The Last Days of George Armstrong Custer

by Thom Hatch

  Exactly why did Custer act like a man possessed and leave his post in such a manner to make a mad dash across Kansas—surely aware that he risked a court-martial?

  Stories have circulated that Custer embarked upon his mad dash in a fit of jealous rage after hearing that his wife and Lieutenant Thomas Weir were becoming an item.

  Twenty-eight-year-old Ohioan Thomas Benton Weir had moved to Michigan and enrolled at the University of Michigan but departed during his junior year at the outbreak of the Civil War to enlist in Company B, Third Michigan Cavalry. Weir served as an enlisted man until being appointed a second lieutenant on October 13, 1861, while serving in campaigns and expeditions, including New Madrid, the Siege of Corinth, and battles at Farmington, Iuka, Coffeeville, and Second Corinth. He was promoted to first lieutenant on June 19, 1862—seven days before being taken prisoner. He was released on January 8, 1863. While held prisoner, Weir was appointed captain on November 1, 1862, and eventually received brevets up to lieutenant colonel for his Civil War service. His regiment was assigned to reconstruction duty in Texas in 1865, and as a regular army brevet of major he served on the staffs of Generals Custer and Gibbs.

  Weir was appointed a first lieutenant in the newly formed Seventh Cavalry on July 28, 1866, and promoted to captain on July 31, 1867. During the Hancock Expedition, he had remained back at Fort Hays, Kansas. At the time, Weir may have served as Libbie’s escort in Custer’s absence—as well as other ladies’—which was a normal occurrence for officers at frontier posts.

  The accusation that Tom Weir and Libbie were becoming an item may have been more credible had it not been brought to light by Captain Frederick Benteen, who would become known as a serial Custer critic. No verifiable supporting evidence exists to indicate that Libbie Custer engaged in anything more than a flirtatious passing interest in Weir—if even that—again, a common event on frontier posts where women were few and far between.

  The answer for Custer’s actions may lie in the words of his wife. Libbie was later inspired to recall her husband’s surprise visit to Fort Riley by writing: “There was in the summer of 1867 one long, perfect day. It was mine, and—blessed be the memory, which preserves to us the joys as well as the sadness of life!—it is still mine, for time and eternity.”

  Libbie also wrote about the incident to her cousin when explaining the reasons for the court-martial: “He took a leave himself, knowing none would be granted him. When he ran the risk of a court-martial in leaving Wallace he did it expecting the consequences … and we are quite determined not to live apart again.”

  Why then did Custer race across Kansas? Only he knows for certain. But it would not be too far-fetched, not too much of a romantic notion, given the evidence and the character of the man, to consider that Custer jeopardized his career simply because he desperately desired to see the woman he loved. The courtship and marriage of Armstrong and Libbie was one of the great romances of all time, one that transcends poetic thought and could cause a man to make rash decisions. Custer had likely become so disenchanted with Hancock and that wild-goose chase that he sought solace in the arms of the only person who understood him—in spite of the consequences.

  The inability of Hancock to carry out his mission had allowed the Indians to remain free to terrorize settlements and travelers along the Smoky Hill, Platte, and Arkansas, which compelled Western governors to resume their appeals to Washington for relief. That disappointing result would without question require a scapegoat to blame for the failure.

  Upon reporting to Fort Riley, Custer learned that he would stand a court-martial for his recent actions. It was perhaps a fitting conclusion to an expedition that had become a series of miscalculations and breakdowns of military discipline.

  The court-martial of George Armstrong Custer convened at Fort Leavenworth at 11:00 A.M. on September 15, 1867.

  Colonel A. J. Smith—at the urging of General Hancock—had charged Custer with “absence without leave from his command” for traveling from Fort Wallace to Fort Hays at a time when his command was expected to be engaged with hostile Indians, and “conduct to the prejudice of good order and military discipline” by completing a long and exhausting march when the horses were in unfit condition, neglecting to recover or bury the bodies of two troopers at Downer’s Station, and procuring two ambulances and four mules belonging to the United States without proper authority.

  An additional charge was preferred by Captain Robert W. West, who accused Custer of “conduct prejudicial to good order and military discipline” for ordering that the deserters from the column be shot down without a trial and denying the wounded proper medical attention.

  Custer pleaded not guilty to all charges and had prepared his defense with the assistance of his counsel, Captain Charles C. Parsons, a former West Point classmate. His defense offered questionable reasons about seeking new orders, securing supplies at Fort Harker (although Fort Wallace was well stocked), and obtaining medical supplies to treat cholera victims (the cholera epidemic had not as yet reached Fort Wallace).

  The trial lasted until October 11, concluding with Parsons reading a lengthy rebuttal written by Custer that answered each charge and specification.

  The court, however, was not swayed by Custer’s explanations or plea for acquittal. He was found guilty on all counts but cleared of any criminality regarding the ambulances and the treatment of the wounded deserters. His sentence was that he be suspended from rank and command for one year and forfeit his pay for that period.

  Custer hoped that the reviewing officer might overturn the verdict, but on November 18 General Sherman issued a statement that the “proceedings, findings and sentence … are approved by President Grant.”

  Custer and Libbie were of the opinion that he had been the scapegoat for the failure of the Hancock Expedition. Some vindication came when Phil Sheridan, who sided with Custer, graciously offered the Custers the use of his quarters at Fort Leavenworth. Sheridan’s offer was accepted, and the couple enjoyed the winter social season at that post before leaving for Monroe, Michigan, in the spring.

  There were, however, two episodes of nasty business stemming from the court-martial. Custer charged Captain West with drunkenness on duty, for which West was found guilty and suspended for two months. West retaliated by preferring charges of murder in a civil court against Custer and Lieutenant William W. Cooke for the death of trooper Charles Johnson. On January 18, 1868, a civilian judge cited a lack of evidence and dismissed that case.

  Further vindication for Custer would come two months short of the end of his suspension when he would be summoned back to duty for Sheridan’s Winter Campaign of 1868–69. Custer would be participating in an expedition that would establish his reputation as the country’s premier Indian fighter but would also initiate a controversy within the Seventh Cavalry as well as with the public at large. As with any great man or those who strive for greatness, there are always those whose envy or resentment compels them to spread rumors meant to cast doubts about the great man’s character. In addition, much of the country was under the impression that the policy of treating the Indians with peaceful intentions would be reciprocated and the result of the upcoming campaign would be a real shock.

  And George Armstrong Custer would be at the center of both of these controversies.

  Four

  Death Along the Washita

  In the summer and fall of 1868, the Southern Plains were being terrorized by incessant attacks from Cheyenne, Kiowa, and Arapaho Indians. Raids by marauding hostiles against white settlements, soldiers, the railroad, and stage lines were so prevalent that the government was forced to seek a solution.

  During George Armstrong Custer’s absence from duty, government policy with respect to the “Indian problem” had been the subject of fierce contention between two diverse factions. The Eastern humanitarian groups combined with the Indian Bureau to favor a policy of tolerance, generosity, and fair treatment for the Indian, which they believed would encourage the Indians to
respond in kind. Westerners allied with the army to scoff at this idealistic and impractical notion. The only manner in which to deal with the Indian, according to Westerners, was by a demonstration of military might—punishment and supervision.

  Both sides, however, agreed that all Plains Indians should be removed from the pathway of westward expansion between the Platte and Arkansas rivers and resettled onto reservations north of Nebraska and south of Kansas. To that end, a peace commission was created by Congress and the Medicine Lodge and Fort Laramie treaties were negotiated. Due to cultural differences and miscommunication, peace was elusive and before long renegade warriors were raiding across Kansas, attacking settlements as well as detachments of the army that had been dispatched to subdue the hostiles.

  Finally, in a victory for the army, Generals William T. Sherman and Phil Sheridan were called upon in the fall of 1868 to embark on a major winter campaign designed to restore peace on the plains. The army was directed to take whatever measures were necessary to force the hostiles onto reservations and punish those responsible for the atrocities. The two men had decided that a new ruthless measure was required to punish the Indians and implemented the concept of “total war,” which both had pioneered in the Civil War—Sherman burning his way through Georgia on his March to the Sea and Sheridan trashing the breadbasket of the Shenandoah Valley.

  Total war meant subjecting the civilian populace, not just the enemy fighting force, to a reign of terror. By invading the enemy’s homeland and mercilessly destroying property—lodges, food stores, and ponies—the army would break their will to fight. Rarely could these nomadic Indians be caught in the summer, but a winter campaign would find them vulnerable. They would be camped along some waterway, ponies weakened from lack of forage and caches of food barely sufficient to last until spring. Sherman and Sheridan held the view that the torch was as effective a weapon as the sword and that poverty would bring about peace more quickly than the loss of human life. And if noncombatant lives happened to be lost, that would simply be a regrettable but excusable tragedy of war.

  The campaign had an inauspicious beginning. In August, General Phil Sheridan had created an elite force of fifty-one seasoned scouts under trusted aide Major George A. “Sandy” Forsyth with orders to guard the railroad up the Smoky Hill Trail. On September 16, the command, which had been following the Arikaree Fork of the Republican River, camped for the night. At dawn, they mounted to resume their patrol when without warning hundreds of Indians attacked from the nearby hills.

  Forsyth led his men to refuge on a timbered island about two hundred feet long by forty feet wide. The scouts frantically dug entrenchments as best as possible in the soft sand as the Indians raked the position with deadly rifle fire—inflicting numerous casualties, including Forsyth, who was wounded, and killing all the horses.

  This siege, led by Chief Roman Nose, who was killed, would continue for nine days. Forsyth’s couriers, however, had reached Fort Wallace, and on September 25 a detachment of the Tenth Cavalry—black “Buffalo Soldiers”—arrived to rescue Forsyth and his beleaguered men and escort them to Fort Wallace for treatment of their wounds, thus ending what could be considered one of the most heroic episodes in Western history. The tiny speck of land situated in the Arikaree would become known as Beecher Island in honor of Frederick H. Beecher, who had been killed on the first day of the battle.

  Sheridan’s next move was to dispatch Colonel Alfred Sully and his Third Infantry, bolstered by eight companies of the Seventh Cavalry under Major Joel Elliott, to hunt down the Cheyenne who had been raiding south of the Arkansas River. Sully, who had distinguished himself fighting Sioux in the Dakotas, had apparently grown timid and, much to the disgust of Sheridan, returned empty-handed after just one week in the field.

  Sheridan, however, was well acquainted with an officer who had the tenacity to implement his strategy of total war. A telegram was sent to summon Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer, who was serving out his one-year suspension in Monroe, Michigan. An elated Custer was on the train the following morning and reported to Fort Hays on September 30 to prepare for a winter campaign.

  Before firm plans had been developed, a debate ensued over the practicality of a cold-weather operation that could pose potential health dangers for the troops and present difficulty in keeping open a supply line. No less of an authority than the legendary trapper and mountain man Jim Bridger, a noted Indian expert, arrived from St. Louis to argue against the campaign. But Sheridan was won over by the argument that their only chance for success was to locate and engage the Indians at the time of the year when they were relatively immobile and therefore vulnerable.

  On November 12, Custer and eleven companies of his Seventh Cavalry under the command of Colonel Sully, with his five infantry companies, marched south from Cavalry Creek to a supply base on the North Canadian River appropriately named Camp Supply. On the way to Camp Supply, Custer discovered the trail of an Indian war party estimated at seventy-five warriors. Custer was anxious to follow, but Sully refused permission until reinforced by the Nineteenth Kansas Volunteer Cavalry, commanded by Kansas governor Samuel J. Crawford, which was en route to Camp Supply.

  Custer was furious. When Sheridan arrived on November 21, he complained about Sully’s typical passivity. Sheridan resolved the tug-of-war over command by sending Sully back to Fort Harker. Custer now had the freedom to pursue the hostiles.

  Two days later, Custer and the Seventh Cavalry—eight hundred men—marched south toward the Washita River Valley, where it was believed that large bands of Indians, perhaps as many as six thousand, were camped for the winter.

  On November 26, Major Elliott and the Osage Indian scouts came across a fresh trail near Antelope Hills made by warriors returning from a raid on homesteaders in Kansas. Custer dispatched Elliott to follow the trail while he marched the main column forward through the deep snow.

  Cheyenne chief Black Kettle and several subchiefs had returned to their camp on the Washita that night after a meeting at Fort Cobb with Colonel William Hazen, who had the unenviable task of determining which Indians were hostile and which were friendly. Hazen was convinced that Black Kettle was indeed peaceful, but advised the chief to personally make peace with Sheridan in the field to ensure his safety. The general could not easily be located, and Black Kettle simply went home. Although the chief’s wife warned him that he should move the village that night, Black Kettle was convinced that the soldiers would wait for more favorable conditions and not brave the freezing temperatures and blizzard conditions to attack.

  That opinion by the chief was probably true of most commanders in the field—but not this particular commander. George Armstrong Custer was undeterred by fatigue, weather conditions, or any other obstacle in his way to carrying out his orders. He was determined to aggressively follow orders and protect the lives and property of those innocent homesteaders.

  Custer led his troops through the bone-chilling cold and dense morning fog until eventually halting on a ridge overlooking the Washita River. Below was situated a village of fifty-one lodges under Chief Black Kettle.

  Custer sounded officer’s call to detail his plan of attack. The regiment would be separated into four detachments. Major Joel Elliott would attack from the northeast with companies G, H, and M; Captain William Thompson would lead companies B and F from the south; Captain Edward Myers with companies E and I from the west; and Custer with two squadrons commanded by Captain Louis Hamilton and Captain Robert West, along with Cooke’s sharpshooters, would strike from the north. Eighty men under quartermaster First Lieutenant James M. Bell would remain with the wagon train.

  At dawn on November 27, 1868—as a shot rang out from within the village—the buglers sounded the charge and the Seventh Cavalry swept into the unsuspecting village. Bullets peppered the air, and most of the Indians fled their lodges to take refuge in the nearby timber or ravines or raced for the river. Chief Black Kettle and his wife tried to flee on his pony but were shot dead at
the river.

  In the opening moments, Captain Hamilton was shot through the heart and Captain Albert Barnitz was critically wounded. Thompson was late in arriving on the field, creating a gap between his command and that of Elliott, which permitted a number of Indians to escape.

  While the battle along the Washita River raged, Major Elliott, without informing Custer, had rallied a group of volunteers to follow him downstream to chase Indians escaping from Black Kettle’s village. As Elliott and his men galloped past Lieutenant Owen Hale, the major called out, “Here goes for a brevet or a coffin!”

  Custer’s cavalry controlled the village within ten minutes of the charge. They spent the remainder of the morning eliminating small pockets of resistance—103 Indians were killed, according to Custer’s report. At one point, the overzealous command of Captain Myers, contrary to explicit orders issued by Custer, was observed firing into a group of women and children. Custer dispatched scout Ben Clark to order Myers to stop shooting and instead capture all noncombatants.

  Meanwhile, Custer ordered that the entire Cheyenne village be destroyed. Bonfires soon blazed, and every possession belonging to the tribe was thrown onto the flames. While sorting through the contents of the village, Custer’s men found mail, daguerreotypes, clothing, and other items taken from white settlements by raiding parties.

  Custer had implemented total war to perfection on Black Kettle’s village. In addition to 103 killed and 53 women and children taken prisoner, the property loss was devastating. The pony herd estimated at 875 was destroyed, and the entire village—every lodge, buffalo robes, weapons, blankets, large quantities of dried meat and food stores, tobacco, and clothing—was either confiscated or burned to ashes.