Major Reno’s reports: “As we approached a deserted village in which
was standing one tepee, about 11 a. m., Custer motioned me to cross to
him, which I did, and moved nearer to his column, until about 12:30
a. m., when Lieutenant Cook, adjutant, came to me and said the village
was only two miles ahead and moving away; for me to move forward at as
rapid a gait as I thought prudent and to charge afterwards and that the
whole outfit would support me; I think those were his exact words. I
at once took a fast trot and moved down about two miles, when I came
to a ford of the river. I crossed immediately and halted about ten
minutes or less to gather the battalion, sending word to Custer that I
had everything in front of me, and that they were strong. Deployed and
with the Ree scouts on my left we charged down the valley, driving the
Indians with great ease for about two and a half miles. I, however,
soon saw that I was being drawn into some trap, as they certainly would
fight harder, and especially as we were nearing their village which was
still standing; besides I could not see Custer or any other support
and at the same time the very earth seemed to grow Indians and they
were running towards me in swarms and from all directions. I saw I
must defend myself and give up the attack mounted. This I did, taking
possession of a point of woods, and which furnished near its edge a
shelter for the horses; dismounted and fought them on foot, making
headway through the woods. I soon found myself in the near vicinity of
the village, saw that I was fighting odds of nearly five to one, and
that my only hope was to get out of the wood, where I would soon have
been surrounded, and gain some higher ground. I accomplished this by
mounting and charging the Indians between me and the bluffs, on the
opposite side of the river. In this charge First Lieutenant Donald
McIntosh, Second Lieutenant Ben H. Hodgson, Seventh Cavalry, and A. A.
Surg and J. M. De Wolf were killed. I succeeded in reaching the top
of the bluff, with a loss of three officers and twenty-nine enlisted
men killed and seven wounded. Almost at the same time I reached the
top, mounted men were seen running towards me, and it proved to be
Colonel Benteen’s battalion, Companies H, D and K; we joined forces
and in a short time the pack train came up. As senior, my command was
then Companies A, B, C, D, H, G, K and M, about three hundred and
eighty men, and the following officers: Captains Benteen, Weir, French
and McDougall; First Lieutenants Godfrey, Mathey and Gibson; Second
Lieutenants Edgerly, Wallace, Varnum and Hare; A. A. Surg, Porter.
First Lieutenant De Rudio was in the dismounted fight in the woods, but
having some trouble with his horse, did not join the command in the
charge out, and, hiding himself in the woods, joined the command after
nightfall of the 26th.
“Still hearing nothing of Custer, and with this reinforcement I
moved down the river in the direction of the village, keeping on
the bluffs. We had heard firing in that direction, and knew that it
could only be Custer. I moved to the summit of the highest bluff,
but seeing and hearing nothing, sent Captain Weir with his company
to open communication with the other command. He soon sent back word
by Lieutenant Hare that he could go no further and that the Indians
were getting around him; at this time he was keeping up a heavy fire
from the skirmish line. I at once turned everything back to the first
position I had taken on the bluff, and which seemed to me the best. I
dismounted the men, had the mules and horses of the pack train driven
together in a depression, put the men on the crests of the hills making
the depression, and had hardly done so when I was furiously attacked;
this was about 6 p. m.; we held our ground, with the loss of eighteen
enlisted men killed and forty-six wounded, until the attack ceased
about 9 p. m.”
Here is Major Reno’s report, or so much of it as applies to the
approaching battle:
“Headquarters, Seventh Cavalry,
“Camp on Yellowstone River, July 5, 1876.
“Captain E. W. Smith, A. D. C. and A. A. A. G.:
“The command of the regiment having devolved upon me as the senior
surviving officer from the battle of June 25th and 26th, between
the Seventh Cavalry and Sitting Bull’s band of hostile Sioux on the
Little Big Horn river, I have the honor to submit the following
report of its operations from the time of leaving the main column
until the command was united in the vicinity of the Indian village.
The regiment left the camp at the mouth of the Rosebud river, after
passing in review before the department commander, under command
of Brevet Major General G. A. Custer, lieutenant colonel, on the
afternoon of the 22d of June, and marched up the Rosebud twelve
miles and encamped; 23d, marched up the Rosebud, passing many old
Indian camps, and following a very large lodge pole trail, but not
fresh, making thirty-three miles; 24th, the march was continued up
the Rosebud, the trail and signs freshening with every mile until
we had made twenty-eight miles, and we then encamped and waited
for information from the scouts. At 9:25 p. m. Custer called the
officers together and informed us that beyond a doubt the village
was in the valley of the Little Big Horn, and that to reach it, it
was necessary to cross the divide between Rosebud and Little Big
Horn; and it would be impossible to do so in the daytime without
exposing our march to the Indians; that we would prepare to move at
11 p. m. This was done, the line of march turning from the Rosebud
to the right, up one of its branches, which headed near the summit
of the divide.
“About 2 a. m. of the 25th the scouts told him he could not cross
the divide before daylight. We then made coffee and rested for
three hours, at the expiration of which time the march was resumed,
the divide crossed, and about 8 a. m. the command was in the valley
of one of the branches of the Little Big Horn. By this time Indians
had been seen, and it was certain that we could not surprise them,
and it was determined to move at once to the attack. Previous to
this no division of the regiment had been made since the order
was issued, on the Yellowstone, annulling wing and battalion
organizations. General Custer informed me he would assign commands
on the march. I was ordered by Lieutenant W. W. Cook, adjutant,
to assume command of Companies M, A and G; Captain Benteen, of
Companies H, D and K; Custer retaining C, E, F, I and L under his
immediate command, and Company B, Captain McDougall, in rear of
pack train. I assumed command of the companies assigned to me, and
without any definite orders moved forward with the rest of the
column and well to its left. I saw Benteen moving further to the
left, and as they passed, he told me he had orders to move well to
the left, and sweep everything before him.”
[Illustration: GEN. GEORGE A. CUSTER, U. S. A.
The Hero of Little Big Horn]
It is plain that Custer laid his plans to win the fight, and at once.
From the position in which the dead were found it is also clear that,
having found themselves entirely outnumbered and beyond the reach of
help, they took position as best they could in a sort of triangle on
the rough, hot hill side, and there died in battle. Custer’s brother,
Colonel Tom Custer, held one corner of the triangle, and down nearest
the river his brother-in-law, Calhoun, another, while the general held
the higher ground, so as to see and direct the battle to the end. The
men fell almost in line. The officers, Calhoun and Crittenden, fell in
their places, as if on parade.
Two years afterwards Robert E. Strahorne, a particular friend of mine,
who was all through the campaign with General Crook, sent me the
following statement in regard to this Indian war:
“I was, during the trying days of 1876-77, the representative of
an Eastern journal and attached to the expeditions which Brigadier
General George Crook led against the hostile Sioux and Cheyennes, then
commanded by Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Dull Knife and Little Wolf.
“In this campaign we were obliged to go without clothing or bedding,
save such as we carried on our backs, and without food, except the
scantiest allowance possible of bacon and coffee. In this one point,
Crook is without a rival in the regular army; he subjects himself
to just the same discomfort and hardships as his men have to endure
and cuts loose from his wagon train for weeks and months at a time.
His wagons are never allowed to become receptacles of luxuries and
toothsome delicacies for himself and officers; they carry only grain,
ammunition and the necessary articles of daily food.
“At the engagement on the Rosebud, Montana, June 17, 1876, Crazy Horse
and Sitting Bull ‘bounced’ Crook with a force of painted and feathered
red devils numbering well up in the thousands. Poor Custer met his
fate at the hands of these same warriors only a week later. Crook’s
forces were not much, if any, superior to Custer’s whole command, but
he was fortunate in keeping them undivided. He withstood the attack
with great skill and courage, although for a while things certainly
looked very blue. On this day, a little company of Montana miners,
who had been out in the Black Hills prospecting and had joined Crook
while on their way back to Montana, did splendid work with their
Sharp’s sporting rifles. Crook and Terry, those grand soldiers, after
poor Custer’s command had been wiped out, united their forces on the
Yellowstone. How Terry then took for his share the task of cleaning out
any hostiles to be found north of the Yellowstone, while Crook, like a
bull-dog, hung to the trail which led to the south; how he followed it
without bedding, without shelter, without food other than horse meat
and berries found in captured villages, and in spite of the pitiless
rain which beat down upon us (for I was one of those who camped on the
trail), day after day, during the entire march from the mouth of Powder
river to the Black Hills.
“I could write a book about our trials and tribulations on those
marches, and sometime in the future the half-formed fancy of the
present moment may take shape. One thing I wish to impress upon
the minds of present and future Montanians, and that is the fact
that the campaigns of General Crook and brother officers and men in
1876 and 1877 had the positive result of opening to their permanent
occupation and use those vast and beautiful regions drained by the
Yellowstone, Big Horn, Rosebud, Tongue, Powder, Musselshell and Judith
rivers--regions which up that time had swarmed with the most powerful,
vindictive and treacherous tribes of savages America has produced.
I went into those campaigns knowing little of the regular army, and
indeed somewhat prejudiced against it; I came out satisfied that
the mass of its officers and men, the ‘youngsters’ especially, were
brave, intelligent, patriotic, ambitious and courteous--men of whom any
country should be proud.
“Closing this reminiscence of an arduous season of toil and danger,
I am glad to say that among the lieutenants with whom I faced the
red foe, and for whom I formed a great attachment, was the witty,
bright and brave Schwatka, whose successes as an Arctic explorer have
since made him world famous; Bourke, who besides being an officer of
exceptional gallantry and good judgment, has devoted himself, with
great patience, to the collection of memoranda upon the manners and
customs of the aborigines; Carpenter, noted as an entomologist, and
dozens of other officers--Eagan, Charles King, Schuyler, Allison,
Chase, Lemley, McKinney (since killed), Delaney, Randall, Sibley,
Nickerson, Henry, as brave and intelligent as any men can be--in the
army or out of it.
“As Sherman’s army had an important element following and surrounding
it--‘the bummers’--so this hard-worked force that Crook commanded
had attached to it a force of correspondents whom I compare, and in
all kindness, to the ‘bummers’ whom Sherman led to the sea. They
were an exceptionally fine lot of men. There was Jack Finerty of the
Chicago Times. I have always had a notion that he stepped out from
some place in Lever’s novels; he was brave to rashness, and devoted to
the interests of his great journal. Joe Wason, of the Alta California
and the New York Tribune, always on the skirmish line after ‘pints.’
His red head shone like the danger signal of a freight train, but in
spite of his red head he was one of the best fellows I ever knew. T.
C. MacMillan of the Chicago Inter Ocean, and J. J. Roche of the New
York Herald, both physically weak, but intellectually strong, and so
on through the list. Readers of the Boston Advertiser, New York
Herald and Tribune, Alta California, Philadelphia Press, Washington
Star, Denver News, Omaha Republican and Herald, Cheyenne Sun, and other
papers represented at various times during that campaign of seventeen
months’ duration, never imagined while they were reading our letters
at their comfortable breakfast table, and growling at the dashed
correspondents because they ‘didn’t make ’em more full,’ that the
‘dashed correspondent,’ dressed in rags, soaked through with rain, and
almost crazed with want of food and rest, was writing his letters on a
cottonwood chip or a piece of flat stone, and often at the risk of his
life from a stray bullet.”
[Illustration: COL. WILLIAM F. CODY (BUFFALO BILL).
The Pony Express Rider, the Noted Scout During the Indian Wars and
Chief Scout of the United States Army.]
There is now in this state one witness of the Custer battles, who is
perhaps the only one living. He is William Jackson, an intelligent and
well educated half-breed, who now lives at the Blackfeet reservation
sixty-five miles from here.
After a long life as government scout, he has turned his attention
to farming and cattle raising, and in this pursuit he has been quite
successful. He was in this city a few days ago on his way from Helena,
where he had been as a witness in a trial which was held in the United
States court. A correspondent of the Anaconda Standard, at this place,
had an important interview with Mr. Jackson, which is as follows. He
says: “Mitch Bouille, William Cross and myself were acting as guides
and scouts for the Custer-Terry expedition against the Sioux and
Cheyennes who were under the leadership of the wily old Sitting Bull.
The battle, as you know, took place on June 25, 1876. On the morning of
that day the troopers had made an early start and we, the scouts, had
gone ahead on a reconnoitering expedition. When we returned to report
we met the command crossing the divide between the Rosebud and Little
Big Horn rivers, General Custer rode at the head of his command, the
Seventh Cavalry, and Captains French and Benteen and Major Reno were
in command of other divisions.
“We had discovered the hostiles camped near the Little Big Horn and
about seven miles straight ahead of the soldiers. We so reported to
General Custer, and he, calling a halt, summoned the officers under
him for a council. The troops were shut out from view on the part of
the hostiles by a ridge of land, and it was at the base of this that
the council of war was held. It lasted but a few minutes, and Custer’s
desire for an immediate engagement carried the day. The soldiers were
divided into three battalions. Major Reno with three companies and all
of the scouts was to advance rapidly and from a commanding ridge make a
charge upon the upper end of the Sioux camp, first gaining a patch of
timber about six hundred yards from the enemy. In the meantime General
Custer, with five companies, would deploy around the edge of the ridge
where they were now halted and attack the lower end of the village and
cut off all retreat on the part of the Sioux. Captain Benteen, with
four companies, would take up a position on the east bank of the Little
Big Horn, overlooking the village and protecting the pack train and
baggage.
“As the officers left the council they quickly gave orders to the men,
and in an instant all were busy inspecting and loading their pistols
and carbines, filling their ammunition belts, tightening saddles and
looking to every detail preparatory to the fight. Soon the bugle
sounded, ‘Prepare to mount; mount, forward!’ Custer and his men went to
the right, Reno to the left, toward the ford of the Little Big Horn.
The horses went forward at a sharp trot, and in the moment of waiting
on the bank of the stream I looked back and saw Custer with his five
companies charging upon the village, Custer fully fifty yards in the
lead. That was the last time I ever looked upon that heroic soldier
alive or his gallant men. We were soon busy in making the ford, which
was somewhat difficult, and then we advanced up the ridge, taking the
position assigned us at the council. Up to that time there had been no
incident of interest. The troops were dismounted and the horses left in
the care of every fourth soldier. Everything was ready for the fight to
begin and the wait was not long.
“The hostiles had discovered us at once and took the initiative by
making a vicious charge up the hill. Their main body gained a vantage
ground behind an elevation sufficient to protect them and just in front
of our position. As they charged they drove in our skirmish line, which
took a position just inside the timber. The fight was furious for a
time, the Indians outnumbering Reno’s command at least ten to one. A
second charge from the hostiles drove us still higher up the ridge, at
least one mile further from the village, and it was in our retreat that
we first heard the sounds of firing in the lower end of the village
where Custer was engaged. It could not have been very heavy, as he met
but few hostiles at the first of the engagement, but it was sufficient
to draw the attention of the Indians away from us and turn it upon the
unfortunates who were attacking them in the rear. This was between 3
and 4 o’clock in the afternoon and from that time the fighting in the
lower end of the Indian camp was hot and heavy. The sound of firing
increased steadily until it became a roar, and then it died gradually
away until there was only the scattered reports of single shots. All
this took place in the space of two hours, and when the June sun set
behind the Little Big Horn mountains the Custer command had been
entirely wiped out.
“Of course we did not know this at the time, but wondered how the fight
had gone. Soon we suspected that something was wrong, for the Indians
again turned their attention to Reno, and from that time there was
no opportunity to think of anything save what we saw going on about
us, and in which we were vitally interested, for the onslaughts of the
painted warriors became desperate. Inflamed by their success in killing
the Custer command, they now determined to sweep away the rest of their
enemies, and time and again they charged up the hill to capture Reno.
Only the strength of our position prevented our meeting a fate like
that of Custer, and it was after dark before the hostiles gave up their
attempt to dislodge and slaughter us. My personal interest in the fray
was strong. I had been in the skirmish line, and when we were driven
back by the hostiles we retreated slowly, protecting the withdrawal of
the main body of Reno’s command. In doing this fourteen of us were cut
off from the command and had to take to the brush and hide. Before we
could conceal ourselves ten of the fourteen had been killed, leaving
only Lieutenant Deridio, F. F. Gerard, Tom O’Neal and myself.
“Fortunately we were not discovered, and at midnight, after all danger
of the enemy was past, we slipped from our covert and made ready to
join our command. We stripped the blankets from the bodies of dead
Indians, which were plentifully strewn through the timber, and wrapping
these about us we filed Indian fashion up the bank of the stream. We
did not know just where Reno was camped and our first desire was to get
outside of the ‘dead circle,’ or picket line, of the Sioux. We advanced
cautiously and making as little noise as possible, but in spite of that
we suddenly ran into a body of fifteen Sioux pickets. To hesitate was
to be suspected, and suspicion on their part just then meant death to
us. We advanced steadily and without exhibiting surprise. We had partly
passed the party when one of them demanded who we were. I could speak
Sioux as well as my own tongue, and without delay replied ‘Us.’
“‘Where are you going?’ was the next question, and my answer to this
was, ‘for our horses.’ This satisfied the interrogators, and we had
escaped the first danger.
“We had succeeded in crossing the stream and following the trail along
the bank, faint in the dim moonlight, when we came to an opening in
the dense cottonwoods, and there we ran into a camp of several hundred
Indians. Gerard immediately took them to be our men and belonging to
Reno’s command. He shouted: ‘Don’t shoot, boys; we are friends.’ The
startled Indians cried out: ‘Lay non; wa-see-cha ah-he-pe ah-lo!’ (It
is the enemy; the evil bad snows are upon us!) At this I dropped my
blanket and ran, getting into the brush and away from the trail. Some
one followed me closely, and I made up my mind that if he ever caught
me there would be a fight to death between us. I could actually feel
the knive thrust between my ribs in my highly excited imagination,
and when I reached the river bank I turned to face my pursuer. Then I
found that it was none other than Gerard, who had chosen the same path
as myself. We waited a minute or two and listened. Then we heard four
shots, and we were sure that our companions were lost.
“We waited no longer but plunged into the stream and gained the
opposite bank, following it as far as we dared. Dawn was breaking and
through the day we lay hidden in the willows, watching the battle
which followed between the Indians and Reno’s command. As the sun
arose we could see the Indians circling about the camp and occupying
every adjacent hill. A scattering fire was maintained until 9 o’clock,
when the Indians made a savage assault upon the east side of Reno’s
position. The soldiers appeared to be very cool and poured in a
murderous fire, which forced the hostiles to fall back with heavy loss.
An hour later they made a second desperate charge, and so fierce was
this that they actually fought with the soldiers over the breastworks,
hand to hand. But again the discipline of the soldiers was more than
a match for the fanatical frenzy of the Sioux, and they were driven
back the second time. The soldiers had lost but few in this conflict,
while their savage foes were strewn all over the side of the hill. From
that time until noon there was only firing at long range. Then came a
third charge, easily repulsed. From that time until 4 o’clock in the
afternoon each side rested on its arms. About that hour, sheltered
by a hill and not more than one thousand yards distant from the
soldiers, the Indians held a council of war. In a few minutes there
were evidences of departure in the Indian village, and it was then that
the strength of the foe appeared. They could be seen by the thousand,
scurrying about through the camp, taking down the lodges, loading the
ponies with packs and with travois, and when the baggage train was
finally completed, hurrying off to the north under a strong escort of
warriors, making for the Big Horn mountains. At sunset all of them had
disappeared and we dared venture out from our hiding place.
“Approaching Reno’s position cautiously, for fear of being shot by the
sentinels in the darkness, we were fortunate in getting inside the
lines in time to meet Major Reno himself with members of his staff.
To them I related what we had seen and heard, including the story of
the loss of our companions, but before I had finished a challenge was
heard, and into the camp came an orderly with Deridio and O’Neal. We
were overjoyed, but there was little time for congratulations. Mounted
on the best horse remaining in the command--for the long range fighting
had killed many of those in the troop--I was sent with dispatches to
Generals Custer and Terry.