by Thom Hatch
Almost immediately, Custer departed for Monroe, Michigan, and returned with Libbie to their new duty station in November. The regimental band struck up “Home Sweet Home” and then “Garry Owen” as the officers and wives warmly welcomed the first couple.
The Custers settled into their quarters and presided over the busy winter social season at the isolated fort. There were drama performances to participate in and they would enjoy hunts, sleigh rides, monthly company balls, and nightly gatherings for conversation and playing charades and card games. On many occasions guests would assemble around the piano that had been rented in St. Paul to sing all the favorites. Custer spent much time reading and writing and, with no school at the fort, volunteered to tutor several children.
From all accounts, the atmosphere that winter at Fort Lincoln was quite congenial, which was rare at military posts where petty jealousies were known to disrupt harmony. One visitor to the Custer home said: “One was permitted to receive the courtesies of the happiest home I ever saw, where perfect love and confidence reigned. The whole regiment with one or two exceptions seemed imbued with the spirit of its commander, and in fact so close was he to his officers, that when off duty one would be led to think that all were brothers, and happy brothers at that.”
Perhaps that cordiality could be attributed to the fact that notorious Custer critic Captain Frederick W. Benteen as well as Major Marcus Reno, with whom Custer shared cool relations, were stationed elsewhere.
Unfortunately, that happy home suffered tragedy on the night of February 6, 1974, when the Custer residence burned to the ground. The attic had been insulated with “warm paper,” a petroleum-based product, which caught fire, and it consumed the entire house. Carpenters began work on a new two-story house that would meet Libbie’s request for a bay window in the parlor.
Fort Abraham Lincoln was located on the fringes of Sioux country and therefore was rarely threatened. An Indian raiding party in April stampeded a herd of civilian mules, which Custer and all six companies recovered after a chase. Again in May, Custer rode out in an effort to prevent a rumored Sioux attack against the Arikara and Mandan but was unable to make contact. Otherwise, duty settled into the typical monotonous routine of an isolated frontier post that was known to provoke troopers into desertion, bad behavior, or drowning themselves with whisky.
Winter in Dakota Territory, however, meant blizzards dropping huge piles of snow and barbed-wire winds that tore through the countryside. It was a difficult time for man or beast, especially the Indians, whose ponies would become weak from lack of forage, and their own supplies would quickly dwindle. This was the season when patrols from the fort were limited and the officers and men settled in, waiting for spring.
While Fort Lincoln shivered in the arctic blasts, General Phil Sheridan was in Chicago making plans. He had set his sights on establishing a post that would be strategically located near the Red Cloud and Spotted Tail agencies for the purpose of discouraging the Sioux from raiding into Nebraska and the travel routes to the south. Ideally, this fort would be located somewhere in the western portion of the Great Sioux Reservation—in the vicinity of the Black Hills—territory that had been given to the Indians by provisions of the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 and had been deemed sacred by that tribe.
The Revolutionary War patriots had been engaged in fighting to gain independence from England when a small band of Sioux Indians led by warrior Standing Bear—prompted by their nomadic instinct—had walked from their homeland in Minnesota to visit for the first time a wilderness region along the South Dakota–Wyoming border that runs roughly one hundred miles north to south and sixty miles east to west and was known as the Black Hills.
This group of adventurers were members of the Teton or Lakota Nation of Sioux who, along with their brethren the Dakota and Nakota Sioux, had migrated from the South in the sixteenth century to settle near the headwaters of the Mississippi in northern Minnesota. The three groups over time had split into distinct nations, each speaking a different dialect and occupying their own territory, and collectively were known as “Sioux.” That title, however, a French interpretation of the Chippewa word nadoue-is-iw meaning “little snake” or “enemy,” served only as a genetic name for the three separate nations.
Standing Bear’s Lakota Sioux hunting party were not by any means the first American Indians to view the Black Hills, for its dominion had been the matter of contention between a number of tribes for centuries. These particular explorers, however, regarded the discovery as if it had been preordained by their Creator. There was apparently an awakening within their souls that spoke to tell them that the innate spirits that dwelled within the Black Hills had reserved that place for them—as if some mystical magnet was calling home those who had wandered for so long. Although other tribes may have discovered this place before them, the Lakota were the first to recognize that it was sacred land.
Standing Bear returned home from his trek and spoke in glowing terms about his wondrous discovery. His assessment of the Black Hills affected his people with such a seductive force that they abandoned the north and journeyed en masse to that unknown territory to establish a homeland for the Lakota Sioux Nation. The Dakota and Nakota remained in Minnesota.
The seven principal Lakota Sioux bands that comprised the tribe—Blackfeet, Brulé, Hunkpapa, Miniconjou, Oglala, Sans Arc, Two Kettle—became the final group of Native Americans to arrive in that part of the country.
The emigrating Lakota declined to settle permanently inside the boundaries of the Black Hills, for it was considered sacred land. For three-quarters of a century they would rarely make camp out of sight of this place they now called Paha Sapa, “Hills That Are Black,” and would enter only to hunt, cut lodge poles, hide out after raiding parties, or to perform ceremonies.
Each autonomous band established its own territory throughout Montana, Wyoming, Kansas, Nebraska, and the Dakota Territory but enjoyed greater numbers than their rivals due to a supportive alliance and thereby became the strongest tribe on the Great Plains. They acquired proprietorship of the area by force from the Cheyenne, who years earlier had pushed aside the Comanche, who years earlier had pushed aside the Crow. Land was taken, controlled, and protected by violence, and no tribe was better at gaining and holding territory than the Lakota Sioux.
And the Lakota would not simply fight against the encroachment of other American Indian tribes but were also bold enough to test the might of the United States of America. While George Armstrong Custer had been chasing Indians around the Kansas plains in 1867, another conflict was being waged to the north.
In 1862–63, explorer John Bozeman had pioneered a route to the Montana gold fields that passed directly through prime Lakota Sioux buffalo hunting grounds. In 1865, the government built a road from Fort Laramie, Wyoming, to Montana along this Bozeman Trail to protect white travelers.
Oglala Sioux chief Red Cloud and other bands retaliated by attacking miners, army patrols, and wagon trains that trespassed onto this land that had been promised them under the terms of the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1851. In 1866, the army attempted to negotiate a nonaggression treaty but balked at Red Cloud’s demand that no forts be built along the Bozeman Trail. In fact, the army commenced construction on two new forts—Phil Kearny in Wyoming and C. F. Smith in Montana—and reinforced Fort Reno in Wyoming.
Chief Red Cloud responded by intensifying hostilities. He masterminded hit-and-run tactics to harass the soldiers with his two thousand warriors—including ambitious young braves Crazy Horse, Gall, and Rain-in-the-Face—which kept Fort Phil Kearny under constant siege.
On December 21, 1866, Captain William J. Fetterman, who had once boasted that he “could ride through the entire hostile nation with eighty good men,” commanded a detachment of eighty men from Fort Kearny as escort for a woodcutting wagon train. Crazy Horse and a band of Sioux appeared and pretended to flee from the soldiers. When Fetterman took the bait and chased after this decoy, he and his men were ambushed and annih
ilated.
On August 1, 1867, Crazy Horse and a group of warriors estimated at five to eight hundred strong attacked a detachment of nineteen soldiers and six civilians who were guarding a hay-cutting detail near Fort C. F. Smith. In the ensuing three- to four-hour battle—known as the Hayfield Fight—two soldiers and one civilian were killed and two soldiers were wounded before troops from the fort arrived and the Sioux broke contact.
The following day, Company C of the Twenty-seventh Infantry was guarding a woodcutting detail about six miles from Fort Kearny when attacked by warriors under Crazy Horse. In what became known as the Wagon Box Fight, the soldiers took refuge in a corral crudely constructed from wagon beds. The Indians alternated sniping and charging for a period of about four hours before reinforcements arrived from the fort to drive them away. The soldiers lost 6 killed and 2 wounded; Indian losses were 6 killed and 6 wounded, although the army estimated 60 killed and 120 wounded.
Red Cloud’s constant harassment made the soldiers virtual prisoners in their forts, and safe travel along the Bozeman Trail was impossible. The United States government finally yielded to Red Cloud’s demands, and the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 was drawn up to end hostilities.
Provisions of this treaty called for the United States Army to abandon forts Phil Kearny, Reno, and C. F. Smith and establish a Sioux reservation, which would encompass nearly all of present-day South Dakota west of the Missouri River, including the region known as the Black Hills, as well as other concessions. Whites were expressly forbidden to trespass on this land. In return, the Sioux agreed to withdraw all opposition to the construction of railroads not passing through their reservation and to cease attacks against white travelers and settlers.
More than two hundred chiefs and subchiefs signed the treaty at Fort Rice on July 2, 1868. Red Cloud, however, waited until November 6 to sign—after the three forts had been abandoned and burned to the ground.
And thus, in what became known as “Red Cloud’s War,” the Oglala chief became the only Native American in history to ever force the United States government to grant treaty demands due to acts of violence.
The treaty represented a victory for the Sioux, and a majority of the tribe—about fifteen thousand members—settled on the reservation where they would gradually become dependent on government rations.
Sioux leaders Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, and Gall—none of whom had “touched the pen” to the treaty—refused to report to the reservation. Instead, they found a haven in the unceded territory, which they considered traditional buffalo hunting grounds, designated in the treaty. This area, which was roughly east of the Bighorn Mountains and north of the North Platte River (known as the Powder River Basin), had been reserved for Indians only. In summer months, countless other Indians would leave the reservation to join bands of their “free” kinsmen in the unceded territory to live the old way of life. This land separate from the reservation would later pose a problem with respect to exact boundaries—and by the presence of Indians who were hostile to whites.
The Panic of 1873, however, compelled the United States government to view the Black Hills in terms of its valuable resources. Now, in 1874, the military had decided to trespass into the Black Hills with soldiers. There was vocal public and political opposition when an expedition into the region was proposed by the military. According to the Fort Laramie Treaty, it was argued, the Sioux reservation was strictly off-limits to whites. Therefore, a reconnaissance through this area would constitute a violation.
The army position on the legality of the Black Hills Expedition was summed up by General Alfred Howe Terry, a member of the 1868 treaty commission, who wrote in a letter to General Phil Sheridan: “I am unable to see that any just offense is given to the Indians by the expedition to the Black Hills. From the earliest times the government has exercised the right of sending exploring parties of a military character into unceded territory, and this expedition is nothing more.” Terry backed up his interpretation by stating his belief that provisions in the treaty never intended to exclude military forces, and he was certain that the Indians understood that as well.
General William T. Sherman concurred and wrote in his endorsement of Terry’s statement: “I also was one of the commissioners to the treaty of 1868, and agree with General Terry, that it was not intended to exclude the United States from exploring the Reservation for Roads, or for any other national purpose.”
In June 1874, Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer was advised that he would be leading an army expedition into the Black Hills region of Dakota Territory. The published purpose of this controversial reconnaissance was to identify likely locations for military posts. It was a poorly kept secret, however, that Custer was also interested in verifying claims of valuable mineral deposits—gold in particular—within the Black Hills.
Custer marched out of Fort Abraham Lincoln on July 2, 1874, at the head of a column comprised of ten companies of the Seventh Cavalry, two infantry companies, a train of 110 wagons, three Gatling guns, scouts, interpreters, a scientific corps, two professional miners, and numerous journalists—more than one thousand participants.
After a march of about three hundred miles, Custer and his column entered the northwestern edge of the Black Hills on July 20 by traveling along a well-worn Indian trail. Two days later at Inyan Kara, an extinct volcano, some of his Arikara and Santee scouts warned him that if he did not turn back there would be severe retaliation from the Sioux. Custer ignored their protests and, perhaps because these scouts had never been to the region before and would have little to offer with respect to information, released them. Those few Indians who did remain with the column included Bloody Knife, Custer’s favorite scout.
Before leaving Inyan Kara, Custer, accompanied by chief engineer William Ludlow, who, by the way, was one of the cadets involved in the fight that nearly caused Custer’s dismissal from West Point years earlier, botanist A. B. Donaldson, and several others, climbed to the sixty-five-hundred-foot summit of this mountain. Ludlow created a monument of sorts when he chipped an inscription with hammer and chisel into a rock that read: “74 CUSTER.”
Without capable scouts who were familiar with the territory to guide them, Custer personally rode ahead of his column and blazed the trail, which eventually gained him the reputation of always being able to locate a passage through even the most difficult terrain. He would assume this responsibility throughout the remainder of the expedition.
On July 24, Custer entered a resplendent valley surrounded by pines that overwhelmed everyone with its beauty and provided the botanists a virtual field day. Correspondent Samuel Barrows of the New-York Tribune said it was “an Eden in the clouds—how shall I describe it! As well try to paint the flavor of a peach or the odor of a rose.” A. B. Donaldson, who collected fifty-two varieties of flowers in bloom, raved: “It is hardly possible to exaggerate in describing this flowery richness. Some said they would give a hundred dollars just to have their wives see the floral richness for even one hour.”
Neither did Custer exaggerate when he chose the name Floral Valley for the area he described: “In no private or public park have I ever seen such a profuse display of flowers.” Nearly every diary, letter home, or report contained a glowing description of this wondrous valley that teemed with wildflowers and offered a mystical serenity. Hard-bitten troopers decorated mule harnesses and hats with flowers and preserved blossoms as gifts for wives, girlfriends, or other family members. Custer noted that while seated at the mess table they could pick up “seven beautiful varieties” of flowers within reach. The column camped in Floral Valley for two days before moving on.
George Armstrong Custer, as had been his habit on previous expeditions, spent much of his free time along the way enjoying outdoor activities and indulging his curiosity of nature by exploring. He would frequently ride off with a detachment to hunt game, climb hills, or explore caves or other intriguing terrain. One notable cave shown him by a scout named Goose extended for four hundred feet
, with provocative carvings and drawings on the walls and eerie shrieks and howls of unknown origin emanating from within its depths.
Custer also accumulated his customary menagerie of wildlife. This one consisted of a jackrabbit, an eagle, two prairie owls, several toads, rattlesnakes, and a number of birds among other species. Unfortunately, two badgers had been accidentally smothered to death in the overloaded wagon. These live specimens as well as generous samples of flora and fossils, including a petrified tree trunk, required an ambulance detail of twelve men under Fred “Antelope” Snow for transport.
Custer was quite the sportsman and had never let his military duties get in the way of a good hunt—whether for capture, trophy, or the table.
Popular culture has created an image that frontier military posts were a hub of exciting activity as the cavalrymen mounted up and bravely rode off to the sound of the bugle to engage in one thrilling skirmish after another with hostile Indians. Nothing could be further from the truth. For the most part, these isolated posts—and even campaigns and expeditions—were a constant routine of boredom and monotony. The officers and men, therefore, were compelled to find diversions to entertain themselves. Many turned to the bottle—alcoholism was rampant. Others, however, took advantage of the plentiful wildlife on the plains and hunted for pleasure—and for a change of menu.
It could be said that the most enthusiastic hunter in the West was George Armstrong Custer. His passionate outdoor interests, however, went beyond simply killing animals. He was like a child in a playground of nature. His correspondence never failed to mention the beauty of his surroundings and his fascination with the flora, fauna, fossils, or natural wonders that he had happened upon. On numerous occasions he captured live game and donated it to zoos. And no one was fonder of good horseflesh or a well-bred leash of hounds than Custer. At one point, his leash of Russian wolfhounds and English staghounds were said to number more than eighty under the care of orderly John Burkman. Custer was much in demand by dignitaries—including political leaders, Eastern industrialists, and English noblemen—and over the years, he had gained the reputation as the finest sportsman in the army.
