Part II

The War With the Sioux

CHAPTER ONE

With Crook’s Advance

I. The Cause of the Fighting

Late in 1876 the government determined that thereafter all Indians in

the Northwest must live on the reservations. For a long time the

Interior Department, to which the management of Indian affairs was

committed, had been trying in vain by peaceable means to induce them to

do this. The Indians were at last definitely informed that if they did

not come into the reservation by the first of January, 1876, and stay

there, the task of compelling them to do so would be turned over to the

War Department. They did not come in; on the contrary, many of those on

the reservations left them for the field; and thus the war began.

The principal adviser and most influential head man among the Sioux

Nation and its allied tribe, the Cheyennes, was Sitting Bull,[56] an

Unkpapa chief and a great medicine man. He does not seem to have been

much of a fighter. The Indians said he had a big head but a little

heart, and they esteemed him something of a coward; in spite of this,

his influence over the chiefs and the Indians was paramount, and

remained so until his death.

Perhaps he lacked the physical courage which is necessary in fighting,

but he must have had abundant moral courage, for he was the most

implacable enemy and the most dangerous—because of his ability, which

was so great as to overcome the Indians’ contempt for his lack of

personal courage—that the United States had ever had among the Indians.

He was a strategist, a tactician—everything but a fighter. However, his

lack of fighting qualities was not serious, for he gathered around him a

dauntless array of war chiefs, the first among them being Crazy Horse,

an Oglala, a skilful and indomitable, as well as a brave and ferocious,

leader.

The Sioux country was encircled by forts and agencies. The Missouri

River inclosed it on the east and north. On the south were the military

posts along the line of the Union Pacific Railroad. To the west were the

mountains. Sitting Bull and his followers took position in the valleys

of the Big Horn near the sources of the Powder River, right at the

center of the encircling forts and agencies. It was a situation whence

they could move directly upon the enemy in any direction as necessity

required.

For years unscrupulous and mercenary traders had supplied the savages

with high-grade firearms in spite of government protests. The Indians

were better armed than the soldiers, and possessed ammunition in plenty.

Their numbers in the field have been estimated at from twelve hundred to

six thousand warriors, with their wives and children. Those who have

studied the war from the Indian point of view have put the number at the

lower figure; nearly every one else at from three thousand up. Whatever

the facts, there were enough of them to give the United States Army the

busiest time that it had enjoyed since the Civil War.

Three expeditions were planned for the winter, which were to be launched

upon the Indians simultaneously. One, under General Gibbon, was to come

eastward from western Montana; another, under General Crook, was to

advance northward from southern Nebraska; and the third, under Custer,

was to strike westward from Fort Lincoln. It was believed that any one

of the three, each of which comprised more than a thousand men, would be

strong enough to defeat the Indians, the only problem being to catch

them or corner them.

The well-known disinclination of Indians to fight pitched battles is a

factor which enters largely into every campaign. Somehow or other, the

Indians in this campaign did not seem to be so disinclined that way. One

cannot but admire the skill with which they manœuvered and the courage

with which they fought. Putting aside all questions of their cruelty and

brutality—and what else could be expected from them?—they were patriots

fighting for the possession of their native land. Bravely they fought,

and well. They were fully apprised of the movements of the troops, and

resolved to attack them in severalty and beat them in detail. We shall

see how completely they did so, and with what brilliant success they

battled, until they were run down, worn out, scattered, killed, or

captured.

II. Reynolds’ Abortive Attempt

The weather was something frightful. Indeed, all through the ensuing

spring it was unprecedentedly inclement. Neither Custer’s expedition nor

Gibbon’s got away in winter. Crook did advance, and first came in touch

with the enemy with results not altogether satisfactory. General Joseph

J. Reynolds, with ten troops from the Second and Third Cavalry,

surprised and took possession of Crazy Horse’s village, on the Powder

River, on the morning of March 17, 1876. The troops had partially

destroyed the village while under a severe fire from the Indians who had

rallied on bluffs and hills round about it, when Reynolds abandoned the

position and retreated. He was, of course, pursued by the Indians, grown

bolder than before, if possible, as they saw the reluctant soldiers

giving up their hard-won prize.

So precipitate was Reynolds’ withdrawal, in fact, that the bodies of

several troopers who had been shot in the action were abandoned to the

malignity of the savages, and there was a persistent whisper, which will

not down, to the effect that one wounded man was also left behind.

As to this, an army officer of high rank personally stated to me that

Reynolds was in such a state of excitement, as the afternoon wore away

and Crook did not join him in the village, that he finally peremptorily

ordered the troops to mount and go away, in spite of the fact that the

work of destruction was not complete. This was bad enough, but my

informant solemnly asserted that Reynolds, in spite of plea and even

remonstrance, compelled him to leave behind a wounded trooper, who must

necessarily have been tortured by the Indians so soon as they reoccupied

the village. Captain Bourke has gone on record in his “On the Border

with Crook,” expressing his belief in the truth of this charge, which

forever stains the name of the commander of the expedition. The whole

affair was a disgrace to the army, and many of the officers of the

command, capable and brave men, felt it keenly. They chafed for a chance

to show their qualities, which they had later on.

The cold was intense, the temperature dropping to thirty degrees below

zero. The soldiers suffered greatly in the retreat. The Indians, who

seemed impervious to cold, pursued them and succeeded in recapturing

their pony herd of some seven hundred head, which Reynolds was

endeavoring to bring away with him. Crook, bringing up the infantry and

wagons, was furious when he met the retreating cavalry and heard its

story.

There were a number of courts-martial subsequently, but little came of

them, and the matter was finally allowed to drop upon the retirement or

resignation of some of the officers chiefly concerned. It was a

disgraceful affair, and all the honors rested with Crazy Horse. The

Indians were greatly encouraged. The loss of the troops was four men

killed and six wounded, and sixty-six men badly frozen or otherwise

incapacitated by the cold.

III. The March to the Tongue River

After the ignominious outcome of Reynolds’ attack upon the village of

Crazy Horse, the various expeditions noted spent the greater part of the

spring in preparing for the grand advance of the converging columns

which were to inclose the recalcitrant Indians in a cordon of soldiers,

force them back on the reservations, and thus, it was sincerely hoped,

end the war. It will be necessary to follow the movements of the several

columns separately. As that of Crook first came in contact with the

Indians, its history will be first discussed.

The reorganized command for the campaign, which assembled at Fort

Fetterman, Wyoming, included fifteen troops of cavalry—about nine

hundred men—ten of the Third, under command of Colonel Evans, and five

of the Second, under Major Noyes, the whole being under the command of

Colonel William B. Royall, of the Third.[57] There were also three

companies of the Ninth Infantry and two of the Fourth, a total of three

hundred men, under the command of Colonel Chambers.

There was an abundance of transportation, a long wagon train, and an

invaluable pack train. The troops were generously provided with

everything necessary for the hard work before them. It was the largest,

and it was believed to be the most efficient, force which had ever been

sent against the Indians in the West.

Crook, an officer of large experience, especially in Indian fighting,

assumed personal command of the expedition on the 28th of May, 1876. On

the 29th the march began. The objects of the campaign were the villages

of Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull, which were believed to be somewhere on

the Rosebud River. The topography of that country is well known now, but

then it was more or less of a terra incognita—rather more than less, by

the way. Certainly, this was true after the Tongue River was reached.

The advance was made at first up the Bozeman trail, past Fort Reno, and

over the battle-fields around the ruins of abandoned and destroyed Fort

Phil Kearney, which were objects of much interest to the soldiers.

On the 9th of June the army encamped on the south side of the Tongue

River, near the point where that stream intersects the Montana boundary

line. Crazy Horse[58] had been fully advised by disaffected Indians at

the agencies and military posts, as well as by his own daring scouts, of

all these preparations that were being made to overwhelm him. He had

sent to Crook a specific warning not to cross the Tongue River, and

declared his intent to attack him immediately he reached that stream. To

prove that his threat was no idle boast, he mustered his warriors, and

at half after six o’clock on the evening of the 9th, from the high

bluffs on the other side, opened fire upon the camp.

Through a fortunate mistake the Indians directed their fire to the tents

of the camp, imagining that they would be full of men. They happened to

be empty. The Sioux soon got the range, and the camp was swept with

bullets. They ripped open mess chests, shattered the sides of the

wagons, destroyed the baggage, killed a few horses, but did little

damage to the men.[59]

The Third Cavalry was divided into three battalions, one of four, and

two of three troops each. Captain Mills commanded the first battalion,

Captain Henry the second, Captain Van Vliet the third. Crook acted

promptly. He sent forward three companies of his infantry, deploying

them as skirmishers, to line the river bank and open fire on the Indians

in plain view on the bluff on the other side. At the same time he

ordered Captain Mills to take his battalion across the river and charge

the enemy. The Sioux were already unsettled by the accurate fire of the

infantry with their long-range rifles, and as Mills’ battalion deployed,

dashed through the water and at the steep bluffs on the other side, they

broke and fled, having suffered little or no loss, and not having

inflicted much more.

IV. The Flying Column

The skirmish was simply a grim earnest of the determined purpose of the

Indian chief. No pursuit was attempted at that time. Negotiations had

been entered into between the Crows, who were the hereditary enemies of

the Sioux, and the Shoshones, with a view to securing a body of Indian

auxiliaries to the troops, whose services would be invaluable for

scouting. Persuaded thereto by Frank Gruard,[60] a celebrated scout,

something less than two hundred Crows, with eighty odd Shoshones, joined

the army on the 15th of June.

To pursue Indians while incumbered with infantry and a wagon train was

well nigh a hopeless task. Crook determined to park the wagons and

baggage, leave them under the command of Major Furey, the quartermaster,

strip his command to the lightest marching order, and make a dash for

the Rosebud River and the Indian country. One hundred infantrymen,

protesting most vehemently against their orders, to their credit, be it

said, were detailed to remain with the train. Two hundred others, who

professed to have some skill in riding, were mounted on the mules of the

wagon train to accompany the cavalry.

The morning of the 15th was spent in accustoming the infantrymen to the

mules and the mules to the infantrymen. The cavalrymen and the Indian

allies enjoyed the circus which ensued when the mules were bridled and

saddled for the first time, and mounted by men who had never before

straddled anything more formidable than a fence rail. It took the whole

morning before the infantrymen and the mules learned to get along with

each other, even in a half-hearted way.

At five A.M., on the 16th, the force, numbering a little less than

eleven hundred men, with two hundred and fifty Indian auxiliaries,

crossed the Tongue River and marched to the Rosebud.[61] They bivouacked

that night on the banks of the Rosebud, on a level depression surrounded

by low bluffs on all sides, forming a sort of natural amphitheater, on

the top of which the pickets were stationed. Each man carried four days’

rations of hardtack, coffee, and bacon in his saddle-bags and one

hundred rounds of ammunition upon his person. The pack train was limited

to two mules carrying the medical supplies. There being little to do at

the wagon camp on Goose Creek, a number of mule packers, led by a

veteran, Tom Moore, accompanied the expedition to help the foot soldiers

to manage their mules, and incidentally to take part in the fighting.

There were no tents, of course, and but one blanket (a single blanket at

that) for each man. This blanket barely kept off the heavy dew, and the

night was a thoroughly uncomfortable one.

At three A.M. on the 17th of June reveillé was sounded. After breakfast

and the care of the horses and mules, six o’clock found the troops on

the march down the Rosebud. At eight o’clock they halted and unsaddled

their animals to give them a nibble of grass and a little rest,

preparatory to a farther advance later on, while the Crows and Shoshones

were sent on ahead to scout. The place in which they had stopped was an

amphitheater, like their camp ground of the night before, a rolling bit

of boggy prairie, inclosed on all sides by bluffs, every point being

within rifle shot of the center. Through this amphitheater ran the

Rosebud River, here a mere creek, its general direction being from west

to east. Toward the east side of the amphitheater the creek was diverted

to the left, the northeastward, and plunged into a gloomy and forbidding

cañon, called the Dead Cañon of the Rosebud. The course of the river was

marked by a rank undergrowth of grass, small trees, etc.

Mills’ battalion of the Third Cavalry halted on the south bank of the

creek. In rear of Mills was Noyes’ battalion of the Second Cavalry.

Across the creek were Henry’s and Van Vliet’s battalions of the Third

Cavalry, the mounted infantrymen, and the small pack train with the

packers. Crook desired to keep his movements secret, but it had been

impossible to restrain the impetuosity of the Indian auxiliaries the day

before. They had come across a herd of buffalo and had made great

slaughter of the helpless animals, killing one hundred and fifty of

them, for which they had no use at all. It is certain that so able a

general as Crazy Horse had scouts watching Crook all the time, and would

have discovered his advance in any event; but with all the noise made by

the Indians in the buffalo hunt, there was no possibility of a surprise.

As a matter of fact, it was Crazy Horse who began the game. Crook was

ready for him.

V. The Battle of the Rosebud

About half after eight o’clock in the morning, the resting soldiers were

called to attention by the sound of shots from the bluffs in front of

them, over which their allies had disappeared. It was at first supposed

that these friendly Indians had run across another herd of buffalo, but

a few moments told the practised troopers that the firing was the

beginning of a battle rather than that of a hunt. At the same time the

Indian auxiliaries came galloping back to the main body at full speed,

yelling:

“Sioux, Sioux! Heap Sioux!”

Without waiting for orders, the troopers saddled their horses and fell

in. They got ready none too soon, for right on the heels of the fleeing

Crows and Shoshones came the Sioux. In front of them to the right, the

left, the low bluffs inclosing the plain, were ringed with Indians in

full war-gear. As one observer described it to me, they looked like

swarms of blackbirds, there were so many of them and in such rapid

motion. They kept coming and coming into view, and as they dashed up to

the brink of the hills upon their war ponies they opened a long-range

fire upon the soldiers, which from the distance did little damage. There

were at least a thousand of them in plain sight. How many others there

might be, no one could tell. It was a safe guess that those in sight

constituted but a small part of the force.

It is said that there were at least six thousand warriors that day under

the command of Crazy Horse, but that most of them were not engaged.

Crazy Horse had planned an ambush for General Crook, and he had hoped to

defeat him by luring the soldiers into it, or by separating the army

into small detachments and overwhelming them in detail. His plans were

well devised, and came very near being successful. That they did not

succeed is probably due more to the acts of the Indians themselves than

because of the wariness of the soldiers.

[Illustration:

_Courtesy of The Century Co._

THE DIFFICULT TASK OF THE HORSE-HOLDERS IN ACTION

_Drawing by Frederic Remington_

]

Crook acted at once. Sending his staff officers to rally the Crows and

Shoshones, he directed them to circle to the right and left, and make

ready to fall on the flanks of the Indians. Mills, who had behaved so

gallantly at the Tongue River, was ordered to charge the Indians

straight up the valley to the bluff to the northward, the front. Two

troops of Van Vliet’s squadron were rushed off to the southward, the

rear, to seize a commanding position to prevent the Indians from

circling around in that direction and getting in Crook’s rear. The

infantry and part of the Second Cavalry were dismounted, and thrown

forward as skirmishers around the foot of the bluffs. Royall took

Henry’s battalion, with Van Vliet’s remaining troop, one of Mills’

troops which he detached while the battalion was on the gallop, and

another of Noyes’ troops, and charged the Indians on the left.

Mills’ charge was most gallantly delivered. The soldiers struggled

through the bog, raced across the bottom land for about eight hundred

yards, and scrambled up the bluffs in twenty minutes, finding

themselves, when they reached the top, within fifty paces of the Sioux.

There was no time to use carbines. Firing revolvers, the battalion

rushed at the Indians. The savages fired ineffectively, gave way, and

fled instantly to higher ground six hundred yards further on, where they

opened fire. In their excitement they shot badly. Mills dismounted his

battalion, deployed them as skirmishers, rushed the second ridge and

cleared it, the Indians sullenly retiring before him, and again opened

fire on the troops, to which the cavalrymen made effective reply. The

Sioux galloped rapidly to and fro, yelling and firing from their horses,

kicking up clouds of dust, but doing little harm.

Royall, Henry, and Van Vliet had a similar success on the left, where

the ground was much more open and unfavorable for defense, although the

Indians were massed more heavily in that quarter than before Mills.

Meanwhile the Crows and Shoshones had fallen upon the flanks of the

Sioux, but not very effectively. Every one in the field except a small

reserve was now hotly engaged. The pressure on Mills became stronger,

but he drove the Indians from him by another gallant attack. Thereafter

he was reinforced by Noyes’ battalion. The front of his line was finally

partially cleared by this last dash. The Indians who had been attacking

him thereupon left him, and joined the others before Royall and Henry.

Crook now withdrew Mills’ command from the battlefield, and Mills was

ordered to take his three troops down the Dead Cañon of the Rosebud and

attack the villages which it was believed the Indians were defending.

Mills’ movements were supported by the five troops of the Second Cavalry

under Noyes. Crook promised to follow up the movement, and support it

with the remaining cavalry and infantry. We will follow this movement

later.

Mills’ place in the line was occupied by Tom Moore and his packers and

some other auxiliaries from the camp, and a smart fire was kept up in

that direction. On the left the firing was fast and furious. The Indians

from the front cleared by Mills joined their associates on the left, and

again and again attacked Royall, Henry, and Van Vliet, who had joined

the other two, with the most determined courage. Charge and counter

charge were made over that portion of the field. Now the troops gave way

before the Indian advance, now the soldiers were rallied and hurled back

the Indians, now the Indians retreated before some desperate

countercharge. So went the varying fortunes of the hour. The number of

savages increased with every passing moment. To the eyes of the

astonished soldiers they seemed to spring from the ground. If one fell

in the line, a dozen were ready to take his place.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF THE ROSEBUD]

In one of the charges Captain Henry was shot through the face and

frightfully wounded. The troopers had dismounted, but the officers

remained mounted. Henry reeled in his saddle as the bullet pierced both

his cheek bones and tore out the whole front of his face below the eyes.

Although, as an eye-witness has it, he was spitting blood by the

handful, he continued on the battle line. The situation of Royall’s wing

of Crook’s army was precarious. Henry’s battalion held the extreme left

flank. It was his duty to remain there. Vroom’s troop L, of the Third

Cavalry, had become separated from the main body during the battle, and

was caught ahead of the line and surrounded by Indians, in imminent

danger of annihilation. Crook had ordered Royall to bring his men back

to their horses, in order to mount them and prepare for a general

charge. The Indians took this movement for a retreat, and came dashing

after the retrograding troopers. Only the cool courage of Royall and

Henry, and the magnificent way in which they handled their forces when

they went forward to the rescue, prevented the annihilation of Vroom’s

troops.

It was in the midst of this operation that Henry received his fearful

wound and stayed on the line.[62] Presently he fell from his horse. As

he did so, the soldiers, dismayed by his fall, began to give back before

the Sioux. The impetuous Indians charged over the place where Henry lay.

Fortunately, he was not struck by the hoofs of the galloping horses. His

men rallied and rushed to his rescue. Old Chief Washakie and his

Shoshones at this period of the fighting displayed splendid courage. The

fight actually raged over the body of Captain Henry until the Indians

were driven off, and Henry was rescued from what would otherwise have

been certain death. After this fierce struggle, part breaking through

the line and part turning the flank, the Indians galloped down the

valley between the river and the troops, and finally disappeared on the

other side of the Dead Cañon, their retreat accelerated by the movement

of Mills toward the village. The fighting had lasted a little more than

two hours.

VI. Mills’ Advance down the Cañon

Meanwhile Mills and his men, in a column of twos, trotted down the

gloomy depths of the Dead Cañon, the rocky walls of which, towering on

either side, would have afforded abundant cover for Indian riflemen.

Before entering the cañon, they had cleared the mouth of it of a body of

Sioux by a smart charge, and they were thereafter unmolested. They

advanced rapidly but with caution, although what they could have done if

attacked it is hard to see, and how caution would have saved them it is

difficult to tell. They had their orders to go through the cañon and

attack the village. There was nothing to do but obey. Sending them

forward was a mistake which might have resulted in a terrible disaster,

although nobody believed that then. The soldiers had not yet realized

what fighters these Indians were. The Custer disaster was still to come,

and no one imagined that so large a body as that commanded by Mills and

Noyes could be defeated. If Crook had followed with his whole force, the

troops under his command would have been annihilated; it is probable

that not one of them would have come out of that cañon.

When Crook began to prepare to follow Mills with the rest of his force,

he discovered that he had a much larger number of wounded than he had

thought possible, and the doctors protested against their being left

with a feeble guard while Crook with the best of the force went up the

cañon. The protest was justified by the situation. Besides, the attack

on Royall and Henry had not yet ceased. Crook reflected, concluded that

he could not leave the field, and that Mills’ force was too weak for the

work assigned it. The general thereupon despatched Captain Nickerson, of

his staff, attended by a single orderly, at the imminent peril of their

lives, with orders to ride after Mills and tell him to leave the cañon,

defile to the left, and rejoin him at once. Crook hoped that Mills, on

his return to the field, might succeed in getting in the rear of any

Indians who might be lurking in the hills before Royall’s shattered

line.

So rapid had been Mills’ movements, that Nickerson, although going at

the full speed of his horse, did not overtake him until he had

penetrated some seven miles down the cañon. Fortunately for all

concerned, the command had halted where a cross cañon made an opening

toward the west, and on that side the cañon was so broken and so sloping

that it could be scaled by the troopers. Firing was heard to the front,

and the Indians were detected massing to attack Mills’ detachment. A

halt had been ordered for the purpose of making final preparations for

the attack.

“Mills,” said Nickerson, as he came galloping up, “Royall has been badly

handled—there are many wounded. Henry is severely hurt, and Vroom’s

troop is all cut up. The General orders that you and Noyes defile by

your left flank out of this cañon and return to the field at once. He

cannot move out to support you and the rest on account of the wounded.”

Never was order more unwelcome. The officers at the head of the column

urged Mills to go on. The Indian village was in sight. Crook could not

have known how near they were, or he would not have recalled them.

Mills, however, was a thorough soldier. In his mind orders were to be

obeyed, and he silenced the objectors and advisers, and did as he was

directed, although with great disappointment and reluctance. Never was

obedience better justified. General Mills admits now that, had he

disobeyed Crook, his command would have been annihilated.

The cañon was the mouth of Crazy Horse’s trap. A short distance farther

on, it ended in a great dam covered with broken logs, making a dangerous

abattis. Here the main body of the Indians had been massed. Here they

expected, seeing the confident advance of the eight troops of cavalry up

the cañon, to fall upon them and kill them all, which they might easily

have done. Nickerson got there just in time.

Mills instantly turned to the left and led his troops up the broken wall

of the cañon to the high ground on the farther side; fortunately, he had

been overtaken at about the very point where the ascent was practicable

for troops. Presently the detachment rejoined the main body, their

progress being unmolested.

There were ten soldiers killed and twenty-seven seriously wounded,

besides a great number of slightly wounded. Most of the casualties were

in Royall’s command, Vroom’s troop having lost heavily while it was in

such peril.

Crook camped for the night on the battle-field. The dead were buried,

the wounded looked after temporarily, and the next morning the soldiers

withdrew. They went back to their camp at Goose Creek and stayed there.

The battle was in one sense a victory for the white soldiers, in that

they drove the Indians from the field, forcing them back at least five

miles. In another, and a larger and more definite sense, it was a

decided victory for Crazy Horse. He had fought Crook to a standstill. He

had forced him back to his base of supplies. He had stopped the farther

progress of that expedition. He had protected his villages and had

withdrawn his army in good order.

If Mills’ command had not been recalled, it is certain that it would

have been annihilated. As it was, the Indians had done remarkably well.

Crazy Horse, free from further apprehension of pursuit by Crook for the

present, had leisure to turn his attention to the other two expeditions,

which there is no doubt he was well aware had been launched against him.

While technically it was perhaps a drawn battle, as a feat of arms the

battle of the Rosebud must go down to the credit of the Indians. It was

more like a pitched battle than any that had been fought west of the

Missouri heretofore. The individual officers and soldiers of the army

did splendidly; so did the Indians. Mills had displayed commendable dash

and daring in all his charges. Royall, Henry and Van Vliet, and Chambers

with the infantry, had fought skilfully and bravely against an

overwhelming force. Crook’s dispositions were good on the field, and

were well carried out by his subordinates. The same may be said of Crazy

Horse, his subchiefs, and their warriors.

Crook had nearly exhausted his ammunition in the hard fighting, the

larger part of his supplies had been expended, and he had a number of

very seriously wounded on his hands. There was not one chance in a

thousand that he could catch the Indians now. There was nothing left for

him to do but go back to the main camp, send his wounded back to Fort

Fetterman for treatment, order up more supplies and more troops, and

await a favorable opportunity to attack again.

To anticipate events, it may be noted that, owing to the disaster to

Terry’s column, Crook did not advance until August.

-----

Footnote 56:

Tatá ^nka I yotá ^nka, according to a letter from Mr. W. H. Holmes,

Chief of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution.

Footnote 57:

General King, in his fascinating book, “Campaigning with Crook,” has

preserved a characteristic anecdote of Royall, which I venture to

quote as illustrating the way they have in the army, and as throwing

some light on the temperament of the peppery old fighter:

“A story is going the rounds about Royall that does us all good, even

in that dismal weather. A day or two before, so it was told, Royall

ordered one of his battalion commanders to ‘put that battalion in camp

on the other side of the river, facing east.’ A prominent and

well-known characteristic of the subordinate officer referred to was a

tendency to split hairs, discuss orders, and, in fine, to make trouble

where there was a ghost of a chance of so doing unpunished. Presently

the colonel saw that his instructions were not being carried out, and,

not being in a mood for indirect action, he put spurs to his horse,

dashed through the stream, and reined up alongside the victim with:

“’Didn’t I order you, sir, to put your battalion in camp along the

river, facing east?’

“’Yes, sir; but this ain’t a river. It’s only a creek.’

“’Creek be d—d, sir! It’s a river—a river from this time forth, _by

order_, sir. Now do as I tell you!’

“There was no further delay.”

Footnote 58:

“Crazy Horse was the personification of savage ferocity; though

comparatively a young man, he was of a most restless and adventurous

disposition, and had arrived at great renown among the warriors, even

before he was twenty-six years of age. In fact, he had become the war

chief of the southern Sioux and the recognized leader of the hostile

Oglalas.”—“Personal Recollections of General Nelson A. Miles, U. S.

A.”

Footnote 59:

One bullet smashed the pipe of a small camp stove in Captain Mills’

tent. When the Eastern papers learned the interesting fact that Mills’

stovepipe had been smashed, that gallant officer was severely

censured, and much ridicule was heaped upon him, under the impression

that he wore a “stovepipe” hat in action. By the way, when Captain

Broke, of the British frigate _Shannon_, boarded the American frigate

_Chesapeake_, Captain Lawrence, in the War of 1812, he wore just such

a hat!

Footnote 60:

“Frank Gruard, a native of the Sandwich Islands, was for some years a

mail rider in northern Montana, and was there captured by the forces

of ‘Crazy Horse’; his dark skin and general appearance gave his

captors the impression that Frank was a native Indian, whom they had

recaptured from the whites; consequently, they did not kill him, but

kept him a prisoner until he could recover what they believed to be

his native tongue—the Sioux. Frank remained several years in the

household of the great chief ‘Crazy Horse,’ whom he knew very well, as

well as his medicine man, the since renowned ‘Sitting Bull.’ Gruard

was one of the most remarkable woodsmen I have ever met; no Indian

could surpass him in his intimate acquaintance with all that pertained

to the topography, animal life, and other particulars of the great

region between the head of the Piney, the first affluent of the Powder

on the west, up to and beyond the Yellowstone on the north; no

question could be asked him that he could not answer at once and

correctly. His bravery and fidelity were never questioned; he never

flinched under fire, and never growled at privation.”—“On the Border

with Crook,” Captain John G. Bourke.

Footnote 61:

So called from the quantity of wild roses which grew along its banks

in season.

Footnote 62:

For a sketch of General Henry and an account of his experiences in

this battle and elsewhere, see the last chapter of this book.

CHAPTER TWO

Ex-Trooper Towne on the Rosebud Fight

I am afraid that any attempt on my part to comply with your request will

be a very feeble attempt to describe to you the Battle of the Rosebud,

which took place on June 17th, 1876. There are many men living who

participated in that battle who can describe more fully and more

comprehensively than I the details of that day. However, I will do my

best.

On the 16th day of June, 1876, General Crook with his command was camped

on the Tongue River awaiting the arrival of three hundred Crow and

Shoshone Indians to be used as scouts, under Frank Gruard, a noted scout

of the Indian country, it being Crook’s intention thoroughly to scout

the whole country from the Powder and Tongue Rivers north to the

Yellowstone, and to co-operate with the other columns in the field under

Custer, Terry, and Gibbon.

At about five P.M. on the afternoon of June 16th the three hundred

scouts came into our camp, and shortly afterward General Crook gave

orders to the command to prepare for a night march. Extra ammunition and

extra rations were issued, and at about eight P.M. we broke camp and

mounted into the saddle to commence our march into the Indian country,

which was overrun by the Oglalas, Brulés, Unkpapas, and Miniconjous, the

four most powerful tribes of Sioux Indians on the plains, for it is to

be remembered that the whole Sioux Nation had left their reservations

and was then on the war-path.

General Crook had, on the morning of the 16th, sent out scouts to find

and report any Indian signs that might be found. Numerous signs were

found which indicated that a large party of Indians had recently passed

that way going in a northerly direction, with the evident intention of

joining those from the Brulé agency on the Yellowstone. It was General

Crook’s purpose to cut them off. Thus the forced march of the night of

the 16th.[63]

After a long and tiresome journey of all night, about seven A.M. of the

17th Indians were seen on the hills to our front and left who were

evidently watching our movements. It was reported to General Crook by

the scouts that we had gotten into a country that was completely alive

with hostile Indians and that we were near an immense Indian camp.

General Crook at about 7.30 A.M. went into camp with the intention of

making another night march and, if possible, overtake their camp the

next day. As we had been in the saddle all night, men and horses needed

a few hours rest.

After going into camp we unsaddled and put our horses to graze, but

first hobbling them to prevent any stampede that might be attempted.

While we were putting our horses to graze the whole range of hills in

our front became literally alive with Indians, and at the same time the

Crow and Shoshone Indians with us commenced their warlike preparations

by daubing themselves with war paint and riding their ponies in a circle

one behind the other, and at the same time singing their war songs.

After riding in this manner a short while, the circle broke and the

whole group of Indian scouts charged up the hill toward their enemies.

It is a well known fact that the Sioux and Crow Indians were enemies

toward each other at that time. I have seen the Crow Indians shoot

buffalo and let them lie where they fell, not even undertaking to remove

the hide, because, they would say, “Sioux Buffalo no good,” which

indicated that as the Sioux Indians were their enemies, so were the

buffalo found in the Sioux country their enemies also. Everything in the

Sioux country was an enemy to the Crow Indian.

While our Indians were making their charge upon the Sioux, General Crook

gave orders to saddle up, for well he knew that a battle was on hand.

After we had saddled and formed in line, my troop, F, Third Cavalry,[64]

was placed on the left flank of the command, and it with two other

troops were detailed as skirmishers and were ordered to make a flank

movement to our left and gain the hills, where we dismounted, leaving

each fourth trooper to hold the horses. We then formed the skirmish line

on foot, which was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Royall.

At this time I witnessed a most daring act by a bugler by the name of

Snow, who was carrying a despatch from General Crook to Colonel Royall.

General Crook was stationed on one of the hills to our right, near the

center of the line,[65] where he could view all that was taking place.

Wishing to send an order to Colonel Royall, he directed his orderly,

Bugler Snow, to carry it with all haste. The most direct route was down

a steep hill and across a level plain and then up another hill, where

Colonel Royall was. All chances of reaching there alive were against

him.

When I saw him he was coming as fast as his horse could carry him, while

two Indians were after him with the intention of capturing him. Seeing

that they could not capture him, they finished the game by shooting at

him, and proved their good marksmanship as poor Snow fell from his

horse, shot through both arms, but he delivered his orders all right.

After remaining on the skirmish line for perhaps two hours, we were

ordered to fall back and remount our horses to take a new position (our

horses were held in check in a ravine), as it was impossible to hold our

present position against such overwhelming odds. I must say that I never

saw so great a body of Indians in one place as I saw at that time, and I

have seen a great many Indians in my time. It seemed that if one Indian

was shot five were there to take his place. If we had remained in our

first position we would all have been killed, and I consider that we

retreated in the right time.

I had not gone more than one third of the distance from our position to

where the horses were when I overtook three other soldiers of my own

troop carrying a sergeant by the name of Marshall, who had been shot

through the face. I knew that time was precious and none to lose. I

could not give them the cold shoulder by passing them without giving a

helping hand. Glancing back, I saw the hostiles coming over the hill. I

said to the others, “Quick, here they come!”

At that instant my comrades, to save themselves, dropped the wounded

sergeant and hastened to their horses. The sergeant, seeing that I was

the only one left, said:

“Save yourself if you can, because I am dying. Don’t stay with me.” I

replied:

“Dave, old boy, I am going to stay right here with you and will not

desert you.”

Grasping him with all my strength, I carried my comrade until it was

useless to carry him any farther, for he was dead. I then laid him down

and left him and hurried to get away.

I don’t think that I had gone more than ten yards when I was surrounded

by about twenty or more of the most murderous looking Indians I ever

saw. You can talk of seeing devils; here they were in full form, painted

in the most terrifying manner, some with their war bonnets adorned with

horns of steers and buffalo. It was enough to strike terror to anyone’s

heart.

I knew that my time had come, I knew that I would be taken prisoner. I

fought, but it was fighting against terrible odds. There I was down in

that ravine, alone and in the midst of a lot of murderous savages.

Taking my carbine from me and throwing a lariat over my head and

tightening it about my feet, I was helpless. This was all done in an

instant, while I struggled and fought in vain, until I was struck on the

head with something which rendered me unconscious and caused me to fall.

As I went down a bullet struck me in the body.

I think that when the bullet struck me I regained my consciousness,

because I realized I was being dragged at a lively pace over the ground

by a pony at the other end of the lariat. It was, I think, the intention

of the Indians either to drag me to death at the heels of the pony or

after getting me away to torture me in some other manner.

They captured one other comrade of mine by the name of Bennett, of L

Troop, Third Cavalry, and completely cut him in pieces. His remains were

buried in a grain sack.

After I was dragged in this manner for some distance, my captors were

charged by one of the troops of cavalry, and to save themselves from

capture abandoned me and made their escape. Thus was I enabled to regain

my liberty.

I was immediately sent to the field hospital, and three days later I,

with eighteen other wounded men, was sent to the post hospital at Fort

Fetterman. You ask in your letter did I get a medal of honor for trying

to get my sergeant away. I am very sorry to say that I did not, although

I do think that even at this late day had I some one who would speak a

good word in my behalf I think that my case would be taken up and that I

might get one.[66]

I receive a very small pension for the wound received in this Indian

battle, and that is all my recompense.

Hoping that this narrative of my experience in the Battle of the Rosebud

may be of interest, I have the honor to remain,

Yours sincerely,

PHINEAS TOWNE.

St. Louis, Mo.

-----

Footnote 63:

Trooper Towne is in error here; there was no night march, according to

Captain Bourke. See his “On the Border with Crook.” See also “War Path

and Bivouac,” by Finerty.—C. T. B.

Footnote 64:

This troop was commanded by Lieutenant Reynolds, and was in Henry’s

battalion.—C. T. B.

Footnote 65:

Crook was right in the fighting; his horse was shot under him.—C. T.

B.

Footnote 66:

The official records show that Marshall was killed and Towne wounded

in the battle. If this account falls under the eye of any one in

authority, I trust an investigation may be made, and that the medal

may be awarded, if it has been earned.—C. T. B.

CHAPTER THREE

The Grievance of Rain-in-the-Face

I. The Yellowstone Expedition of 1873

Having thus disposed of the most formidable column, Crook’s, in so

summary and so effective a manner, the Indians under their able

leadership turned their attention to Custer and Gibbon.

Before the Little Big Horn campaign is discussed, however, in order the

better to understand the most terribly dramatic episode in the most

disastrous of our Indian battles, it will be necessary to go back a

little and take up the thread of the discourse later.

The country watered by the Yellowstone and its affluents, traversed by

the Black Hills and other ranges of mountains, and protected by the

almost impassable Bad Lands in Dakota, had been up to 1873 practically a

terra incognita. However, the Northern Pacific Railroad was even then

surveying a route across it. Gold had been discovered, and miners and

settlers were crowding in. The Indians, since the treaty of 1868, which

had resulted in the abandonment of Fort Phil Kearney and the other

posts, had been ugly in mood and troublesome in action. They welcomed

neither railroad nor men.

An expedition of some seventeen hundred men under General Stanley was

sent into the country in 1873. Custer and the Seventh Cavalry formed a

large part of the command. There were no guides. The country, especially

in the Bad Lands, was a terrible one to cross, and Custer volunteered to

take two troops of cavalry and ride some miles ahead of the main body

every day to mark a road. Custer possessed a faculty for this sort of

work which was simply marvelous. He was a born pathfinder, better even

than Frémont.

On the 4th of August he left camp at five o’clock in the morning with

the troops of Moylan and Tom Custer, eighty-six men, five officers, and

a favorite Arikara scout, called Bloody Knife. At ten A.M., reaching the

crest of some bluffs along the river bank, they saw spread before them a

beautiful village, through which the river gently meandered between the

tree-clad banks. They advanced two miles up the valley, and made camp

under the trees for a noonday rest. They had come at a smart pace and

were far ahead of the main column, which was out of sight in the rear.

The passage through the valley was easy, and there was no necessity for

them to press on. The weather was hot. After picketing the horses,

partaking of their noonday meal and posting sentries, officers and men

threw themselves on the grass and fell asleep.

At one o’clock the sentry on the edge of the timber gave the alarm. A

small party of Indians was approaching, in the hope of stampeding the

horses. All Indian attacks begin that way. After the horses are

stampeded the soldiers have to fight where they are, and, as the Indians

are mounted, the dismounted troopers are at a disadvantage. Custer was

on his feet in an instant, shouting:

“Run to your horses, men!”

The troopers were no less alert. Before the Indians could stampede the

horses, each man had reached his animal and led him back into the

timber. A few shots drove off the little party of savages, the horses

were saddled, and the men moved out. As they did so, six mounted Indians

appeared on the crest of a little hill. Custer led the way toward them.

They retreated slowly, keeping just out of range. In this manner they

drew the soldiers some two miles up the valley.

Finally, in the hope of getting near to them, Custer took twenty men,

with his brother and Lieutenant Varnum in command, and rode out some two

hundred yards ahead of the remainder under Captain Moylan, who were

directed to keep that distance in rear of the advance. Custer,

accompanied only by an orderly, rode about the same distance ahead of

the advance, making peace signs to the six Indians whom they had

pursued. As he approached nearer to them, their pace slackened and they

suddenly stopped.

To the left of the soldiers was a thick wood. It occurred to Custer that

Indians might be concealed therein, and he sent his orderly back to the

advance to caution them to be on their guard. Scarcely had the orderly

reached the advance when the Indians they had been pursuing turned and

came at full gallop toward Custer, now alone in the valley. At the same

instant, with a terrific war whoop, three or four hundred splendidly

mounted Sioux burst out from the trees on the left.

Custer was riding a magnificent thoroughbred. In a second he was racing

for his life toward the advance-guard. The Indians had two objects in

view. They wanted to intercept Custer and also cut off the advance party

from Moylan’s men, who were coming up at a gallop. Only the speed of

Custer’s horse saved his life. As he galloped toward them, he shouted to

Tom Custer to dismount his men. He was not heard in the confusion, but

young Custer knew exactly what to do. While five men held the horses,

the other fifteen threw themselves on the ground. On came the Indians

after Custer. As soon as they were within easy range, the dismounted men

blazed away right in their faces. The troopers were armed with

breech-loaders, and the first volley was succeeded by a second. Several

of the savages were hit and many of their horses. They reeled, swerved,

and Custer rejoined his men. A few moments after, Moylan came up with

the main body.

Custer now dismounted most of his men, and keeping a bold front to the

Indians, retreated in the timber, fighting hard all the way. Reaching

the river, they made good their defense. The Indians tried all their

devices to get them out. They set fire to the grass, but it was green

and did not burn readily. All their efforts to dislodge the troopers

failed, and late in the afternoon a heavy squadron came up on the gallop

from the main body under Stanley and put them to flight. It was a sharp

affair, and the Indians suffered severely.

The only losses to the expedition on that day were two civilians: Doctor

Honzinger, a fat old German, who was the veterinarian of the regiment,

and Mr. Baliran, the sutler. They were both quiet, inoffensive,

peaceable men, very much liked, especially the doctor. They were amateur

naturalists, and frequently wandered away from the main body on

botanizing excursions. They had done so that morning, following Custer’s

advance, and the Indians had fallen upon them and murdered them. It was

the discovery of the remains of these two men which had caused General

Stanley to despatch the cavalry to the relief of the advance.

Bitter was the anger of the officers and men over this murder of unarmed

non-combatants, and deep and abiding was their thirst for vengeance on

the Indians who perpetrated it.

II. The Capture of Rain-in-the-Face

The next year, 1874, the Seventh Cavalry being stationed at Fort Abraham

Lincoln, near Bismarck, on the upper Missouri, word was brought to

Custer by a scout that a famous Sioux, called by the picturesque name of

Rain-in-the-Face, was at Standing Rock Agency, some twenty miles away,

boasting that he had killed Doctor Honzinger and Mr. Baliran.

Rain-in-the-Face was already a renowned warrior, of more than ordinary

courage. That he should have left the hostiles under Sitting Bull to

come to the agency was a thing implying peculiar bravery; and that he

should there openly boast of the murder was even more extraordinary.

Custer immediately determined upon his capture, although to effect it

would be a matter of difficulty and danger.

The agency was filled with Indians waiting for the issue of rations;

and, though they were on a peaceable errand, they were always unruly,

insubordinate, and on the alert. Captain Yates and Captain Tom Custer,

with one hundred troopers, were detailed to make the arrest. The arrival

of one hundred men at the agency instantly excited the suspicion of the

Indians. To divert it from the real object, Captain Yates ostentatiously

detached a lieutenant with fifty men to ride to some villages ten miles

away in quest of certain Indians who had some time before raided a

settlement and run off some stock, killing the herders. With the

remainder he purposed to wait for the return of the detachment.

Meanwhile it was learned from a scout that Rain-in-the-Face was in the

sutler’s store.

Tom Custer, with five picked men, was ordered to enter the store and

make the arrest. The store was full of Indians. The weather was very

cold, and the Indians kept their blankets well around their faces. It

was impossible to tell one from another. Tom Custer had received a good

description of Rain-in-the-Face, however, but it availed him nothing

under the circumstances. He and his men, therefore, mingled freely with

the Indians from time to time, making small purchases of the sutler to

divert suspicion as they lounged about the store. They deceived the

savages entirely, in spite of their watchful scrutiny and suspicion. At

last one Indian dropped his blanket and stepped to the counter, either

to speak to the trader or to make a purchase.

It was Rain-in-the-Face. Custer recognized him immediately. Stepping

behind him, he threw his arms about him and seized him in an iron grasp.

The Indian, who had observed the movement too late, attempted to fire

his Winchester; but Custer was too quick for him. The five troopers

sprang to the side of their captain, disarmed Rain-in-the-Face, and

presented their guns to the astonished and infuriated Indians. The room

was filled with seething excitement in a moment. The Indians surged

toward the troopers, and perhaps would have made short work of them, had

not Captain Yates at this juncture entered the room with a detail of his

men.

[Illustration:

THE CAPTURE OF RAIN-IN-THE-FACE

_Drawing by E. W. Demian_

]

Rain-in-the-Face, a magnificent specimen of Indian manhood, had ceased

to struggle the moment he was convinced that it was unavailing. He was

led outside, securely bound and mounted on a horse. The troopers were

assembled, and in spite of threats and menaces by the Indians, who did

not venture to attack, they started back to Fort Lincoln with their

prisoner.

Messengers were sped in every direction to the different bands of

Indians to mass a force to release Rain-in-the-Face, who was a man of

such importance, being the brother of Iron Horse, one of the principal

chiefs of the Unkpapas, that no price was counted too great to secure

his liberty; indeed, before starting, they had offered Yates two

warriors in exchange for him. The rapidity with which the troops moved

was such that the prisoner was safely imprisoned at Fort Lincoln before

anything could be done.

Rain-in-the-Face stubbornly refused to say anything for a day or two,

but finally made full confession that he had shot Mr. Baliran and

wounded Doctor Honzinger, who had fallen from his horse, whereupon he

had crushed his head with stones. He was put in the guard-house

preparatory to being tried for murder, and kept there in spite of the

efforts to release him that were made by many prominent Indians. In the

same guard-house were some civilians who had been caught stealing grain.

One bitterly cold night, during a raging blizzard, the civilians, with

some outside assistance, succeeded in making their escape.

Rain-in-the-Face took advantage of the opportunity and left also. He

joined the hostiles under Sitting Bull, and sent back word that he

intended to have his revenge on the Custers for the treatment he had

received.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Little Big Horn Campaign

I. Custer Loses His Command

To return to the spring of 1876. When the column which Custer was to

have commanded moved out, Custer led his own regiment, while

Major-General Alfred H. Terry was in personal command of the column. I

give the reason in the words of General George A. Forsyth in a recent

letter to me:

“For some reason Custer, one of the most splendid soldiers that ever

lived, hated General Belknap, the Secretary of War. He was a good hater,

too. When General Belknap was imprisoned and undergoing trial Custer

wrote that he knew of certain things regarding the appointment of

post-traders on the upper Missouri River, which things the prosecution

thought were what they needed to insure conviction. As a matter of fact,

Custer did not know anything. He had heard disappointed men who had

failed to get said post-traderships curse Belknap and say that they knew

Belknap had sold the traderships to the appointees. It was not so.

Belknap had given these appointments to certain able Iowa politicians

for their friends, in order to secure their influence in the next

campaign for United States Senator from Iowa, as he had determined to

try for a senatorship from his state, viz., Iowa.

“It was entirely within his own right to make these appointments and

there was really nothing wrong in doing so. Of course the disappointed

applicants were furious, and especially certain men who had served with

Belknap during the Civil War and who thought they had a claim on him.

They could not tell lies fast enough about Belknap and especially to

Custer, who was thoroughly honest and believed what they said. This was

what Custer thought he knew.

“Custer was summoned to Washington of course. When he was questioned by

the House Committee of prosecution it was apparent that he did not know

anything. His evidence was all hearsay and not worth a tinker’s dam. The

President—General Grant—was indignant at Custer’s statements regarding

Belknap, which turned out to be all hearsay.... The President directed

General Sherman not to permit Custer to take the field against Sitting

Bull—undoubtedly to punish him.

“You will recall that Belknap was—in a sort of Scotch verdict way, ‘Not

proven, my lord’—acquitted. It was only upon the strong, insistent and

urgent request of General Sheridan to General Sherman—the then

Commanding General of the Army—that the President finally said that if

General Sheridan regarded Custer’s services of great importance in the

campaign, Sherman might authorize Sheridan to permit him to join his

regiment and serve under General Terry, who was appointed to command the

expedition. Sherman wired Sheridan what the President said, and Sheridan

at once applied for Custer as in his opinion ‘necessary.’[67]

“I was in Europe at the time of the Custer disaster, and on my return to

General Sheridan’s headquarters I saw all the correspondence in the

case.”

* * * * *

Therefore, instead of commanding the column, Custer was placed under

Terry, who was to command Gibbon’s column as well, when the junction had

been made between the two. On the 17th of May the command left Fort

Lincoln. The seriousness of the situation was felt as never before in an

Indian campaign. It was realized that no child’s play was before the

troops, and it was with unusual gravity that the regiment marched away.

Mrs. Custer tells how General Terry ordered the force to parade through

Fort Lincoln to reassure the women and children left behind by the sight

of its formidable appearance.

The best part of the expedition was the Seventh Cavalry, six hundred

strong, with Custer at its head. The band played “Garry Owen,” the

famous battle tune of the Washita, as they marched away. They halted on

the prairie afterward, and an opportunity was given to the officers and

men to say good-by to the dear ones to be left behind; then, to the

music of “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” they started on that campaign from

which half of them never came back.

They reached the Powder River without mishap, and were there joined by

General Gibbon, who reported his command encamped along the Yellowstone,

near the mouth of the Big Horn. Major Reno, of the Seventh Cavalry, with

six troops had been sent on a scouting expedition to the southward, and

had discovered a big Indian trail leading westward toward the Big Horn

country. On the 17th of June Reno’s men had been within forty miles of

the place where Crook was fighting his fierce battle, although, of

course, they knew nothing of it at this time. On the 22d Custer was

ordered to take his regiment with fifteen days’ rations and march down

the Rosebud, thoroughly examining the country en route until he struck

the Indian trail reported by Reno.

II. Did Custer Obey His Orders?

And now we come to the most important question of this remarkable

campaign. On the one hand, General Terry has been severely censured for

its dire failure; the death of Custer and the escape of the Indians have

been laid at his door. On the other hand, it has been urged that Custer

disobeyed his orders, broke up Terry’s plan of campaign, and by his

insubordination brought about a terrible disaster and let slip the

opportunity for administering a crushing defeat to the Indians, which

probably would have ended the war and prevented a deplorable loss of

life, to say nothing of prestige and treasure. Both officers had, and

still have, their partizans, and the matter has been thoroughly threshed

out.

As between Custer and Terry, I profess absolute impartiality, although,

if I have any natural bias, it is toward Custer, whose previous career,

as I have investigated it, appeals to me more than Terry’s,

distinguished as were the latter’s services. I have studied the

situation carefully, examining all the evidence published by both sides,

and very reluctantly, in spite of my liking for poor Custer, I am

compelled to admit that he did disobey his orders; that his action did

break up a most promising plan, which, it is highly probable, would have

resulted in a decisive battle with the Indians and the termination of

the war; and that he, and he alone, must be held responsible for the

subsequent disaster.

General Terry’s order to Custer, which follows, is entirely clear and

explicit:

Camp at Mouth of Rosebud River, M. T.,

June 22d, 1876.

Lieutenant-Colonel Custer, 7th Cavalry. Colonel:

The Brigadier-General Commanding directs that, as soon as your

regiment can be made ready for the march, you will proceed up the

Rosebud in pursuit of the Indians whose trail was discovered by

Major Reno a few days since. It is, of course, impossible to give

you any definite instructions in regard to this movement, and were

it not impossible to do so, the Department Commander places too much

confidence in your zeal, energy, and ability to wish to impose upon

you precise orders which might hamper your action when nearly in

contact with the enemy. He will, however, indicate to you his own

views of what your action should be, and he desires that you should

conform to them, unless you should see sufficient reasons for

departing from them. He thinks that you should proceed up the

Rosebud until you ascertain definitely the direction in which the

trail above spoken of leads. Should it be found (as it appears

almost certain that it will be found) to turn toward the Little

Horn,[68] he thinks that you should still proceed southward, perhaps

as far as the head-waters of the Tongue, and then turn toward the

Little Horn, feeling constantly, however, to your left, so as to

preclude the possibility of the escape of the Indians to the south

or southeast by passing around your left flank. The column of

Colonel Gibbon is now in motion for the mouth of the Big Horn. As

soon as it reaches that point it will cross the Yellowstone and move

up at least as far as the forks of the Big and Little Horns. Of

course its future movements must be controlled by circumstances, as

they arise, but it is hoped that the Indians, if upon the Little

Horn, may be so nearly inclosed by the two columns that their escape

will be impossible.

[Illustration:

_Courtesy of The Century Co._

GEN. GEORGE ARMSTRONG CUSTER

Killed with half his regiment at the Little Big Horn

]

The Department Commander desires that on your way up the Rosebud you

should thoroughly examine the upper part of Tullock’s Creek, and

that you should endeavor to send a scout through to Colonel Gibbon’s

column, with information of the result of your examination. The

lower part of this Creek will be examined by a detachment from

Colonel Gibbon’s command. The supply steamer will be pushed up the

Big Horn as far as the forks if the river is found to be navigable

for that distance, and the Department Commander, who will accompany

the command of Colonel Gibbon, desires you to report to him there

not later than the expiration of the time for which your troops are

rationed, unless in the meantime you receive further orders.

Very respectfully your obedient servant,

E. W. SMITH,

Captain 18th Infantry,

Acting Assistant Adjutant General.

Custer was directed to march southward until he struck the trail Reno

had discovered. If, as Terry supposed, it led across the Rosebud, he was

not to follow it westward to the Little Big Horn, or until he met the

Indians, but he was to turn to the southward until he struck the

head-waters of the Tongue River. If he found no Indians there, he was to

swing northward down the valley of the Little Big Horn, toward the spot

where Terry supposed the Indians to be, and where, in reality, they

were. Meanwhile Gibbon was to come up the Little Big Horn from the north

toward the same spot. In the general plan of the campaign, Crook and his

force were supposed to prevent the Indians from moving south—which they

did, by the way. Custer was to keep them from going east, and, as he

advanced, was “to feel to his left” to preclude all possibility of their

slipping between him and Crook, while Gibbon was to keep them from going

off to the north. The Indians would have no direction open to them for

flight except westward, and in that case the troops hoped to overtake

them in a difficult country, inclosed by mountains and rivers.

Terry, although he was not an experienced Indian fighter, had divined

the position of the Indians with remarkable accuracy, and he fully

expected to find them on the Little Big Horn. If Custer had followed

Terry’s orders, he would have reached the Indians on the day that

Gibbon’s men, as we shall see, rescued Reno. After the disaster Terry

magnanimously strove at first to conceal from the public the fact that

Custer had disobeyed his orders. Custer had paid the penalty for his

disobedience with his life, and Terry was willing to bear the odium of

the defeat and failure. His self-sacrifice was noble and characteristic;

but a mistake, caused by the carelessness of General Sherman, coupled

with the enterprise of a brilliant newspaper reporter, who posed as a

regularly accredited government messenger, defeated Terry’s intent, and

instead of the first report, which made no allusion to the disobedience

of orders, being made public,[69] a second report, which told the whole

story, and which was intended for the authorities alone, was given to

the press and immediately spread broadcast. The first report soon turned

up, and Terry thereafter was made the victim of unmerited obloquy by

Custer’s partizans, who said that the absence of any mention in the

original report of any disobedience on the part of Custer, and the

alleged failure to allude to the plan of campaign which Custer had

frustrated, was evidence that no importance was attached to the plan by

Terry or any one until after the failure and consequent popular

indignation. Terry’s answer to this was a noble silence, to save

Custer’s reputation. The living assumed the responsibility to protect

the fame of the dead—honor to him!

General Gibbon also has gone on record in a letter to Terry regarding

the situation:

“So great was my fear that Custer’s zeal would carry him forward too

rapidly, that the last thing I said to him when bidding him good-by

after his regiment had filed past you when starting on his march

was, ‘Now, Custer, don’t be greedy, but wait for us.’ He replied

gaily as, with a wave of his hand, he dashed off to follow his

regiment, ‘No, I will not.’ Poor fellow! Knowing what we do now, and

what an effect a fresh Indian trail seemed to have had upon him,

_perhaps we were expecting too much to anticipate a forbearance on

his part which would have rendered coöperation of the two columns

practicable_.[70]

“Except so far as to draw profit from past experience, it is perhaps

useless to speculate as to what would have been the result had your

plan, as originally agreed upon, been carried out. But I cannot help

reflecting that in that case my column, supposing the Indian camp to

have remained where it was when Custer struck it, would have been

the first to reach it; that with our infantry and Gatling guns we

should have been able to take care of ourselves, even though

numbering only about two-thirds of Custer’s force; and that with six

hundred cavalry in the neighborhood, led as only Custer could lead

it, the result to the Indians would have been very different from

what it was.”

With regard to Gibbon’s generous suggestion that Custer was suddenly

carried away by the opportunity presented, the testimony of the late

General Ludlow is interesting. According to him, Custer stated on the

8th of May, in St. Paul, Minnesota, that he intended, at the first

chance he got in the campaign, to “cut loose from (and make his

operations independent of) General Terry during the summer;” that he had

“got away from Stanley and would be able to swung clear of Terry.”[71]

It is difficult, nay, it is impossible, therefore, to acquit Custer of a

deliberate purpose to campaign on his own account so soon as he could

get away from General Terry. The sentence of Terry’s orders commencing:

“It is, of course, impossible to give you any definite instructions,”

etc., and expressing confidence in his zeal and energy, and Terry’s

unwillingness to hamper him with precise directions, when nearly in

contact with the enemy, did not warrant Custer in disobeying his orders.

_It was only to govern his conduct when he should be in contact with the

enemy_, in which case, of course, he would have to be the sole judge of

what was best to be done. His conduct in that case will be considered

later. In any event it has no bearing on the question of disobedience,

for the crux is here: had Custer obeyed orders, he would not have come

in contact with the enemy when and where he did. The conditions would

have differed greatly.

Every student of military matters knows that the words used, “He desires

that you should conform to them (his own views) unless,” etc., convey a

direct, positive command.[72]

The abstract question of disobedience of orders is one that has often

been discussed. It is impossible to maintain the position that an

officer should never, under any circumstances, disobey his orders.

Circumstances sometimes compel him to do so. But when an officer

commanding troops which are supposed to act in coöperation with other

troops receives orders to carry out a certain specified detail of a

stated general plan, and in the exercise of his own discretion concludes

to disobey his orders and do something other than what he was directed

to do, he takes upon himself the onus of success or failure, not merely

of his own immediate manœuver, but of the whole general plan. If the

plan miscarries through his disobedience, whatever may have been his

motives, woe be unto him! If by his disobedience he brings about the end

at which the original plan aimed, the defeat of the enemy, that is

another proposition. The event has then justified his disobedience.

Every soldier understands that reasons for disobedience must be so

clear, so convincing, and so unexpected, that he is warranted in taking

so prodigious a risk. Disregarding for the moment, for the sake of

argument, General Ludlow’s testimony as to preconceived and deliberate

intent on Custer’s part to disobey, supposing Custer’s disobedience to

have been caused by some exigency or crisis, we may ask ourselves what

were the reasons that caused him entirely to disregard Terry’s plan and

so to manœuver as to bring himself directly in touch with the Indians in

the shortest possible time, without attempting either to examine

Tullock’s Creek[73] or to incline to the southward—“feel with his left”?

These reasons—if any there were—can never be known, owing to Custer’s

death. It can only be said that no satisfactory reasons appear which

justify Custer’s action.

The best that can be urged in defense of Custer is contained in the

following paragraph taken from Colonel Godfrey’s _Century_ article.[74]

“Had Custer continued his march southward—that is, left the Indian

trail—the Indians would have known of our movements on the 25th and a

battle would have been fought very near the same field on which Crook

had been attacked and forced back only a week before; the Indians would

never have remained in camp and allowed a concentration of the several

columns to attack them. If they escaped without punishment or battle,

Custer would undoubtedly have been blamed.”

It may be pointed out with due reverence to Colonel Godfrey—whom I

consider one of the ablest officers in the United States Army, by the

way—that it is hard to see how Custer could have been blamed for obeying

his orders, and that it is by no means certain that the Indians would

have discovered Custer’s column. Indeed, his previous success in

concealing his movements and surprising the Indians (witness the Washita

campaign) leads me to believe that he could have carried out his orders

without observation. If Gibbon had struck the Indians first and had held

them in play Custer could have annihilated them. General Fry’s comments

in the _Century_ (appended to Colonel Godfrey’s article) on Custer’s

action are entirely wrong.

As to what would have happened if Custer had been successful, it is more

or less idle to speculate. Certainly, if he had overwhelmingly defeated

the Indians, I do not think he would have been court-martialed; but if

he had been in Reno’s place and had been besieged with heavy loss, then

I feel certain that Terry would have been in duty bound to prefer

charges against him. All this is beside the main question, however, and

it is now time to return to the history of the expedition.

Terry offered Custer four troops of the Second Cavalry and two Gatling

guns, which were refused. Custer said that any force that was too big

for the Seventh Cavalry alone to deal with would be too big for the

Seventh Cavalry plus the four troops, and urged that the guns would

hamper and harass his movements. Terry, who elected to go with Gibbon’s

infantry column, agreed with him.

Neither Terry nor Custer nor any one expected to meet more than one

thousand warriors. They had no knowledge whatever of the large numbers

of the so-called peaceable Indians, for whom rations had been regularly

issued, who had broken away from the agencies and joined the hostiles.

They did not know of Crook’s defeat, and the great effect it had in

inducing wavering bucks to give their allegiance to the brave men on the

war-path. It will, perhaps, be fair to estimate the number of Indian

warriors in the field at a mean between the white and Indian accounts,

which range from twelve hundred on the one hand to three thousand on the

other. To be on the safe side, I shall call it at least two

thousand.[75] Whatever their number, there were enough of them.

In their way they were two thousand of the fiercest and most desperate

fighters on the face of the globe. While they were undisciplined,

untrained, and not entirely amenable to one will, as were the soldiers,

they were, nevertheless, a fearfully formidable force. Their common

hatred of the white man gave them sufficient coherence to form a rude

but effective organization. They were led by experienced chiefs and were

used to fighting. From 1868, after the close of the treaty by which the

frontier posts were abandoned and the country restored to the Sioux and

the Cheyennes, to 1876, no less than two hundred distinct fights, like

that described in the account of the Yellowstone expedition, had

occurred between the soldiers and the Indians. They were now to be tried

in a real battle, and, as we shall see, they were not found wanting;

for, in the end, all the honors of the campaign rested with them.

III. Custer’s Expedition

The Seventh Cavalry left the camp at the mouth of the Powder River at

twelve o’clock noon, on the 22d of June, 1876. Generals Terry, Gibbon,

and Custer reviewed it as it marched away. With the column were fifty

Arikara (“Rees”) Indian auxiliaries, a few Crows, and a number of white

scouts and newspaper correspondents. At four o’clock, after they had

progressed twelve miles, the march was halted, and that evening the

officers were summoned to Custer’s headquarters, and marching

instructions were given them. No bugle-calls were to be sounded. The

march was to be made with the greatest possible rapidity; every officer

was to look carefully to his men and horses. Squadron and battalion

formations were abandoned; each troop commander was to report to Custer

in person.

Custer was usually very uncommunicative. Ordinarily, he kept his plans

to himself until the time to strike arrived. On this occasion, however,

he announced his purpose, which was to follow the trail until they found

the Indians, and then “go for them.” He was not “carried away” by

anything, and this declaration is further evidence of his deliberate

purpose. His manner, at all times blunt and peremptory, not to say

brusque, was now entirely changed. He was usually full of cheerfulness

and confidence. There appeared to be a marked absence of both qualities

in this instance. Officers have recorded that he seemed worried and

depressed. It may be that he was feeling the displeasure of Grant, which

his imprudent conduct had brought about. Perhaps the serious character

of the risk he was taking by his independent move weighed upon him. If

he succeeded, he would regain all he had lost in the censure. If he

failed—well, he would not anticipate that. It was enough to give a man

serious thoughts. His letters to his wife seem as cheerful and confident

as ever, but, perhaps, he may have affected that for her sake. At any

rate, the testimony as to his mental condition is unequivocal.

However he may have felt, he acted with his usual energy. Starting at

five on the morning of the 23d, the regiment went into camp at five in

the afternoon, having covered thirty-three miles over an execrable

marching country—the “Bad Lands.” On the 24th they marched twenty-eight

miles over an even worse territory. Indian signs were abundant. Hundreds

of Indians evidently had passed. As no one could tell how near they were

to the hostiles, after supper on the 24th fires were put out and the men

were allowed to sleep until half after eleven, while the officers and

scouts examined the trail. It was reported to Custer that it led

straight across the divide separating the Rosebud and the Little Big

Horn. At half after eleven the men were routed out and marched ten miles

toward the crest of the Little Big Horn Mountains, which they reached at

two o’clock in the morning of Sunday, the 25th. A further halt was made,

and at eight o’clock the advance was taken up once more.

[Illustration:

_Courtesy of the Century Co._

MAP OF CUSTER’S DEFEAT ON THE LITTLE BIG HORN

_Movements of Battalions plotted from data furnished by Col. Edward S.

Godfrey_

]

They marched ten miles farther, and concealed themselves in a large

ravine near the divide and about sixteen miles from the little Big Horn,

about half after ten in the morning. Smoke was seen trembling in the air

by the scouts in the crow’s nest on the top of the divide, and there

were other evidences of Indians down the valley of the Little Big Horn.

It is believed that Custer intended to remain in hiding during the day,

and deliver his attack on the next morning. Unfortunately, however, his

trail had been crossed by the Indians. A box of hard bread had fallen

from one of the pack-mules during the night march. When its loss was

discovered, a squad of men had been sent back for it. They found an

Indian trying to open it. He made his escape, and would undoubtedly

alarm the villages they were approaching.

And now we come to another problem. As the result of his disobedience he

was now practically in contact with the enemy, although he should not

have been. Being in contact, however, what was he to do? There were no

orders to govern him now. He was thrown on his own resources—just what

he wanted, and what he had schemed and planned for. How was he to deal

with his self-created opportunity?

Believing, as he and every one else did, that the Indian force did not

greatly outnumber his own, an attack was entirely feasible. Should he

deliver that attack, or should he wait to be attacked? The advantage is

usually with the attacking party in Indian warfare. Should he seize or

yield that? Suppose he decided not to attack the Indians, and they moved

away and escaped? Would he not be censured for allowing them to get

away, since he had got in touch with them?

Suppose—remote contingency—he were not entirely successful in his attack

on the Indians? Gibbon must be somewhere in the vicinity. A day or two

would probably bring him to the rescue. Could he not fight a waiting

battle, if necessary, until the other column arrived on the field? Was

it not absolutely incumbent upon him to embrace the opportunity

presented to him? He had what he believed to be the finest regiment of

cavalry in the service. He had tried it, tested it, on many fields; he

knew, or thought he knew, the temper of his officers and men. He decided

to attack. Indeed, there was nothing else for him to do. Fight he must.

In the opinion of distinguished military critics who have expressed

themselves upon the point, from General Sheridan down, he was justified

in his decision. In that opinion I concur. And there is no evidence that

he ever contemplated doing anything else. He had arranged matters to

bring about the opportunity, and he had no hesitation in embracing it.

Evidently, he had absolutely no premonition of defeat or disaster.

A little before noon he communicated his intention to his officers and

men. He divided his regiment into three battalions. To Major Marcus A.

Reno,[76] an officer with no experience in Indian fighting, he gave

Troops A, G, and M; to Captain Benteen, a veteran and successful Indian

fighter, Troops D, H, and K; Captain McDougall, with Troop B, was

ordered to bring up the mule train and take it in charge; Custer himself

took the five remaining troops, C, E, F, I, and L.

They left the ravine, and about noon crossed the divide which separated

them from Little Big Horn Valley. Benteen was ordered to swing over to

the left and search the country thoroughly in that direction, driving

any hostiles he might come across into the village and preventing any

escape of the Indians to the southward and westward. Reno was to follow

a small creek, sometimes called Reno’s Creek, to its junction with the

Little Big Horn and strike the head of the village, supposed to be

there. Custer’s movements would be determined subsequently, although for

the present he followed Reno. McDougall came last, following their trail

with the slow-moving train, which dropped rapidly to the rear as the

others proceeded at a smart pace. Benteen at once moved off to the

westward, while Reno, followed by Custer, started down toward the valley

of the Little Big Horn.

This river is a rapid mountain stream of clear, cold water, with a

pebbly bottom, from twenty to forty yards wide. The depth of the water

varies from two to five feet. While it is very tortuous, the general

direction of the stream is northward to the Big Horn, which flows into

the Yellowstone. The valley, from half a mile to a mile in width, is

bordered by the bare bluffs. Along the river in places are thick clumps

of trees. The Indian camp, the end of which they could see as they

crossed the divide, was strung along the valley for several miles.

[Illustration: Map to illustrate the route of the three battalions at

the Little Big Horn]

Reno’s advance down the creek took him near to the east bank of river.

Custer had followed him, slightly on his right flank. When Reno

discovered the head of the village in the valley, he crossed the creek

to Custer and reported what he had seen. Custer directed him to cross

the river, move down the valley, and attack in force, informing him that

he would be “supported” by Custer’s battalion. Reno accordingly put his

battalion to a fast trot in columns of four, crossed the Little Big Horn

River beyond the mouth of the creek, and proceeded onward for perhaps

half a mile. Then he threw his troops in line, reaching from the river

to the bluffs on the left, with the Arikara scouts on the left flank,

and galloped down the valley for a mile farther.[77]

Reno stated subsequently that he believed that Custer intended to keep

behind him all the time; and he fully expected, should he come in

contact with Indians, that Custer would be on hand to join in the

attack. Custer, however, had not continued down the creek or crossed the

river with Reno, but had swung off to the high bluffs on the right bank

of the creek, east of the river. Reno mistook the purport of Custer’s

statement. In order to support an attack, it is not necessary to get

behind it. A flank attack or a demonstration in force, from some other

direction, frequently may be the best method of supporting an attack.

Custer’s plan was entirely simple. Reno was to attack the end of the

village. Benteen was to sweep around and fall on the left of it, Custer

on the right. The tactics in the main were those which had been used so

successfully in the Battle of the Washita (q.v.), and were much in vogue

among our Indian fighters during the Indian wars.

Dividing forces in the face of an enemy to make several simultaneous

attacks is dangerous, because it is almost impossible to secure a proper

coöperation between the attacking units. A skilful general will

concentrate his force upon the separately approaching and more or less

isolated units and beat them in detail. Washington’s tactics at

Germantown were similar to those of Custer; and his force, which would

have swept the British from the field if his plans had been carried out,

was beaten in detail for lack of coördination in the separate attacks.

Some of Napoleon’s most brilliant battles were fought when he occupied

interior lines and by successive attacks broke up converging columns.

Still, the Indians were not believed to be veteran tacticians, although

everybody underestimated their qualities. They were extremely liable to

panic. A sudden attack or a surprise almost always disorganized them and

threw them into confusion. Under the peculiar circumstances, I think

there is little question that Custer’s tactics were entirely sound and

well considered, although this conclusion is often disputed. Where

Custer made a mistake appears to be in his failure to take greater

precautions that the attacks should be delivered simultaneously. He had

a much longer distance to go than Reno and over a much worse country

before he could attack, and he was not at all sure as to where Benteen

was or when he could join. Nevertheless, the chances of success were

many, the chances of failure few, and I have no doubt that Custer would

have been successful had there not been a woeful lack of conduct on the

part of his principal subordinate.

-----

Footnote 67:

It was General Terry’s urgent representations which were the

main-springs of Sheridan’s action.—C. T. B.

Footnote 68:

At the time this was written, it was not generally understood that the

full Indian appellation of this stream was Little Big Horn.—C. T. B.

Footnote 69:

It was delayed in transmission, owing to the cutting of the telegraph

wires by the Indians.

Footnote 70:

Italics mine.—C. T. B.

Footnote 71:

Journal of the Military Service Institution in the United States, Vol.

XVIII., No. LXXIX.: “The Campaign Against the Sioux in 1876,” by

Major-General Robert P. Hughes, U. S. A.

Footnote 72:

In Terry’s report to the Secretary of War, under date of November 21,

1876, he gives his own understanding of his orders, which is fully

warranted, in the following paragraph:

“At a conference which took place on the 21st between Colonel Gibbon,

Lieutenant-Colonel Custer, and myself, I communicated to them the plan

of operations which I had decided to adopt. It was that Colonel

Gibbon’s column should cross the Yellowstone near the mouth of the

Little Big Horn, and thence up that stream, with the expectation that

it would arrive at that point by the 26th; that Lieutenant-Colonel

Custer with the whole of the Seventh Cavalry should proceed up the

Rosebud until he should ascertain the direction in which the trail

discovered by Major Reno led; that if it led to the Little Big Horn it

should not be followed, but that Lieutenant-Colonel Custer should keep

still further to the south before turning toward that river, in order

to intercept the Indians should they attempt to pass around to his

left, and in order, by a longer march, to give time for Colonel

Gibbon’s column to come up.”

Footnote 73:

I have not discussed the Tullock’s Creek matter. It is not material,

except that the failure to examine it and to send a scout to

Gibbon—some of Gibbon’s men had been detailed with Custer for the

purpose—with a report, was simply a further disobedience, and is,

perhaps, a confirmation of Custer’s deliberate purpose.

Footnote 74:

_Century Magazine_, Vol. XLIII., No. 3: “Custer’s Last Battle,” by

Colonel E. S. Godfrey, U. S. A.

Footnote 75:

Personally, I believe there were many more.

Footnote 76:

As the conduct of Major Reno was so decisive in the subsequent

fighting, and since, upon his conduct as a pivot, the fortunes of the

day turned, it is well to say something of his record, which I have

compiled from official sources.

He was graduated from West Point in 1857, and was immediately

appointed to the First Dragoons, and had risen to a captaincy in the

First Cavalry at the outbreak of the Civil War. His career during the

war was one of distinction. He was brevetted major, March 17, 1863,

for gallant and meritorious services at Kelly’s Ford, and

lieutenant-colonel for gallant and meritorious services at the Battle

of Cedar Creek, October 19, 1864. On January 1, 1865, he was appointed

colonel of the Twelfth Pennsylvania Volunteer Cavalry, and was

brevetted brigadier-general of Volunteers at the close of the war.

Here is a brave and honorable record. Would that it might never have

been tarnished!

He joined the Seventh Cavalry December 19, 1869, as major. He had had

no Indian service prior to that time, and his services up to the

present campaign comprised a three months’ scouting expedition in

Colorado in the summer of 1870. In 1879, upon his own application, a

court of inquiry was convened for the purpose of investigating his

conduct at the Battle of the Little Big Horn. It was the opinion of

the court that no further proceedings were necessary in the case. One

sentence of the record is significant: “The conduct of the officers

throughout was excellent, and while subordinates in some instances did

more for the safety of the command by brilliant displays of courage

than did Major Reno, there was nothing in his conduct which requires

animadversion from this court.”

His relations with General Custer had not been friendly; so inimical

were they, in fact, that Custer was begged, before starting on the

fatal campaign, not to intrust the command of any supporting movement

to Reno. Custer refused to allow any such personal considerations to

prevent Reno receiving the command to which his rank entitled him.

In 1880 Major Reno was found guilty, by a general court-martial, of

conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman. While in an intoxicated

condition he had engaged in a brawl in a public billiard saloon, in

which he assaulted another officer, destroyed property, and otherwise

conducted himself disgracefully. The court sentenced him to be

dismissed from the military service of the United States. The sentence

was approved by President Hayes, and Major Reno ceased to be an

officer of the Army in April, 1880.

It is painful to call attention to these facts, especially as Major

Reno has since died; but the name and fame of a greater than he have

been assailed for his misconduct, and in defense of Custer it is

absolutely necessary that Reno’s character and services should be

thoroughly understood. For a further discussion of Major Reno’s

conduct, see Appendix B.

Footnote 77:

Sure proof that the horses were not, as is sometimes urged, utterly

worn out by the hard marching.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Last of Custer

I. Reno’s Failure at the Little Big Horn

It will be necessary, in order clearly to comprehend the complicated

little battle, to treat each of the three operations separately, and

then see how they were related to one another.

As Reno’s men trotted down the valley, they saw, some distance ahead of

them and to the right across the river on a line of high bluffs, Custer

attended by his staff. The general waved his hat at them encouragingly,

and disappeared over the brow of the hill. That glimpse of Custer,

standing on that hill with outstretched arm gallantly waving his

troopers on to battle, was the last any one of his comrades in the

valley had of him in life; and it is certain that Reno must have

realized then that Custer was not following him, and that he was

expected to attack in his front alone.

However, Reno, having drawn near to the village, deployed his

skirmishers, and slowly advanced down the valley. In a few moments they

were hotly engaged with a constantly growing force of Indians.

Now, one thing about the battle that followed is the utter unreliability

of the Indian reports of their movements. It is alleged that fear of

punishment made them and keeps them reticent and uncommunicative.

Different Indians tell different stories. Most of these stories disagree

in their essential details, and it is impossible to reconcile them. It

may be that the faculties of the Indians are not sufficiently alert to

enable them to recall the general plan of the battle, or at least to

relate it, although they knew well enough how to fight it at the time.

Their accounts are haphazard to the last degree. Some say that they knew

nothing of the advent of the troops until Reno’s men deployed in the

valley. At any rate, they had sufficient time, on account of his

dilatory and hesitating advance, to assemble in heavy force. Reno had

less than one hundred and fifty men with him. Even if Dr. Eastman’s

estimate,[78] that the Indians numbered but twelve hundred warriors, be

true, they still outnumbered Reno, although, owing to the fact that the

villages were strung along the river for several miles, only a portion

of them were at first engaged with the troops. Flushed with their

previous victory over Crook a short time before, these Indians now fell

upon Reno like a storm.

[Illustration]

CAPT. MYLES MOYLAN MAJ. MARCUS A. RENO

LIEUT. A. E. SMITH[79] CAPT. EDWARD S. GODFREY

SOME OF CUSTER’S OFFICERS

Reno’s line extended clear across the valley, which was quite narrow

where the battle was joined, the right flank protected by the river, the

left by the bluffs. Recovering from their alleged panic, possibly

because of the feeble advance of the soldiers, the Indians rallied, and

with wonderful generalship massed their attack on the left flank, which

was most unfortunately held by the Arikara scouts. No Arikara that ever

lived was a match for the Sioux or the Cheyennes. The Rees, as these

Indian auxiliaries were called, broke and fled incontinently. They never

stopped until they reached the supply camp on the Powder River, miles

away. At the same time the horses of two troopers in the command ran

away with them, and plunged straight into the Indian lines with their

riders. Their fate was plain.

As the Ree scouts broke, the Indians turned Reno’s left flank. The

troopers gave way at once. There was no reserve which could be thrown

upon the Indians until the line was restored. The whole force was

slammed back, like a door, into the timber on the bank of the river.

Here Reno made a serious mistake. After rallying his men, he ordered

them to dismount. Cavalry may be dismounted for defense, but sound

judgment and military usage demand that for an attack, especially upon

an Indian village of that kind, they should charge upon horseback. As

one veteran cavalryman has written me, “I never could understand why

Reno did not charge desperately on the Indians in front of him. His

dismounting his men was against all sound military judgment. ‘Audacity,

always audacity,’ is the motto for a cavalryman.”[80] Had Reno been

governed by this principle and charged, as he should have done, the

result would have been different.[81]

The position was instantly surrounded by yelling Indians galloping madly

to and fro, firing upon the troops. So far, Reno had lost but one

wounded and the two who had galloped into the Indian line. His second

position was admirable for defense. Sheltered by the trees, with his

flanks and rear protected by the river, he could have held the place

indefinitely. However, he had not been detailed to defend or hold any

position, but to make a swift, dashing attack. Yet, after a few moments

of the feeblest kind of advance, he found himself thrown on the

defensive. Such a result would break up the most promising plan. It

certainly broke up Custer’s. In spite of the defection of the Rees, a

vigorous countercharge down the valley would have extricated Reno and

might have saved Custer.

It is a painful thing to accuse an army officer of misconduct; yet I

have taken the opinion of a number of army officers on the subject, and

every one of them considers Reno culpable in a high degree. One at least

has not hesitated to make known his opinion in the most public way. I am

loath to believe that Major Reno was a coward, but he certainly lost his

head; and when he lost his head, he lost Custer. His indecision was

pitiful. Although he had suffered practically no loss and had no reason

to be unduly alarmed, he was in a state of painful uncertainty as to

what he should do next. The soldier, like the woman, who hesitates in an

emergency which demands instant decision, is lost.

How long the troops stayed under the trees by the river bank cannot be

determined accurately. Some have testified that it was a few moments,

others an hour. Personally I think it was a few moments, which fear and

apprehension lengthened to an impossible period. There had as yet been

no panic, and under a different officer there would have been none; but

it is on record that Reno at last gave an order for the men to mount and

retreat to the bluffs. Before he could be obeyed, he countermanded this

order. Then the order was repeated, but in such a way that nobody save

those immediately around him heard it, because of the din of the battle

then raging in a sort of aimless way all along the line, and no attempt

was made to obey it. It was then repeated for the third time. Finally,

as those farther away saw those nearest the flurried commander mounting

and evidently preparing to leave, the orders were gradually communicated

throughout the battalion, and nearly the whole mass got ready to leave.

Eventually they broke out of the timber in a disorderly column of fours,

striving to return to the ford which they had crossed when they had

entered the valley.

Reno calls this a charge, and he led it. He was so excited that, after

firing his pistols at the Indians who came valiantly after the fleeing

soldiers, he threw them away.[82] The pressure of the Indians upon the

right of the men inclined them to the left, away from the ford. In fact,

they were swept into a confused mass and driven toward the river. All

semblance of organization was lost in the mad rush for safety. The

troops had degenerated into a mob.

The Indians pressed closely upon them, firing into the huddle almost

without resistance. Evidently in their excitement the Indians fired

high, or the troops would have been annihilated. The Indians supposed,

of course, that they now had the troops corralled between them and the

river, and that all they needed to do was to drive them into it. Chief

Gall, who with Crazy Horse and Crow King was principally responsible for

the Indian manœuvers, seeing the retreat of Reno to the river, summoned

a large body of warriors, left the field and crossed the river farther

down, intending to sweep down upon the other side and attack Reno’s men

as they struggled up the steep bank in case any of them succeeded in

crossing. This was, as it turned out, a fortunate move for the Indians.

Meanwhile, Reno’s men providentially found a pony trail which indicated

a ford of the river. On the other side the trail led into a

funnel-shaped amphitheater, surrounded by high, slippery bluffs. Into

this _cul-de-sac_ the whole fleeing body plunged, the Indians pressing

the rear hard. The men jumped their horses from the bank into the water,

and finding that the trail stopped at the bluff on the other side,

actually urged them up the steep slopes of the hill.

There is no denying that they were panic-stricken. Although some of the

veterans opened fire upon the savages, the bulk of the troopers did

nothing but run. Dr. DeWolf was one of the coolest among those present.

He stopped his horse deliberately, and fired at the Indians until he was

shot dead. Lieutenant MacIntosh, striving to rally his men, was shot

just as they left the timber. Lieutenant Hodgson, reaching the river

bank, had his horse shot. In his agony the animal stumbled into the

river and fell dead. The same bullet which killed the horse broke

Hodgson’s leg. He cried for help, and Sergeant Criswell rode over to

where he lay. Hodgson took hold of the sergeant’s stirrup, and under a

heavy fire was dragged out on the bank, which he had scarcely reached

before a second bullet struck him in the head, killing him instantly.

Criswell was swept on by his men, but so soon as he could he rode back

under a furious fire and brought off the body, as well as all the

ammunition in the saddle-bags on several dead horses. He received a

medal of honor for his courage.

If Gall had completed his projected movements, Reno’s men would have

been annihilated then and there. As it was, they reached the top of the

bluffs without further molestation. They had lost three officers and

twenty-nine men and scouts killed; seven men were badly wounded, and one

officer, Lieutenant DeRudio, and fifteen men were missing.[83] These had

been left behind in the confusion of Reno’s “charge.”

It was now somewhere between half after one and two o’clock in the

afternoon, and during the fighting Reno was joined by Benteen’s

battalion. The Indians kept up a desultory fire on the position, but

they seemed to have diminished in numbers. Reno occupied the next hour

in reorganizing his force, getting the men into their accustomed troops,

and taking account of casualties.

II. With Benteen’s Battalion

In accordance with his orders, Benteen had moved off to the westward. He

speedily became involved in almost impassable country, full of deep

ravines, in which progress was slow and difficult. Water was very scarce

in the country over which the regiment had marched until it reached the

valley of the Big Horn. What water they had found that morning was so

alkaline that the horses and mules, although they had been nearly a day

without water, would not drink it. The horses were naturally tired,

having marched over fifty miles since the morning of the day before, and

the terrible up-and-down hill work exhausted them still more, although

they were by no means played out. No Indians were seen by Benteen, and

the condition of the country was such that it was evident there were

none before him.

He turned to the right, therefore, and struck into the valley of the Big

Horn, just ahead of McDougall and the pack train, intending to cross the

river and attack the village or join Reno, as the case might be. He had

just watered his horses at a little brook following out a morass, when a

sergeant from Custer’s battalion passed by on a gallop, with a message

for the supply train to come at once. As the trooper raced along the

line he shouted exultantly, “We’ve got ’em, boys!” Benteen’s men took

this to mean that Custer had captured the village. A few moments after,

Trumpeter Martini galloped up with a message from Custer to Benteen,

signed by Cook, the adjutant, which read as follows:

“Benteen. Come on. Big village. Be quick. Bring packs.

“P. S. Bring packs.”

The need for the spare ammunition with the pack-train was apparently so

urgent that in his hurry Cook repeated the last two words. At the same

time the sound of distant firing was heard in the valley. Making ready

for instant action, Benteen led his troopers forward at a gallop down

the valley. Tired though the animals were, they responded nobly to the

demands of their riders, and the whole party swept across the hills in

the direction whence the trumpeter had come until they overlooked the

valley. Every one supposed that Custer had entered the valley and was

driving the Indians before him. That he expected to have a big fight on

his hands was indicated by the reiteration of his request that the

pack-train should be rushed forward, evidently to bring the reserve

ammunition.

The valley was filled with dust and smoke; the day was frightfully hot

and dry. Bodies of men could be distinguished galloping up and down.

Benteen would, perhaps, have crossed the river and charged down the

valley had his attention not been called to a body of men in blue on the

bluff on the same side of the river to the right. They were, assuredly,

hotly engaged, but there were also evidences of fierce fighting far down

the valley. What was happening? What should he do? At this junction one

of the Crow scouts—these Indians had not fled with the cowardly Rees,

but remained with the command, fighting bravely—came up driving a small

bunch of captured ponies, and he indicated that the principal battle was

on the bluff. Benteen accordingly galloped around the bend of the river,

and joined the demoralized Reno without opposition.

It is interesting to speculate what might have happened if Benteen had

crossed the river and had charged down the valley. In that case, if Reno

had recrossed the river and again attacked, the day might still have

been won, but in all probability Reno would not have recrossed and

Benteen would have been annihilated. At any rate, Benteen did the only

thing possible when Reno’s whereabouts and need were made known to him

by the scout.

Reno had lost his hat in his famous “charge,” and had his head tied up

in a handkerchief. He was much excited, and apparently had no idea as to

what he should do next. The officers of his battalion made no bones

about admitting to the newcomers that they had been badly beaten and

were in a critical condition. None of them could tell anything about

Custer.

III. The Battle on the Bluffs

Benteen’s men were ordered to divide their ammunition with Reno’s. A

line of skirmishers was thrown out around the bluffs, and an effort to

get water from the river was made, the supply in the canteens having

been long ago exhausted. The Indian fire prevented this. There was, of

course, not a drop of water on the bluffs, and the wounded suffered

greatly, to say nothing of the thirsty men. The officers collected in

groups on the edge of the bluffs overlooking the field, and discussed

the question. They were not molested by the Indians at this time.

The general impression was that Custer had made the mistake of his life

in not taking the whole regiment in together. Possibly Reno’s men took

that view because they had been so badly mauled themselves. The valley

had been filled with Indians, but, about three o’clock or a little

after, most of them galloped down the river and were soon out of sight.

The river banks were still lined with Indians under cover, who kept up a

smart fire on Reno’s men if they attempted to descend the bluffs and

approach the water; but the main force had evidently withdrawn.

Firing was heard far away to the northward. It was heavy and continuous.

There could be but one explanation of it. Custer’s detachment had at

last met the Indians and was engaged. This should surely have been a

stimulus to Reno. Custer was fighting; Reno was not menaced—what should

he do? Later in the afternoon two heavy volleys in rapid succession were

remarked. This was so unusual under the circumstances that it was

finally felt to be a signal from Custer. He must surely be in grave

peril, then, and calling for help. How, in the name of all that was

soldierly, could such an appeal be neglected? Many and anxious were the

questions the officers and men put among themselves as to why Reno did

not do something. It was felt by everybody that Custer was in grave

jeopardy, and that Reno should move at once. He had about three hundred

men under his command, one-half of whom had not been engaged.

[Illustration: PLAN OF RENO’S DEFENCE ON THE BLUFF.]

Captain Weir, of D Troop, on the right of Reno’s command, having cleared

away the Indians in front of him, at last boldly took matters in his own

hands. After pleading again and again for permission,[84] he started

alone without it toward the sound of the firing to see what he could.

Lieutenant Edgerly, his second, supposed that he had received orders to

advance, and he accordingly put the troop in motion. Weir was on the

bluff, Edgerly lower down in a small ravine. The Indians moved to attack

Edgerly, when Weir signaled him to lead his men up the bluff, which he

did without loss. The troop, unsupported and in defiance of Reno’s

orders, advanced to the point where Custer had been last seen to wave

his hat, and there stopped. The men could overlook the ridges and

valleys beyond them for a great distance.

A mile and a half or two miles away they could see, through the defiles

in the ridges, great clouds of mounted Indians. Reports of rifles

indicated that the battle, whatever it was, was still being waged. It

was impossible for Weir and Edgerly to do anything with their single

troop. Although they were not seriously attacked in their bold advance,

Reno at first made no movement to support them.

[Illustration]

CAPT. THOS. W. CUSTER LIEUT. JAMES CALHOUN

CAPT. GEORGE W. YATES CAPT. MILES W. KEOGH

SOME OF CUSTER’S TROOP COMMANDERS

All killed with him at the Little Big Horn

At half after four Captain McDougall and the pack train joined Reno.

They had not been molested in any way. At last, about five o’clock, Reno

yielded to the urgent and repeated representations of the angry

officers, and marched along the ridge to the position Weir and Edgerly

had reached. He came up to this point at half after five. The firing on

the bluffs far ahead was practically over. The Indians could still be

seen and some shooting was going on, but there did not appear to be a

battle raging. They learned afterward that it was the Indians shooting

into the bodies of the dead.

It was evident to every one that whatever might have been done earlier

in the afternoon, there was no use in advancing now. Indeed, the Indians

came sweeping back in great force in front of Reno, and at once attacked

him. There was nothing for him to do but retreat to the most defensible

position he could find, and endeavor to hold his ground. Custer and his

men, if they still survived, must be left to face as best they could

whatever fate had in store for them. Reno accordingly retreated to the

place on the bluff whence he had just come. Lieutenant Godfrey, of K

Troop, the rear guard, without orders deployed and dismounted his men,

and, ably seconded by his junior, Lieutenant Luther R. Hare, by hard

fighting kept off the Indians till the retreat was safely made by the

rest, whom he and his troopers succeeded in joining. It was well that he

did this, for his coolness and courage saved the command.

There was a little depression back of a ridge, which afforded some cover

for the horses and pack train. During the retreat an incident occurred

worthy of mention. One of the pack mules, loaded with precious

ammunition, broke away and galloped toward the Indian line. Sergeant

Hanley, of C Troop, sprang to his horse and raced after it. Officers and

men called to him to come back, but knowing how priceless was the

ammunition, he persisted in his course. He succeeded in heading off the

animal, which turned and ran parallel to the Indian line, along which he

galloped under a perfect shower of bullets, none of which, fortunately,

touched him. He captured the mule, and brought it back with the

ammunition intact. For this exploit he received a medal of honor.

The men took position around the ridge, across the depression and on a

hill to the right, so as to protect the packs and the field hospital

from all sides except on the river side, where the height of the bluffs

and the distance prevented any Indian attack from that direction.

Benteen’s Troop H was placed on the right. They were on top of the break

of the ridge and were without cover, the ridges being entirely bare of

trees. Farther off, to the right, Benteen’s position was commanded by

higher ridges. At first the brunt of the fighting fell on the left, but

the Indians soon surrounded the position and the engagement became

general. The men threw themselves on the ground, and dug rifle-pits with

their knives, tin pans—anything they could get. The fighting soon became

severe, but gradually slackened as darkness approached, and stopped at

about nine o’clock at night. The village in the valley was the scene of

triumphant revel that night, and the shouting of the Indians could

plainly be heard on the bluffs.

The early part of the night was full of wild confusion, but before long

the soldiers recovered their equanimity and set to work strengthening

their position. They were now completely surrounded; but most of them

were under cover except Benteen’s men, whose position, as has been

stated, was overlooked by higher ridges within easy range. At two A.M.,

contrary to their usual habit, the Indians opened fire, but no attack

was made. The next morning the battle began again in grim earnest.

The Indians pressed the party closer and closer. Benteen’s exposed line

suffered more than any other position. That experienced fighter saw that

the Indians were massing in front of him, evidently intending to deliver

a charge. If it fell upon his single troop it would not be possible to

withstand it, and the whole force on the hill would be taken in reverse

and annihilated. His men had nearly exhausted their ammunition, several

had been killed, and there were a number of wounded to be attended to.

Ordering Lieutenant Gibson to hold the line at all hazards, Benteen ran

to Reno, explained the situation, and begged for a reinforcement. After

much urging he succeeded in getting Troop M, Captain French, sent over

to the hill. Then he entreated Reno to allow the two troops to charge.

Reno hesitated. Benteen urged him again and again, pointing out that if

something were not done immediately, the position would be rushed and

the command wiped out. At last he wrung a reluctant permission from

Reno. He ran back to his position on the hill, and not a moment too soon

formed his men up for the charge, putting himself at their head.

“All ready now, men!” he cried gallantly. “Now’s your time! Give ’em

hell! Hip! Hip! Here we go!”

The Indians had also given the word to charge, but Benteen was too quick

for them. Leading his men with splendid bravery, revolver in hand, he

rushed at the Indians. There was a brief hand-to-hand mêlée and the

Indians broke and fled. Reno, seeing the effect of Benteen’s gallant

dash, actually led out a portion of his command on the other side of the

hill and drove back the Indians in that direction. Benteen’s magnificent

courage had saved the day for the present.

The fire having slackened somewhat about eleven o’clock in the morning,

volunteers were called to get water for the command, especially for the

wounded. The Indians swept the banks of the river with their fire, and

the attempt was hazardous to a degree. Nineteen men offered their

services. Four of the best marksmen—Geiger, Windolph, Voit, and

Mechling, of Troop H—were detailed to cover the others by taking an

exposed position on the brink of the bluffs overlooking the river, as

near as they could get to it. The other fifteen, one of whom has told me

about the attempt, carrying canteens and camp-kettles, but without arms,

crawled down through the bushes and ravines to the open space on the

bank of the river, and then, covered by the rapid fire of the four men

stationed above them, dashed for the stream. The Indians, who were

execrable shots, opened a heavy fire upon them, but the men succeeded in

filling the vessels they had brought, and though many of these vessels

were hit and some of the men wounded, none of them was killed. A scanty

supply of water it was, but it was a godsend. These nineteen also

received medals of honor.

At three o’clock in the afternoon the firing, which had been maintained

intermittently since noon, finally stopped, and later the men on the

hill saw the Indians withdrawing from the valley. They set fire to the

grass to screen their movements, but about seven o’clock in the evening

they were distinctly seen moving out with all their possessions toward

the mountains of the Big Horn. Eighteen troopers had been killed on the

hill, and fifty-two wounded.

IV. The Last of Custer

Now let us turn to Custer.

Nobody knows exactly what he did. The testimony of the field is not

clear, and the statements of the Indians are contradictory. Dr. Eastman,

an educated Sioux, has investigated the subject among many of his

people, and arrives at one conclusion; Colonel Godfrey, one of the troop

commanders who was with Benteen, and who has subsequently examined the

field in company with Benteen and other officers, taking the testimony

of Chief Gall, holds another. According to Eastman, whose account agrees

with the popular understanding, Custer attempted to ford the river at a

place now called Reno’s Creek,[85] and fall on what he supposed to be

the rear of the village, but which was really the middle of the upper

half, and was driven back to the hills, where the final tragedy took

place.

Godfrey, on the contrary, says that Custer, from the point where he was

last seen by Reno’s men, had a view of the village for several miles,

although not for its whole length; that he must have been confident that

he had it below him then, and that he made a wide detour in order to

fall on the rear of the village. It was from this point that he sent the

hurry-up message to Benteen. When at last, having gone far enough, as he

thought, to take the village in the rear, or what he supposed was the

rear, he turned toward the river, and was at once met by the Indians in

great force.

It was probably about half after two in the afternoon. Reno had been

forced back and driven across the river. Chief Gall, it will be

recalled, had taken a large body of men across the river to intercept

Reno on the other side. Before he could move down to the right for this

purpose, Custer’s men suddenly appeared on the hills. Custer’s

manœuvering had been fine, and his appearance was a complete surprise,

which at first greatly alarmed the Indians. Gall, however, did not lose

his head. Rightly judging that Reno was temporarily eliminated from the

game, he at once determined to attack Custer. He sent word of the

situation to Crazy Horse, who was pressing Reno. Leaving just enough

warriors to make a demonstration before the demoralized Reno, Crazy

Horse galloped headlong down the valley, followed by his men and joined

by others from the far end of the village, who had as yet taken no part

in the fighting. They too crossed the river at the point where a deep

ravine concealed their movements and enabled them to obtain a position

on Custer’s right flank. A similar ravine enabled Gall to menace the

left flank. The Indians were in sufficient force completely to surround

Custer. In the twinkling of an eye he found himself attacked in front

and on both sides. Instead of advancing, he was forced to defend himself

against an overwhelming attack. The troops were dismounted, horses moved

to the rear, and Custer’s men occupied the ridges.

Calhoun’s troop was posted on the left, followed by those of Keogh,

Smith, and Yates, with Tom Custer’s on the extreme right. The last three

troops happened to have the best defensive position upon the highest

hill. With them was Custer. The Indians attacked at once. Riding at full

gallop along the front of the line on their ponies, they poured a heavy

fire from their long-range rifles upon the soldiers, to which the latter

made a brave, steady, but not very effective reply with their inferior

carbines. Keogh’s and Calhoun’s horses were stampeded at the first fire.

The force menacing them was so great that Custer dared not leave his

position on the hills. To retreat was hopeless, to advance impossible.

They must stand on the defensive and pray that the advance of Reno’s

command up the valley, which they probably hoped that Benteen would

reinforce, would compel the withdrawal of the Indians from their front.

They fought on, therefore, coolly and resolutely, husbanding their

ammunition and endeavoring to make every shot tell on their galloping,

yelling foemen. They were, I imagine, by no means without ultimate hope

of victory. The Indians in their accounts speak of the cool, deliberate

courage of numbers of the officers and men, whom they singled out for

their bravery.