“Yes, but there are no Indians in that direction — they are all in our front,” Custer said impatiently. He had scouted the country to the north while up on the Crow’s Nest and had seen no trails or Indians. “And besides, they have discovered us. It will be of no use to send you down Tullock’s Creek. The only thing to do is to push ahead and attack the camp as soon as possible.”20 Though Terry expected the scout’s arrival, there now seemed little point in sending Herendeen through that valley to tell Terry long after the Seventh had made the attack that there were no Indians in it.
Charley Reynolds spoke up, saying this was the biggest bunch of Indians he had ever seen.21 Then Boyer repeated his warning to Custer: “I have been with these Indians for thirty years and this is the largest village I have ever known of,” he said.22 Custer wasn’t worried much about the size of the Indian camp; striking before it scattered was his overriding concern. Custer and everyone else on the campaign wanted to avoid a long chase after many smaller bands that would take the entire summer, perhaps longer.
Custer told Boyer that since he was not a soldier, he did not have to go in with the regiment. Boyer replied hotly that he wasn’t afraid to go anywhere Custer did, but there were more Indians down there than they could handle, and if they went down into the valley of the Little Bighorn, they would both wake up in hell the next morning. Then the guide turned and walked away.23
The meeting broke up, each troop commander returning to his bivouac. Benteen had walked only a few yards when he turned on his heel and reported his company ready. Custer, a bit taken aback, said, “The advance is yours, Colonel.”24 The honor of taking the lead would belong to H Company.
Captain Tom McDougall had overslept and was the last to report, so B Company was given the pack train escort detail. Some of his disappointed troopers, doubtful they would see any action, wept at this.25
Custer turned to John Burkman and told him to saddle Vic (short for Victory). He had taken his older horse, Dandy, to the Crow’s Nest and wanted a fresh mount. Moments later he swung into the saddle, then leaned over and put his hand on his striker’s shoulder and told him to ride with the pack train. There would be no led horses with the advance. “You’re tired out,” he said. “But if we should have to send for more ammunition you can come in on the home stretch.”26
Varnum reported for duty, and the General asked him if he felt able to continue scouting. The lieutenant said he had to continue riding anyway, and one place was as good as another. He was told to go ahead, so he took the left front of the advance, with the Arikaras, and sent Lieutenant Hare to the right with the Crows.27
The interpreters translated the orders to the Indian scouts and emphasized their role in the coming battle. The General did not expect them to fight, and had told them so, but he did want them to capture as much of the pony herd as possible — Sioux Indians without a good supply of ponies were easier to catch. As they began their battle preparations, an older Arikara named Stabbed, their second in command, exhorted his younger tribesmen to be brave. Then he prayed and rubbed a special clay — earth he had brought with him from their country along the Missouri — on their bodies for good medicine.
The regiment saddled up, and the word was passed to mount. There was not much talking now. The men were confident of victory, but word had spread of the massive village of hostiles, and the General had been unusually serious and businesslike since the Yellowstone — no cutting up with his brothers as he had on the journey out from Lincoln. And, of course, most of the men had not slept for more than a few hours; they were tired and dirty and hungry. But that, they knew, was the life of a soldier on the trail.
The command moved out in column of fours, fifty feet between each company, following the lodgepole trail west over the divide through a narrow valley, the northern end of the Wolf Mountains and the Crow’s Nest on their left. Custer led, accompanied by his adjutant, the dundreary-whiskered Lieutenant Cooke, and followed closely by his two color-bearers, his chief trumpeter, and his orderly for the day, a young Italian trumpeter from H Company named Giovanni Martini (now known as John Martin). Martini had been a drummer boy with Garibaldi a decade earlier. He had immigrated to the United States from Italy in 1873 and enlisted a year later. His English was not very good, but he was a feisty little fellow. Inevitably, some of the troopers called him “Dry Martini.”28
Burkman, back with the pack train waiting to pull out, watched the battalions ride away. He had to hold Custer’s two dogs, Blucher and Tuck, by their collars while they whined to follow. I Company’s little yellow dog, Joe Bush, ran along after the troops. Burkman whistled at him, but he didn’t stop.29 The striker had had similar luck in persuading Autie Reed to stay with the pack train.
The regiment began a gentle descent along a small creek that wandered toward the Little Bighorn. Reno rode with Moylan’s troop, about halfway back. A few minutes after noon, almost a mile farther on, Custer called a halt to make battalion assignments. He and Cooke rode off a ways to talk, the adjutant scribbling in his notebook, probably assessing the strengths of various divisions.
There were several factors to take into consideration. When many bands of Indians gathered, they usually spread out along a watercourse for sanitation and grazing purposes. Sometimes they were so far separated as not even to be within sight of each other. At the Washita in 1868, Custer had not reconnoitered the area completely before the battle and had almost been surprised by hundreds of warriors from several large villages a few miles downstream. Now he knew he needed a force both to scout the valley above the camp and to drive any Indians there downstream. A small squadron could accomplish the first task, but a larger force — at least two or three companies — was needed for the second. And he would likely need to strike the village from more than one direction, especially if its occupants attempted to scatter. One final consideration was the pack train. It was apparent after three days that it could not keep up with the column even at a walk, much less at the faster pace needed now. To lose the ammunition it carried, 26,000 rounds, would be disastrous.30 That, too, had almost happened at the Washita.
Custer took the right wing — the same troops that Reno had led on his scout down the Tongue, minus McDougall’s B Troop, now plodding miserably beside the pack train. Those five companies, C, E, F, I, and L, happened to be some of his favorites, led by officers close to him: Yates, Smith, Calhoun, Keogh, and Tom Custer. The General would retain direct command of the entire battalion, though the two senior officers, Keogh and Yates, would each command a wing, with Yates taking the smaller one.31 (The right wing’s horses were the most fatigued of the command, as they had gained little rest since the grueling Reno scout.) To Reno, Custer detailed three troops — A, G, and M, the commands of Captains French and Moylan and Lieutenant McIntosh. To Captain Benteen, he assigned three — D, H, and K, the commands of Captain Weir and Lieutenant Godfrey, along with Benteen’s own. Each of the General’s four senior subordinates would lead a battalion.
After Custer gave the battalion orders, Half Yellow Face spoke though Boyer. “Do not divide your men,” he said. “There are too many of the enemy for us, even if we stay together. If you must fight, keep us all together.”
Custer was in no mood to hear dire predictions. “You do the scouting, and I will attend to the fighting,” he said.
The Crow began to strip off his clothes and paint his face. Custer asked what he was doing.
“Because you and I are going home today, and by a trail that is strange to us both,” said Half Yellow Face.32
DURING THE HALT along the small creek, Custer noticed a line of bluffs only a mile or so to the southwest.33 The Little Bighorn valley, and quite possibly more Indian camps, lay somewhere just beyond them.34 He ordered Benteen to take his battalion of 118 men and move toward the bluffs — and, as Benteen later remembered it, to “pitch into anything” he came across and send word back to the General. If no Indians were found, then as soon as he was satisfied that any further movement in that d
irection was useless, he was to rejoin the main command as quickly as possible.35 Custer apparently expected Benteen’s battalion back soon — in an hour or so — if it did not become engaged.
None of the three doctors with the column rode with Benteen, a fact hinting that Custer doubted it would see any action. Instead, Henry Porter and James DeWolf, two civilian contract surgeons, rode with Reno, and George Lord, the regimental surgeon, remained with headquarters. Lord had been indisposed since the Yellowstone — probably dysentery, a common cavalryman’s ailment, usually due to bad water — and had not been able to eat since then, barely keeping up with the column. Custer suggested that he remain with the rear guard, but the dutiful Lord refused to relinquish his position.36
Benteen was not happy with his new assignment. The honor of leading the regiment and striking the enemy first had now been replaced by a secondary mission with little chance for glory. Custer, he was sure, had engineered this as a personal vendetta. He could have assigned any other battalion, or even a lesser force. But the Captain had no choice in the matter. He turned his battalion off to the left.
Custer led his five companies at a fast walk down the right side of the creek. Reno and his three companies proceeded down the left, gradually falling behind the General. The Indian scouts ranged ahead of the column, riding back and forth with news, the smaller Indian ponies having to gallop to stay ahead of the soldiers. A few miles down the trail, the creek bottom began to widen a good deal. Custer called another halt, and he and Varnum momentarily trained their field glasses on the valley ahead. Then the march continued. The day was heating up quickly, and most of the men removed their heavy blouses. As the afternoon wore on, many of them discarded overcoats and other spare clothing, haversacks, forage sacks, and the like to get down to fighting trim.37 The ground was very dry, and as the command advanced, the horses stirred up large clouds of dust. The pack train’s exhausted and sloppily packed mules fell behind and were soon lost from sight.
Mark Kellogg kicked his mule forward until he reached Gerard at the head of the column. Would Gerard lend him his spurs? Gerard handed them over but advised the reporter not to put them on and instead to fall back with the main command and stay there. Kellogg replied that he was “expecting interesting developments” and wanted to keep up with the scouts.38 He remained near Custer.
A little before two o’clock, about ten miles beyond the divide, Herendeen, Hare, Varnum, his orderly, and some of the scouts came upon the remnants of a large campsite that extended half a mile along the north side of the creek. At the far end were two tepees, one collapsed and the other still standing, opposite a high, chalk white bluff upon which were Boyer and the Crows, who waved the newcomers up. They scaled the hill and peered down the valley. On a rise two or three miles to the west was a group of about fifty warriors riding away amid a cloud of dust. The Crows had been watching them for a while.39 From the still-warm ashes in the fires down below, it was apparent that these Indians had just left their camp of the night before and were heading toward the larger one, no doubt warned of the soldiers’ approach by some of the Indians seen that morning. The scattering had begun, and when the hostiles in sight reached the village and warned it, the huge gathering would disperse into thin air.
Varnum and his orderly continued down the creek. Hare dispatched an Arikara with a note to Custer. Then the remaining Arikaras charged down to one of the tepees and ripped it open with knives. Inside, upon a scaffold, was the wrapped body of a dead warrior, surrounded by his possessions and weapons.40 The other tepee also contained a few dead bodies.41 A few minutes later, Custer, at the head of the Seventh, rode into view of the standing tepee. Down the creek beyond it, he could see the cloud of dust. After examining the lodge and its occupant, the General told his orderly to set it on fire.42 He turned and with a wave of his hat summoned Reno and his column across the creek. A moment later Gerard, on a low knoll closer to the tepee, waved his hat toward Custer and yelled, “There go your Indians, running like devils!”43
Custer had expected the Arikaras to continue on to the Sioux camp and make away with some of the pony herd, but as he looked around, he found them making a big fuss over the two tepees in the abandoned campsite, again making lengthy preparations for a fight by stripping off their soldier blouses and greasing themselves and singing. “We are going to have church,” remarked one lieutenant upon hearing the death songs this Sunday morning.44
Almost two hours had passed since Benteen had turned left off the trail on what Custer hoped would be a short scout, and neither he nor a messenger was anywhere in sight. But there was no time to lose. Custer ordered the Arikara scouts after the fleeing village. They refused: not without soldiers. The General accused them of cowardice and threatened to take away their guns and horses. The Arikaras objected, and one replied with a similar insult to the soldiers, after which the other scouts laughed. As the rest of the command entered the campsite, Gerard rode up and assured the Arikaras of soldier support. But Custer had already turned to Cooke. Since the Arikaras would not move out, he told the Canadian, Cooke should order Major Reno and his battalion after the escaping Indians.45
When Reno and Hodgson reached the head of the column a few minutes later, Cooke relayed Custer’s orders: “The Indians are about two and a half miles ahead — they are on the jump. Go forward as fast as you think proper and charge them wherever you find them and he will support you.”46
Reno crossed back to his command and moved out down the creek. As he passed the General some thirty yards away, Custer yelled, “Take your battalion and try and overtake and bring them to battle and I will support you.”47 As Reno rode ahead, Custer added, “And take the scouts along with you.”
There was no mention of any overall plan — unsurprising, since the huge village they had been tracking for days had still not been seen — and Custer sent no one to deliver word of these new developments to Benteen, out of sight somewhere to the left, or the pack train, far behind them on the trail. For that matter, Reno had only the vaguest idea of what Benteen was up to. When Benteen had turned off the trail to the left, Reno had asked him where he was going, and the Captain had only replied that he was to drive everything before him.
The erosion of order — and the fragmentation of the command — continued. Mitch Boyer told the Crows to stay with Custer.48 The General had sent a couple of them over a ridge to find the village, but as Reno’s battalion started down the creek, in the confusion they followed the Major.49 Gerard called out to Dorman and the Arikaras to join him with Reno’s battalion. Then, as Reno led his three companies out at a trot, Varnum and his orderly returned from scouting the left front. When Custer asked him what he had seen, he replied that the village was out of sight behind the bluffs — only a few tepees were visible — but the valley was full of Indians.50 Varnum asked where Reno’s squadron was going.
“To begin the attack,” said Custer. He told Varnum that he could accompany them if he wanted to and ride with the scouts.51
Varnum called back to Wallace, his gangly West Point classmate. As acting engineering officer, he was riding with the General. “Come on, Nick, with the fighting men. I don’t stay back with the coffee coolers.”
Custer shook his fist, laughed, waved his hat, and told Wallace he could go.52
Reno led his battalion in column of twos on a fast trot down the creek. “Keep your horses well in hand, boys,” he said, as some of the beasts threatened to get away from their inexperienced riders. With about 140 troopers and 35 scouts — every Arikara and all of the rest, save 4 Crows and Mitch Boyer — he led a fighting force of 175. As Reno rode after the fleeing Indian camp, Adjutant Cooke and Captain Keogh rode with him, though it was not clear whether they were to join the attack or observe and report back.
Meanwhile, Boyer and the four remaining Crows rode up into the hills ahead to the right. Custer led his men at a walk past the burning lodge and down the creek after Reno.53 His nephew Autie Reed rode with him, as did the newspaperman
Kellogg. His brother Boston was on his way back to the pack train to exchange his horse for a fresh one.
Less than a half hour later,54 at about 3:00 p.m. Chicago time, Reno’s battalion came within sight of the Little Bighorn after a ride of three miles. Indians could be seen far down the valley on the other side.55 The creek Reno’s men had been following led them to a natural ford that was clearly an Indian crossing. The river here was thirty to fifty feet wide and three to four feet deep, cool and clear, about belly high to the horses. Most of the Arikaras climbed the farther bank first, while Reno and his command began to wade over, some of the troopers stopping to water their mounts. Downstream, pony herds were grazing on both sides of the river. Several of the Arikaras turned and galloped along the east side toward them.
Cooke and Keogh pulled up and sat their horses on the bank of the stream. As Sergeant Ryan and a group of M Company troopers galloped past them, Cooke called out, “For God’s sake, men, don’t run those horses like that; you will need them in a few minutes.”56 Keogh and then Cooke soon turned and headed back toward Custer.57
Lieutenant DeRudio rode into the river behind the command. He surged toward Reno and Gerard, who were watering their horses. Reno was drinking from a flask of whiskey. As the Italian neared him, his horse splashed the Major, who said, “What are you trying to do? Drown me before I am killed?”58
As Gerard came up out of the river, the two Crow scouts riding ahead and to the left yelled something. Herendeen heard this and hollered back toward him, “Hold on — the Sioux are coming.”59 He couldn’t see them, but the Crows could.
“Hell, Custer ought to know this right away,” said Gerard to no one in particular, “for he thinks the Indians are running. He ought to know they are preparing to fight. I’ll go back and inform him.” With that, Gerard rode back to Reno.
“Major, the Indians are coming up the valley to meet us,” he announced when he reached Reno.
A Terrible Glory Page 24
