The Last Days of George Armstrong Custer (39 page)

The adjoining cemetery, Custer National Cemetery, holds the remains of such notable figures as Custer's longtime orderly John Burkman; Lieutenant John J. Crittenden; Curly the scout; Dr. George E. Lord; and a mass grave for twenty-one soldiers killed in the 1877 Snake Creek fight against the Nez Percé.

Meanwhile, the living were left to deal with the loss of their loved ones. Maria Custer was understandably grief stricken following the deaths of her three sons, a son-in-law, and a grandson in the Little Bighorn battle. She lamented, “How can I bear it? All my boys gone.” For unknown reasons, she did not attend the ceremony at West Point when her oldest son was reinterred on October 10, 1877. Maria passed away in January 1882 at the age of seventy-five.

Emanuel Custer, the man who valued family over everything else in his life, had lost three of his beloved sons, Armstrong, Tom, and Boston; a son-in-law, James Calhoun; and a stepgrandson, Autie Reed. Libbie arranged for Emanuel to have Armstrong's horse Dandy, and for years he would proudly ride his son's favorite mount in parades. Emanuel eventually went to live on son Nevin's farm three miles west of Monroe. He passed away on November 27, 1892—two weeks before his eighty-sixth birthday.

Libbie Custer was only thirty-four years old when she received the news at Fort Abraham Lincoln in Dakota Territory that her husband had been killed. She returned to Monroe, Michigan, and contemplated her future. Her life's mission was soon decided when a debate ensued over Custer's actions during that battle. Libbie worked tirelessly to protect the image of her beloved husband and vigorously defended him against those who brought criticism. Her first act was to assist Frederick Whittaker in the writing of his 1876
A Complete Life of Gen. George A. Custer
by putting personal correspondence at his disposal. This favorable portrayal of Custer would be the predominant view of her husband for many years to come.

In the summer of 1877, Libbie moved from Michigan to New York City to better her opportunities. She had been faced with considerable family debt that had exhausted her funds, and with only a nine-hundred-dollar donation raised by the
Army and Navy Journal
and a thirty-dollar-a-month pension (raised to fifty dollars in 1882), she would be required to find work to support herself. She also commenced raising money that would eventually pay for monuments honoring Custer in Michigan and at West Point.

Libbie and biographer Frederick Whittaker undertook a relentless effort to convince the government to hold an official inquiry into the circumstances surrounding the Little Bighorn battle. Libbie was interested in clearing her husband's name from those who placed blame on him for the defeat.

Whittaker wrote a letter dated May 18, 1878, to Wyoming congressman W. W. Corlett, which demanded an investigation. The letter included the passage: “Information from participants in the battle is to the effect that gross cowardice was displayed by Major Marcus A. Reno.” This letter was leaked to the press, which was the last straw for Reno, who requested that the army convene a court of inquiry to investigate his conduct.

By order of President Rutherford B. Hayes, the court convened at the Palmer House in Chicago on January 13, 1879. The examining committee was comprised of three officers—Colonel John H. King, Ninth Infantry, presiding; Colonel Wesley Merritt, Fifth Cavalry; and Lieutenant Colonel W. B. Royall, Third Cavalry. The court reporter was Lieutenant Jesse M. Lee, Ninth Infantry. Members of the Custer family, including Libbie and Maggie Calhoun, attended every session.

Reno was defended by Lyman Gilbert, the assistant attorney general of Pennsylvania. Reno's primary defense of his actions was to blame Custer for not providing him the complete battle plan. He testified that he had been ordered to charge the village and would “be supported by the whole outfit.” He interpreted that to mean that Custer was going to follow him into the village. And because he had not observed Custer behind, Reno claimed that he was justified in not charging into the village on what could be likened to a suicide mission.

An examination of Reno's official report of the battle, however, reveals that he expected Custer to attack on the flank. Therefore, it does not take a lawyer to recognize that Reno's defense was based on a contradiction.

Reno, although evidence indicates otherwise, maintained that his retreat, in which about a third of his men became casualties, was a “charge.” He also was asked: “Did you go into that fight with feelings of confidence or distrust [of Custer]?” Reno answered: “Well, sir, I had known General Custer a long time, and I had no confidence in his ability as a soldier.” This absurd and insulting statement came from a man who had never commanded troops in battle against Indians about an officer who had faced this enemy on a number of occasions with great success.

Incidentally, at the time of this Court of Inquiry there was no reason for anyone to assume that the Enlisted Men's Petition was not authentic. This phony document was presented as evidence and was a huge boost to Reno's case. Here were 235 or 236 credible eyewitnesses who enthusiastically supported the actions of Reno and Benteen that day—most of them without their knowledge.

Reno was also aided by the fact that fellow officers had closed ranks around the elite Seventh Cavalry and did not desire to bring disgrace upon the unit. Stories were carefully altered and answers were often evasive—some officers did not testify for one reason or another. Only one officer, First Lieutenant (and future general) Edward S. Godfrey, supported the charge of cowardice against Reno by stating that the major had displayed “indecision” and “nervous timidity.”

The few disparaging words against Reno came from civilians, scout Fred Girard in particular, who pointed out Reno's mishandling of the retreat, and by two packers who accused Reno of drunkenness. Reno defenders have pointed out that mainly civilians condemned Reno, not fellow officers. These misguided defenders evidently have never served in the armed forces.

Anyone who has worn the uniform to this day knows that unit protocol occasionally calls for “cover-ups” in these situations. You simply do not—cannot—bring discredit upon your unit or organization. The whole truth cannot be revealed at times for the good of the outfit, and anyone who betrays that sacred unwritten law faces repercussions from his comrades. In other words, in this case, the inquiry was little more than a dog-and-pony show performed by career military men who understood the politics of their profession.

In fact, First Lieutenant Charles DeRudio confirmed this attitude by the officers when he told researcher Walter Camp, “There was a private understanding between a number of officers that they would do all they could to save Reno.”

Still, it was glaringly evident that Reno had disobeyed Custer's orders by not charging into the village and his subsequent actions were contrary to proper military conduct and discipline.

The testimony of twenty-three veterans of the battle lasted for twenty-six days and filled thirteen hundred pages. The finding of the court was as follows: “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 [criticism or censure] from this Court.”

Amazingly, given the known facts about Custer's orders and strategy and a clear view of the way the battle unfolded, Reno had been cleared of any wrongdoing. The Reno Court of Inquiry, which had been convened in order to establish the facts of the battle, was more farcical than credible and simply served to intensify the debate over the conduct of Custer and Reno that exists to this day.

Libbie Custer was understandably crushed by the decision of the court but said nothing about it in public. Not so Frederick Whittaker. He wrote a scathing letter to the
New York Sun
newspaper that was published on February 26, 1879, in which he called the proceedings a “mockery of justice,” and a “whitewash.” Whittaker went on to say that Wesley Merritt had been “afterward closeted with the Recorder, [Lieutenant Jesse Lee] alone for several hours, and, it is understood, did most of the work of the decision, the Recorder having no voice save to present the case on trial.”

Libbie expressed her feelings about Merritt in an October 16, 1882, letter to General William T. Sherman, in which she wrote: “A wife's love sharpens her eyes and quickens her instinct and years ago I knew (not from my husband) that General Merritt was his enemy. On the plains we entertained him and he seemed to have conquered his enmity and jealousy that was so bitter in the Army of the Republic. But when he was placed at the head of the Court of Inquiry that met to investigate Col. Reno's conduct at Chicago, I saw all through the trial how General Merritt
still
felt toward his dead comrade.”

Evidently, Wesley Merritt's envy of Custer—they had been rivals during the Civil War—had been a major influence on the outcome. Or could it have been that higher-ups in the government had stacked the court, privately making their sentiments about the outcome known? In all fairness, no officer who had served as closely with George Armstrong Custer as had Merritt during his career should have been appointed to that inquiry. The court failed to meet the standards of an objective military investigation and possibly from the start never had any intention of placing blame where it belonged. But that is not the end of the story.

Years later, there would be some measure of satisfaction for Libbie Custer, however. General (former lieutenant) Jesse M. Lee, the Reno court recorder, wrote a letter to Libbie, dated June 27, 1897, and confessed to having been influenced during the inquiry “by the prejudicial opinions of those whose motive I did not then understand, and whose sources of information I then had no means of testing.” Lee went on to offer the opinion that blame for the defeat should have been placed squarely on Marcus Reno.

The important vindication of Custer by the court recorder, unfortunately, had come eighteen years too late and has had little impact on changing opinions.

Libbie set aside her bitterness about the failure of the inquiry to condemn Reno to become a writer of articles published in the country's most respected magazines as well as the author of three memoirs of note. Each of these books that related her adventures on the frontier and further shaped the heroic image of her husband became exceedingly popular with the public.

Boots and Saddles or, Life in Dakota with General Custer,
released in 1885, recounted the story of how her marriage survived the frustrations, dangers, and hardships of living on frontier posts and concludes by blaming the corrupt Indian policy for the tragedy at the Little Bighorn.
Tenting on the Plains; or, General Custer in Kansas and Texas,
1887, addresses post–Civil War duty in Texas, where a near mutiny occurred, as well as posts in Kansas, including those events pertaining to Custer's 1867 court-martial.
Following the Guidon,
1890, refutes criticism over the 1868 Washita battle. These fascinating books stand as several of the best ever written about that period in history.

Libbie, who remained unmarried for the rest of her life and lived most of the time in a Park Avenue apartment, traveled the world and was in much demand as a public speaker. The issues she embraced ranged beyond maintaining her husband's image to include the women's suffrage movement and other feminist causes. She invested her money wisely and purchased property in Bronxville, Westchester County, New York, where she spent her later years.

Libbie Bacon Custer died of a heart attack on April 4, 1933—four days short of her ninety-first birthday—and was buried beside her husband two days later at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, New York. Her obituary appeared in
The New York Times
on April 5, 1933.

Frederick Benteen, the recipient of Custer's last message, has also come under fire for his behavior on June 25, 1876. Instead of hurrying to rescue Custer's command, Benteen lollygagged along the way, which in the opinion of many scholars constituted a disobedience of orders. Had he acted immediately, it has been theorized, he could have reached the battlefield in time to assist Custer. True, statements made by orderly John Martin, who had delivered the message to hurry, were of a reassuring nature, which might have convinced Benteen that the situation was well in hand. But nothing in battle should be assumed, rather it should be confirmed, and Benteen—who had received his orders—neglected to do that.

Benteen stated at the 1879 Reno Court of Inquiry that he believed that it would have been tantamount to suicide to follow Custer's order. “We were at their hearth and homes,” he said, referring to the Sioux, “their medicine was working well, and they were fighting for all the good God gives anyone to fight for.”

Perhaps that was the case when Benteen finally arrived near the scene of the battle and was met by a terrified Marcus Reno. Had Benteen “Come on” and been “Quick,” just the mere presence of his 125 troopers advancing, much less their firepower, might have made a difference in discouraging the fighting spirit of the enemy. Benteen, true to form, also held the opinion that Custer had disobeyed the orders of General Terry and thereby sacrificed his command.

Custer's last message, by the way, has survived. Benteen wrote to his wife on July 4, quoted the message, and said: “I have the original, but it is badly torn and it should be preserved.” He brought the document to Reno's Court of Inquiry and later gave it to a friend in Philadelphia, who sold it to a New Jersey collector. At some point Colonel Charles Bates, author of several Custer-related books, noticed the message advertised for sale at an auction. Bates arranged with the owner to have it secured by the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.

Benteen remained with the Seventh Cavalry after Little Bighorn and fought against the Nez Percé at Canyon Creek in 1877, for which he received a brevet to colonel. In 1882, he was promoted to major and transferred to the Ninth Cavalry.