The Last Days of George Armstrong Custer (22 page)

By the time Custer arrived at about 9:00
A.M.
, a haze had settled over the hilly terrain that made it impossible for him to recognize anything that far away. He did, however, accept the assessment of his scouts that a large Indian village along the river lay ahead.

Custer returned to camp and was informed by his brother Tom that Captain Myles Keogh, whose battalion had been detailed with the pack train, reported that a troubling incident had occurred. Troopers with Company F had been sent back to retrieve a box of hardtack that had fallen off a mule during the night march. When the detail located the box it was surrounded by several Indians, who had been sampling the contents and raced away as the soldiers approached.

That information convinced Custer that the presence and location of his command was certainly now known by the hostiles. This would necessitate immediate action or—as was the custom of the Indians when discovered by the army—the village would vanish into the hills. Time was now of the essence.

Custer assembled his officers and informed them of the situation. Every one of them was concerned that the Indians would escape and understood that they must move quickly to prevent that. The column, Custer told them, would march at once in the direction of the presumed location of the village. Each company would detail one noncommissioned officer and six troopers to escort the pack train. Captain Frederick Benteen's Company H would have the advance.

Custer informed his orderly, John Burkman, that his horse Dandy was weary from his trip to Crow's Nest. Burkman was asked to saddle Vic, a chestnut thoroughbred with three white fetlocks that Custer had obtained in Kentucky. Burkman was told to remain with the pack train and make sure that Custer's hounds did not follow him.

George Armstrong Custer was ready for a fight, and would formulate his battle plan as events warranted—just as he had done during the Civil War with great success. He had no reason to believe that the Sioux and Cheyenne would provide much of a contest, especially since he believed they were running away and he would likely be chasing down small bands throughout the territory.

If everything went as planned, the Seventh Cavalry would be attaining further glory by sundown that day. But that wasn't to be the case.

 

Ten

Into the Valley

There has been a concerted effort over the years by historians to demonize Custer and place guilt and disgrace by association on the members of the Seventh Cavalry who rode under his command to wage battle in the Valley of the Little Bighorn. In fact, there are those Americans who shamefully regard these soldiers as the enemy in this engagement, believing that they were less than honorable for fighting against the hostile Sioux and Cheyenne.

Any implied dishonor toward these brave men who rode under the colors of the United States of America has been misdirected and should be considered a grievous insult to anyone who has ever served in the military—as well as any true American.

Custer was not a loose cannon or some sort of rogue commander who was free to pillage, plunder, and kill his way through the West. Neither he nor his men had the power to formulate national policy or to choose their enemies—that falls into the category of politics and the national interest. The soldiers were simply doing their duty and following orders under the United States Constitution, the document that they had sworn to uphold when they had volunteered for the army.

If there was to be an argument about the right or wrong of this mission, then that argument should be with the politics, policies, and principles of the president, his cabinet, the Congress, and the War Department, which, in this case, overwhelmingly supported this military mission.

These soldiers marched off under orders from their government with the blessing and admiration of the country's population, which, along with their elected leaders had determined that the Sioux and Cheyenne, were a threat that must be dealt with harshly. Any blame for fighting a particular enemy should never be directed at those citizens who stepped forward to proudly wear the uniform representing their country and sacrificed so much to protect the national interests—including at times the ultimate sacrifice, their lives.

Make no mistake about it, at that point in time in America Custer and the soldiers of the Seventh Cavalry were every bit as much heroes for doing their duty in Montana as were those forthcoming soldiers who fought in the bloody trenches at Belleau Wood in World War I, or the courageous men who stormed the deadly beaches at Normandy or Iwo Jima, or those fighting servicemen who braved the freezing season at the frozen Chosin Reservoir in Korea, or the men who risked their lives battling brutal communist insurgents in South Vietnam, or those Marines who cleared the dangerous streets of Fallujah in Iraq, or servicemen who came under siege at an outpost in Nuristan Province, Afghanistan.

The men of the Seventh Cavalry—as they rode into that dangerous valley—deserve the respect of the public now just as they did back then for their service. They were indeed the military heroes of their time.

Before too many miles on the march, George Armstrong Custer decided to relieve Benteen and take the advance himself, as was his customary position. He always wanted to personally be the first to know what was ahead and the first to engage in a fight.

At about noon, without any sign of the enemy, the Seventh Cavalry paused at the head of Reno Creek. They were now in full attack mode, and a battle was imminent. Custer conferred briefly with his adjutant, William Cooke, before issuing orders for the regiment to separate into three battalions.

Captain Frederick W. Benteen was assigned companies D, H, and K—about 125 men. Benteen's battalion was detailed on a reconnaissance to the west along a series of ridges that overlooked the Little Bighorn River for the purpose of thwarting an Indian escape in that direction. Benteen was also told to pitch into any Indians he might happen upon. Custer was worried that the Indians from the village would try to run in that direction to escape when the troopers appeared on the scene. Benteen was told to catch up later with the main column farther down Reno Creek.

Major Marcus A. Reno would command a battalion consisting of companies A, G, and M—about 140 men. Reno led his column of men in a southerly direction toward the supposed location of the village while he awaited further orders.

The third battalion would consist of two detachments that would remain under Custer's direct control. The Irish soldier of fortune Captain Myles W. Keogh would command companies C, I, and L and Custer's friend from Monroe, Michigan, captain George Yates, would lead E and F—about 225 total men.

Captain Thomas M. McDougall was placed in charge of security for the pack train, which consisted of his Company B, the escort of troopers from various companies, and the civilian packers—about 85 men. Frenchman First Lieutenant Edward G. Mathey, Company B's second-in-command, would command the pack train.

Benteen and his battalion veered off to the left as the remainder of the regiment—with McDougall's pack train quickly falling behind—marched toward the suspected location of the village.

The sun-baked terrain that spread out before Custer and his men was a frustrating and deceptive landscape of ravines and crevices that cut through grassy rolling hills that sharply plunged into deep valleys. The tree-lined Little Bighorn River lay somewhere down below, but just when they thought they would lay eyes on it another bluff would rise up before them to obscure the view. Custer desperately wanted to observe the village and its position along the river with his own eyes in order to have a better idea of formulating a plan of attack. But even Lieutenant Varnum and the Indian scouts who rode ahead of the column were unable to distinguish their objective.

The column rode eight miles more before halting when they came upon an abandoned village site. This village they called Lone Tepee had signs of fresh occupancy, but only one tepee with the body of a dead warrior from the Rosebud battle lying inside was still standing.

The Arikara scouts were setting fire to the tepee as scout Frederic Girard (aka Gerard, the Canadian spelling of his name), who had a Canadian father and an American mother, galloped up on his black stallion waving his hat. He had been scouting from a nearby knoll when he observed billows of dust that signified to him an enemy that was retreating in the face of the approaching soldiers. “Here are your Indians, General!” Girard shouted. “Running like devils.”

Indeed, great plumes of dust could be observed rising from beyond the distant hills. Custer understood that he must act immediately or his enemy would vanish into the landscape. The regiment was quickly moved another two miles before halting on a fork of Reno Creek.

It was here that First Lieutenant William W. Cooke, Custer's trusted adjutant, carried orders from George Armstrong Custer to Major Marcus Reno for an action that would open hostilities in the June 25, 1876, Battle of the Little Bighorn.

Reno was directed to move rapidly forward down the valley toward the village “and charge afterward, and you will be supported by the whole outfit,” or words to that effect. Numerous bystanders—including Reno's subordinate officers such as Myles Moylan and Thomas French—claimed to have heard Cooke relay the orders, and each version was basically the same other than the specific verbiage. Reno had his orders—charge into the village with his battalion.

Major Reno's three companies immediately trotted away and crossed the creek a short distance upstream from where it flowed into the Little Bighorn River. Cooke and Captain Myles Keogh rode along with Reno until the battalion paused to water the horses and adjust their gear. The two officers then returned to their duties with the main column. At that point, saddles were tightly cinched and equipment tied down and the men made sure their Colt .45s and Springfield carbines were fully loaded and operational.

Custer, watching Reno ride off, met briefly with Lieutenant Varnum, who remarked that apparently the whole valley was full of Indians. Custer suggested that Varnum, if he so desired, could take his scouts and accompany Reno. Varnum was agreeable to that idea and called to his friend First Lieutenant George “Nick” Wallace, the regimental topographical engineer, to join him with Bloody Knife and the other scouts. These men raced to catch up with Reno's battalion.

It was just after 3:00
P.M.
on that brutally hot Sunday afternoon when Major Reno and his three companies of cavalrymen advanced on the western side of the Little Bighorn River steadily toward their objective, the huge village, which lay about two miles directly to their front.

By this time, Custer was maneuvering his battalion onto the high ridge on the eastern side of the Little Bighorn River. From this vantage point he and his troopers could view for the first time a large portion of the Indian village. This maze of white tepees that contrasted with the blue of the river and the sky was certainly breathtaking. No doubt this was the largest village any of these men had ever seen—a full one and a half miles long and a quarter of a mile wide—along with a pony herd above the village that likely numbered twenty thousand animals.

Custer did not know how many warriors he would be fighting, but that number would not have deterred him. He had faced an overwhelming enemy many times during the Civil War with quick and aggressive strategies designed on the spur of the moment to exploit weaknesses and had generally prevailed. He would have been aroused by the prospect of a battle but not fazed by this magnificent sight stretching out before him.

Now that he could view the better part of the valley, he was secure in the knowledge that he had been correct with his initial plan of attack. They were certainly in for a big fight, but that was why they had come. With that in mind, he dispatched Sergeant Daniel Kanipe with orders to tell Captain McDougall to hurry the pack train, which was laden with ammunition.

Custer turned back to the task at hand and keenly assessed the terrain ahead on the ridgeline. He intended to send the men of his battalion down the various ravines at intervals toward the river and into the village on the other side. These natural approaches to the river and the village across it were ideal routes for his purpose. Each detachment could ride down the coulee and strike at a different location along the length of the complex of tepees to wreak havoc among the Sioux and Cheyenne. It would be the knockout blow of the perfect one-two punch after Reno had struck the village with his men.

A number of the coulees were impassable or channeled into nearby ravines that resulted in dead ends, however, so it was imperative that he choose each one wisely. Meanwhile, he would watch events unfold in the valley so as to coordinate his efforts with Reno's charge into the south end of the village.

Sergeant Kanipe rode off to carry Custer's message just as Major Marcus Reno's men thundered down the widening valley on a collision course with Sitting Bull's village. The ground was flat and without obstacles but torn up and reduced to loose dirt by the hooves and overgrazing of the massive Indian pony herd.

No doubt hearts and adrenaline were pumping as every man said his silent prayers as this large village rose up larger and larger as they drew closer. Reno's cavalrymen had the field to themselves; the Indians had not as yet made an appearance. The excited troopers, fueled by the prospect of a fight, could not contain themselves and spontaneously began to wildly cheer—until Reno ordered them to be quiet.

Every advantage was with Reno and his cavalrymen. Custer's plan was working to perfection. The village had been taken completely by surprise. There was no opposition in sight. Reno could sail into the village and have his way with the unwitting occupants.

Now, as Reno was about halfway across the open prairie to his objective his presence was noticed by the stunned occupants. The village became the scene of bedlam as this danger approached its southern end. The women had been tending to their domestic chores, while some men were sleeping, fishing, or repairing weapons and equipment when word spread that soldiers were attacking. Many of the warriors had gone out hunting and others were with the pony herd at the far northern end, and it would take some time for them to react with any effectiveness.