Jerome A. Greene

by 1864-1898 Indian War Veterans: Memories of Army Life;Campaigns in the West

  The horse “Comanche” was a claybank gelding about twelve years old at the time of the fight. He was a troop horse belonging to Troop I, and for several years had been ridden by Captain Myles W. Keogh of that troop. When found he had been wounded in six or seven places (there has always been a doubt as to one wound as to whether it was a separate wound, or whether caused by a bullet passing entirely through his neck. The wounds were plainly visible at the time and the scars were later found by Professor Lewis L. Dyche of the University of Kanas, who later mounted the skeleton). Practically all the wounds were flesh wounds.

  “Comanche” was ridden many times after his recovery. Brigadier General (then Captain) Edward S. Godfrey of the Seventh, in an article published in the Century Magazine in 1891, says: “After his restoration he was in great demand for a ladies’ riding horse. The rivalry among the young ladies of the garrison at Fort Lincoln as to whom should be awarded the privilege of riding him on several occasions when riding parties went out from the post caused some heart burnings.”

  The colonel [Samuel D. Sturgis], to solve the vexatious problem, ordered that “Comanche” be retired from active service and be no longer ridden; that when the troop was paraded he should be led with the troop. This is further corroborated by Colonel Ezra B. Fuller (retired), formerly of the Seventh, in a letter to the curator of the Kansas University Museum, where the mounted remains have been for many years. I have frequently seen the horse in parades of the troop, always fully equipped with bridle and saddle and draped in mourning. Colonel Fuller says this continued as long as he remained with the regiment.

  Now just a few words with reference to the disposition of troops on the 25th. About two in the morning the regiment crossed the divide between the Rosebud and the Little Big Horn, halted for some time, then advanced several miles to a point afterward ascertained to be about fifteen miles from where the Indian village was afterward located, where another halt was made to cook coffee, but the water was so strongly alkaline we could not drink the stuff.

  It was at this point that Colonel Custer divided his command into really four columns. Benteen, with three troops—D, H, and K—, was ordered to proceed to the left or southwest, attacking anything he might run across. Major Reno, with Troops A, G, and M, was ordered to follow the Indian trail which here led down the valley of a small creek, with orders to attack the village if found; Captain Thomas B. McDougall with B was to act as rear guard and escort to the pack train which was in the charge of Lieutenant Edward G. Mathey while Custer retained under his immediate command the remaining five troops—C, E, F, I, and L. These orders were carried out as given. Custer’s column following in the same general direction as Reno’s for some distance, in fact until within about two miles of the river when he turned sharply to the right or northwest, passing down a canon a short distance in rear of the bluffs bordering the river. Custer himself soon after this change of direction, left the column and rode to the top of the bluffs, where he was seen by Reno’s men who were just engaging the Indians. Custer’s column continued on down the canon a distance of some three or four miles, finally entering the valley some distance from the lower end of the village, from which point he was soon driven back to the ridge where the final struggle took place.

  Reno, finding his position untenable, owing to the large force of Indians attacking him and failing to receive the support he had been led to expect, retreated across the river to the high bluffs, losing three officers and a number of men in effecting this retreat. Here he was soon joined by Benteen’s column and a short time later by McDougall and the ammunition train. Soon after this, Captain Weir with D Troop, supported by the rest of the command, sought to find Custer, but by that time the Indians had finished him up and began to mass back on Reno, nearly cutting Weir off. Reno fell back some little distance, finally making his stand and continuing the fight until late in the afternoon of the 26th, when the Indians withdrew on the approach of General Terry’s column.

  These, in brief, are the facts, shown by official records. I give them only in the interest of accuracy, as somewhere there may be some of the old bunch who “rode the trail” in those exciting days, who, like myself, are interested in seeing only the real facts in print.

  With the Water Carriers at the Little Bighorn (By William D. Nugent, formerly of Troop A, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, June 24, 1926)

  Two days without water, the sun almost blistering hot and the ground like an oven. The wounded tortured with severe pain, their tongues in many cases swelled until it was impossible to close their mouths. Water, water, was the agonizing cry of all the sufferers.

  On June 26, 1876, near 4 p.m., permission was given to go for water. To get to the river we had to cross a place that was open and would give the Indians the best chance in the world to shoot us. Very few cared to commit suicide by crossing over at that time. When I reached safety in a gulch leading to the river, I found four others, George W. Hammon of Troop F, and John T. Easley, Samuel Johnson, Howard H. Weaver, and myself of Troop A, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. Between ourselves and the river were many crooks and gulches opening into the one we had to follow to reach the river. Our expectations were to find Indians concealed in such places, but happily for us our expectations did not materialize, and we reached the river safely.

  We paused before stepping out on the bank to take a general observation of the lay of things. On the other side of the river were between fifty and one hundred mounted Indian bucks awaiting our appearance on the bank. They were nearly 500 yards from the river but looked much less. We laid aside our guns, prepared ourselves for the rush for water by uncorking our canteens and shortening our hold on the straps, that all might be submerged at the same time. For some time I knew nothing of the others as I fell into the water and drank until suffocation broke my hold on that river. I guess my comrades were occupied in like manner. After resting and gaining sufficient breath, I would return to my interrupted drinking. In lowering my head to continue, I received a rap on my head accompanied by a deluge of water. I carefully examined my belfry and found out I was not dead, had not suffered the loss of any blood, and was not even shot by a bullet, and was sure glad that I was mistaken.

  We returned to the place where we had left our guns and took a few shots at the Indians, but were deceived in the distance and did not hit any of the redskins. We made more trips to the river by turns, and our most useful vessel for carrying water was our camp kettle, until a playful Indian put a bullet through it. We raised our sights to 500 yards and once more turned loose on the Indians. This time our shooting was effective and the Indians started on the run. I had a real grouch against them, and when I saw one cut away from the rest, and he would have to ride about a thousand yards before he could get out of range, I made that Indian do some tall riding. Every time a chunk of lead passed him, he wig-wagged a signal back that he disliked such close shooting. Before he went over the hill, I had sent about a dozen shots after him, and I felt that I was at least even with one Indian for the grief they had dealt me at various times.

  We filled our canteens, returned to the barricade on the bluffs, and the water was then given to the wounded. Never was there four braver or more loyal comrades than those who were with me. Hammon I never met with again. He had a brother in Troop L of the Seventh who was killed with Custer on the hill. [This was Private John E. Hammon of Troop G. He was not killed in the battle.] I was informed Hammon failed to identify his body as so many were badly mutilated that identification was impossible. Easley in his deportment was a perfect gentleman. Johnson was a man as near without fear as any man I have ever known. He proved it at different times, and was given the nickname of Swede. Howard Weaver was our historian and encyclopedian, and all disputes and arguments were referred to him for a decision. He was the only one of my comrades whose given name was known by me. Sure his was a heart of gold. I will never forget these four true blue comrades of mine, and will always remember them as heroes. The world may never know them,
there will be no medals or citations, but in the heart of one old comrade their names will always occupy the front seat….

  Fought with Reno on the Bluffs (By Henry M. Brinkerhoff, formerly of Troop G, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From The Veteran, June, 1926)

  I was a participator of that engagement with Major Marcus A. Reno from the first shot until the last…. I’m the first man to know that Custer and his command was wiped out, as I encountered some of the Custer dead on my way to General Terry, and I found the horse old Comanche that Captain Myles Keogh rode in the fight where I crossed the Little Bighorn River, the only survivor of the Custer portion [except for the Indians].

  On the afternoon of the 25th of June,’ 76, after we got up on the hill, Reno asked me to serve as his personal orderly, as his adjutant, orderly, and bugler had been killed. I stayed near him all the time and delivered all his orders to the troop commanders until the afternoon of June 26th, when Second Lieutenant George D. Wallace, of G Troop of the Seventh, was appointed adjutant by Reno….

  Mutilation of Custer’s Dead (By William D. Nugent, formerly of Troop A, Seventh U. S. Cavalry. From Winners of the West, February 28, 1927)

  In a recent issue…I see mention made of a headless body being dug up in some excavation, supposed to be one of Major Reno’s men, but one of the unknown dead. I believe that I can give some information on this subject.

  One of Company A was killed and beheaded in the bottoms. Later his headless body was buried near where he fell. Afterwards the head was found at the opposite end of the Indian village on a pole where one of their dances had been held on the night of the 25th. The name of this soldier was Armstrong—John, I think, Company A, Seventh U. S. Cavalry, and can easily be verified.

  I also see in another statement that there was very little, if any, mutilation of the dead of Custer’s men. It would be very difficult to convince one of the burial details that there could have been more mutilation perpetrated. Unfortunately, I was one of that number and will give the names of a detail, and if any of that number are living, I feel assured they will corroborate my statements. Sergeant Samuel Alcott, and four privates: Samuel Johnson, David W. Harris, Charles Aller, and William Nugent, all of Company A, composed one of the details. All of the bodies we heaped mounds of earth over were mutilated more or less, mostly more. Will give a description of the first we buried: first he was scalped; the skull was bare to the ears, the crown of the head chopped out, his cap put into the cavity. The body was nude between the waist and throat. There were twelve or fifteen places where no doubt a spear or knife had been thrust to the hollow. Blunt arrows were driven in and left in the wounds.

  I saw others cut and maimed in ways that I would not care to name in private, much less in print. I see no good reason for smoothing the horrible details of the deeds of the bloodthirsty savages that the boys of the old Indian wars had to meet in the most unequal manner that soldiers ever had to meet in this country or any other.

  News of the Custer Battle Reaches Fort Randall, Dakota (By John E. Cox, formerly of Company K, First U. S. Infantry. From Winners of the West, November 30, 1926)

  On the 5th of July, 1876, four or five soldiers drove from Fort Randall, Dakota Territory, a distance of forty-five miles to Springfield, D. T. After caring for our team at a livery stable, we went to a hotel and registered. After a square meal, I walked up the street. As I was passing a small shack, I was startled by hearing a man’s voice within the shack crying, “Come in here, Sergeant, quick.” I sprang through the open door and found myself in a telegraph office. The lone operator evidently was greatly agitated. “Can you write fast?” was his query. I sat down at a table and grasped a pencil and a sheet of paper. “I will read and you write,” he whispered hoarsely.

  The dispatch was dated at Cheyenne, Wyoming, and stated that a messenger had brought the news of the battle ten days before, and that Custer and his command were wiped out. I got that far, dropped my pencil, and dashed from the telegraph office, ran to the hotel and hunted my comrades. After a moment’s conference, we were agreed that we must get back to Randall as quickly as possible for two reasons. First, when we left the fort the telegraph wire was not in order, and the command there should know the news just as quickly as possible. Second, we feared if they did hear of it they might start at once for the fighting locality and leave us behind. As soon as our ponies could travel we started and made the best speed possible, reaching the fort up in the morning. We found a dispatch had gotten through and two or three companies were packing up to start for the fighting zone, my company being one of them. From that time until discharged next year, we were campaigning….

  The Skirmish at Warbonnet Creek, 1876 (By Chris Madsen, formerly of Troop A, Fifth U. S. Cavalry, and who decades later helped locate the site of the Warbonnet, or Hat, Creek action. From Winners of the West, November 30, 1934, and December 30, 1934)

  Recently two monuments were unveiled at Montrose, Nebraska, where on July 17, 1876, seven troops of the Fifth United States Cavalry, commanded by Colonel Wesley Merritt, one of Sheridan’s famous cavalry leaders during the Civil War, defeated and drove back on their reservations, 800 Sioux and Cheyenne warriors who were on their way to join Sitting Bull and other hostiles in the field, and where William F. Cody (“Buffalo Bill”), in single combat, killed the Indian subchief, Yellow Hand (or Hair), and secured the first scalp for Custer, who less than a month before had met his death at the hands of the Sitting Bull Indians on the banks of the Little Bighorn, Montana.

  One of the monuments is erected as a token of gratitude for the swift and successful work of the officers and men of the regiment in stopping a raid, which, if it had been carried out as intended, would have caused the death of hundreds of peaceful citizens and the destruction of the improvements which they had labored so hard to erect for themselves and their families, who had no protection for life and property, except that rendered by the roaming squadrons of cavalry that were patrolling the outskirts of civilization by day and night—summer and winter—regardless of heat or cold.

  The other monument is dedicated to one of the most famous frontier scouts and Indian fighters who had at various times served as chief of scouts for the Fifth Cavalry, but on the way to waylay the Indians, led the command to a place where it was known the Indians would attempt to cross Hat Creek, about six miles south of the Dakota line, and about twenty miles south from the Black Hills, where a natural place for concealment enabled the command to keep out of sight until such time as the troops be unmasked, much to the surprise and sorrow for the Indian marauders….

  [By way of background, ] the discovery of gold in the Black Hills caused an influx of adventurers into the northwestern territories where the Indian agencies were located. The Indians objected, and when their protests met with scant attention they took to the warpath, and one squad after another left their reservations and joined Sitting Bull, the acknowledged leader of the hostiles. The young bucks, always thirsting for blood, swept over the sparsely settled country, killing and ravaging friend and foe alike. Brigadier General Crook, commanding the Department of the Platte, and Brigadier General Alfred H. Terry, commanding the Department of Dakota, with all the available forces under their commands, were in the field early in the spring (1876), but met with little success in subduing the hostiles.

  On June 4, the Fifth Cavalry received orders to proceed without delay to the war zone. Special trains were provided for the troops and the tracks cleared for those trains. On June 7, eight troops of the regiment unloaded at Cheyenne, Wyoming [Territory], and as soon as provided with transportation for their equipment and feed for the animals, the troops started for the country used by the Indians as a highway for their travel between the agencies and the hostiles in the field.

  At Cheyenne, William F. Cody (“Buffalo Bill”), who had been appointed chief of scouts for the regiment, reported for duty. At the urgent request of Lieutenant General Philip H. Sheridan, he had canceled his theatrical engagements in the East, where he had b
een playing to full houses. It was told that when he received Sheridan’s request to join the army, he was dressed to go on the stage, but that instead of entering the play he stepped to the front of the platform and announced that he was through playing war and was going to where real war was going on. The announcement at first was taken as part of the play, but when backed up by the manager of the theater, Cody received an ovation from the audience such as had never been accorded him before…. When Cody arrived in Cheyenne he was dressed in his theatrical toggery, which he had not taken time to change, and in the velvet suit studded with silver and gilt buttons he looked more like a Spanish toreador than like a frontier scout.

  During the latter part of June and up to July 12, the regiment was engaged in patrolling the borders of the Indians reservations at Red Cloud and Spotted Tail agencies. A few skirmishes of no great importance took place when the Indians either returned to get more rations or when they were trying to leave to join their hostile brothers in the field. In other parts of the war zone things, however, happened which made the War Department take notice. Crook met Crazy Horse and his band of Indians on the Rosebud, but was outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and outfought, and was forced to retreat to his wagon camp at the head of the Tongue River to reorganize his forces and wait for reinforcements. Custer, with five troops of the Seventh Cavalry, had been slaughtered by Sitting Bull’s people on the slopes of the Little Bighorn River, June 25, a week after Crook’s defeat on the Rosebud, and only for the timely arrival of General Terry, with his part of the command, the other seven troops of the regiment would have met a like fate.

  On July 12, orders were received for the Fifth Cavalry to proceed by forced marches to the relief of Crook, who was still encamped on the Tongue River, more than 500 miles away. On the 14th, the command reached Rawhide Creek, twenty miles from Fort Laramie, where a courier from Fort [Camp] Robinson arrived with a dispatch from the commanding officer at Fort Robinson, notifying Merritt that as soon as the troops had left the reservation the Indians had commenced to prepare for a dash to the war zone. Merritt sent the fire-eating paymaster, Major Thaddeus H. Stanton, who had thrown his money bags away and joined the command as a volunteer scout, to ascertain the correct situation. He returned at noon on the 15th and reported that the Indians were all preparing to leave on the 15th. What should Merritt do? If he proceeded on his way as ordered and left the Indians to join the hostiles in the field, and on their way kill and ravish the few scattered homesteaders and the wayfarers, he would probably be court martialed. If he disobeyed the orders to join Crook without delay and did not succeed in stopping the Indians, he would be subjected either to severe censure or court martial. What should Merritt do?