Introduction: Dead men tell no tales. Therefore there are no specifically US military accounts about exactly what happened on Custer Hill. That didn't stop soldiers from trying t piece the events together. However, anything that happened there is largely conjectural. The Reno-Benteen sector is another story. There are accounts there. Below are official accounts from military documents and recollections of surviving soldiers of the 7th Cavalry. The first document is a 41 page PDF that needs to be down loaded.
US Military Documents 1876 | |
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Marcus Reno's Story of the Battle
A 7th Cavalry survivor's account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
From the New York Herald, Thursday, August 8, 1876.
Here are the findings of the Marcus Reno Court of Inquiry.
"[AFTER RECEIVING orders from Gen. Custer to attack the Indian village, my] whole command moved forward, proceeding about a mile and a half. During this time chopping shots were heard. So numerous were the masses of Indians encountered that the command was obliged to dismount and fight on foot, retiring to the point which had first been selected. It was a crest of hills which formed a depression, in which the pack mules and horses were herded, and men were put in these crests, sheltering themselves as best they could behind a growth of sage brush. This was about half past five P.M. and we had just taken up position when the Indians came on us in thousands. The fight was maintained in this position until night. About nine P.M. the Indians withdrew, and immediately the command was put to work making such rifle pits as the scanty implements at our command enabled us to do-mostly hunting knives, plates and canteens, a few axes, and three spades. We were left undisturbed until half past two in the morning of the 26th, when two sharp rifle cracks opened one of the heaviest fires I have ever witnessed, and which continued until half past nine A.M., when the fury of the attack subsided. In the meantime they fired into the herd through the opening of the valley from a hill which was beyond range of my carbines. About eight A.M. the Indians made a charge on the front defended by Colonel Benteen, one of the Indians reaching near enough to his line to touch a dead soldier with his coup stick. He will never touch another. The question of obtaining water was then becoming vital for the wounded, and the water being on the front of Company H, about 600 yards distant, a skirmish line was formed under command of Colonel Benteen to protect the volunteers who went for water. Of these one was killed and six wounded. [Note: here is Mrs. Spotted Horn Bull's cheerful recollection of the water brigade slaughter, as well as Peter Thompson's account of his experience, for which he won the Medal of Honor.] Water was obtained, and though the Indians remained annoyingly about us during the rest of the day, evidently they had been disturbed, for I saw them making a big fire in the valley, raising great clouds of dust and smoke. The fire was evidently encouraged by the Indians, and about six o'clock we saw their column come out from behind these clouds of smoke and dust on to the bluffs, moving in regular military order in the direction of the Bighorn Mountains, which were about thirty miles distant. I first thought it was the return of Custer which had started the Indians. We could not conceive the awful fate which had befallen him and his command. The question was settled next morning by General Terry riding into camp, who brought the first news of Custer's disaster. Colonel Benteen, with his company, was at once dispatched to the battlefield, and brought us the fact of Custer's annihilation and that he had recognized the bodies of the officers whose names have been published and who fell with Custer.
* * *
I was given the command of Companies M, A and G, and was ordered [by Gen. Custer] to proceed at as rapid a gait as I thought prudent and afterward to charge, and that I would be supported by the whole outfit. This order was brought to me by Colonel Cooke, adjutant of the regiment. I never saw Custer again living, and the instructions embodied in these words were received from him. After Colonel Cooke gave me these instructions he rode with me for some time, as also Captain Keogh, and said, in his laughing, smiling, way, "We are all going with the advance and Miles Keogh is coming too." [Note: Here is William Slaper's description of this same moment; after this, Slaper recalled, "things began to liven up."] My attention was then taken up with the ford which I was to cross with the companies, and I never saw either alive again. After crossing the ford I sent word to Custer that the Indians were in front and very strong, but charged on down, supposing that I was being followed by him. As I neared the village I saw Indians passing from the hill behind my left flank. I knew no support could be coming, so I dismounted and took possession of a point of woods about a half mile upstream from the village, sheltered my horses and advanced to the attack, reaching within 200 yards of the village. The Indians then came out in overwhelming numbers, and it was plain to me that the salvation of my command depended on reaching a defensive position, which was accomplished by charging through the Indians to the bluffs, where I was joined by the other companies commanded by Colonel Benteen and Captain McDougall. The ford we crossed in getting to the bluff was not the same we had passed in going to attack the village. It was in front of the bluff, and it was partially by accident that we found it. When I went into action I had only 112 men and officers of the Seventh with me and some twenty-five scouts. If I had not made the charge for the bluffs my command would undoubtedly have been annihilated as Custer's was. The great mistake in the beginning was that we underestimated the Indian strength. The lowest computation puts the Indian strength at about 2,500, and some think there were 5,000 warriors present. The Indians are the best light cavalry in the world. I have seen pretty nearly all of them, and I do not except even the Cossacks. [Note: Capt. Anson Mills agreed, calling the Sioux and Cheyenne "the best cavalry soldiers on earth" after being whipped by Crazy Horse at the Battle of the Rosebud. For more info, see Indian Battlefield Tactics.]
Among the gallant deeds in the Custer fight the splendid conduct of Lieutenant Cooke deserves special mention. He was the last officer to fall, and he remained mounted to the last after Custer's death. The command of the survivors fell on him, and with his small band he repeatedly charged the Indians. The Crow scout [this was Curley], who was the only known survivor, says that the Sioux warriors scattered time and time again before the desperate onslaught of Cooke and his handful of men, who fell at last, overwhelmed by innumerable enemies." [Note here is Wooden Leg's account of scalping Cooke's distinctive muttonchop whiskers.]
The Custer Myth: A Source Book of Custerania, written and compiled by Colonel W.A. Graham, The Stackpole Co., Harrisburg, PA 1953, p 228 - 229
A 7th Cavalry survivor's account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
From the New York Herald, Thursday, August 8, 1876.
Here are the findings of the Marcus Reno Court of Inquiry.
"[AFTER RECEIVING orders from Gen. Custer to attack the Indian village, my] whole command moved forward, proceeding about a mile and a half. During this time chopping shots were heard. So numerous were the masses of Indians encountered that the command was obliged to dismount and fight on foot, retiring to the point which had first been selected. It was a crest of hills which formed a depression, in which the pack mules and horses were herded, and men were put in these crests, sheltering themselves as best they could behind a growth of sage brush. This was about half past five P.M. and we had just taken up position when the Indians came on us in thousands. The fight was maintained in this position until night. About nine P.M. the Indians withdrew, and immediately the command was put to work making such rifle pits as the scanty implements at our command enabled us to do-mostly hunting knives, plates and canteens, a few axes, and three spades. We were left undisturbed until half past two in the morning of the 26th, when two sharp rifle cracks opened one of the heaviest fires I have ever witnessed, and which continued until half past nine A.M., when the fury of the attack subsided. In the meantime they fired into the herd through the opening of the valley from a hill which was beyond range of my carbines. About eight A.M. the Indians made a charge on the front defended by Colonel Benteen, one of the Indians reaching near enough to his line to touch a dead soldier with his coup stick. He will never touch another. The question of obtaining water was then becoming vital for the wounded, and the water being on the front of Company H, about 600 yards distant, a skirmish line was formed under command of Colonel Benteen to protect the volunteers who went for water. Of these one was killed and six wounded. [Note: here is Mrs. Spotted Horn Bull's cheerful recollection of the water brigade slaughter, as well as Peter Thompson's account of his experience, for which he won the Medal of Honor.] Water was obtained, and though the Indians remained annoyingly about us during the rest of the day, evidently they had been disturbed, for I saw them making a big fire in the valley, raising great clouds of dust and smoke. The fire was evidently encouraged by the Indians, and about six o'clock we saw their column come out from behind these clouds of smoke and dust on to the bluffs, moving in regular military order in the direction of the Bighorn Mountains, which were about thirty miles distant. I first thought it was the return of Custer which had started the Indians. We could not conceive the awful fate which had befallen him and his command. The question was settled next morning by General Terry riding into camp, who brought the first news of Custer's disaster. Colonel Benteen, with his company, was at once dispatched to the battlefield, and brought us the fact of Custer's annihilation and that he had recognized the bodies of the officers whose names have been published and who fell with Custer.
* * *
I was given the command of Companies M, A and G, and was ordered [by Gen. Custer] to proceed at as rapid a gait as I thought prudent and afterward to charge, and that I would be supported by the whole outfit. This order was brought to me by Colonel Cooke, adjutant of the regiment. I never saw Custer again living, and the instructions embodied in these words were received from him. After Colonel Cooke gave me these instructions he rode with me for some time, as also Captain Keogh, and said, in his laughing, smiling, way, "We are all going with the advance and Miles Keogh is coming too." [Note: Here is William Slaper's description of this same moment; after this, Slaper recalled, "things began to liven up."] My attention was then taken up with the ford which I was to cross with the companies, and I never saw either alive again. After crossing the ford I sent word to Custer that the Indians were in front and very strong, but charged on down, supposing that I was being followed by him. As I neared the village I saw Indians passing from the hill behind my left flank. I knew no support could be coming, so I dismounted and took possession of a point of woods about a half mile upstream from the village, sheltered my horses and advanced to the attack, reaching within 200 yards of the village. The Indians then came out in overwhelming numbers, and it was plain to me that the salvation of my command depended on reaching a defensive position, which was accomplished by charging through the Indians to the bluffs, where I was joined by the other companies commanded by Colonel Benteen and Captain McDougall. The ford we crossed in getting to the bluff was not the same we had passed in going to attack the village. It was in front of the bluff, and it was partially by accident that we found it. When I went into action I had only 112 men and officers of the Seventh with me and some twenty-five scouts. If I had not made the charge for the bluffs my command would undoubtedly have been annihilated as Custer's was. The great mistake in the beginning was that we underestimated the Indian strength. The lowest computation puts the Indian strength at about 2,500, and some think there were 5,000 warriors present. The Indians are the best light cavalry in the world. I have seen pretty nearly all of them, and I do not except even the Cossacks. [Note: Capt. Anson Mills agreed, calling the Sioux and Cheyenne "the best cavalry soldiers on earth" after being whipped by Crazy Horse at the Battle of the Rosebud. For more info, see Indian Battlefield Tactics.]
Among the gallant deeds in the Custer fight the splendid conduct of Lieutenant Cooke deserves special mention. He was the last officer to fall, and he remained mounted to the last after Custer's death. The command of the survivors fell on him, and with his small band he repeatedly charged the Indians. The Crow scout [this was Curley], who was the only known survivor, says that the Sioux warriors scattered time and time again before the desperate onslaught of Cooke and his handful of men, who fell at last, overwhelmed by innumerable enemies." [Note here is Wooden Leg's account of scalping Cooke's distinctive muttonchop whiskers.]
The Custer Myth: A Source Book of Custerania, written and compiled by Colonel W.A. Graham, The Stackpole Co., Harrisburg, PA 1953, p 228 - 229
Peter Thompson's Story of the Battle
A 7th Cavalry survivor's account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
From the Belle Fourche Bee, Belle Fourche, SD, December 1913.
IN THE MORNING before mounting the companies form in single lines. Each man, commencing at the head of the company calls out in turn his number; one, two, three, four, and so these are repeated until the company is all numbered into sets of fours. Cavalry men dismount and fight on foot except when a charge is made, but when a dismount is ordered, number four remains on his horse, numbers, one, two, and three dismount and hand their bridle reins to number four who holds the horses, while they deploy as skirmishers or as otherwise directed. The men composing the four with myself were Fitzgerald [Pvt. John Fitzgerald], Brennan [Pvt. John Brennan], and Watson [Pvt. James Watson], and although composing one of the sets of fours that entered into action with Custer, not one of us ever reached the battlefield which proved fatal to Custer and his men. Both Brennan and Fitzgerald turned their horses toward the rear, when they had gone two miles beyond the lone teepee.
We soon gained the top of the bluffs where a view of the surrounding country was obtained. The detail of Company F which was sent to investigate the teepee, now passed by us on their way to the front with the report that it contained a dead Indian and such articles as were deemed necessary for him on his journey to the "Happy Hunting Ground."
About a half a mile further on we came in sight of the Indian village and it was truly an imposing sight to anyone who had not seen anything like it before. For about three miles on the left bank of the river the teepees were stretched, the white canvas gleaming in the sunlight. Beyond the village was a black mass of ponies grazing on the short green grass.
When the companies came in sight of the village, they gave the regular charging yell and urged their horses into a gallop. [Curley and Foolish Elk also reported that Custer's men charged into a gallop when the Indian village came in sight.] At this time a detail of five men from Company F was sent ahead to reconoiter and from this point I was gradually left behind in spite of all I could do to keep up with my company. There were others also in the same fix. All urging on my part was useless. Getting vexed I dismounted and began to fasten on my spurs, when I heard my name called and, on looking up, I saw Brennan near me on horseback. He asked, "What is the matter?" I told him that I was afraid my horse was entirely played out. "Well," said he, "Let us keep together." I straightened myself up and said, "I will tell you what I will do." "I will trade horses with you if you will." He gave me a strange look and turned his horse around and rode towards the rear, leaving me to shift for myself. "Well," I thought, "I will get along anyway." I finished putting on my spurs, mounted my horse again, and rode on after my company, but my progress was very slow.
My spurs having been poorly fastened came off again, and seeing a pair lying on the trail, I got off my horse to secure them. Hearing an oath behind me, I looked back and saw my comrade Watson trying to get his horse on its feet. The poor brute had fallen and was struggling to gain an upright position. [Note: the accounts of Arikara scouts Soldier and an Anonymous Ree Scout both reported seeing Seventh Cavalry troopers kicking their downed horses just before the battle was about to begin.] Beside him, I saw Sergeant Finkle [Sgt. George A. Finckle] of our company sitting calmly on his horse looking on and making no effort to help Watson in his difficulty. But finally the poor animal gained his feet with a groan, and Finkle passed on with a rush to overtake our company. [Note: this was clearly the slow part of the troop -- Sgt. Finckle had already missed the chance to carry Custer's last order -- and live -- because his mount was giving out.]
By this time, the last of the companies had disappeared over the crest of the hill. I was still tugging away at the spurs, when Watson came up and asked what the trouble was and then passed on in the trail of the soldiers. I mounted my horse again but found that a staggering walk was all I could get out of him.
I then looked across the river at the Indian Village, it was all in commotion. One party of Indians were dashing down the river; others were rushing toward the upper end of the village. The cause of this commotion was Major Reno with three companies of men about a mile distant from the upper end of the village, dashing along in a gallop towards them. The officers were riding in order, a little in advance of their respective companies. It was a grand sight to see those men charging down upon the village of their enemies, who outnumbered them many times. The well-trained horses were kept well in hand. There was no straggling; they went together, neck and neck, their tails streaming in the wind, and the riders arms gleaming in the sunlight. It was no wonder that the Indians were in great commotion when they beheld the bold front presented by the cavalry. But alas! How deceptive are appearances. The cavalry dashed into the village where one of the noncommissioned officers halted and struck up the company's guidon alongside of a teepee before he was shot from his horse. The halt was but for a moment, for the Indians came rushing towards them in great numbers. At this juncture the dry grass caught on fire threatening the destruction of the village, but the squaws fearless as the braves themselves fought the fire and tore down the teepees which were in danger of burning. Major Reno seeing that he was greatly outnumbered ordered an immediate retreat to a grove of cottonwood trees, which stood on the bank of the river about a mile from the upper end of the village, where they found shelter for their horses and protection for themselves...
* * *
Meanwhile, I was persuing my way along the trail on foot leading my horse for I was afraid he would fall down under me, so stumbling and staggering was his gait.
After the disappearance of Custer and his men, I felt that I was in a terrible predicament to be left practically alone in an enemy's country, leading a horse practically useless.
While meditating upon the combination of circumstances which had brought me into this unhappy condition, I looked ahead and saw Watson, but was unable to overtake him slow as he was going. He suddenly turned aside from the trail as if he wished to avoid some threatening danger. While I was wondering what it :could be, I saw a small party of Indians, about thirty in number driving a small bunch of ponies and mules, coming toward us. I thought my time had surely come; It was too late to retreat.
While I was making calculations as to leaving my horse and trying my luck on foot, I thought I was seeing something familiar in their appearance. On coming close, I saw they were our Ree scouts and two Crow Indians, one of whom was Half Yellow Face or Two Bloody Hands. He had received this latter name from the fact that on the back of his buckskin shirt the print of two human hands was visible, either put there by red ink or blood.
When close enough I gave them to understand the condition I was in and asked for an exchange of mount. Half Yellow Face only shook his head and said "Heap Sioux," "Heap Sioux," "Heap shoot" "Heap shoot," "Come," and motioned for me to go back with them. I shook my head and answered, "No." They made their way to the rear and I went on ahead. The animals the scouts had they had captured from the Sioux.
I had lost sight of Watson and thinking that I could make my horse go faster by mounting, I did so. I had not gone far before I became aware of the fact that I had company. When I had nearly gained the top of the hill, I saw five Sioux Indians. We discovered each other about the same time. The other two brought their guns to their shoulders and aimed at me. Almost instantly my carbine was at my shoulder, aiming at them; but it was empty; while in the ranks or on horseback, I made it a practice to carry it empty. There we sat aiming at one another; the Indians did not fire and I couldn't. True, my revolver was loaded, but I was not fool enough to take my chances, one against five.
After aiming at me for a few seconds, they slid off their ponies and sneaked after the other three. I now looked around to see how I was going to make my escape, for I knew I could not retreat; with five I could not cope, and within the last few moments a few more Indians had gained the trail ahead of me; and to make my way down the face of the bluff, I knew was nearly impossible, as the Indians were climbing up to gain the trail.
Looking to my right, I saw a ravine and at the bottom of it a small clump of wild cherry bushes. But beyond and on a higher elevation than on which I stood was a pillar of rocks, which I thought might afford me a means of defense. I knew I would have to act quickly if I was to save my life, so dismounting from my horse, which had carried me so many miles, I dashed down into the ravine toward the bushes; but the sudden flight of a flock of birds from that point caused me to turn aside and I made a bee line for the pillar of rocks above me. After arriving there I took inventory of my ammunition. My pistol contained five cartridges, my belt contained seventeen cartridges for my carbine, a very slim magazine as a means of defense. I had left nearly a hundred rounds in my saddle bags, but owing to the incomplete condition of my prairie belt I was unable to carry more with me.
Belts for carrying ammunition were, at this time, just coming into use, and a great many of us had nothing but a small cartridge box as means of carrying our ammunition when away from our horses.
I was disappointed with my place of defense. I found that the pillar was barely eighteen inches through; it was about seven feet high with a piece of rotten cottonwood on top. It had been built by Indians for some purpose or other.
After completing my inventory, I sat down and began to reflect on my chances for my life, if I remained where I was. I knew that if the cavalry drove the savages from their village, they would scatter in all directions, and if any of the straggling devils came across such an unfortunate as myself, I would stand a poor show. I looked back toward the trail where I left my horse; he was still in the same place with an Indian riding around him. I thought that if he was going to be stripped, it was a pity that the ammunition I had left should fall into the hands of an enemy.
I thought that my time for acting had again arrived and that I had better seek other quarters, so I determined that I would try to reach the trail where it made a turn toward the river. I began to make tracks once more in a lively manner, and in a short time reached the point I had started for. At this point the trail was washed very badly on both sides as it descended towards the river. I looked back and saw a mounted Indian coming full speed after me...
The trail I was on led directly to the river and thence into the village. The commotion in the village had subsided; the signs of life were few; it appeared to me that it was deserted, so quiet and deathlike was the stillness. But when I looked closer, I could see a few Indians sneaking around here and there, and every once in awhile an Indian would dash out of the village as if anxious to get to some given point in the least possible time.
While making these observations, I also made a pleasant discovery. Down at the foot of the hill I was descending, I saw a white man riding in a slow, leisurely way. Suddenly he left the trail and made his way up the river. Wishing to have company, I was about to call for him to stop, but happily for me I did not, for I saw the reason why Watson, for such he proved to be, turned aside. He was making his way towards a party Indians who were standing close to the river bank near a clump of underbrush. They were talking and gesticulating in a very earnest manner. The day was extremely warm, but for all that the Indians had their blankets wrapped around them. Some of the blankets were stamped with the large letters I.D. meaning Indian Department. I knew then they were some of the hostiles we were after.
Watson had evidently not made this discovery. I was anxious to save him and if I did I must act quickly. So leaving the trail I ran down the hill at full speed and came to a place where there was a deep cut with steep sides that I would not have dared to face had I been able to check myself in time. But I could not; so I gave a leap which landed me many feet below, and strange to say, I did not lose my balance. Fortunately for me the soil was soft and loose to light upon.
When I got close enough to Watson, I called to him in a guarded voice. On hearing me, he checked up his horse and looked around. I rushed up to him and asked him where he was going. He answered, "To our scouts, of course." I then told him when he passed our scouts on the trail above. "Well," said he, "Who are those ahead of us?" I told him I was under the impression that they were hostiles and that we had better keep clear of them. He came to the same conclusion. The problem that now perplexed us was what we were to do. We finally concluded to enter the village by way of the trail. "And now, Watson," said I, "I will help myself along by hanging to your horse's tail, as I cannot otherwise keep up with you." So we started in the proposed direction. [Note: Thompson did not overplay the dramatically dangerous nature of his situation after he was left behind by his Seventh Cavarly comrades. One of the Seventh Cavalry's Arikara scouts, who watched part of Thompson and fellow straggler Watson's encounter with the five Sioux from the distance, was amazed to learn later that they survived.]
We had not gone far, before we saw a sight that puzzled us very much. Coming out of the river was one of our Crow scouts, mounted on his horse with the end of a rawhide rope over his shoulder, which he held firmly in his right hand. At the other end of the rope, straining and tugging to get away, was a Sioux squaw. The rope was tied around both her hands, but, struggle as she might, she could not break away.
While looking on and wondering where the Crow was going we were further astonished by seeing General Custer dash out of the fording place and ride rapidly up to the Crow and commence to talk to him. Custer was well versed in several Indian languages. The conversation with the Indian did not last long, and what the nature of it was I do not know, but the Crow released the Sioux woman, and she seemed glad to be free came running towards us in a half stooping posture and in her hand was a long bladed knife of ugly dimensions. So fierce did she look that my hand involuntarily sought the handle of my revolver. She must have noticed the movement for she made a short circle around us, ran over the bank, crossed the river, and disappeared in the village.
The Crow then left Custer and rode in a jog trot towards the river and disappeared. [Note: Custer apparently didn't like the looks of the ford at Medicine Tail Coulee (it required his men to cross four abreast) and so he quickly rode off for a quick "scout" while his men dismounted on the river bank, as White Shield and and Goes Ahead witnessed. After meeting Thompson and the Crow scout with the roped enemy squaw on the banks of the Little Bighorn -- and finding no better alternative crossing places -- the eye-witness record says Custer then returned to the ford at Medicine Tail Coulee in this scenario, tried to cross there, got shot by White Cow Bull, and died "in the water of the Little Bighorn." Or at least that's one plausible way to read the eye-witness record of the battle. However, there's also another, equally plausible but much, much darker read on the scene with Custer and the roped squaw, namely that Curley was Custer's procurer and they were both there to rape and murder the Sioux woman. See Who Killed Custer -- Part 11 "War Crime Time" for more info.]
Custer was mounted on his sorrel horse and it being a very hot day he was in his shirt sleeves; his buckskin pants tucked into his boots; his buckskin shirt fastened to the rear of his saddle; and a broad brimmed cream colored hat on his head, the brim of which was turned up on the right side and fastened by a small hook and eye to its crown. This gave him opportunity to sight his rifle while riding. His rifle lay horizontally in front of him; when riding he leaned slightly forward. This was the appearance of Custer on the day that he entered his last battle, and just one half hour before the fight commenced between him and the Sioux. When the Crow scout left him, he wheeled around and made for the same point in the river where we had first seen him. When he was passing us he slightly checked his horse and waved his right hand twice for us to follow him. He pointed down the stream, put spurs to his horse and disappeared at the ford, never uttering a word. That was the last I ever saw of Custer alive. He must have gone thence directly to his command. We wondered why none of his staff were with him. In all probability he had outrun them. His being alone shows with what fearlessness he travelled about even in an enemy's country with hostiles all around him.
We reached the fording place as soon as possible, but all signs of Custer were gone. Whether he had gone through the village or waded down the stream to reach his command is a question that cannot be answered; but as we had seen no signs of him crossing to the opposite side, we naturally thought that he had made his way down the stream.
When we came to the fording place, we found that the water was rushing very rapidly. Both banks were wet with the splashing made by the animals going to and from the village. We stopped a moment to consider the best way to proceed and how to act. When we looked into the village we could see the guidon fluttering in the breeze. This was the flag which had been placed there by the corporal just before he was shot. The sight of this increased our courage.
Our plan was for Watson to cross the river first to show how deep the water was. Being very thirsty I forgot everything else, and stooping down, began to dip water from the river in my hands and drink. While I was thus engaged and when Watson had forded to the middle of the stream, I heard the crack of three rifles which caused me to straighten up quickly and look around to see what the trouble was. Standing on the opposite bank of the river and at the very point we wished to gain were three Indians, with their smoking rifles in their hands. Watson, looking around at me said, "What in thunder is the matter?" I answered, "If you don't get off your horse at once, you will get shot." He did not need a second bidding, neither did he dismount in military style, but more like a frog landing with feet and hands in the water at the same time. This ungainly dismount caused the water to fly in every direction. The Indians no doubt thought that they had finished him for two of them turned and disappeared in the village.
The one that was left stood facing me, still disputing our passage across the river. From his decorations of paint and feathers, I judged he was a chief.
Watson began to crawl out of the water. If he was as thirsty as I was before he dismounted, I will guarantee that he was in that condition no longer.
I made up my mind to climb to the top of the bank and let drive at our painted friend. I called to Watson to keep quiet for a few moments, and began to walk backwards up the bank keeping my eyes fixed on the Indian and watching his every movement. When he saw my maneauvers, he took aim at me and shot. But the only result was that the lead lay buried in the red clay at my side. The bank being very wet, my feet slipped from under me several times. The Indian without lowering his rifle blazed away a second time, with the same result as before. I began to get very angry and climbed to the top of the bank in no dignified manner. The red devil still kept aiming at me; I was a better target for him now than before. When I thought it time for him to fire, I dropped to my left side, the bullet whistling over my head, buried itself in the bluff behind me. As this duel had been one-sided so far, I determined to try my hand. So, loading my carbine which was done in a moment, I took aim at him as he turned to go to his pony which was about thirty feet back of him on a slight elevation winding up his rawhide rope as he did so, I fired, but missed him because Watson who was on the line with the Indian made a movement which distracted my aim. I threw open the breech lock of my carbine to throw the shell out, but it was stuck fast. Being afraid that the Indian would escape, I worked at it in a desperate manner and finally got it out far enough to use my thumb nail, which proved affective. The cartridge was very dirty, a nice predicament for a man to be in when at close quarters with an enemy. I was careful to put in a clean one next time, and calling Watson to remain quiet for a moment, I fired when the Indian was within three feet of his horse. The ball plowed through his body, and buried itself in the ground under the horse, throwing the dirt in every direction. The Indian threw up his hands and fell with his head between the legs of his pony. It may seem hard to take human life, but he had been trying to take mine, and self preservation is the first law of nature.
When I fired this shot, Watson jumped to his feet and began to lead his horse out of the stream toward me. I asked him if his horse was not played out; he said it was. In that case, I told him, that he had better leave it as it would take us all our time to take care of ourselves. He studied for a moment and then waded out of the stream leaving his horse with everything on it as I had done.
After he joined me, we had a consultation as to the best course for us to pursue. It was clear that the Indians still held the village, and it would be foolish for us to again attempt to enter it. To wade downstream was an impossibility. We finally decided to go down the right bank of the stream and see if we could not get sight of Custer's command, and join our ranks where we were much needed.
* * *
Watson cast a last fond look at his horse and then we started on our perilous journey. We saw plenty of Indians on our side of the stream; they seemed to get bolder and more numerous, but so far they were some distance away. We kept very close to the underbrush, which lined the bank of the river.
Suddenly a small band of Indians came up towards us on a jog trot, which made us seek cover. When they had passed, we moved on our way. Again we were sent to cover by the approach of more Indians. No doubt they were coming this way in order to enter the village by the ford. We concluded to seek some sheltered nook to cover ourselves from the extreme heat of the sun, and to wait until the Indians had quieted down for they were beginning to be like a swarm of bees. They were coming from every direction; so unlike what they were a half an hour previous, when they were first surprised by the Seventh Cavalry for surprise it must have been to them. But now they were beginning to recover themselves. After they had driven Major Reno across the river we noticed that the village was beginning to teem with life. The herd of ponies which had been grazing at quite a distance were now rounded up close to the teepees; so that the Indians had available mounts. Ponies were dashing here and there with their riders urging them on; the dust would rise and mingle with the smoke of the burning grass and brush. The squaws had got the fire under control and had it confined to a comparatively small space.
We managed to secret ourselves in a bend of the river, which turned like the letter S, and gave us running water on three sides of us. In a clump of red berry bushes we found a log which made quite a comfortable seat for us. Peering through the brush I thought I recognized the horse which Billy Jackson, our guide, had ridden. One of its hind legs was fearfully gashed by a bullet. I called Watson's attention to it, but he did not think it was the same horse. He had met Jackson when on the trail on the top of the hill but a short distance from the place where it turned towards the village. He said Jackson was in a fearful state of mind. Watson asked him what was the matter. He replied, "Have you seen Custer?" Watson, surprised, answered, "No," and again asked what was up. Then Jackson informed him Custer had shot at him cutting away the strap that connected his stirrup to the saddle, and in order to save his life he had ridden away. Watson said he saw that the stirrup strap was broken off and Jackson without any hat, presented a wild appearance. He cast fearful glances around him as in mortal terror. Suddenly he put spurs to his horse and rode away, his long hair streaming in the wind and looking right and left as if expecting his enemy to appear at any moment. "And the strangest part of it," added Watson, "was that instead of taking the back trail, he struck straight from the river across the country and as far as he could see him, he was urging his pony to its utmost speed. I then asked Watson if that did not account for Custer's presence away from his command. He shook his head and said he did not know. [Note: there is actually a fairly rational, fairly conceivable explanation for Billy Jackson's story. See Mysteries of the Little Bighorn for more info.]
We had scarcely been concealed ten minutes before we heard a heavy volley of rifle shots down the stream, followed by a scattering fire, I raised to my feet and parting the brush with my gun; the stalks being covered with long sharp thorns, which made it quite disagreeable for a person's clothes and flesh. Looking through this opening down the stream, I could see Custer's command drawn up in battle line, two men deep in a half circle facing the Indians who were crossing the river both above and below them.
The Indians while fighting remained mounted, the cavalry dismounted. The horses were held back behind and inside of the circle of skirmishers. The odds were against the soldiers for they were greatly outnumbered, and they fought at a great disadvantage. Their ammunition was limited. Each man was supposed to carry one hundred rounds of cartridges, but a great many had wasted theirs by firing at game along the route. It does not take very long to expend that amount of ammunition especially when fighting against great odds.
Watson took hold of the sleeve of my coat and pulled me down urging me to be careful, as the Indians might see me and called my attention to the village which was in a perfect state of turmoil. Indians were leaving the village in all speed to assist in the fight against the cavalry; others from the battlefield with double burdens of dead and wounded were arriving. Then commenced a perfect howl from one end of the village to the other, made by the squaws and papooses. The noise gradually became louder and louder until it became indescribably and almost unbearable to the ears of civilized persons. Then it would almost die out until some more dead or wounded were brought in, this would put fresh vigor into their lungs. I could not keep still and so got onto my feet again. The firing was continuous, I removed my hat so that I would not attract attention, and looked over the panorama, as it was spread out before me. [Note: Curley also spoke memorably of the continuous roar of battle.] I could see that the fight was well under way; hordes of savages had gained a footing on the right bank of the river and had driven the soldiers back a short distance. [Note: this may be when Spotted Calf killed an officer with his tomahawk, as Foolish Elk recounted.]
The Indians were riding around in a circle and when those who were nearest to the cavalry had fired their guns (riding at full speed) they would reload in turning the circle. [Note: this is an interesting observation -- the first description I know of by a white of the "stationary wheel" technique which allowed the mounted, circling Indian cavalry to (1) maximize the concentration of their firepower, and (2) minimize their exposure to American soldiers's fire. See Sioux and Cheyenne Military Tactics for more info.] The well formed ranks of the cavalry did fearful execution, for every time the soldiers fired I could see ponies and riders tumbling in the dust, I could also see riderless ponies racing away in every direction as if anxious to get away from such a frightful scene. Cavalry men were also falling and the ranks gradually melting away, but they sternly and bravely faced their foes; the cavalry men fighting for $13 a month. Indians for their families, property, and glory. It seemed to be the desire of each to utterly exterminate. the other.
Round and round rode the savages in a seemingly tireless circle. When one fell either dead or wounded he was carried from the field; but there remained plenty to take his place; but if a soldier fell there was no one to take his, and if wounded there was no one to bring him water to quench his thirst; if dying, no one to close his eyes. It was a sad, sad sight. Lucky indeed was that soldier who died when he was first shot, for what mercy could he expect from a Sioux. If their enemy fell into their hands wounded or dying, it was simply to be put to the worst torture possible. Being in our present predicament, we were utterly powerless to help as we wished we could. We knew our duty, but to do it was beyond our power. Look where we could, we saw Indians; we two on foot could not cope with scores of them on horseback.
During the fight between Custer and the Sioux, scores of Indians had stationed themselves on the bluffs overlooking the village as far as we could see, so that any movement on our part would have led to our discovery; but nevertheless we made up our minds not to remain long in our present place of concealment. So we began to map out a course by which we could join our command, where we felt we were so much needed. We found that we had made a mistake and had taken a wrong trail. The trail we had followed had been made by buffalo, when going to and from the river.
Both Watson and myself had failed to notice the trail made by the cavalry in making their efforts to reach the lower end of the village. And thus we were brought to the fording place near the center of the village. A person could easily be mistaken, for the road over which they passed was rocky, sandy, and hard, consequently, the marks left by the horses' feet were very faint.20 Notwithstanding, this mistake left us in a very critical condition.
Looking in the direction of the battle, I saw that the cavalry were being driven towards the foot of a small hill; their number greatly reduced. The firing was growing less every minute, but the Indians still kept up their seemingly tireless circling, making a great cloud of dust.
The Indians who seemed to be detailed to bring in the dead and the wounded were continually coming into the village with double burdens showing that the soldiers though greatly decreased in numbers were still doing eff ective work. The squaws and papooses now kept howling without intermission. The noise they made resembled the howling of a coyote and the squealing of a cat.
Watson kept himself during the time of our concealment buried in deep thought. He seemed to come to one conclusion, and that was that the 7th Cavalry was going to be whipped. He said, "the Indians greatly outnumber the soldiers; while we have been here, we have seen more Indians, twice over the combined strength of the Seventh." I told him that I could not bring myself to believe such would be the case but Watson persisted in his conviction and said, "It's no use talking, they are going to get the worst of it." But I was just as positive in my belief that the cavalry would win.
The plan we had mapped out for ourselves was to climb the right bank of the river and gain the trail of the cavalry and then, if possible, join our company. It was a foolish undertaking for, a short distance below us, the bluffs came close to the river and the water washing at the base for so long a time, had caused the bluff to cave in and for the distance of a hundred feet up was so steep that even a goat could not climb it. On the top of the bluff just where we desired to go there were seated three Indians with their ponies but a short distance behind them. We did not feel any way alarmed on their account for we felt able to cope with that number. So we left our retreat and moved down as far as we could for the cut in the bank. I felt exceedingly thirsty and said to Watson that I proposed to have a drink. So, jumping from the bank, I landed at the edge of the water and I just saw that the water tasted good. I asked Watson to hand me his hat and I would fill it with water for him and he did so. When I was handing his back to him I noticed that the three Indians had discovered us and were watching our every movement. But without fear, we commenced our march up the hill, keeping as near to the cut bank as the nature of the ground would permit. When about half way up the bluff, I noticed something that made me hesitate. Watson was a short distance behind me and was keeping watch on the flat below. What I discovered was several Indians peering at us over the edge of the bluff; in all I counted eight and concluded that they were too many for us, especially with an uphill pull on our side. While I looked at them, one rose to his feet and beckoned for us in the most friendly manner to advance. But I knew he was a hostile and we stood no show whatever on foot with such a number against us. So I turned around and called to Watson to run for it, and I went after him full speed, but kept my eye on the movement and seeing that they were making preparations to fire at us, I called out, "Stretch yourself, Watson." And he did and gradually left me behind. The Indians let fly with their rifles with the usual result.
One of the Indians mounted his pony and rode on the edge of the bluff abreast of us. Jerking off his blanket he waved it in a peculiar manner and shouted out some lingo to those in the village and then pointed towards us. We felt we were discovered.
It was our intention to hide ourselves in our former place of concealment, but the Indians were watching us; so passing it we came back again to the fording place. We looked to see if the horse was still there but there was no trace of it; no doubt it had passed into the hands of the Indians. Passing the ford on the run, we came to some underbrush; when we slowed down to a walk. Watson still being some distance ahead of me.
I now heard the clatter of hoofs behind me. On looking around, I saw a white man and what I supposed to be a Crow Indian. I called for Watson to stop and told him that we had friends coming. I turned around, intending to wait until they came up. No sooner had I faced them than they stopped, turned their horses across the trail, dismounted, threw their guns across their saddles, and took aim at us. To say that we were astonished would faintly express our feelings. There was nothing left for us to do but run. [Note: August De Voto and an Anonymous Sixth Infantry Sergeant also spoke of white men fighting on the Indians' side at the Little Bighorn. See Mysteries of the Little Bighorn for more info.] The trail we were on ran through a thick clump of bushes, and we put our best foot first in order to gain its shelter. But before we could reach it, they fired at us but as usual missed; but the twigs and leaves were cut by the bullets and we came to the conclusion that we were not to be killed by the Indians. But if we were not wounded in our bodies we were in our feelings.
We determined to ambush them if they attempted to pursue us. We followed the trail for several hundred feet, then forced our way through the brush and with our revolvers cocked, lying at our feet and our guns in our hands we waited and watched for their appearance. But we waited in vain. They must have suspected our intentions. One thing we made up our minds to do, that was to kill the white man even if the Indian escaped.
We had been two hours and a half in our concealment in the bend of the river watching the fight between Custer and the Indians. It had taken us one half hour to reach this place, making three hours in all. The firing in the direction of the battlefield had just now ceased, showing this act of the tragedy was ended.
The question may be asked why we attempted to join our commands after two hours and a half. My answer is, a sense of duty, and love for our comrades in arms. Then others may ask why we did not go sooner. We were repulsed at the ford; we were surrounded by Indians on the bluffs; we were without horses; and when we did make the attempt we did so at nearly the cost of our lives.
We were now undecided which way to go. We knew we were surrounded by Indians and we would be very fortunate if we escaped at all. The noise in the village was as great as ever, which told us that the Indians still held it. We were ever on the alert, but could see very little on account of the underbrush. I ventured to rise myself and scanned the top of the bluffs to see if there were any Indians in sight. But I could not see any, and this puzzled me very much, but on looking down to the lower end of the bluffs I could see a body of men on horseback mounting slowly up the trail on top of the bluffs. Then I saw several guidons fluttering in the breeze, which I knew as the ones which our cavalry carried on the march. I called Watson's attention to the approaching horsemen, but he was firmly convinced that they were Indians. I then drew his attention to the orderly manner in which they moved, and the guidons they carried and told him that we better try to join them before they passed us. "Well!" said he, "Let's move." So we started, following the trail until we were entirely clear of the brush and then began to climb the face of the bluff in order to reach the trail on which we saw the cavalry were moving [Watson's concern was legitimate. The night of June 25, Lt. Charles DeRudio thought he saw Capt. Tom Custer and other Seventh Cavalry troopers riding across the river in the moonlight, but it turned out to be Indians in captured Army uniforms.]
We had scarcely got clear of the underbrush before we became aware of the fact that we had run into a hot place. Before we reached the foot of the bluff we came upon an opening in the timber and brush with several large cottonwood trees lying upon the ground, stripped of their bark. They had undoubtedly been cut down by the Indians during some severe winter when the snow was very deep and the ponies had to live upon the bark, not being able to get the grass.
Near the water's edge, some distance up the river, we saw a large body of Indians holding a council, and that we might avoid them we kept as close to the cover of the brush as possible and went as rapidly as we could towards the face of the bluff.
So intent were we in our endeavor to escape the attention of the Indians by the river, that we did not perceive another party which was in the road we wished to take until the gutteral language of the savages called our attention to them. I jumped behind one of the fallen cottonwood trees; where Watson went, I could not at the time tell. I peeped over the fallen tree and saw a group of mounted Indians gesticulating, grunting out their words, and pointing towards the advancing cavalry. Suddenly they broke up and advanced toward my place of concealment. I began to think they had seen me and crouched as close to the tree as possible. Drawing my revolver, I made ready to defend myself. I made up my mind that all but one shot should be fired at the Indians, and that one would go into my head, for I had determined never to be taken alive. With open ears and eyes I awaited their coming. They passed my hiding place without seeing me and made their way toward the river. I jumped to my feet and started off at once, hardly caring whether the Indians saw me or not, for the presence of the cavalry had put fresh courage into me. I had not gone far before I heard my name called and on looking around I saw Watson coming after me at full speed. I was glad to see him safe, it gave me renewed courage, and we hoped that we would soon be entirely safe. After we began to climb the hill, I found my strength was giving out, and in spite of the fact that we were in full view of the Indians, I laid down to rest and all my entreaties for Watson to go on and save himself were fruitless. He would not budge. But there was something that made us move sooner than I wished; a large body of Indians had crossed the river and were coming across the flat toward the hill we were climbing. I struggled to my feet and staggered after Watson. The heat at this time seemed to be intense, but it might have been on account of my exhausted condition. Watson made no complaint, for like myself he knew it would do no good. After we had climbed nearly half way up the bluff, the Indians commenced to fire at us, but that did not trouble us, because we knew that the Indians when excited were very poor shots; and in our case the bullets went wide of the mark.
We were becoming so tired that the presence of the Indians was no longer a terror to us. The hill we were climbing seemed very long, so much so to me that I fell down and lay there without any inclination to move again, until Watson called my attention to the head of the column of cavalry which now came into plain view. So with renewed energy we made our way up amid showers of lead. The savages seemed loathe to let us go.
* * *
When we stepped out into the trail at the head of the advancing column, it was about five o'clock in the afternoon. The first man we recognized was Sargeant Knipe [Sgt. Daniel Kanipe] of our company. He had been sent back by Custer to hurry up the ammunition...
The forces under Major Reno, at the time we stepped into the trail, were six companies of the left wing and one company of the right, namely Company B under the command of Capt. McDougal [Capt. Thomas McDougall]...
Sargeant Knipe then told me that my horse had been found and was in charge of Fitzgerald, the horse farrier. Knipe added, "They all thought you was a gonner." This was good news to me.
Just then the order was given to retreat and Reno's command began to march slowly to the rear. Of course we all wondered at this but said nothing. It was our duty not to question, but to obey. I made a dive through the retreating column in quest of my horse and found it in the center of the command led by Fitzgerald, who seemed greatly surprised at seeing me saying, "I thought the Indians had your scalp!" I told him I was too good a runner for that. On examining my saddle, I was glad to find everything as I had left it.
We did not retreat very far, for that was impossible. The Indians were closing in around us. Our retreat was covered by Company D commanded by Capt. Weir. He was the only captain who wished to go to the relief of Custer. He had begged in vain to have Reno advance to Custer's relief. That being denied him, he asked permission to take his company and ascertain Custer's position; but he was refused that privilege. [Note: according to Edward Godfrey, Weir did not ask permission, but did, in fact, lead a foray in Custer's direction, but was quickly driven back by the Sioiux and Cheyenne.]
Major Reno moved to the left of the trail and went into a flat bottomed ravine. By this time the Indians were pouring a shower of lead into us that was galling in the extreme. Our horses and mules were cuddled together in one confused mass. The poor brutes were tired and hungry. Where we made our stand there was nothing but sand, gravel, and a little sagebrush. We were in a very precarious condition. Our means of defense were very poor. There were numerous ravines leading into the one which we occupied. This gave the savages a good opportunity to close in on us and they were not long in doing so. Some of us unloaded the mules of the hard tack they were carrying and used the boxes for a breastwork. We knew if we did not do so we would be picked off one by one. We formed the cracker boxes into a half circle and kept them as close together as possible.
By the time we had everything arranged, the sun was going down. We all knew that the Indians never fought after night fall. We thought we would have time enough to fortify ourselves before the light of another day appeared. But in the meantime several accidents happened which helped to make it a serious matter for us. We saw that our horses and mules were beginning to drop quite fast, for they were in a more exposed position. This is very trying to a cavalry man, for next to himself, he loves his horse, especially on a campaign of this kind. A peculiar accident happened to a man lying next to me, sheltered by a cracker box and talking in a cheerful manner about the probabilities of us getting out of our present difficulty, when a ball came crashing through the box hitting him and killing him instantly. There was but one gasp and all was still. He had made the mistake of placing the box the wrong way, the edge of the crackers toward the outside. While meditating on the uncertainty of life, a bullet struck the box behind which I lay, and as I heard the lead crashing through its contents, I wondered if the time had come for me to wear a pair of wings. But no, the ball stopped and I gave a sigh of relief, I noted with great satisfaction that the night was closing in around us...
I wandered to the edge of the bluff overlooking the village. By this time it was quite dark; I could plainly see several large fires which the Indians had built. There was a noise in the village which increased as night advanced. The deep voices of the braves, the howling of the squaws, the shrill piping of the children and the barking of the dogs made night hideous; but they appeared to enjoy it amazingly.
Suddenly we heard above all other sounds, the call of a bugle. The sound came from the direction of the village, and immediately following was the sound of two others. The officers hearing those bugles sound ordered our buglers to sound certain calls and waited to see if they would be answered. The only answer was a long wailing blast; it was not what was expected. I now turned around and made my way to the place where my dead horse lay and stripped the saddle of everything, then went and made my bed behind my cracker box. The last thing I heard as I lay down upon the ground was the howling of the Indians and the wailing of the bugles. I slept so soundly that I heard and knew nothing until I felt someone kicking the soles of my boots. Jumping to my feet I saw Capt. Benteen standing by my side. When he saw that I was fully awake, he told me I would have to render some assistance at the head of the ravine up which the Indians were trying to sneak. He added, "If they succeed, it will be a sad day with us."
* * *
The Indians had been pouring in volleys upon us long before I had been awakened and they were still at it. Under cover of darkness, they had gained a foothold in some of the numerous ravines that surrounded us. It seemed as if it would be impossible to dislodge them. Some of them were so close to us that their fire was very affective. The ping of the bullets and the groaning and struggling of the wounded horses was oppressive. But my duty was plain. The way that I had to go to my post was up a short hill towards the edge of the bluff and the head of the ravine. While packing my ammunition in order to carry it easily, I glanced up in the direction I had to go, and for the .life of me, I could not see how I could possibly get there alive for the bullets of the Indians were ploughing up the sand and gravel in every direction; but it was my duty to go.
After getting everything in shape, I started on the run. The fire of the Indians seemed to come from three different directions and all exposed places were pretty well riddled. Even as secure a place as where we had formed our breastwork was no longer safe. The red devils seemed determined to crush us. As I ran up the hill, which was but a short distance, I was seized with a tendency to shrink up and was under the impression that I was going to be struck in the legs or feet. I was not the only one to run for the head of the ravine. Capt. Benteen was busily hunting up all the men he could to go to the same point, in order to keep the Indians in check and if possible to drive the Indians out of the ravine. It did not take me long to reach the top of the bluff, where I got a glimpse of the village, the river and the mouth of the ravine.
I had gotten so far without being hit that I thought I was going to get through safe, but as I was entering the mouth of the ravine, a volley was fired by the Indians who occupied it and over I tumbled shot through the right hand and arm. A short distance below I saw several cavalry men who were soon joined by others, eleven in all; a slim force indeed to clean out the ravine held by so many Indians, but they were resolute men. Capt. Benteen soon joined them and made a short speech. He said, "This is our only weak and unprotected point and should the Indians succeed in passing this in any force they would soon end the matter as far as we are concerned." And now, he asked, "Are you ready?" They answered, "Yes." "Then," said he, "Charge down there and drive them out." And with a cheer, away they dashed, their revolvers in one hand and their carbines in the other. Benteen turned around and walked away to the extreme left, seemingly tireless and unconscious of the hail of lead that was flying around him.
Knowing that in my condition I was useless, I looked around to see if I could find anyone who could direct me to a surgeon. I knew that there were two with General Custer, but I was not sure whether we had one with us here or not.
A short distance from me lay a wounded man, groaning and struggling in the agony of death. Just as I was thinking of getting up, I heard an order given by a Sioux chief. A heavy volley of bullets was the result. My wounded neighbor gave a scream of agony and lay still. After the volley was past, it was a wonder to me how I had escaped. I now struggled to my feet and found that I was weak and dizzy from the loss of blood. I looked around me and saw what remained of those who had gone down the ravine against such fearful odds. Few of them returned but they had accomplished their object. We had men with us who seemed utterly fearless in the face of danger. One young man had the courage of a lion. Wherever duty called him, whatever the danger might be, he was always at his post.
Going in the direction of the horses, I saw what suffering the poor brutes were enduring from thirst and hunger. But we ourselves were no better off. I found in the center of our place of defense that we had a surgeon busily attending to the wounded and dying. I asked him to attend to me when he had time to do so. He soon bandaged up my wounds and told me the only thing that could be done was to apply plenty of water. What Mockery! Water was not to be had for love or money. Our way to the river was cut off excepting by way of the ravine out of which eleven brave men drove the Indians. But to attempt to get water by that route was too risky. I looked on while the doctor attended the wounded that were brought in. Some of the poor fellows would never recover, others would be crippled for life and I would carry a broken hand.
The sun reflecting on the sand and gravel made it very hot. The loss of blood and the lack of water made me so dizzy that I reeled and f ell and lay unheeded. But this was getting to be a common sight. I still clung to my carbine and revolver. When I fell I managed to roll over on my face and place my carbine under me. I knew that if anyone needed such an implement they were liable to take it. I do not know how long I lay there, but I have a faint recollection of being turned and my gun taken from me. This aroused me and I managed to struggle to a sitting posture, but the man and the gun were gone. He had left his own in its place, but it was practically useless, the breech being broken.
While I was meditating on the meanness of human nature, I saw Capt. Benteen dash into the midst of our horses and drive out several men who were hiding and skulking about them. "Get out of here," he cried, And do your duty!"
It soon became known that the Indians were concentrating for an attack upon our lines. They had closed in around us on three sides and so close were they, that we could hear them talking. Capt. Benteen seemed to be aware of the impending danger, and was forming all the men he possibly could into line at the point where it was expected that the Indians would attack us.
The heat of the day was oppressive and the guns of the Indians were silent and these facts brought a feeling of depression over us. We all realized that our lives were not worth betting on, but the expression on the faces of the men was that of a dogged determination to sell them dearly.
We had two spades, the others having been either broken or lost, so our means of digging rifle pits were limited and natural defenses there were none. History hardly records a predicament such as we were in. It does mention the hardships of the soldiers of the late Civil War, but it is nothing to campaigning against the Indians. A white man capturing an enemy usually spares his life but if captured by hostile Indians, his days are numbered and he is known of men on earth no more.
How were we going to transport our wounded? We had plenty of them and some of them very badly hurt. Look where you would, you could see either dead or wounded soldiers and the end not yet.
The silence was suddenly broken by a loud command given by a hostile chief, which was followed by a terrific volley and a great many of our horses and mules passed over the range. Our men never wavered but hugged the ground as close as possible and fired whenever they found the slightest opportunity to do execution. All realized that the less ammunition expended the better. Although the Indians outnumbered us many times, they lacked the courage and determination of the day previous when they fought Custer; they no doubt had been taught a bitter lesson. Had it not been for the watchfulness of our men, they certainly would have got the best o f us. Wherever they attacked, our men were always ready. While the hottest of the fight was going on and the tide of battle seemed to be against us, our doctor dropped his bandages, and grasping a gun started toward the skirmish line. Some of the men, seeing his action, begged him to stay telling him that it would go hard with the command if anything should go wrong with him and to enforce their arguments a wounded man was brought in who needed his immediate attention. This, for a time, seemed to deter him for he laid down his gun and commenced work at his former occupation. He was kept very busy for some time.
I made my way slowly over the small place in which we huddled together and was very pleased to see some of the men stretching canvas over the wounded and dying. This canvas the officers had brought along for their own use, but it was given by them for the humane purpose of sheltering the helpless. The canvas had to be stretched very close to the ground. The supports that were used were short pieces of wood of any kind that we could procure without risk.
We had no use for firewood if we could have gotten it, as we had no water to cook with, hence our wounded were deprived of the comforts that a sick man needs. As I strolled around, I could see something of the horrors of our position. It was not a question of days but of hours. We could in all probability bury our unfortunate comrades who had fallen in battle, but it would be impossible for us to dispose of dead horses and mules. The stench would become so great that it would drive us from our present position and where were we to go? It was utterly impossible to move our wounded, as we had no means at hand with which we could do so. We were quite willing to change our location if we could, but we hesitated for several reasons; we were separated from our leader and our forces were divided. The Indians seemed determined to exterminate us if possible. The only hope f or us to accomplish our purpose was to make the effort after night came on. I wondered if any of the other members of Company C had been as unfortunate as myself. Although that company had entered the fight with General Custer, there were a few who had been detailed to the pack train. So I commenced to search around for them.
I first found a man by the name of Bennett [Pvt. James Bennett] whom to know was to respect. I could see that his days were numbered. Kneeling down beside him I asked, "Can I do you any service?" "Water, Thompson, Water, for God's sake!" Poor fellow, he was past speaking in his usual strong voice. I told him I would get him some if I lived. He released my hand and seemed satisfied and then I began to realize what the promise I had made meant. This was the 26th day of June, a day long to be remembered by all who took an active part, in fact, a day never to be forgotten. As far as getting water was concerned, it was a matter of greatest difficulty. All routes to the river were cut off by the Indians. I was determined to make the eff ort nevertheless, and looked around for a canteen. I thought of the ravine which was cleared by eleven brave men and hoped that I might be able to make my way to the river by that route. I made some inquiries of some skulkers who I found among the horses and from what they told me I concluded that the ravine route was the only safe one to take. In a short time I secured two canteens and a coffee kettle. I made my way to the head of the ravine which ran down to the river. I found that very little change had taken place since the incident in the morning.
The firing on the part of the Indians was rather dilatory. A person could make his way around with a little more comfort, but how long this would continue was impossible to tell. As I gained the rise of ground that commanded a view of the village, river and surrounding country I saw a small group of men examining an object lying on the ground which I found to be an Indian bedecked in all his war paint, which goes to make up a part of their apparent courage and fierce appearance. He was found very close to our position which goes to show how closely we were confined. The Indians were able to occupy every available position afforded by nature on account of their numbers. If it had not been for the terrible position we were in we could have had a panorama view of the snowcapped hills of the Big Horn Mountains, which forms the fountain heads of the Little and Big Horn Rivers.
While wondering as to my next move, I was suddenly brought to myself with the question, "Where are you going? And what are you going to do?" The questioner belonged to my own company and I naturally expected him to sympathize with me in my errand of mercy. He not only tried to dissuade me but called to Sargeant Knipe and told him of my intention of going to the river. The Sargeant told me of the hopelessness of the undertaking telling me if I should ever attempt to make the trip I would never get back alive. I told him that as I could not carry a gun I thought I had better do something to help the wounded and the dying.
Seeing that I was determined to go, they said no more but one of the men of Company C, named Tim Jordan [Pvt. Tim Jordan] gave me a large pocket handkerchief to make a sling for my wounded hand. I started down the ravine but halted f or I f ound I had not my belt in which I usually carried my pistol having given it to one of my comrades. But on going back to the man and asking for it he seemed to be confused and stated that he had lost it. So there was nothing to do but console myself with the reflection that I had better take care of it myself. I turned around and made my way through the midst of several citizen packers who accompanied us on our expedition. No doubt they thought the position they occupied was the safest one to serve their country in. As I went down the ravine, I found it got narrower and deeper, and became more lonesome and naturally more depressing. I noticed numerous hoof prints showing that the Indians had made a desperate effort to make an opening through our place of defense by this route. But now it was deserted. After I had travelled a considerable distance, I came to a turn in the ravine. Pausing for a moment I looked cautiously around the bend and there before me was running water, the Little Horn River, on the opposite side was a thick cover of cottonwood timber, the sight of which made me hesitate for a moment. It was possible that some of the Indians were concealed in it to pick anyone off who was bold enough to approach the water; but I could see no signs of life and concluded to proceed. I made my way as rapidly as possible toward the bank of the river. I found the ground was very miry, so much so that I was afraid that I might get stuck in the mud. I concluded that there was nothing like trying. I laid down my canteens and took my kettle in my left hand and made several long leaps which landed me close to the water's edge. The water at this point ran very shallow over a sandbar. With a long sweep of my kettle upstream I succeeded in getting plenty of sand and a little water. Making my way back towards the mouth of the ravine a volley of half a score of rifle balls whistled past me and the lead buried itself in the bank beyond. I gained the shelter of the ravine without a scratch and I was thankful. I wondered whether it would be safe to stop long enough to put the water into the canteens, as the fire of the Indians seemed to come from a bend in the bank, a short distance from the mouth of the ravine on this side of the river. I was not sure but that the Indians might take a notion to follow me. Had I been armed I would have been more at my ease. I knew I could travel with greater ease if I left the kettle behind, so I placed it between my knees and soon transferred the water from it to the canteens.
I started on looking back once in a while to see if the Indians were coming. I soon turned the bend of the ravine, but no signs of them did I see. Although my thirst was great, I did not stop to take a drink until I landed amidst my fellow soldiers. I offered to divide the water of one canteen with some of the men of Company C. They refused my offer when I told them that my effort was made in behalf of the wounded members of our company. On coming to Bennett, I placed a canteen in his hand, but he was too weak to lift it to his lips. He was attended by John Mahoney [Pvt. John J. Mahoney] of our Company and I had no fear but that he would be well cared for. I skirmished around and found two more of my company slightly wounded. I gave them the other canteen and told them that if they should not require all the water that I would like it to be passed around to some other wounded ones lying close by, which was so done. A man, by the name of McVey [Trumpeter David McVeigh], to whom I handed the canteen that he might drink seemed determined to keep it in his possession. I jerked it from his grasp and passed it on to the next. With a cry of rage he drew his revolver from beneath his overcoat and taking aim at me he told me to skip or he would put a hole through me. I was too astonished for a moment to even speak or move, but when I did regain my speech I used it to the best advantage as that was all the weapon I had. Fortunately I was not armed or I would have committed an act that I would have been sorry for afterwards. My action would have been justified by the law, as it would have been an act of self defense. The offers of money by the wounded for a drink of water was painful to hear. "Ten dollars for a drink," said one. "Fifteen dollars for a canteen of water," said a second. "Twenty dollars," said a third and so the bidding went on as at an auction.
This made me determined to make another trip and to take a larger number of canteens. So I would not have to make so many trips. The firing on the part of the Indians was very brisk at intervals. On our part we never expended a cartridge unless we were sure that the body of an Indian was in sight.
My next trip to the river was taken with more courage. But as on the former occasion, when I came to the bend in the ravine I halted and looked carefully around the corner. I was astonished at seeing a soldier sitting on a bank of earth facing the river with his back towards me. I was curious to know who he was. I came up to him and saw that he had two camp kettles completely riddled with bullets. He had his gun in his hand and his eyes fixed on the grove of timber across the river watching for the enemy. On looking him over I could see the reason for his sitting and watching as he did. I discovered a pool of blood a short distance from him which had come from a terrible wound in his leg. It was impossible for him to move further without assistance. I asked him how he received his wound. He told me he had gone to the river for water and when he was coming up from the bed of the river with two kettles filled with water, a volley had been fired at him, one of the bullets hitting him and breaking his leg below the knee, the others riddling his kettles. He had managed to make his way under cover of the ravine to the place where I found him. I then told him as it was now my turn I would proceed to the business. He tried to dissuade me, but as I would not go back without water and it was useless for me to remain where I was, I laid down my canteens and grasped the camp kettle which I had left on my previous trip. I walked forward looking into the grove for signs of Indians, but not a sign of life could I see. Looking to see where the water was deepest, I made a few leaps which landed me in the water with a loud splash. I knew it was useless for me to try to avoid being seen so I depended on my ability to escape the bullets of the Indians. A volley was fired but again I escaped. Madden, [Pvt. Michael P. Madden] the wounded man I had just left, watched me with great interest. When I returned to him I urged him to take a drink, but he refused to do so saying he was not in need of it. This caused me some surprise, as I knew he had lost a great deal of blood which is almost invariably followed by great thirst.
I had made haste to fill the canteens and started on my way to camp bidding Mike Madden to be of good cheer and he made a cheerful reply. When I reached the place of our defense, I found that the firing was not so brisk. Only a few scattering shots now and then. But our men were still on the alert. There was no weak place unguarded, no ammunition was being wasted. Although we had 2¢ boxes of ammunition which amounted to thousands of rounds. The men only fired where they thought they were going to do execution.
After leaving three canteens for the wounded at the hospital, I took the other two and gave them to my wounded comrades. After this, I began to feel very sick and looked around for a sheltered place to avoid the heat of the sun. This sickness was caused by the loss of blood and the pain in my hand, which at this time had swelled to great size. I did not want to get under the canvas where the wounded were as that was already overcrowded, so I crawled under one of the horses which was standing in a group with the others. I could not but wonder what sort of fix I would be in if the horse under which I was lying happened to get shot and fell down on me. But this soon passed out of my mind, as there was always something going on which attracted my attention.
I began to watch the actions of the men. A short distance from me was a man belonging to Company A. He was lying on his face so still that I thought he was dead. Two men came towards him dragging a piece of canvas with which they were going to construct a shelter for the steadily increasing numbers of wounded men. Tony, for that was the man's name, was lying in the place best suited for the shelter and the men called to him to get out of the way. But he never moved. One of the men began to kick him and yelled for him to get up.
He struggled to his feet; his face bore tokens of great fear. He said he was sick. A more miserable looking wretch it would be difficult to find. The man was almost frightened to death. He walked a few steps and fell to the ground heedless to the heat of the sun or anything else going on around him.
Another young man was going around in a most helpful manner. Here, there, and everywhere he thought he was needed. I noticed him frequently and it did my heart good to see in what a cheerful manner he performed his duty. He was a trumpeter, belonging to either Company I or L and I am very sorry that I have forgotten his name.
With few exceptions, the soldiers performed their duty with great bravery and determination.
Originally reprinted in The Black Hills Trails, by Jesse Brown and A.M. Willard, Rapid City Journal Co., Rapid City, SD, 1924
A 7th Cavalry survivor's account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
From the Belle Fourche Bee, Belle Fourche, SD, December 1913.
IN THE MORNING before mounting the companies form in single lines. Each man, commencing at the head of the company calls out in turn his number; one, two, three, four, and so these are repeated until the company is all numbered into sets of fours. Cavalry men dismount and fight on foot except when a charge is made, but when a dismount is ordered, number four remains on his horse, numbers, one, two, and three dismount and hand their bridle reins to number four who holds the horses, while they deploy as skirmishers or as otherwise directed. The men composing the four with myself were Fitzgerald [Pvt. John Fitzgerald], Brennan [Pvt. John Brennan], and Watson [Pvt. James Watson], and although composing one of the sets of fours that entered into action with Custer, not one of us ever reached the battlefield which proved fatal to Custer and his men. Both Brennan and Fitzgerald turned their horses toward the rear, when they had gone two miles beyond the lone teepee.
We soon gained the top of the bluffs where a view of the surrounding country was obtained. The detail of Company F which was sent to investigate the teepee, now passed by us on their way to the front with the report that it contained a dead Indian and such articles as were deemed necessary for him on his journey to the "Happy Hunting Ground."
About a half a mile further on we came in sight of the Indian village and it was truly an imposing sight to anyone who had not seen anything like it before. For about three miles on the left bank of the river the teepees were stretched, the white canvas gleaming in the sunlight. Beyond the village was a black mass of ponies grazing on the short green grass.
When the companies came in sight of the village, they gave the regular charging yell and urged their horses into a gallop. [Curley and Foolish Elk also reported that Custer's men charged into a gallop when the Indian village came in sight.] At this time a detail of five men from Company F was sent ahead to reconoiter and from this point I was gradually left behind in spite of all I could do to keep up with my company. There were others also in the same fix. All urging on my part was useless. Getting vexed I dismounted and began to fasten on my spurs, when I heard my name called and, on looking up, I saw Brennan near me on horseback. He asked, "What is the matter?" I told him that I was afraid my horse was entirely played out. "Well," said he, "Let us keep together." I straightened myself up and said, "I will tell you what I will do." "I will trade horses with you if you will." He gave me a strange look and turned his horse around and rode towards the rear, leaving me to shift for myself. "Well," I thought, "I will get along anyway." I finished putting on my spurs, mounted my horse again, and rode on after my company, but my progress was very slow.
My spurs having been poorly fastened came off again, and seeing a pair lying on the trail, I got off my horse to secure them. Hearing an oath behind me, I looked back and saw my comrade Watson trying to get his horse on its feet. The poor brute had fallen and was struggling to gain an upright position. [Note: the accounts of Arikara scouts Soldier and an Anonymous Ree Scout both reported seeing Seventh Cavalry troopers kicking their downed horses just before the battle was about to begin.] Beside him, I saw Sergeant Finkle [Sgt. George A. Finckle] of our company sitting calmly on his horse looking on and making no effort to help Watson in his difficulty. But finally the poor animal gained his feet with a groan, and Finkle passed on with a rush to overtake our company. [Note: this was clearly the slow part of the troop -- Sgt. Finckle had already missed the chance to carry Custer's last order -- and live -- because his mount was giving out.]
By this time, the last of the companies had disappeared over the crest of the hill. I was still tugging away at the spurs, when Watson came up and asked what the trouble was and then passed on in the trail of the soldiers. I mounted my horse again but found that a staggering walk was all I could get out of him.
I then looked across the river at the Indian Village, it was all in commotion. One party of Indians were dashing down the river; others were rushing toward the upper end of the village. The cause of this commotion was Major Reno with three companies of men about a mile distant from the upper end of the village, dashing along in a gallop towards them. The officers were riding in order, a little in advance of their respective companies. It was a grand sight to see those men charging down upon the village of their enemies, who outnumbered them many times. The well-trained horses were kept well in hand. There was no straggling; they went together, neck and neck, their tails streaming in the wind, and the riders arms gleaming in the sunlight. It was no wonder that the Indians were in great commotion when they beheld the bold front presented by the cavalry. But alas! How deceptive are appearances. The cavalry dashed into the village where one of the noncommissioned officers halted and struck up the company's guidon alongside of a teepee before he was shot from his horse. The halt was but for a moment, for the Indians came rushing towards them in great numbers. At this juncture the dry grass caught on fire threatening the destruction of the village, but the squaws fearless as the braves themselves fought the fire and tore down the teepees which were in danger of burning. Major Reno seeing that he was greatly outnumbered ordered an immediate retreat to a grove of cottonwood trees, which stood on the bank of the river about a mile from the upper end of the village, where they found shelter for their horses and protection for themselves...
* * *
Meanwhile, I was persuing my way along the trail on foot leading my horse for I was afraid he would fall down under me, so stumbling and staggering was his gait.
After the disappearance of Custer and his men, I felt that I was in a terrible predicament to be left practically alone in an enemy's country, leading a horse practically useless.
While meditating upon the combination of circumstances which had brought me into this unhappy condition, I looked ahead and saw Watson, but was unable to overtake him slow as he was going. He suddenly turned aside from the trail as if he wished to avoid some threatening danger. While I was wondering what it :could be, I saw a small party of Indians, about thirty in number driving a small bunch of ponies and mules, coming toward us. I thought my time had surely come; It was too late to retreat.
While I was making calculations as to leaving my horse and trying my luck on foot, I thought I was seeing something familiar in their appearance. On coming close, I saw they were our Ree scouts and two Crow Indians, one of whom was Half Yellow Face or Two Bloody Hands. He had received this latter name from the fact that on the back of his buckskin shirt the print of two human hands was visible, either put there by red ink or blood.
When close enough I gave them to understand the condition I was in and asked for an exchange of mount. Half Yellow Face only shook his head and said "Heap Sioux," "Heap Sioux," "Heap shoot" "Heap shoot," "Come," and motioned for me to go back with them. I shook my head and answered, "No." They made their way to the rear and I went on ahead. The animals the scouts had they had captured from the Sioux.
I had lost sight of Watson and thinking that I could make my horse go faster by mounting, I did so. I had not gone far before I became aware of the fact that I had company. When I had nearly gained the top of the hill, I saw five Sioux Indians. We discovered each other about the same time. The other two brought their guns to their shoulders and aimed at me. Almost instantly my carbine was at my shoulder, aiming at them; but it was empty; while in the ranks or on horseback, I made it a practice to carry it empty. There we sat aiming at one another; the Indians did not fire and I couldn't. True, my revolver was loaded, but I was not fool enough to take my chances, one against five.
After aiming at me for a few seconds, they slid off their ponies and sneaked after the other three. I now looked around to see how I was going to make my escape, for I knew I could not retreat; with five I could not cope, and within the last few moments a few more Indians had gained the trail ahead of me; and to make my way down the face of the bluff, I knew was nearly impossible, as the Indians were climbing up to gain the trail.
Looking to my right, I saw a ravine and at the bottom of it a small clump of wild cherry bushes. But beyond and on a higher elevation than on which I stood was a pillar of rocks, which I thought might afford me a means of defense. I knew I would have to act quickly if I was to save my life, so dismounting from my horse, which had carried me so many miles, I dashed down into the ravine toward the bushes; but the sudden flight of a flock of birds from that point caused me to turn aside and I made a bee line for the pillar of rocks above me. After arriving there I took inventory of my ammunition. My pistol contained five cartridges, my belt contained seventeen cartridges for my carbine, a very slim magazine as a means of defense. I had left nearly a hundred rounds in my saddle bags, but owing to the incomplete condition of my prairie belt I was unable to carry more with me.
Belts for carrying ammunition were, at this time, just coming into use, and a great many of us had nothing but a small cartridge box as means of carrying our ammunition when away from our horses.
I was disappointed with my place of defense. I found that the pillar was barely eighteen inches through; it was about seven feet high with a piece of rotten cottonwood on top. It had been built by Indians for some purpose or other.
After completing my inventory, I sat down and began to reflect on my chances for my life, if I remained where I was. I knew that if the cavalry drove the savages from their village, they would scatter in all directions, and if any of the straggling devils came across such an unfortunate as myself, I would stand a poor show. I looked back toward the trail where I left my horse; he was still in the same place with an Indian riding around him. I thought that if he was going to be stripped, it was a pity that the ammunition I had left should fall into the hands of an enemy.
I thought that my time for acting had again arrived and that I had better seek other quarters, so I determined that I would try to reach the trail where it made a turn toward the river. I began to make tracks once more in a lively manner, and in a short time reached the point I had started for. At this point the trail was washed very badly on both sides as it descended towards the river. I looked back and saw a mounted Indian coming full speed after me...
The trail I was on led directly to the river and thence into the village. The commotion in the village had subsided; the signs of life were few; it appeared to me that it was deserted, so quiet and deathlike was the stillness. But when I looked closer, I could see a few Indians sneaking around here and there, and every once in awhile an Indian would dash out of the village as if anxious to get to some given point in the least possible time.
While making these observations, I also made a pleasant discovery. Down at the foot of the hill I was descending, I saw a white man riding in a slow, leisurely way. Suddenly he left the trail and made his way up the river. Wishing to have company, I was about to call for him to stop, but happily for me I did not, for I saw the reason why Watson, for such he proved to be, turned aside. He was making his way towards a party Indians who were standing close to the river bank near a clump of underbrush. They were talking and gesticulating in a very earnest manner. The day was extremely warm, but for all that the Indians had their blankets wrapped around them. Some of the blankets were stamped with the large letters I.D. meaning Indian Department. I knew then they were some of the hostiles we were after.
Watson had evidently not made this discovery. I was anxious to save him and if I did I must act quickly. So leaving the trail I ran down the hill at full speed and came to a place where there was a deep cut with steep sides that I would not have dared to face had I been able to check myself in time. But I could not; so I gave a leap which landed me many feet below, and strange to say, I did not lose my balance. Fortunately for me the soil was soft and loose to light upon.
When I got close enough to Watson, I called to him in a guarded voice. On hearing me, he checked up his horse and looked around. I rushed up to him and asked him where he was going. He answered, "To our scouts, of course." I then told him when he passed our scouts on the trail above. "Well," said he, "Who are those ahead of us?" I told him I was under the impression that they were hostiles and that we had better keep clear of them. He came to the same conclusion. The problem that now perplexed us was what we were to do. We finally concluded to enter the village by way of the trail. "And now, Watson," said I, "I will help myself along by hanging to your horse's tail, as I cannot otherwise keep up with you." So we started in the proposed direction. [Note: Thompson did not overplay the dramatically dangerous nature of his situation after he was left behind by his Seventh Cavarly comrades. One of the Seventh Cavalry's Arikara scouts, who watched part of Thompson and fellow straggler Watson's encounter with the five Sioux from the distance, was amazed to learn later that they survived.]
We had not gone far, before we saw a sight that puzzled us very much. Coming out of the river was one of our Crow scouts, mounted on his horse with the end of a rawhide rope over his shoulder, which he held firmly in his right hand. At the other end of the rope, straining and tugging to get away, was a Sioux squaw. The rope was tied around both her hands, but, struggle as she might, she could not break away.
While looking on and wondering where the Crow was going we were further astonished by seeing General Custer dash out of the fording place and ride rapidly up to the Crow and commence to talk to him. Custer was well versed in several Indian languages. The conversation with the Indian did not last long, and what the nature of it was I do not know, but the Crow released the Sioux woman, and she seemed glad to be free came running towards us in a half stooping posture and in her hand was a long bladed knife of ugly dimensions. So fierce did she look that my hand involuntarily sought the handle of my revolver. She must have noticed the movement for she made a short circle around us, ran over the bank, crossed the river, and disappeared in the village.
The Crow then left Custer and rode in a jog trot towards the river and disappeared. [Note: Custer apparently didn't like the looks of the ford at Medicine Tail Coulee (it required his men to cross four abreast) and so he quickly rode off for a quick "scout" while his men dismounted on the river bank, as White Shield and and Goes Ahead witnessed. After meeting Thompson and the Crow scout with the roped enemy squaw on the banks of the Little Bighorn -- and finding no better alternative crossing places -- the eye-witness record says Custer then returned to the ford at Medicine Tail Coulee in this scenario, tried to cross there, got shot by White Cow Bull, and died "in the water of the Little Bighorn." Or at least that's one plausible way to read the eye-witness record of the battle. However, there's also another, equally plausible but much, much darker read on the scene with Custer and the roped squaw, namely that Curley was Custer's procurer and they were both there to rape and murder the Sioux woman. See Who Killed Custer -- Part 11 "War Crime Time" for more info.]
Custer was mounted on his sorrel horse and it being a very hot day he was in his shirt sleeves; his buckskin pants tucked into his boots; his buckskin shirt fastened to the rear of his saddle; and a broad brimmed cream colored hat on his head, the brim of which was turned up on the right side and fastened by a small hook and eye to its crown. This gave him opportunity to sight his rifle while riding. His rifle lay horizontally in front of him; when riding he leaned slightly forward. This was the appearance of Custer on the day that he entered his last battle, and just one half hour before the fight commenced between him and the Sioux. When the Crow scout left him, he wheeled around and made for the same point in the river where we had first seen him. When he was passing us he slightly checked his horse and waved his right hand twice for us to follow him. He pointed down the stream, put spurs to his horse and disappeared at the ford, never uttering a word. That was the last I ever saw of Custer alive. He must have gone thence directly to his command. We wondered why none of his staff were with him. In all probability he had outrun them. His being alone shows with what fearlessness he travelled about even in an enemy's country with hostiles all around him.
We reached the fording place as soon as possible, but all signs of Custer were gone. Whether he had gone through the village or waded down the stream to reach his command is a question that cannot be answered; but as we had seen no signs of him crossing to the opposite side, we naturally thought that he had made his way down the stream.
When we came to the fording place, we found that the water was rushing very rapidly. Both banks were wet with the splashing made by the animals going to and from the village. We stopped a moment to consider the best way to proceed and how to act. When we looked into the village we could see the guidon fluttering in the breeze. This was the flag which had been placed there by the corporal just before he was shot. The sight of this increased our courage.
Our plan was for Watson to cross the river first to show how deep the water was. Being very thirsty I forgot everything else, and stooping down, began to dip water from the river in my hands and drink. While I was thus engaged and when Watson had forded to the middle of the stream, I heard the crack of three rifles which caused me to straighten up quickly and look around to see what the trouble was. Standing on the opposite bank of the river and at the very point we wished to gain were three Indians, with their smoking rifles in their hands. Watson, looking around at me said, "What in thunder is the matter?" I answered, "If you don't get off your horse at once, you will get shot." He did not need a second bidding, neither did he dismount in military style, but more like a frog landing with feet and hands in the water at the same time. This ungainly dismount caused the water to fly in every direction. The Indians no doubt thought that they had finished him for two of them turned and disappeared in the village.
The one that was left stood facing me, still disputing our passage across the river. From his decorations of paint and feathers, I judged he was a chief.
Watson began to crawl out of the water. If he was as thirsty as I was before he dismounted, I will guarantee that he was in that condition no longer.
I made up my mind to climb to the top of the bank and let drive at our painted friend. I called to Watson to keep quiet for a few moments, and began to walk backwards up the bank keeping my eyes fixed on the Indian and watching his every movement. When he saw my maneauvers, he took aim at me and shot. But the only result was that the lead lay buried in the red clay at my side. The bank being very wet, my feet slipped from under me several times. The Indian without lowering his rifle blazed away a second time, with the same result as before. I began to get very angry and climbed to the top of the bank in no dignified manner. The red devil still kept aiming at me; I was a better target for him now than before. When I thought it time for him to fire, I dropped to my left side, the bullet whistling over my head, buried itself in the bluff behind me. As this duel had been one-sided so far, I determined to try my hand. So, loading my carbine which was done in a moment, I took aim at him as he turned to go to his pony which was about thirty feet back of him on a slight elevation winding up his rawhide rope as he did so, I fired, but missed him because Watson who was on the line with the Indian made a movement which distracted my aim. I threw open the breech lock of my carbine to throw the shell out, but it was stuck fast. Being afraid that the Indian would escape, I worked at it in a desperate manner and finally got it out far enough to use my thumb nail, which proved affective. The cartridge was very dirty, a nice predicament for a man to be in when at close quarters with an enemy. I was careful to put in a clean one next time, and calling Watson to remain quiet for a moment, I fired when the Indian was within three feet of his horse. The ball plowed through his body, and buried itself in the ground under the horse, throwing the dirt in every direction. The Indian threw up his hands and fell with his head between the legs of his pony. It may seem hard to take human life, but he had been trying to take mine, and self preservation is the first law of nature.
When I fired this shot, Watson jumped to his feet and began to lead his horse out of the stream toward me. I asked him if his horse was not played out; he said it was. In that case, I told him, that he had better leave it as it would take us all our time to take care of ourselves. He studied for a moment and then waded out of the stream leaving his horse with everything on it as I had done.
After he joined me, we had a consultation as to the best course for us to pursue. It was clear that the Indians still held the village, and it would be foolish for us to again attempt to enter it. To wade downstream was an impossibility. We finally decided to go down the right bank of the stream and see if we could not get sight of Custer's command, and join our ranks where we were much needed.
* * *
Watson cast a last fond look at his horse and then we started on our perilous journey. We saw plenty of Indians on our side of the stream; they seemed to get bolder and more numerous, but so far they were some distance away. We kept very close to the underbrush, which lined the bank of the river.
Suddenly a small band of Indians came up towards us on a jog trot, which made us seek cover. When they had passed, we moved on our way. Again we were sent to cover by the approach of more Indians. No doubt they were coming this way in order to enter the village by the ford. We concluded to seek some sheltered nook to cover ourselves from the extreme heat of the sun, and to wait until the Indians had quieted down for they were beginning to be like a swarm of bees. They were coming from every direction; so unlike what they were a half an hour previous, when they were first surprised by the Seventh Cavalry for surprise it must have been to them. But now they were beginning to recover themselves. After they had driven Major Reno across the river we noticed that the village was beginning to teem with life. The herd of ponies which had been grazing at quite a distance were now rounded up close to the teepees; so that the Indians had available mounts. Ponies were dashing here and there with their riders urging them on; the dust would rise and mingle with the smoke of the burning grass and brush. The squaws had got the fire under control and had it confined to a comparatively small space.
We managed to secret ourselves in a bend of the river, which turned like the letter S, and gave us running water on three sides of us. In a clump of red berry bushes we found a log which made quite a comfortable seat for us. Peering through the brush I thought I recognized the horse which Billy Jackson, our guide, had ridden. One of its hind legs was fearfully gashed by a bullet. I called Watson's attention to it, but he did not think it was the same horse. He had met Jackson when on the trail on the top of the hill but a short distance from the place where it turned towards the village. He said Jackson was in a fearful state of mind. Watson asked him what was the matter. He replied, "Have you seen Custer?" Watson, surprised, answered, "No," and again asked what was up. Then Jackson informed him Custer had shot at him cutting away the strap that connected his stirrup to the saddle, and in order to save his life he had ridden away. Watson said he saw that the stirrup strap was broken off and Jackson without any hat, presented a wild appearance. He cast fearful glances around him as in mortal terror. Suddenly he put spurs to his horse and rode away, his long hair streaming in the wind and looking right and left as if expecting his enemy to appear at any moment. "And the strangest part of it," added Watson, "was that instead of taking the back trail, he struck straight from the river across the country and as far as he could see him, he was urging his pony to its utmost speed. I then asked Watson if that did not account for Custer's presence away from his command. He shook his head and said he did not know. [Note: there is actually a fairly rational, fairly conceivable explanation for Billy Jackson's story. See Mysteries of the Little Bighorn for more info.]
We had scarcely been concealed ten minutes before we heard a heavy volley of rifle shots down the stream, followed by a scattering fire, I raised to my feet and parting the brush with my gun; the stalks being covered with long sharp thorns, which made it quite disagreeable for a person's clothes and flesh. Looking through this opening down the stream, I could see Custer's command drawn up in battle line, two men deep in a half circle facing the Indians who were crossing the river both above and below them.
The Indians while fighting remained mounted, the cavalry dismounted. The horses were held back behind and inside of the circle of skirmishers. The odds were against the soldiers for they were greatly outnumbered, and they fought at a great disadvantage. Their ammunition was limited. Each man was supposed to carry one hundred rounds of cartridges, but a great many had wasted theirs by firing at game along the route. It does not take very long to expend that amount of ammunition especially when fighting against great odds.
Watson took hold of the sleeve of my coat and pulled me down urging me to be careful, as the Indians might see me and called my attention to the village which was in a perfect state of turmoil. Indians were leaving the village in all speed to assist in the fight against the cavalry; others from the battlefield with double burdens of dead and wounded were arriving. Then commenced a perfect howl from one end of the village to the other, made by the squaws and papooses. The noise gradually became louder and louder until it became indescribably and almost unbearable to the ears of civilized persons. Then it would almost die out until some more dead or wounded were brought in, this would put fresh vigor into their lungs. I could not keep still and so got onto my feet again. The firing was continuous, I removed my hat so that I would not attract attention, and looked over the panorama, as it was spread out before me. [Note: Curley also spoke memorably of the continuous roar of battle.] I could see that the fight was well under way; hordes of savages had gained a footing on the right bank of the river and had driven the soldiers back a short distance. [Note: this may be when Spotted Calf killed an officer with his tomahawk, as Foolish Elk recounted.]
The Indians were riding around in a circle and when those who were nearest to the cavalry had fired their guns (riding at full speed) they would reload in turning the circle. [Note: this is an interesting observation -- the first description I know of by a white of the "stationary wheel" technique which allowed the mounted, circling Indian cavalry to (1) maximize the concentration of their firepower, and (2) minimize their exposure to American soldiers's fire. See Sioux and Cheyenne Military Tactics for more info.] The well formed ranks of the cavalry did fearful execution, for every time the soldiers fired I could see ponies and riders tumbling in the dust, I could also see riderless ponies racing away in every direction as if anxious to get away from such a frightful scene. Cavalry men were also falling and the ranks gradually melting away, but they sternly and bravely faced their foes; the cavalry men fighting for $13 a month. Indians for their families, property, and glory. It seemed to be the desire of each to utterly exterminate. the other.
Round and round rode the savages in a seemingly tireless circle. When one fell either dead or wounded he was carried from the field; but there remained plenty to take his place; but if a soldier fell there was no one to take his, and if wounded there was no one to bring him water to quench his thirst; if dying, no one to close his eyes. It was a sad, sad sight. Lucky indeed was that soldier who died when he was first shot, for what mercy could he expect from a Sioux. If their enemy fell into their hands wounded or dying, it was simply to be put to the worst torture possible. Being in our present predicament, we were utterly powerless to help as we wished we could. We knew our duty, but to do it was beyond our power. Look where we could, we saw Indians; we two on foot could not cope with scores of them on horseback.
During the fight between Custer and the Sioux, scores of Indians had stationed themselves on the bluffs overlooking the village as far as we could see, so that any movement on our part would have led to our discovery; but nevertheless we made up our minds not to remain long in our present place of concealment. So we began to map out a course by which we could join our command, where we felt we were so much needed. We found that we had made a mistake and had taken a wrong trail. The trail we had followed had been made by buffalo, when going to and from the river.
Both Watson and myself had failed to notice the trail made by the cavalry in making their efforts to reach the lower end of the village. And thus we were brought to the fording place near the center of the village. A person could easily be mistaken, for the road over which they passed was rocky, sandy, and hard, consequently, the marks left by the horses' feet were very faint.20 Notwithstanding, this mistake left us in a very critical condition.
Looking in the direction of the battle, I saw that the cavalry were being driven towards the foot of a small hill; their number greatly reduced. The firing was growing less every minute, but the Indians still kept up their seemingly tireless circling, making a great cloud of dust.
The Indians who seemed to be detailed to bring in the dead and the wounded were continually coming into the village with double burdens showing that the soldiers though greatly decreased in numbers were still doing eff ective work. The squaws and papooses now kept howling without intermission. The noise they made resembled the howling of a coyote and the squealing of a cat.
Watson kept himself during the time of our concealment buried in deep thought. He seemed to come to one conclusion, and that was that the 7th Cavalry was going to be whipped. He said, "the Indians greatly outnumber the soldiers; while we have been here, we have seen more Indians, twice over the combined strength of the Seventh." I told him that I could not bring myself to believe such would be the case but Watson persisted in his conviction and said, "It's no use talking, they are going to get the worst of it." But I was just as positive in my belief that the cavalry would win.
The plan we had mapped out for ourselves was to climb the right bank of the river and gain the trail of the cavalry and then, if possible, join our company. It was a foolish undertaking for, a short distance below us, the bluffs came close to the river and the water washing at the base for so long a time, had caused the bluff to cave in and for the distance of a hundred feet up was so steep that even a goat could not climb it. On the top of the bluff just where we desired to go there were seated three Indians with their ponies but a short distance behind them. We did not feel any way alarmed on their account for we felt able to cope with that number. So we left our retreat and moved down as far as we could for the cut in the bank. I felt exceedingly thirsty and said to Watson that I proposed to have a drink. So, jumping from the bank, I landed at the edge of the water and I just saw that the water tasted good. I asked Watson to hand me his hat and I would fill it with water for him and he did so. When I was handing his back to him I noticed that the three Indians had discovered us and were watching our every movement. But without fear, we commenced our march up the hill, keeping as near to the cut bank as the nature of the ground would permit. When about half way up the bluff, I noticed something that made me hesitate. Watson was a short distance behind me and was keeping watch on the flat below. What I discovered was several Indians peering at us over the edge of the bluff; in all I counted eight and concluded that they were too many for us, especially with an uphill pull on our side. While I looked at them, one rose to his feet and beckoned for us in the most friendly manner to advance. But I knew he was a hostile and we stood no show whatever on foot with such a number against us. So I turned around and called to Watson to run for it, and I went after him full speed, but kept my eye on the movement and seeing that they were making preparations to fire at us, I called out, "Stretch yourself, Watson." And he did and gradually left me behind. The Indians let fly with their rifles with the usual result.
One of the Indians mounted his pony and rode on the edge of the bluff abreast of us. Jerking off his blanket he waved it in a peculiar manner and shouted out some lingo to those in the village and then pointed towards us. We felt we were discovered.
It was our intention to hide ourselves in our former place of concealment, but the Indians were watching us; so passing it we came back again to the fording place. We looked to see if the horse was still there but there was no trace of it; no doubt it had passed into the hands of the Indians. Passing the ford on the run, we came to some underbrush; when we slowed down to a walk. Watson still being some distance ahead of me.
I now heard the clatter of hoofs behind me. On looking around, I saw a white man and what I supposed to be a Crow Indian. I called for Watson to stop and told him that we had friends coming. I turned around, intending to wait until they came up. No sooner had I faced them than they stopped, turned their horses across the trail, dismounted, threw their guns across their saddles, and took aim at us. To say that we were astonished would faintly express our feelings. There was nothing left for us to do but run. [Note: August De Voto and an Anonymous Sixth Infantry Sergeant also spoke of white men fighting on the Indians' side at the Little Bighorn. See Mysteries of the Little Bighorn for more info.] The trail we were on ran through a thick clump of bushes, and we put our best foot first in order to gain its shelter. But before we could reach it, they fired at us but as usual missed; but the twigs and leaves were cut by the bullets and we came to the conclusion that we were not to be killed by the Indians. But if we were not wounded in our bodies we were in our feelings.
We determined to ambush them if they attempted to pursue us. We followed the trail for several hundred feet, then forced our way through the brush and with our revolvers cocked, lying at our feet and our guns in our hands we waited and watched for their appearance. But we waited in vain. They must have suspected our intentions. One thing we made up our minds to do, that was to kill the white man even if the Indian escaped.
We had been two hours and a half in our concealment in the bend of the river watching the fight between Custer and the Indians. It had taken us one half hour to reach this place, making three hours in all. The firing in the direction of the battlefield had just now ceased, showing this act of the tragedy was ended.
The question may be asked why we attempted to join our commands after two hours and a half. My answer is, a sense of duty, and love for our comrades in arms. Then others may ask why we did not go sooner. We were repulsed at the ford; we were surrounded by Indians on the bluffs; we were without horses; and when we did make the attempt we did so at nearly the cost of our lives.
We were now undecided which way to go. We knew we were surrounded by Indians and we would be very fortunate if we escaped at all. The noise in the village was as great as ever, which told us that the Indians still held it. We were ever on the alert, but could see very little on account of the underbrush. I ventured to rise myself and scanned the top of the bluffs to see if there were any Indians in sight. But I could not see any, and this puzzled me very much, but on looking down to the lower end of the bluffs I could see a body of men on horseback mounting slowly up the trail on top of the bluffs. Then I saw several guidons fluttering in the breeze, which I knew as the ones which our cavalry carried on the march. I called Watson's attention to the approaching horsemen, but he was firmly convinced that they were Indians. I then drew his attention to the orderly manner in which they moved, and the guidons they carried and told him that we better try to join them before they passed us. "Well!" said he, "Let's move." So we started, following the trail until we were entirely clear of the brush and then began to climb the face of the bluff in order to reach the trail on which we saw the cavalry were moving [Watson's concern was legitimate. The night of June 25, Lt. Charles DeRudio thought he saw Capt. Tom Custer and other Seventh Cavalry troopers riding across the river in the moonlight, but it turned out to be Indians in captured Army uniforms.]
We had scarcely got clear of the underbrush before we became aware of the fact that we had run into a hot place. Before we reached the foot of the bluff we came upon an opening in the timber and brush with several large cottonwood trees lying upon the ground, stripped of their bark. They had undoubtedly been cut down by the Indians during some severe winter when the snow was very deep and the ponies had to live upon the bark, not being able to get the grass.
Near the water's edge, some distance up the river, we saw a large body of Indians holding a council, and that we might avoid them we kept as close to the cover of the brush as possible and went as rapidly as we could towards the face of the bluff.
So intent were we in our endeavor to escape the attention of the Indians by the river, that we did not perceive another party which was in the road we wished to take until the gutteral language of the savages called our attention to them. I jumped behind one of the fallen cottonwood trees; where Watson went, I could not at the time tell. I peeped over the fallen tree and saw a group of mounted Indians gesticulating, grunting out their words, and pointing towards the advancing cavalry. Suddenly they broke up and advanced toward my place of concealment. I began to think they had seen me and crouched as close to the tree as possible. Drawing my revolver, I made ready to defend myself. I made up my mind that all but one shot should be fired at the Indians, and that one would go into my head, for I had determined never to be taken alive. With open ears and eyes I awaited their coming. They passed my hiding place without seeing me and made their way toward the river. I jumped to my feet and started off at once, hardly caring whether the Indians saw me or not, for the presence of the cavalry had put fresh courage into me. I had not gone far before I heard my name called and on looking around I saw Watson coming after me at full speed. I was glad to see him safe, it gave me renewed courage, and we hoped that we would soon be entirely safe. After we began to climb the hill, I found my strength was giving out, and in spite of the fact that we were in full view of the Indians, I laid down to rest and all my entreaties for Watson to go on and save himself were fruitless. He would not budge. But there was something that made us move sooner than I wished; a large body of Indians had crossed the river and were coming across the flat toward the hill we were climbing. I struggled to my feet and staggered after Watson. The heat at this time seemed to be intense, but it might have been on account of my exhausted condition. Watson made no complaint, for like myself he knew it would do no good. After we had climbed nearly half way up the bluff, the Indians commenced to fire at us, but that did not trouble us, because we knew that the Indians when excited were very poor shots; and in our case the bullets went wide of the mark.
We were becoming so tired that the presence of the Indians was no longer a terror to us. The hill we were climbing seemed very long, so much so to me that I fell down and lay there without any inclination to move again, until Watson called my attention to the head of the column of cavalry which now came into plain view. So with renewed energy we made our way up amid showers of lead. The savages seemed loathe to let us go.
* * *
When we stepped out into the trail at the head of the advancing column, it was about five o'clock in the afternoon. The first man we recognized was Sargeant Knipe [Sgt. Daniel Kanipe] of our company. He had been sent back by Custer to hurry up the ammunition...
The forces under Major Reno, at the time we stepped into the trail, were six companies of the left wing and one company of the right, namely Company B under the command of Capt. McDougal [Capt. Thomas McDougall]...
Sargeant Knipe then told me that my horse had been found and was in charge of Fitzgerald, the horse farrier. Knipe added, "They all thought you was a gonner." This was good news to me.
Just then the order was given to retreat and Reno's command began to march slowly to the rear. Of course we all wondered at this but said nothing. It was our duty not to question, but to obey. I made a dive through the retreating column in quest of my horse and found it in the center of the command led by Fitzgerald, who seemed greatly surprised at seeing me saying, "I thought the Indians had your scalp!" I told him I was too good a runner for that. On examining my saddle, I was glad to find everything as I had left it.
We did not retreat very far, for that was impossible. The Indians were closing in around us. Our retreat was covered by Company D commanded by Capt. Weir. He was the only captain who wished to go to the relief of Custer. He had begged in vain to have Reno advance to Custer's relief. That being denied him, he asked permission to take his company and ascertain Custer's position; but he was refused that privilege. [Note: according to Edward Godfrey, Weir did not ask permission, but did, in fact, lead a foray in Custer's direction, but was quickly driven back by the Sioiux and Cheyenne.]
Major Reno moved to the left of the trail and went into a flat bottomed ravine. By this time the Indians were pouring a shower of lead into us that was galling in the extreme. Our horses and mules were cuddled together in one confused mass. The poor brutes were tired and hungry. Where we made our stand there was nothing but sand, gravel, and a little sagebrush. We were in a very precarious condition. Our means of defense were very poor. There were numerous ravines leading into the one which we occupied. This gave the savages a good opportunity to close in on us and they were not long in doing so. Some of us unloaded the mules of the hard tack they were carrying and used the boxes for a breastwork. We knew if we did not do so we would be picked off one by one. We formed the cracker boxes into a half circle and kept them as close together as possible.
By the time we had everything arranged, the sun was going down. We all knew that the Indians never fought after night fall. We thought we would have time enough to fortify ourselves before the light of another day appeared. But in the meantime several accidents happened which helped to make it a serious matter for us. We saw that our horses and mules were beginning to drop quite fast, for they were in a more exposed position. This is very trying to a cavalry man, for next to himself, he loves his horse, especially on a campaign of this kind. A peculiar accident happened to a man lying next to me, sheltered by a cracker box and talking in a cheerful manner about the probabilities of us getting out of our present difficulty, when a ball came crashing through the box hitting him and killing him instantly. There was but one gasp and all was still. He had made the mistake of placing the box the wrong way, the edge of the crackers toward the outside. While meditating on the uncertainty of life, a bullet struck the box behind which I lay, and as I heard the lead crashing through its contents, I wondered if the time had come for me to wear a pair of wings. But no, the ball stopped and I gave a sigh of relief, I noted with great satisfaction that the night was closing in around us...
I wandered to the edge of the bluff overlooking the village. By this time it was quite dark; I could plainly see several large fires which the Indians had built. There was a noise in the village which increased as night advanced. The deep voices of the braves, the howling of the squaws, the shrill piping of the children and the barking of the dogs made night hideous; but they appeared to enjoy it amazingly.
Suddenly we heard above all other sounds, the call of a bugle. The sound came from the direction of the village, and immediately following was the sound of two others. The officers hearing those bugles sound ordered our buglers to sound certain calls and waited to see if they would be answered. The only answer was a long wailing blast; it was not what was expected. I now turned around and made my way to the place where my dead horse lay and stripped the saddle of everything, then went and made my bed behind my cracker box. The last thing I heard as I lay down upon the ground was the howling of the Indians and the wailing of the bugles. I slept so soundly that I heard and knew nothing until I felt someone kicking the soles of my boots. Jumping to my feet I saw Capt. Benteen standing by my side. When he saw that I was fully awake, he told me I would have to render some assistance at the head of the ravine up which the Indians were trying to sneak. He added, "If they succeed, it will be a sad day with us."
* * *
The Indians had been pouring in volleys upon us long before I had been awakened and they were still at it. Under cover of darkness, they had gained a foothold in some of the numerous ravines that surrounded us. It seemed as if it would be impossible to dislodge them. Some of them were so close to us that their fire was very affective. The ping of the bullets and the groaning and struggling of the wounded horses was oppressive. But my duty was plain. The way that I had to go to my post was up a short hill towards the edge of the bluff and the head of the ravine. While packing my ammunition in order to carry it easily, I glanced up in the direction I had to go, and for the .life of me, I could not see how I could possibly get there alive for the bullets of the Indians were ploughing up the sand and gravel in every direction; but it was my duty to go.
After getting everything in shape, I started on the run. The fire of the Indians seemed to come from three different directions and all exposed places were pretty well riddled. Even as secure a place as where we had formed our breastwork was no longer safe. The red devils seemed determined to crush us. As I ran up the hill, which was but a short distance, I was seized with a tendency to shrink up and was under the impression that I was going to be struck in the legs or feet. I was not the only one to run for the head of the ravine. Capt. Benteen was busily hunting up all the men he could to go to the same point, in order to keep the Indians in check and if possible to drive the Indians out of the ravine. It did not take me long to reach the top of the bluff, where I got a glimpse of the village, the river and the mouth of the ravine.
I had gotten so far without being hit that I thought I was going to get through safe, but as I was entering the mouth of the ravine, a volley was fired by the Indians who occupied it and over I tumbled shot through the right hand and arm. A short distance below I saw several cavalry men who were soon joined by others, eleven in all; a slim force indeed to clean out the ravine held by so many Indians, but they were resolute men. Capt. Benteen soon joined them and made a short speech. He said, "This is our only weak and unprotected point and should the Indians succeed in passing this in any force they would soon end the matter as far as we are concerned." And now, he asked, "Are you ready?" They answered, "Yes." "Then," said he, "Charge down there and drive them out." And with a cheer, away they dashed, their revolvers in one hand and their carbines in the other. Benteen turned around and walked away to the extreme left, seemingly tireless and unconscious of the hail of lead that was flying around him.
Knowing that in my condition I was useless, I looked around to see if I could find anyone who could direct me to a surgeon. I knew that there were two with General Custer, but I was not sure whether we had one with us here or not.
A short distance from me lay a wounded man, groaning and struggling in the agony of death. Just as I was thinking of getting up, I heard an order given by a Sioux chief. A heavy volley of bullets was the result. My wounded neighbor gave a scream of agony and lay still. After the volley was past, it was a wonder to me how I had escaped. I now struggled to my feet and found that I was weak and dizzy from the loss of blood. I looked around me and saw what remained of those who had gone down the ravine against such fearful odds. Few of them returned but they had accomplished their object. We had men with us who seemed utterly fearless in the face of danger. One young man had the courage of a lion. Wherever duty called him, whatever the danger might be, he was always at his post.
Going in the direction of the horses, I saw what suffering the poor brutes were enduring from thirst and hunger. But we ourselves were no better off. I found in the center of our place of defense that we had a surgeon busily attending to the wounded and dying. I asked him to attend to me when he had time to do so. He soon bandaged up my wounds and told me the only thing that could be done was to apply plenty of water. What Mockery! Water was not to be had for love or money. Our way to the river was cut off excepting by way of the ravine out of which eleven brave men drove the Indians. But to attempt to get water by that route was too risky. I looked on while the doctor attended the wounded that were brought in. Some of the poor fellows would never recover, others would be crippled for life and I would carry a broken hand.
The sun reflecting on the sand and gravel made it very hot. The loss of blood and the lack of water made me so dizzy that I reeled and f ell and lay unheeded. But this was getting to be a common sight. I still clung to my carbine and revolver. When I fell I managed to roll over on my face and place my carbine under me. I knew that if anyone needed such an implement they were liable to take it. I do not know how long I lay there, but I have a faint recollection of being turned and my gun taken from me. This aroused me and I managed to struggle to a sitting posture, but the man and the gun were gone. He had left his own in its place, but it was practically useless, the breech being broken.
While I was meditating on the meanness of human nature, I saw Capt. Benteen dash into the midst of our horses and drive out several men who were hiding and skulking about them. "Get out of here," he cried, And do your duty!"
It soon became known that the Indians were concentrating for an attack upon our lines. They had closed in around us on three sides and so close were they, that we could hear them talking. Capt. Benteen seemed to be aware of the impending danger, and was forming all the men he possibly could into line at the point where it was expected that the Indians would attack us.
The heat of the day was oppressive and the guns of the Indians were silent and these facts brought a feeling of depression over us. We all realized that our lives were not worth betting on, but the expression on the faces of the men was that of a dogged determination to sell them dearly.
We had two spades, the others having been either broken or lost, so our means of digging rifle pits were limited and natural defenses there were none. History hardly records a predicament such as we were in. It does mention the hardships of the soldiers of the late Civil War, but it is nothing to campaigning against the Indians. A white man capturing an enemy usually spares his life but if captured by hostile Indians, his days are numbered and he is known of men on earth no more.
How were we going to transport our wounded? We had plenty of them and some of them very badly hurt. Look where you would, you could see either dead or wounded soldiers and the end not yet.
The silence was suddenly broken by a loud command given by a hostile chief, which was followed by a terrific volley and a great many of our horses and mules passed over the range. Our men never wavered but hugged the ground as close as possible and fired whenever they found the slightest opportunity to do execution. All realized that the less ammunition expended the better. Although the Indians outnumbered us many times, they lacked the courage and determination of the day previous when they fought Custer; they no doubt had been taught a bitter lesson. Had it not been for the watchfulness of our men, they certainly would have got the best o f us. Wherever they attacked, our men were always ready. While the hottest of the fight was going on and the tide of battle seemed to be against us, our doctor dropped his bandages, and grasping a gun started toward the skirmish line. Some of the men, seeing his action, begged him to stay telling him that it would go hard with the command if anything should go wrong with him and to enforce their arguments a wounded man was brought in who needed his immediate attention. This, for a time, seemed to deter him for he laid down his gun and commenced work at his former occupation. He was kept very busy for some time.
I made my way slowly over the small place in which we huddled together and was very pleased to see some of the men stretching canvas over the wounded and dying. This canvas the officers had brought along for their own use, but it was given by them for the humane purpose of sheltering the helpless. The canvas had to be stretched very close to the ground. The supports that were used were short pieces of wood of any kind that we could procure without risk.
We had no use for firewood if we could have gotten it, as we had no water to cook with, hence our wounded were deprived of the comforts that a sick man needs. As I strolled around, I could see something of the horrors of our position. It was not a question of days but of hours. We could in all probability bury our unfortunate comrades who had fallen in battle, but it would be impossible for us to dispose of dead horses and mules. The stench would become so great that it would drive us from our present position and where were we to go? It was utterly impossible to move our wounded, as we had no means at hand with which we could do so. We were quite willing to change our location if we could, but we hesitated for several reasons; we were separated from our leader and our forces were divided. The Indians seemed determined to exterminate us if possible. The only hope f or us to accomplish our purpose was to make the effort after night came on. I wondered if any of the other members of Company C had been as unfortunate as myself. Although that company had entered the fight with General Custer, there were a few who had been detailed to the pack train. So I commenced to search around for them.
I first found a man by the name of Bennett [Pvt. James Bennett] whom to know was to respect. I could see that his days were numbered. Kneeling down beside him I asked, "Can I do you any service?" "Water, Thompson, Water, for God's sake!" Poor fellow, he was past speaking in his usual strong voice. I told him I would get him some if I lived. He released my hand and seemed satisfied and then I began to realize what the promise I had made meant. This was the 26th day of June, a day long to be remembered by all who took an active part, in fact, a day never to be forgotten. As far as getting water was concerned, it was a matter of greatest difficulty. All routes to the river were cut off by the Indians. I was determined to make the eff ort nevertheless, and looked around for a canteen. I thought of the ravine which was cleared by eleven brave men and hoped that I might be able to make my way to the river by that route. I made some inquiries of some skulkers who I found among the horses and from what they told me I concluded that the ravine route was the only safe one to take. In a short time I secured two canteens and a coffee kettle. I made my way to the head of the ravine which ran down to the river. I found that very little change had taken place since the incident in the morning.
The firing on the part of the Indians was rather dilatory. A person could make his way around with a little more comfort, but how long this would continue was impossible to tell. As I gained the rise of ground that commanded a view of the village, river and surrounding country I saw a small group of men examining an object lying on the ground which I found to be an Indian bedecked in all his war paint, which goes to make up a part of their apparent courage and fierce appearance. He was found very close to our position which goes to show how closely we were confined. The Indians were able to occupy every available position afforded by nature on account of their numbers. If it had not been for the terrible position we were in we could have had a panorama view of the snowcapped hills of the Big Horn Mountains, which forms the fountain heads of the Little and Big Horn Rivers.
While wondering as to my next move, I was suddenly brought to myself with the question, "Where are you going? And what are you going to do?" The questioner belonged to my own company and I naturally expected him to sympathize with me in my errand of mercy. He not only tried to dissuade me but called to Sargeant Knipe and told him of my intention of going to the river. The Sargeant told me of the hopelessness of the undertaking telling me if I should ever attempt to make the trip I would never get back alive. I told him that as I could not carry a gun I thought I had better do something to help the wounded and the dying.
Seeing that I was determined to go, they said no more but one of the men of Company C, named Tim Jordan [Pvt. Tim Jordan] gave me a large pocket handkerchief to make a sling for my wounded hand. I started down the ravine but halted f or I f ound I had not my belt in which I usually carried my pistol having given it to one of my comrades. But on going back to the man and asking for it he seemed to be confused and stated that he had lost it. So there was nothing to do but console myself with the reflection that I had better take care of it myself. I turned around and made my way through the midst of several citizen packers who accompanied us on our expedition. No doubt they thought the position they occupied was the safest one to serve their country in. As I went down the ravine, I found it got narrower and deeper, and became more lonesome and naturally more depressing. I noticed numerous hoof prints showing that the Indians had made a desperate effort to make an opening through our place of defense by this route. But now it was deserted. After I had travelled a considerable distance, I came to a turn in the ravine. Pausing for a moment I looked cautiously around the bend and there before me was running water, the Little Horn River, on the opposite side was a thick cover of cottonwood timber, the sight of which made me hesitate for a moment. It was possible that some of the Indians were concealed in it to pick anyone off who was bold enough to approach the water; but I could see no signs of life and concluded to proceed. I made my way as rapidly as possible toward the bank of the river. I found the ground was very miry, so much so that I was afraid that I might get stuck in the mud. I concluded that there was nothing like trying. I laid down my canteens and took my kettle in my left hand and made several long leaps which landed me close to the water's edge. The water at this point ran very shallow over a sandbar. With a long sweep of my kettle upstream I succeeded in getting plenty of sand and a little water. Making my way back towards the mouth of the ravine a volley of half a score of rifle balls whistled past me and the lead buried itself in the bank beyond. I gained the shelter of the ravine without a scratch and I was thankful. I wondered whether it would be safe to stop long enough to put the water into the canteens, as the fire of the Indians seemed to come from a bend in the bank, a short distance from the mouth of the ravine on this side of the river. I was not sure but that the Indians might take a notion to follow me. Had I been armed I would have been more at my ease. I knew I could travel with greater ease if I left the kettle behind, so I placed it between my knees and soon transferred the water from it to the canteens.
I started on looking back once in a while to see if the Indians were coming. I soon turned the bend of the ravine, but no signs of them did I see. Although my thirst was great, I did not stop to take a drink until I landed amidst my fellow soldiers. I offered to divide the water of one canteen with some of the men of Company C. They refused my offer when I told them that my effort was made in behalf of the wounded members of our company. On coming to Bennett, I placed a canteen in his hand, but he was too weak to lift it to his lips. He was attended by John Mahoney [Pvt. John J. Mahoney] of our Company and I had no fear but that he would be well cared for. I skirmished around and found two more of my company slightly wounded. I gave them the other canteen and told them that if they should not require all the water that I would like it to be passed around to some other wounded ones lying close by, which was so done. A man, by the name of McVey [Trumpeter David McVeigh], to whom I handed the canteen that he might drink seemed determined to keep it in his possession. I jerked it from his grasp and passed it on to the next. With a cry of rage he drew his revolver from beneath his overcoat and taking aim at me he told me to skip or he would put a hole through me. I was too astonished for a moment to even speak or move, but when I did regain my speech I used it to the best advantage as that was all the weapon I had. Fortunately I was not armed or I would have committed an act that I would have been sorry for afterwards. My action would have been justified by the law, as it would have been an act of self defense. The offers of money by the wounded for a drink of water was painful to hear. "Ten dollars for a drink," said one. "Fifteen dollars for a canteen of water," said a second. "Twenty dollars," said a third and so the bidding went on as at an auction.
This made me determined to make another trip and to take a larger number of canteens. So I would not have to make so many trips. The firing on the part of the Indians was very brisk at intervals. On our part we never expended a cartridge unless we were sure that the body of an Indian was in sight.
My next trip to the river was taken with more courage. But as on the former occasion, when I came to the bend in the ravine I halted and looked carefully around the corner. I was astonished at seeing a soldier sitting on a bank of earth facing the river with his back towards me. I was curious to know who he was. I came up to him and saw that he had two camp kettles completely riddled with bullets. He had his gun in his hand and his eyes fixed on the grove of timber across the river watching for the enemy. On looking him over I could see the reason for his sitting and watching as he did. I discovered a pool of blood a short distance from him which had come from a terrible wound in his leg. It was impossible for him to move further without assistance. I asked him how he received his wound. He told me he had gone to the river for water and when he was coming up from the bed of the river with two kettles filled with water, a volley had been fired at him, one of the bullets hitting him and breaking his leg below the knee, the others riddling his kettles. He had managed to make his way under cover of the ravine to the place where I found him. I then told him as it was now my turn I would proceed to the business. He tried to dissuade me, but as I would not go back without water and it was useless for me to remain where I was, I laid down my canteens and grasped the camp kettle which I had left on my previous trip. I walked forward looking into the grove for signs of Indians, but not a sign of life could I see. Looking to see where the water was deepest, I made a few leaps which landed me in the water with a loud splash. I knew it was useless for me to try to avoid being seen so I depended on my ability to escape the bullets of the Indians. A volley was fired but again I escaped. Madden, [Pvt. Michael P. Madden] the wounded man I had just left, watched me with great interest. When I returned to him I urged him to take a drink, but he refused to do so saying he was not in need of it. This caused me some surprise, as I knew he had lost a great deal of blood which is almost invariably followed by great thirst.
I had made haste to fill the canteens and started on my way to camp bidding Mike Madden to be of good cheer and he made a cheerful reply. When I reached the place of our defense, I found that the firing was not so brisk. Only a few scattering shots now and then. But our men were still on the alert. There was no weak place unguarded, no ammunition was being wasted. Although we had 2¢ boxes of ammunition which amounted to thousands of rounds. The men only fired where they thought they were going to do execution.
After leaving three canteens for the wounded at the hospital, I took the other two and gave them to my wounded comrades. After this, I began to feel very sick and looked around for a sheltered place to avoid the heat of the sun. This sickness was caused by the loss of blood and the pain in my hand, which at this time had swelled to great size. I did not want to get under the canvas where the wounded were as that was already overcrowded, so I crawled under one of the horses which was standing in a group with the others. I could not but wonder what sort of fix I would be in if the horse under which I was lying happened to get shot and fell down on me. But this soon passed out of my mind, as there was always something going on which attracted my attention.
I began to watch the actions of the men. A short distance from me was a man belonging to Company A. He was lying on his face so still that I thought he was dead. Two men came towards him dragging a piece of canvas with which they were going to construct a shelter for the steadily increasing numbers of wounded men. Tony, for that was the man's name, was lying in the place best suited for the shelter and the men called to him to get out of the way. But he never moved. One of the men began to kick him and yelled for him to get up.
He struggled to his feet; his face bore tokens of great fear. He said he was sick. A more miserable looking wretch it would be difficult to find. The man was almost frightened to death. He walked a few steps and fell to the ground heedless to the heat of the sun or anything else going on around him.
Another young man was going around in a most helpful manner. Here, there, and everywhere he thought he was needed. I noticed him frequently and it did my heart good to see in what a cheerful manner he performed his duty. He was a trumpeter, belonging to either Company I or L and I am very sorry that I have forgotten his name.
With few exceptions, the soldiers performed their duty with great bravery and determination.
Originally reprinted in The Black Hills Trails, by Jesse Brown and A.M. Willard, Rapid City Journal Co., Rapid City, SD, 1924
Charles Varnum's Story of the Battle
A 7th Cavalry survivor's account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
From the Lowell Weekly Journal, August 1876.
NoteFIGHTING THE INDIANS
Camp on the Yellowstone, July 4, 1876.
Dear Father and Mother:
Having an opportunity of sending off a letter this evening, I will try and give you an account of our operations since I wrote you last. On the 22d of June General Custer took the entire regiment, numbering about 605 strong, with my squad of about thirty-six scouts and guides, interpreters, etc., and started up the Rosebud river after the. Indians, whose trail was discovered by Major Reno. We made about twelve miles the first day and thirty-two or three on the second, and early on the morning of the third day we got on a very heavy trail going up the Rosebud. About ten miles from camp we found a circle surrounded by a brush fence arranged for a sun-dance, a description of which I have given you before, for making warriors. We found a stick with a fresh scalp attached and the trail of two or three Indians, evidently made that morning. We marched twenty miles, and then I was sent back six to examine a creek to see if any Indians had left the trail, and on my return we started again and made eight miles more, and camped in an Indian camp about two days old. The signs indicated an immense force, and we were in a hurry to take them by surprise. Custer came over to see the scouts. Six Crows with us, who knew the country well, said that the trail from here led on towards the Little Horn, a fork of the Bighorn, and they wanted to go ahead about twenty miles to a high bluff from which the valley of the Little Horn could be seen. Custer wanted some intelligent white man to go ahead with them to send him information. I took the six Crows, five Rees, and a white man, who was an old frontiersman, and we marched all night, making about sixty miles. I had rode without rest or any sleep for thirty-six hours. Custer said he would start at 11 p. m., and come somewhere near us by morning. At 2:30 o'clock we reached the hill, and lay there in scrub bushes until daybreak, when we discovered the smoke of a village, and by 5 a. m., I started the Rees back with a dispatch to General Custer. The Crows said there were about two or three thousand ponies on the plain twelve miles off, but I could not see them, as their eyes were better than mine. Custer had come ahead, and we could see his camp about eight miles off. He got my dispatch at 8 a. m., and started again and came to the hill. In the meantime two Sioux were seen going in the direction of Custer's column. Charley Reynolds, myself, the Crow interpreter and two Crows started out to kill them, and prevent Custer being discovered. We failed to do it, however, and when Custer came up we informed him of the state of affairs, and he concluded, as we were discovered, to hurry up and strike them as soon as possible. [Note: He Dog said that a Sioux named Fast Horn was one of the Indians Varnum saw that morning.]
At about 2:30 we came up to the neighborhood of the camp, and three companies, A, G and M, under Major Reno, started in. I saw them going, and Lieutenant Hare, who had been ordered to report to me for duty with our scouts, went in with them. They pretended to run away and we charged up the valley, near the village, dismounted, put our horses in the timber near the stream, and fought on foot. My scouts scattered about so I had no command near me, and I reported to Captain Moylan for duty with Company A. In half an hour we were not only surrounded, but the odds against us were so fearful that we were obliged to retreat, and we returned up into the woods and started on a run for the bluff. The Indians did not press us very hard, and we knew from the fearful firing at the other end of the village that some one was getting it hot and heavy up there. On the bluff we reorganized, and found that Lieutenant McIntosh and DeRudio were gone, and Lieutenant Hodgson was killed close by. Only five men and Lieutenant Wallace came out with company G, and more than one-third of our command was gone. Just then Colonel Benteen and three companies came in from a trip they had endeavored to make to the rear of the village, and the pack-train came up with one company more. This gave us four full companies with the remains of three others and the citizen portion, numbering in all about three hundred men. We could hear heavy firing about two miles off, and knew that Custer, with the remaining five companies, was having a hard fight beyond the village. As soon as we could get into any sort of shape we started along the bluff to try and unite with Custer, and after a mile's march we could see no sign of him; while the firing was very distant. As we were encumbered with wounded and had the whole packtrain on our hands, and hundreds of Indians were turning their attention to us, we selected a good place for defence on the bluffs, and prepared to receive them. The place was well selected, while the horses were in a sort of hollow where they could be shot at from only one direction, and here the ball opened.
We fought, God and ourselves only know how hard, until about 9 o'clock, and then the firing ceased until the first streak of daylight, when the ball opened again. We fortified as much as the four spades we had would let us, and all day long they piled lead into us at a fearful rate. The men fell fast, but young boys soon became old men, and men lay in the trench beside corpses with flies and maggots, and struck and fought like old veterans of years' standing. The hospital held about forty wounded, but was protected by the mules and horses which surrounded it, and which must be hit before the bullets could hit the men. I will not attempt to describe the horror of the situation. We had no water, and the men became furious, and detachments were sent under heavy fire to try and get some. Many were killed and wounded in that way. [Note: here is Mrs. Spotted Horn Bull's cheerful recollection of the water brigade slaughter, and here is the account of Peter Thompson, who won the Medal of Honor for valor on the water detail.] The horses suffered fearfully, as they, of course, got no water, and could not eat what oats we had without. The firing ceased on the afternoon of the 26th, and we could see that the village was leaving. After dark we changed our camp a little, so as to get away from the stench of the dead animals. In the morning the Indians were gone, and the cause was soon explained. General Terry, with five companies of the Seventh Infantry, and four of the Second Cavalry, was coming to our relief. They had seen the Crow scouts, who had escaped, and hurried to our assistance. They reached us about 10 a. m., and then the sickening details were seen in all their horror. General Custer, with his five companies, had been exterminated. About three hundred men had been killed, and their bodies stripped and horribly mangled. Sixteen officers had fallen, viz: General Custer, Captain Keogh, Captain Yates, Captain Custer, Lieutenant Cooke, First Lieutenants Smith, McIntosh, Calhoun and Porter; Second Lieutenants Hodgson, Harrington, Sturgis and Reilly, of the Seventh Cavalry, Lieutenant Crittendon of the Twentieth Infantry; Doctors Lord and DeWolf. Colonel Benteen and myself were slightly wounded. I have received two slight flesh wounds, one in each leg, below the knee, while charging, dismounted, to drive the Indians from a hill where they were killing our men very rapidly. It seems horrible to think it all over now. Mrs. Custer loses her husband and his two brothers -- one a citizen travelling with us, and Mrs. Calhoun loses her husband and three brothers (She is the General's sister), and a nephew -- a Mr. Reed travelling with us also. Half of the officers with us are killed, and the regiment sadly cut up. I will give you some more of the incidents hereafter. I have been put in command of the remnant of Company I. This makes me a First Lieutenant, and No. 11 on that list. We are encamped on our old battle ground of August 11, 1873, and a boat has gone to Lincoln to open communication with Sheridan, and receive orders. When we got a mail yesterday by a carrier from Fort Ellis, we received a letter from Sheridan, a month old, cautioning Terry not to split his command, as he had information that at least five thousand warriors were assembled, and I don't think there is any doubt but that we fought four thousand of them. Gen. Crook, with sixteen companies of cavalry, was coming up from the south, and this despatch says he has been reinforced by the whole Fifth Cavalry, giving him twenty-eight companies to fight what we struck with twelve. This is a brief account of affairs. Don't worry for me.
Your affectionate son,
CHARLES A. VARNUM
The Custer Myth: A Source Book of Custerania, written and compiled by Colonel W.A. Graham, The Stackpole Co., Harrisburg, PA 1953, p 342 - 343
A 7th Cavalry survivor's account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
From the Lowell Weekly Journal, August 1876.
NoteFIGHTING THE INDIANS
Camp on the Yellowstone, July 4, 1876.
Dear Father and Mother:
Having an opportunity of sending off a letter this evening, I will try and give you an account of our operations since I wrote you last. On the 22d of June General Custer took the entire regiment, numbering about 605 strong, with my squad of about thirty-six scouts and guides, interpreters, etc., and started up the Rosebud river after the. Indians, whose trail was discovered by Major Reno. We made about twelve miles the first day and thirty-two or three on the second, and early on the morning of the third day we got on a very heavy trail going up the Rosebud. About ten miles from camp we found a circle surrounded by a brush fence arranged for a sun-dance, a description of which I have given you before, for making warriors. We found a stick with a fresh scalp attached and the trail of two or three Indians, evidently made that morning. We marched twenty miles, and then I was sent back six to examine a creek to see if any Indians had left the trail, and on my return we started again and made eight miles more, and camped in an Indian camp about two days old. The signs indicated an immense force, and we were in a hurry to take them by surprise. Custer came over to see the scouts. Six Crows with us, who knew the country well, said that the trail from here led on towards the Little Horn, a fork of the Bighorn, and they wanted to go ahead about twenty miles to a high bluff from which the valley of the Little Horn could be seen. Custer wanted some intelligent white man to go ahead with them to send him information. I took the six Crows, five Rees, and a white man, who was an old frontiersman, and we marched all night, making about sixty miles. I had rode without rest or any sleep for thirty-six hours. Custer said he would start at 11 p. m., and come somewhere near us by morning. At 2:30 o'clock we reached the hill, and lay there in scrub bushes until daybreak, when we discovered the smoke of a village, and by 5 a. m., I started the Rees back with a dispatch to General Custer. The Crows said there were about two or three thousand ponies on the plain twelve miles off, but I could not see them, as their eyes were better than mine. Custer had come ahead, and we could see his camp about eight miles off. He got my dispatch at 8 a. m., and started again and came to the hill. In the meantime two Sioux were seen going in the direction of Custer's column. Charley Reynolds, myself, the Crow interpreter and two Crows started out to kill them, and prevent Custer being discovered. We failed to do it, however, and when Custer came up we informed him of the state of affairs, and he concluded, as we were discovered, to hurry up and strike them as soon as possible. [Note: He Dog said that a Sioux named Fast Horn was one of the Indians Varnum saw that morning.]
At about 2:30 we came up to the neighborhood of the camp, and three companies, A, G and M, under Major Reno, started in. I saw them going, and Lieutenant Hare, who had been ordered to report to me for duty with our scouts, went in with them. They pretended to run away and we charged up the valley, near the village, dismounted, put our horses in the timber near the stream, and fought on foot. My scouts scattered about so I had no command near me, and I reported to Captain Moylan for duty with Company A. In half an hour we were not only surrounded, but the odds against us were so fearful that we were obliged to retreat, and we returned up into the woods and started on a run for the bluff. The Indians did not press us very hard, and we knew from the fearful firing at the other end of the village that some one was getting it hot and heavy up there. On the bluff we reorganized, and found that Lieutenant McIntosh and DeRudio were gone, and Lieutenant Hodgson was killed close by. Only five men and Lieutenant Wallace came out with company G, and more than one-third of our command was gone. Just then Colonel Benteen and three companies came in from a trip they had endeavored to make to the rear of the village, and the pack-train came up with one company more. This gave us four full companies with the remains of three others and the citizen portion, numbering in all about three hundred men. We could hear heavy firing about two miles off, and knew that Custer, with the remaining five companies, was having a hard fight beyond the village. As soon as we could get into any sort of shape we started along the bluff to try and unite with Custer, and after a mile's march we could see no sign of him; while the firing was very distant. As we were encumbered with wounded and had the whole packtrain on our hands, and hundreds of Indians were turning their attention to us, we selected a good place for defence on the bluffs, and prepared to receive them. The place was well selected, while the horses were in a sort of hollow where they could be shot at from only one direction, and here the ball opened.
We fought, God and ourselves only know how hard, until about 9 o'clock, and then the firing ceased until the first streak of daylight, when the ball opened again. We fortified as much as the four spades we had would let us, and all day long they piled lead into us at a fearful rate. The men fell fast, but young boys soon became old men, and men lay in the trench beside corpses with flies and maggots, and struck and fought like old veterans of years' standing. The hospital held about forty wounded, but was protected by the mules and horses which surrounded it, and which must be hit before the bullets could hit the men. I will not attempt to describe the horror of the situation. We had no water, and the men became furious, and detachments were sent under heavy fire to try and get some. Many were killed and wounded in that way. [Note: here is Mrs. Spotted Horn Bull's cheerful recollection of the water brigade slaughter, and here is the account of Peter Thompson, who won the Medal of Honor for valor on the water detail.] The horses suffered fearfully, as they, of course, got no water, and could not eat what oats we had without. The firing ceased on the afternoon of the 26th, and we could see that the village was leaving. After dark we changed our camp a little, so as to get away from the stench of the dead animals. In the morning the Indians were gone, and the cause was soon explained. General Terry, with five companies of the Seventh Infantry, and four of the Second Cavalry, was coming to our relief. They had seen the Crow scouts, who had escaped, and hurried to our assistance. They reached us about 10 a. m., and then the sickening details were seen in all their horror. General Custer, with his five companies, had been exterminated. About three hundred men had been killed, and their bodies stripped and horribly mangled. Sixteen officers had fallen, viz: General Custer, Captain Keogh, Captain Yates, Captain Custer, Lieutenant Cooke, First Lieutenants Smith, McIntosh, Calhoun and Porter; Second Lieutenants Hodgson, Harrington, Sturgis and Reilly, of the Seventh Cavalry, Lieutenant Crittendon of the Twentieth Infantry; Doctors Lord and DeWolf. Colonel Benteen and myself were slightly wounded. I have received two slight flesh wounds, one in each leg, below the knee, while charging, dismounted, to drive the Indians from a hill where they were killing our men very rapidly. It seems horrible to think it all over now. Mrs. Custer loses her husband and his two brothers -- one a citizen travelling with us, and Mrs. Calhoun loses her husband and three brothers (She is the General's sister), and a nephew -- a Mr. Reed travelling with us also. Half of the officers with us are killed, and the regiment sadly cut up. I will give you some more of the incidents hereafter. I have been put in command of the remnant of Company I. This makes me a First Lieutenant, and No. 11 on that list. We are encamped on our old battle ground of August 11, 1873, and a boat has gone to Lincoln to open communication with Sheridan, and receive orders. When we got a mail yesterday by a carrier from Fort Ellis, we received a letter from Sheridan, a month old, cautioning Terry not to split his command, as he had information that at least five thousand warriors were assembled, and I don't think there is any doubt but that we fought four thousand of them. Gen. Crook, with sixteen companies of cavalry, was coming up from the south, and this despatch says he has been reinforced by the whole Fifth Cavalry, giving him twenty-eight companies to fight what we struck with twelve. This is a brief account of affairs. Don't worry for me.
Your affectionate son,
CHARLES A. VARNUM
The Custer Myth: A Source Book of Custerania, written and compiled by Colonel W.A. Graham, The Stackpole Co., Harrisburg, PA 1953, p 342 - 343
Frederick Benteen's Story of the Battle
A 7th Cavalry survivor's account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
From the Cavalry Journal, July - August 1942
THE LOST IS FOUND
CUSTER'S LAST MESSAGE COMES TO LIGHT!
By Col. W. A. Graham, Retired
TWENTY YEARS ago this month, after searching for him many months, I found John Martin, the man who carried Custer's last message; the famous message to Benteen that bid him to "come on and be quick" and to "bring the packs."
The dispatch of that message marked the crisis of the battle of the Little Bighorn, where Custer, and nearly half the Seventh Cavalry, found death instead of glory waiting for them at the trail's end.
Having read avidly all War Department records of this dramatic fight, in which the American Indian achieved his greatest triumph over the American soldier, I keenly wished to write the story of that message.
The messenger was found; but the message itself had disappeared. I turned the records inside out in efforts to locate it, until I became a nuisance to The Adjutant General. Then, early in 1923, Major Fred Benteen, son of the gallant officer to whom the message was sent, told me that all his father's papers were destroyed when their home had burned long years before; that the famous message with many another relic of the Little Bighorn had then gone up in smoke. And so I ceased my search, and wrote John Martin's story of how he carried Custer's final message to Benteen. The Cavalry journal published it, with comments by General Edward S. Godfrey, a distinguished participant in the battle, in its July, 1923, number.
It now appears that the younger Benteen was mistaken. The message had not gone up in smoke as he supposed, for it has lately become known that after producing it to supplement his testimony before the Court of Inquiry held in 1879 to determine whether Major Reno, Custer's second in command, had been guilty of misconduct at the Little Bighorn, the elder Benteen had presented it to a friend, a certain Captain Price of Philadelphia. Apparently he told no one about it, for Godfrey also believed the paper destroyed by fire. Thus lost since 1879 -- Custer's last message has now been found, and through the commendable efforts of Colonel Charles Francis Bates, Retired, it now rests safe in the library at West Point.
The story of its recovery is interesting. For the past fifty years it has been in the possession of the family of a New Jersey collector who acquired it from Price, and who, so far as I can learn, valued it only as a curio. How many other historic documents, I wonder, now accounted for as lost, might be restored to public record if only the collections of relic hunters could be made to give up their secrets?
The original message, with other treasures of the collector, was recently advertised for sale at auction. Colonel Bates thus learned of its existence, and arranged with the owner to secure it for West Point. There can be no doubt of its authenticity. Not only is the script of the message itself plainly the hand of Lt. W. W. Cooke, the 7th's regimental adjutant, who died with Custer within an hour of the time he wrote it, but the unmistakable penmanship of Benteen himself, once seen, never forgotten, attests its genuineness in the "translation" made for his friend Price's benefit, and which he inscribed above its pencilled words.
It was far from easy to get Martin's story of his ride to Benteen. He was very old and very feeble when I found him deep in the jungle of Brooklyn's Italian quarter. His memory was as feeble as his body, and it was only after I had made three separate visits, each time reading to him (for he was almost blind) his testimony before the Reno Inquiry, that recollection of that fateful June day of 1876 came back. But when it did come back, it came with a wealth of incident and detail that was surprising. And so I wrote his story, just as he told it to me, and he signed it.
Between visits to Martin I made an official trip to New Orleans in an attempt to adjust a dispute between the Government and the local "Dock Board" over the title to lands upon which the Army's multi-million dollar warehouses had been built during the World War. Having permission to stop over in Atlanta, I there saw Major Benteen, and it was then he told me that the famous message had been burned: but he told me also that he had some letters written by his father during the campaign of 1876 that had escaped the flames only because his mother had them safely stored away in a fireproof vault. He had never read them, he said, nor shown them to anyone, but he would let me see them; and he did. Two of those letters were written less than ten days after the battle-the first July 2d -- the other July 4, 1876.
The letter of July 4th is of especial significance. In it Benteen tells not only of the receipt of Custer's last message, but recounts the harrowing experience through which the regiment had passed; and it tells also all that then was known of what had happened to Custer and his immediate command. But little more has been discovered since. Those two letters Major Benteen permitted me to take back to Washington, where photostatic copies were made. The letter of July 4th, I both showed and read to General Godfrey, saying to him as I did so -- "this letter is of historical importance." The general replied -- "It is far more than that. It was written long before any controversy had arisen over the way the battle was conducted, and under circumstances that give it special credit. It is history itself."
Omitting only such parts as are purely personal, here the letter is:
July 4th 1876, Montana,
Camp 7th Cavalry, Yellowstone River, Opposite mouth of Bighorn River.
My Darling,
I will commence this letter by sending a copy of the last lines Cooke ever wrote, which was an order to me to this effect.
Benteen. Come on. Big village. Be quick, bring packs.
W. W. Cooke.
(P. S. Bring pac-s)
He left out the k in last packs. I have the original, but it is badly torn and it should he preserved. So keep this letter, as the matter may be of interest hereafter, likewise of use. This note was brought back to me by Trumpeter Martin of my Co. (which fact saved his life.) When I received it I was five or six miles from the village, perhaps more, and the packs at least that distance in my rear. I did not go back for the packs but kept on a stiff trot for the village. When getting at top of hill so that the valley could be seen -- I saw an immense number of Indians on the plain, mounted of course and charging down on some dismounted men of Reno's command; the balance of R's command were mounted, and flying for dear life to the bluffs on the same side of river that I was. I then marched my 3 Co's. to them and a more delighted lot of folks you never saw. To commence -- On the 22d of June -- Custer, with the 7th Cavalry left the Steamer "Far West," Genl. Terry and Genl. Gibbon's command (which latter was then in on the side of river and in same camp in which we now are) and moved up the Rosebud, marching 12 miles-the next day we marched 35 miles up the same stream. The next day we marched 35 more miles up same stream and went into bivouac, remaining until 12 o'clock P. M. We then marched until about daylight, making about 10 miles; about half past five we started againand after going 6 or 7 miles we halted and officers' call was sounded. We were asked how many men of the companies were with the Co. Packs and instructed that only six could remain with them-and the discourse wound up with-that we should see that the men were supplied with the quantity of ammunition as had been specified in orders and that the 1st Co. that reported itself in readiness should be the advance Co. I knew that my Co. was in the desired condition and it being near the point of Assembly I went to it, assured myself of same, then announced to Genl. Custer that "H" Co. was ready; he replied the Advance is yours, Col. Benteen. We then moved four or five miles and halted between the slopes of two hills and the Regt. was divided into Battalions -- Reno getting Co's. "A. G. and M." I getting "D. H. K." From that point I was ordered with my Battn. to go over the immense hills to the left, in search of the valley, which was supposed to be very near by and to pitch into anything I came across-and to inform Custer at once if I found anything worthy of same. Well, I suppose I went up and down those hills for 10 miles -- and still no valley anywhere in sight, the horses were fast giving out from steady climbing-and as my orders had been fulfilled I struck diagonally for the trail the command had marched on, getting to it just before the Pack train got there -- or on the trail just ahead of it. I then marched rapidly and after about 6 or 7 miles came upon a burning tepee [Note: the "Lone Tepee."] -- in which was the body of an indian on a scaffold, arrayed gorgeously. None of the command was in sight at this time. The ground from this to the valley was descending but very rough. I kept up my trot and when I reached a point very near the ford which was crossed by Reno's Battn. I got my first sight of the Valley and river -- and Reno's command in full flight for the bluffs to the side I was then on. Of course I joined them at once. The ground where Reno charged on was a plain 5 or 6 miles or 10 miles long and about one mile or more wide; Custer sent him in there and promised to support him after Reno started in, Custer with his five Co's instead of crossing the ford went to the right around some high bluffs -- with the intention -- as is supposed -- of striking the rear of the village; from the bluff on which he got he had his first glimpse of the whole of it, and I can tell you 'twas an immense one. From that point Cooke sent the note to me by Martin, which I have quoted on 1st page. I suppose after the five Co's had closed up somewhat Custer started down for the village, all throats bursting themselves with cheering (So says Martin). He had 3 or 4 miles to go before he got to a ford-as the Village was on the plain on opposite side to Custer's column. So, when he got over those 4 miles of rough country and reached the ford, the indians had availed themselves of the timely information given by the cheering -- as to the whereabouts and intentions of that column, and had arrangements completed to receive it. Whether the indians allowed Custer's column to cross at all, is a mooted question, but I am of the opinion that nearly if not all of the five companies got into the village -- but were driven out immediately -- flying in great disorder and crossing by two instead of the one ford by which they entered. "E" Co. going by the left and "F. I. and L." by the same one they crossed. What became of "C" Co. no one knows -- they must have charged there below the village, gotten away, or have been killed in the bluffs on the village side of stream -- as very few of "C" Co. horses are found. Jack Sturgis and Porter's clothes were found in the Village. After the indians had driven them across, it was a regular buffalo hunt for them and not a man escaped. We buried 203 of the bodies of Custer's command the 2d day after fight. The bodies were as recognizable as if they were in life. With Custer -- was Keogh, Yates and Tom Custer (3 Captains) 1st Lieut's. Cooke, A. E. Smith, Porter, Calhoun (4) 2d Lieuts. Harrington, Sturgis, Riley and Crittenden (J. J. of 20th Inf.). Asst. Surgeon Lord was along -- but his body was not recognized. Neither was Porter's not Sturgis' nor Harrington's.McIntosh and Hodgson were killed at Reno's end of line -- in attempting to get back to bluffs. DeRudio [Lt. Charles DeRudio] was supposed to have been lost, but the same night the Indians left their village he came sauntering in dismounted, accompanied by McIntosh's cook. They had hidden away in the woods. He had a thrilling romantic story made out already -- embellished, you bet! The stories of O'Neill [Private Thomas F. O'Neill, the man who was with him] and De R's of course, couldn't be expected to agree, but far more of truth, I am inclined to think, will be found in the narrative of O'Neill; at any rate, it is not at all colored -- as he is a cool, level-headed fellow and tells it plainly and the same way all the time which is a big thing towards convincing one of the truth of a story.
I must now tell you what we did -- When I found Reno's command. We halted for the packs to come up -- and then moved along the line of bluffs towards the direction Custer was supposed to have gone in. Weir's Company was sent out to communicate with Custer, but it was driven back. We then showed our full force on the hills with Guidons flying, that Custer might see us, but we could see nothing of him, couldn't hear much firing, but could see immense body of Indians coming to attack us from both sides of the river. We withdrew to a saucer like hill, putting our horses and packs in the bottom of saucer and threw all of our force dismounted around this corral; the animals could be riddled from only one pointbut we had not men enough to extend our line to that -- so we could not get it-therefore the indians amused themselves by shooting at our stock, ditto, men -- but they, the men, could cover themselves. Both of my horses (U. S. horses) were wounded. Well they pounded at us all of what was left of the 1st day and the whole of the 2d day -- withdrawing their line with the withdrawal of their village, which was at dusk the 2d day. Corporal Loll, Meador and Jones were killed; Sergt. Pahl, both of the Bishops, Phillips, Windolph, Black, Severs, Cooper, etc. (21 altogether) wounded. I got a slight scratch on my right thumb, which, as you see, doesn't prevent me from writing you this long scrawl. As this goes via Fort Ellis it will be a long time reaching you. Genl. Terry, with Genl. Gibbon's command came up the morning of the 3d day, about 10 o'clock. Indians had all gone the night before. Had Custer carried out the orders he got from Genl. Terry, the commands would have formed a junction exactly at the village, and have captured the whole outfit of tepees, etc. and probably any quantity of squaws, pappooses, etc. but Custer disobeyed orders from the fact of not wanting any other command -- or body to have a finger in the pie-and thereby lost his life. (3000 warriors were there).
This is a long scrawl -- but not so much in it after all-and I am about getting to the end of my tether. Reno has assumed command and Wallace is Adjutant. Edgerly, Qr. Mr. By the death of our Captains, Nowlan, Bell and Jackson, 3 "coffeecoolers" are made Captains and Godfrey is Senior 1st Lt., Mathey 2d, Gibson, 3d. Quick promotion. I am inclined to think that had McIntosh divested himself of that slow poking way which was his peculiar characteristic, he might have been left in the land of the living. A Crow indian, one of our scouts who got in the village, reported that our men killed a great many of them -- quite as many, if not more, than was killed of ours. The indians during the night got to fighting among themselves and killed each other -- so the Crow said -- he also said as soon as he got possession of a Sioux blanket, not the slightest attention was paid to him. There was among them Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, Kiowa and representatives probably from every Agency on the Mo. River. A host of them there sure.
The latest and probably correct account of the battle is that none of Custer's command got into the village at all. We may not be back before winter, think so very strongly.
Well -- Wifey, Darling, I think this will do for a letter, so with oceans of love to you and Fred and kisses innumerable, I am devotedly,
Your husband
FRED BENTEEN.
A 7th Cavalry survivor's account of the Battle of the Little Bighorn
From the Cavalry Journal, July - August 1942
THE LOST IS FOUND
CUSTER'S LAST MESSAGE COMES TO LIGHT!
By Col. W. A. Graham, Retired
TWENTY YEARS ago this month, after searching for him many months, I found John Martin, the man who carried Custer's last message; the famous message to Benteen that bid him to "come on and be quick" and to "bring the packs."
The dispatch of that message marked the crisis of the battle of the Little Bighorn, where Custer, and nearly half the Seventh Cavalry, found death instead of glory waiting for them at the trail's end.
Having read avidly all War Department records of this dramatic fight, in which the American Indian achieved his greatest triumph over the American soldier, I keenly wished to write the story of that message.
The messenger was found; but the message itself had disappeared. I turned the records inside out in efforts to locate it, until I became a nuisance to The Adjutant General. Then, early in 1923, Major Fred Benteen, son of the gallant officer to whom the message was sent, told me that all his father's papers were destroyed when their home had burned long years before; that the famous message with many another relic of the Little Bighorn had then gone up in smoke. And so I ceased my search, and wrote John Martin's story of how he carried Custer's final message to Benteen. The Cavalry journal published it, with comments by General Edward S. Godfrey, a distinguished participant in the battle, in its July, 1923, number.
It now appears that the younger Benteen was mistaken. The message had not gone up in smoke as he supposed, for it has lately become known that after producing it to supplement his testimony before the Court of Inquiry held in 1879 to determine whether Major Reno, Custer's second in command, had been guilty of misconduct at the Little Bighorn, the elder Benteen had presented it to a friend, a certain Captain Price of Philadelphia. Apparently he told no one about it, for Godfrey also believed the paper destroyed by fire. Thus lost since 1879 -- Custer's last message has now been found, and through the commendable efforts of Colonel Charles Francis Bates, Retired, it now rests safe in the library at West Point.
The story of its recovery is interesting. For the past fifty years it has been in the possession of the family of a New Jersey collector who acquired it from Price, and who, so far as I can learn, valued it only as a curio. How many other historic documents, I wonder, now accounted for as lost, might be restored to public record if only the collections of relic hunters could be made to give up their secrets?
The original message, with other treasures of the collector, was recently advertised for sale at auction. Colonel Bates thus learned of its existence, and arranged with the owner to secure it for West Point. There can be no doubt of its authenticity. Not only is the script of the message itself plainly the hand of Lt. W. W. Cooke, the 7th's regimental adjutant, who died with Custer within an hour of the time he wrote it, but the unmistakable penmanship of Benteen himself, once seen, never forgotten, attests its genuineness in the "translation" made for his friend Price's benefit, and which he inscribed above its pencilled words.
It was far from easy to get Martin's story of his ride to Benteen. He was very old and very feeble when I found him deep in the jungle of Brooklyn's Italian quarter. His memory was as feeble as his body, and it was only after I had made three separate visits, each time reading to him (for he was almost blind) his testimony before the Reno Inquiry, that recollection of that fateful June day of 1876 came back. But when it did come back, it came with a wealth of incident and detail that was surprising. And so I wrote his story, just as he told it to me, and he signed it.
Between visits to Martin I made an official trip to New Orleans in an attempt to adjust a dispute between the Government and the local "Dock Board" over the title to lands upon which the Army's multi-million dollar warehouses had been built during the World War. Having permission to stop over in Atlanta, I there saw Major Benteen, and it was then he told me that the famous message had been burned: but he told me also that he had some letters written by his father during the campaign of 1876 that had escaped the flames only because his mother had them safely stored away in a fireproof vault. He had never read them, he said, nor shown them to anyone, but he would let me see them; and he did. Two of those letters were written less than ten days after the battle-the first July 2d -- the other July 4, 1876.
The letter of July 4th is of especial significance. In it Benteen tells not only of the receipt of Custer's last message, but recounts the harrowing experience through which the regiment had passed; and it tells also all that then was known of what had happened to Custer and his immediate command. But little more has been discovered since. Those two letters Major Benteen permitted me to take back to Washington, where photostatic copies were made. The letter of July 4th, I both showed and read to General Godfrey, saying to him as I did so -- "this letter is of historical importance." The general replied -- "It is far more than that. It was written long before any controversy had arisen over the way the battle was conducted, and under circumstances that give it special credit. It is history itself."
Omitting only such parts as are purely personal, here the letter is:
July 4th 1876, Montana,
Camp 7th Cavalry, Yellowstone River, Opposite mouth of Bighorn River.
My Darling,
I will commence this letter by sending a copy of the last lines Cooke ever wrote, which was an order to me to this effect.
Benteen. Come on. Big village. Be quick, bring packs.
W. W. Cooke.
(P. S. Bring pac-s)
He left out the k in last packs. I have the original, but it is badly torn and it should he preserved. So keep this letter, as the matter may be of interest hereafter, likewise of use. This note was brought back to me by Trumpeter Martin of my Co. (which fact saved his life.) When I received it I was five or six miles from the village, perhaps more, and the packs at least that distance in my rear. I did not go back for the packs but kept on a stiff trot for the village. When getting at top of hill so that the valley could be seen -- I saw an immense number of Indians on the plain, mounted of course and charging down on some dismounted men of Reno's command; the balance of R's command were mounted, and flying for dear life to the bluffs on the same side of river that I was. I then marched my 3 Co's. to them and a more delighted lot of folks you never saw. To commence -- On the 22d of June -- Custer, with the 7th Cavalry left the Steamer "Far West," Genl. Terry and Genl. Gibbon's command (which latter was then in on the side of river and in same camp in which we now are) and moved up the Rosebud, marching 12 miles-the next day we marched 35 miles up the same stream. The next day we marched 35 more miles up same stream and went into bivouac, remaining until 12 o'clock P. M. We then marched until about daylight, making about 10 miles; about half past five we started againand after going 6 or 7 miles we halted and officers' call was sounded. We were asked how many men of the companies were with the Co. Packs and instructed that only six could remain with them-and the discourse wound up with-that we should see that the men were supplied with the quantity of ammunition as had been specified in orders and that the 1st Co. that reported itself in readiness should be the advance Co. I knew that my Co. was in the desired condition and it being near the point of Assembly I went to it, assured myself of same, then announced to Genl. Custer that "H" Co. was ready; he replied the Advance is yours, Col. Benteen. We then moved four or five miles and halted between the slopes of two hills and the Regt. was divided into Battalions -- Reno getting Co's. "A. G. and M." I getting "D. H. K." From that point I was ordered with my Battn. to go over the immense hills to the left, in search of the valley, which was supposed to be very near by and to pitch into anything I came across-and to inform Custer at once if I found anything worthy of same. Well, I suppose I went up and down those hills for 10 miles -- and still no valley anywhere in sight, the horses were fast giving out from steady climbing-and as my orders had been fulfilled I struck diagonally for the trail the command had marched on, getting to it just before the Pack train got there -- or on the trail just ahead of it. I then marched rapidly and after about 6 or 7 miles came upon a burning tepee [Note: the "Lone Tepee."] -- in which was the body of an indian on a scaffold, arrayed gorgeously. None of the command was in sight at this time. The ground from this to the valley was descending but very rough. I kept up my trot and when I reached a point very near the ford which was crossed by Reno's Battn. I got my first sight of the Valley and river -- and Reno's command in full flight for the bluffs to the side I was then on. Of course I joined them at once. The ground where Reno charged on was a plain 5 or 6 miles or 10 miles long and about one mile or more wide; Custer sent him in there and promised to support him after Reno started in, Custer with his five Co's instead of crossing the ford went to the right around some high bluffs -- with the intention -- as is supposed -- of striking the rear of the village; from the bluff on which he got he had his first glimpse of the whole of it, and I can tell you 'twas an immense one. From that point Cooke sent the note to me by Martin, which I have quoted on 1st page. I suppose after the five Co's had closed up somewhat Custer started down for the village, all throats bursting themselves with cheering (So says Martin). He had 3 or 4 miles to go before he got to a ford-as the Village was on the plain on opposite side to Custer's column. So, when he got over those 4 miles of rough country and reached the ford, the indians had availed themselves of the timely information given by the cheering -- as to the whereabouts and intentions of that column, and had arrangements completed to receive it. Whether the indians allowed Custer's column to cross at all, is a mooted question, but I am of the opinion that nearly if not all of the five companies got into the village -- but were driven out immediately -- flying in great disorder and crossing by two instead of the one ford by which they entered. "E" Co. going by the left and "F. I. and L." by the same one they crossed. What became of "C" Co. no one knows -- they must have charged there below the village, gotten away, or have been killed in the bluffs on the village side of stream -- as very few of "C" Co. horses are found. Jack Sturgis and Porter's clothes were found in the Village. After the indians had driven them across, it was a regular buffalo hunt for them and not a man escaped. We buried 203 of the bodies of Custer's command the 2d day after fight. The bodies were as recognizable as if they were in life. With Custer -- was Keogh, Yates and Tom Custer (3 Captains) 1st Lieut's. Cooke, A. E. Smith, Porter, Calhoun (4) 2d Lieuts. Harrington, Sturgis, Riley and Crittenden (J. J. of 20th Inf.). Asst. Surgeon Lord was along -- but his body was not recognized. Neither was Porter's not Sturgis' nor Harrington's.McIntosh and Hodgson were killed at Reno's end of line -- in attempting to get back to bluffs. DeRudio [Lt. Charles DeRudio] was supposed to have been lost, but the same night the Indians left their village he came sauntering in dismounted, accompanied by McIntosh's cook. They had hidden away in the woods. He had a thrilling romantic story made out already -- embellished, you bet! The stories of O'Neill [Private Thomas F. O'Neill, the man who was with him] and De R's of course, couldn't be expected to agree, but far more of truth, I am inclined to think, will be found in the narrative of O'Neill; at any rate, it is not at all colored -- as he is a cool, level-headed fellow and tells it plainly and the same way all the time which is a big thing towards convincing one of the truth of a story.
I must now tell you what we did -- When I found Reno's command. We halted for the packs to come up -- and then moved along the line of bluffs towards the direction Custer was supposed to have gone in. Weir's Company was sent out to communicate with Custer, but it was driven back. We then showed our full force on the hills with Guidons flying, that Custer might see us, but we could see nothing of him, couldn't hear much firing, but could see immense body of Indians coming to attack us from both sides of the river. We withdrew to a saucer like hill, putting our horses and packs in the bottom of saucer and threw all of our force dismounted around this corral; the animals could be riddled from only one pointbut we had not men enough to extend our line to that -- so we could not get it-therefore the indians amused themselves by shooting at our stock, ditto, men -- but they, the men, could cover themselves. Both of my horses (U. S. horses) were wounded. Well they pounded at us all of what was left of the 1st day and the whole of the 2d day -- withdrawing their line with the withdrawal of their village, which was at dusk the 2d day. Corporal Loll, Meador and Jones were killed; Sergt. Pahl, both of the Bishops, Phillips, Windolph, Black, Severs, Cooper, etc. (21 altogether) wounded. I got a slight scratch on my right thumb, which, as you see, doesn't prevent me from writing you this long scrawl. As this goes via Fort Ellis it will be a long time reaching you. Genl. Terry, with Genl. Gibbon's command came up the morning of the 3d day, about 10 o'clock. Indians had all gone the night before. Had Custer carried out the orders he got from Genl. Terry, the commands would have formed a junction exactly at the village, and have captured the whole outfit of tepees, etc. and probably any quantity of squaws, pappooses, etc. but Custer disobeyed orders from the fact of not wanting any other command -- or body to have a finger in the pie-and thereby lost his life. (3000 warriors were there).
This is a long scrawl -- but not so much in it after all-and I am about getting to the end of my tether. Reno has assumed command and Wallace is Adjutant. Edgerly, Qr. Mr. By the death of our Captains, Nowlan, Bell and Jackson, 3 "coffeecoolers" are made Captains and Godfrey is Senior 1st Lt., Mathey 2d, Gibson, 3d. Quick promotion. I am inclined to think that had McIntosh divested himself of that slow poking way which was his peculiar characteristic, he might have been left in the land of the living. A Crow indian, one of our scouts who got in the village, reported that our men killed a great many of them -- quite as many, if not more, than was killed of ours. The indians during the night got to fighting among themselves and killed each other -- so the Crow said -- he also said as soon as he got possession of a Sioux blanket, not the slightest attention was paid to him. There was among them Cheyennes, Arrapahoes, Kiowa and representatives probably from every Agency on the Mo. River. A host of them there sure.
The latest and probably correct account of the battle is that none of Custer's command got into the village at all. We may not be back before winter, think so very strongly.
Well -- Wifey, Darling, I think this will do for a letter, so with oceans of love to you and Fred and kisses innumerable, I am devotedly,
Your husband
FRED BENTEEN.