders here at Lincoln, while the Second and the Third were
busy at work.
No matter, though. Thirty-below-zero weather turned the Fetterman
troops home again. Crazy Horse, now crazier than ever, would join
Sitting Bull; and there would be fighting enough for everybody.
April arrived, and grew, and still no General Custer appeared. It was
rumored that he had been held in Washington, because of his testimony
that did not please President Grant; next it was rumored that he had
been removed from command of the “Custer” column; and next it was
rumored that he would not accompany the regiment at all! This was
startling news to the Seventh. What would be a campaign without “Old
Curly!”
Now in these the days of chill April every soldier was on tiptoes with
impatience. Custer or no Custer, the time was ripe for the march. Soon
the grass would be greening, the Sioux would be able to travel, and
the advantage would be all with them. Meanwhile, every report from the
agencies was more alarming. The “friendlies” or “reservation Indians”
were slipping, slipping, away, away, taking supplies and guns.
“Down at Standing Rock I hear there’s only five thousand Injuns where
there used to be seven thousand,” asserted Odell. “The rest have lit
out, to ‘visit’ and to ‘hunt’; but you can depind on’t, ’tis to the Big
Horn country they’re goin’.”
The four troops of the Seventh from Fort Rice and the six from Fort
Lincoln were moved out of barracks into camp, as a more convenient
place for rendezvous. The infantry allies arrived, with a battery of
gatlings; so did supplies, on the first trains. Bismarck City was alive
with the excitement of the preparations.
Bloody Knife the Arikara chief scout could not understand what had
happened to the Long Hair. Ned watched him talking rapid sign language
with Charley Reynolds; and afterward stalking away gloomy.
“Bloody Knife asks why the Long Hair doesn’t come and lead his warriors
out. Too much fuss and wait, he says. The Sioux laugh and brag; and
send in word from the hills: ‘Are the white soldiers tired before they
start?’ ‘What is the matter with the Long Hair?’ ‘Is the Long Hair
sick?’ And so forth. I tell Bloody Knife we have another big chief,
named Terry, to lead us; but he says: ‘No want Terry. Want Long Hair.
Long Hair never tired, never afraid, heap chief.’”
“Terry’s the man who captured Fort Fisher in Sixty-five, isn’t he?”
queried an infantry soldier, standing near. “He must be a good one,
then.”
“Yes; that’s how he got his general’s star in the Regular Army, and
thanks o’ Congress besides,” answered Odell. “And wasn’t our own
Lieutenant Smith there, too, on Terry’s staff? Sure, he was carryin’
the colors, to cheer on a regiment, when a ball so smashed his shoulder
that he never can lift his arm above a level. Terry’s all right. He
was a good lawyer before he was a good soldier. Everybody likes him.
But he’s never fought Injuns. We all want Custer and you can be sure
Sheridan does, too. It’s the president, who be head o’ the Army, that’s
ag’in him. He’s talked too freely, I reckon, an’ some o’ Grant’s
friends have been hurt by it.”
However, the first week in May, who should arrive but General Custer!
Afterwards it was known that he had just escaped being left behind
entirely. Finally he had begged to be allowed to go upon the expedition
whether he commanded or not. “I appeal to you as a soldier to spare me
the humiliation of seeing my regiment march to meet the enemy and I not
to share its dangers,” had been his telegram to President Grant.
General Terry had joined in the appeal, and now President Grant had
consented. General Custer was to command only his regiment; General
Terry was to command the whole column; but, anyway, “Old Curly” would
be on hand.
He looked thin and haggard, as if he had worried much. His hair was
short, and it could not grow out again before the march. Time pressed.
Here it was May, spring had opened, the Indians were afield, every day
added to their strength.
The officers’ families and the families of many of the enlisted men
moved from the post into the camp. Another Custer also turned up. This
was young Armstrong Reed, or “Autie,” the general’s nephew. His mother
was the general’s eldest sister. “Autie” was younger than “Bos” and
Ned. With a school friend he had come out from the East, to spend his
vacation being either scout or soldier, he wasn’t certain which. He and
“Bos” were wild to go upon the expedition; many of the soldiers also
were eager, and did a little bragging; but the women of the officers’
circle and of Suds Row, they were very sober. They knew that the Sioux
were gathering, what the delay had done to change the advantage, and
how serious the campaign might be. Mrs. Custer’s eyes seemed to be
brimming; and so did Mrs. Calhoun’s, and Mrs. Yates’, and all.
Not until the middle of May were orders issued to break camp. First
General Terry and staff arrived from department headquarters at St.
Paul. General Alfred Howe Terry, commander of the Department of Dakota,
was a tall, soldierly man, with long beard and calm, courteous way. Ned
immediately liked his looks.
May 17 was the day for the start. The “General” or call to strike tents
was sounded at five o’clock in the morning. The wagon train was sent
ahead, escorted by the infantry; but General Terry had directed General
Custer to march the Seventh around the parade ground at Fort Lincoln,
as a compliment to the “wives and sweethearts” there.
This was kind in General Terry. He had seen how the women were feeling,
and he hoped to cheer them up.
Proudly straight sat officers and men, as platoon by platoon, in
flashing column of yellow and blue, headed by the band the celebrated
Seventh Regiment—“Custer’s Regiment”—of United States Cavalry, rode
around and around the Fort Abraham Lincoln parade-ground. The band
played “Garryowen”:
Our hearts so stout have got us fame,
For soon ’tis known from whence we came;
Where’er we go they dread the name
Of Garryowen in glory!
Voices cheered; children pranced. But from Officers’ Row and from Suds
Row peered tear-stained faces vainly trying to smile, and from the
Ankara village outside welled the mournful chants of doleful squaws.
Nevertheless Ned, riding in line with Captain Benteen’s platoons,
trumpet on thigh, revolver at hip, could not but feel sure that such a
grand regiment was able to thrash all the Indians of the plains.
The tune by the band changed to “The Girl I Left Behind Me”:
The hope of final victory
Within my bosom burning,
Is mingled with sweet thoughts of thee
And of my fond returning.
But should I ne’er return again,
Still worth thy love thou’lt find me;
Dishonor’s breath shall never stain
The name I’ll leave behind me.
This was sign that the parade was over. Out from the garrison quarters
marched the column of platoons; and here was delivered the command to
halt, and to dismount.
“Officers and men are permitted to leave the ranks for the purpose of
taking farewells of their families. They will rejoin their commands at
the sound of ‘Assembly.’”
These were the instructions. However, the general stayed with the
column, and so did Captain Calhoun. Their wives were to ride with them,
a way, as usual.
Some of the officers and men were suspiciously red-eyed when at
“Assembly” they again fell into place. The wagon train could be seen,
rolling on, following the plodding infantry. The cavalry moved fast,
to pass and take the advance. Mrs. Custer and Mrs. Calhoun rode with
the general at the head of the column. He was mounted on Vic. The stag
hounds trotted on either flank. They were always included.
Truly, seeing this long column stretching two miles, ranks regular,
spurs jingling, infantry guns aslant, guidon and flag gaily afloat,
there appeared to be no reason why the white “wives and sweethearts”
and those Ree squaws should feel so bad. Here were the twelve
troops of the fighting Seventh Cavalry, under Custer himself; here
were infantry—two companies of the Sixth Regulars and one of the
Seventeenth; here were four gatling guns and a platoon of the Twentieth
Infantry to serve them; and forty Arikari or Ree scouts under Chief
Bloody Knife; and forage Master “Bos” Custer and young “Autie” Reed,
who was appointed a herder for the beef cattle, and “Lonesome” Charley
Reynolds the white scout, and Isaiah the squaw-man black scout from
Fort Rice; and a great supply train of 114 six-mule wagons, 107 other
wagons, and eighty-five pack-mules; altogether, 1,000 men. They had
rations and forage for thirty days, and each soldier carried one
hundred rifle or carbine cartridges, and fifty revolver cartridges. The
Seventh had left their sabres behind and they were glad of it, because
the sabres were a bother. They could do better work with their Colt’s
revolvers and their Remington carbines. Not even the officers wore
swords.
This was the “Lincoln column.” Up from Wyoming were marching the Crook
column—ten companies of the Third Cavalry, and five of the Second, and
six companies from the Fourth and the Ninth United States Infantry:
1300 men under General George Crook, the “Gray Fox” who had fought the
Apaches in Arizona. In from western Montana were marching the “Montana
column”—four companies of the Second Cavalry, and two of the Seventh
Infantry: 400 men under General John Gibbon, who had won rank and honor
in the Civil War. Twenty-seven hundred soldiers under three famous
generals ought to whip Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse.
The Lincoln column made first camp a short distance out from the fort.
Early the next morning Mrs. Custer and Mrs. Calhoun said good-by to
their husbands and friends and must go back to Lincoln.
As long as they were in sight they waved their handkerchiefs; the
general and Lieutenant Calhoun from their positions waved back. When
this ceased, then did it seem to Ned as though at last the campaign
into the enemy’s country had actually begun.