Benteen handed the slip of paper to Weir as he rode up, followed by Gibson, Godfrey, and Edgerly. They all read it, but no one offered an opinion.
“Where is General Custer?” Benteen asked Martin.
“About three miles from here,” said Martin in his thick accent, full of relieved and nervous laughter after his dangerous ride. He said he supposed by this time the General had made a charge through the village, since they had found all the Indians asleep in their tepees, and that Major Reno was charging the camp and killing men, women, and children right and left.22 Benteen did not question the trumpeter as to why Reno was attacking and not Custer.
The Captain pointed out where Martin’s horse was bleeding. Godfrey concluded that the fight was over and there was “nothing to do but go up and congratulate the others and help destroy the plunder.” His feelings were doubtless shared by many.23
“Well!” Benteen said. “If he wants me to hurry, how does he expect that I can bring the packs? If I am going to be of service to him I think I had better not wait for the packs.”24 Besides, if the Indians were already scattering, there would be less need of the supplies, there being no pitched battle.25
Benteen sent Martin back to McDougall with an order to bring up the pack train; Martin did so and returned to Benteen’s company.26 Benteen led out, finally increasing his gait to a trot.27 A short while later, they came to a point on the main trail where it was clear that part of the column had split off over the rolling hills to the right, following another large lodgepole track.28 Fresh horse droppings and shod hoofprints bore off in that direction as well as straight ahead.
Benteen reined in his horse. “Here we have the horns of a dilemma,” he said.29
Gibson suggested taking the right-hand trail; Weir pushed for the left, toward the river, particularly since firing could be heard in the distance. Apparently, no one thought to ask Martin, who had just come back that way to meet them. After some discussion, Weir led his troop to the left, and the rest of the battalion took the trail to the right. Benteen and his orderly rode between them.
As the battalion proceeded, the gunfire from beyond the bluffs to the right increased, so much so that it sounded as if it were getting closer — Indians retreating before Custer’s attempt to reach the pack train, perhaps.30 The men formed a line, and the command broke into a gallop. Moments later they came into view of the Little Bighorn valley.
Downstream, heavy smoke curled up from the burning prairie to join clouds of dust, and hundreds of horsemen, close to a thousand, filled the landscape below. Indians seemed to be swirling around a dozen or so dismounted men on the valley floor near the river, about two miles away. On a bluff about as far down, a group of men could be seen, though whether friend or foe, it was impossible to tell.
Some of the Crows with a few captured ponies came into view on the bluffs to the left, in the direction of the river. Benteen angled over to them. The scouts told him, “Otoe Sioux, otoe Sioux” — many Sioux.31 Another said, “Soldiers,” and pointed to the men in the distance. Benteen led his battalion down the bluffs.
As they approached, a much-excited Reno, red handkerchief tied around his head, rode out to meet them. “For God’s sake, Benteen, halt your command and help me,” he shouted. “I’ve lost half my men.” He told the senior Captain what had happened. “We are whipped,” he said.32
Benteen drily replied, “I guess not,”33 then showed him the written order from Cooke. It made little impression on Reno, who said he knew nothing of Custer’s present whereabouts. The last he saw of Custer, Reno said, he was on the crest of the hill they were now on. Custer had waved his hat after seeing Reno engaged, which Reno had taken as a sign of approval.34 Benteen said, “Well, let us make a junction with him as soon as possible.”35 But Reno insisted that they wait for the pack train and its supply of ammunition. Some of his men had expended half their cartridges in the valley.
Though the note from Cooke relayed direct orders from Benteen’s commanding officer to “come quick,” the Captain now decided to halt and join Reno’s command. He may have assumed he had fulfilled his orders by reporting to Reno, his superior officer, and conveying the orders to him — or he may not have given it any thought, perhaps feeling obligated to obey Reno’s plea for help. Whatever the reason, any further compliance with Custer’s orders stopped then and there.36
Reno’s troopers were still climbing up to the summit of the hill, some on horseback, some afoot. Most of the men were scattered about in the buffalo grass; some of the wounded were crying for water. A few Indians were firing on them from nearby bluffs and ravines. Weir, having met up with the rest, ordered his company to deploy in a skirmish line, and the Indian sharpshooters soon left. By Benteen’s orders, Godfrey dismounted his troop and formed a line along the bluffs on the river side. Soon the hundreds of warriors in the valley had inexplicably withdrawn and could now be seen riding downstream. Despite their departure, Reno turned and discharged a revolver at some Indians about a thousand yards off — about nine hundred yards out of pistol range. (He had lost his own carbine and sidearm during the retreat, possibly due to the spirited horse he rode.)37
Charles Varnum, overwhelmed by a severe lack of sleep, swore and cried as he borrowed Wallace’s rifle — a particularly fine. 45-caliber Springfield38 — and fired fruitlessly in the same direction as Reno had.39 Sergeant Thomas McLaughlin of H Company told Reno that he thought someone should be sent to rescue the wounded down in the valley. Troopers at the hill’s edge could plainly see warriors scalping and plundering the bodies of the fallen troopers on the retreat line and gray-haired men and women mutilating them. Reno replied that the Sergeant could get a detail up and rescue them himself if he wanted. Word of his answer quickly spread and caused some demoralization as the men watched their comrades being killed and carved up.40
It seemed that just about every man on the hill was thinking the same thing: Where is Custer? A rumor began circulating that Custer had abandoned them as (at least according to the accusations of Benteen and a few others) he had Elliott at the Washita. But before long, firing could be heard somewhere downstream, and it gained in volume, soon erupting into loud volleys.
As Varnum returned Wallace’s carbine to him, he said, “Jesus Christ, hear that — and that.”41 Then, referring to the rumors, “How’s that for abandonment, eh?”42 To a Sergeant nearby, he remarked that Custer must be heavily engaged, which seemed obvious, even to Reno.43
Edward Davern, Reno’s orderly, noticed a large body of Indians circling around far downstream, a half mile or so beyond where the valley skirmish line had been. The Irish-born Private called it to Weir’s attention. “That must be Custer fighting down in the bottom,” he said.
Weir looked to where Davern was pointing. “Why do you think so?”
“I hear the firing and see the dust and see the Indians have all left us.”
Weir said, “Yes, I believe it is.”44 But he said nothing to Reno or Benteen, his superiors, and the command remained where it was as the distant volleys degenerated into a constant, dull roar of gunfire.
FOURTEEN
Soldiers Falling
We circled all around them — swirling like water round a stone.
TWO MOON, CHEYENNE
At the Rosebud eight days earlier, the young Cheyenne warrior White Shield had added to his renown, killing a Shoshone and several soldiers, including one with three yellow stripes on his arms. He had also counted many coups and saved Young Two Moon, a full day’s work and glory to last a lifetime. On this day — windless, clear, and already quite hot — he planned to relax.1
He had been fishing in the river’s cool water with his half brother and his son when they became aware of shooting upstream, then saw people making for the hills below their camp to the northwest. White Shield ran to his lodge, where his mother was waiting with his warhorse. As he prepared himself for battle, he looked across the river.
Along the rugged hills on the north side of the wide coulee
across from the Cheyenne camp he could see several groups of soldiers.2 One bunch rode white horses and were moving toward the river. White Shield mounted his pony and crossed to join four other Cheyennes on the far bank. There Lame White Man — older, and one of the wisest and bravest chiefs in the camp3 — counseled the warriors to resist charging the soldiers; there were too many. Near a low ridge by the water’s edge, the Cheyennes stopped and dismounted.
The soldiers had ridden down into the streambed of the wide coulee and were now chasing five Lakotas on foot.4 As the soldiers approached, the Lakotas veered away up into the hills. The bluecoats, led by the white horse company, kept toward the river. When they were a couple of hundred yards away, a bugle sounded, and they dismounted and spread out on a bench back from the water’s edge.5 The company behind them did the same. From behind the low ridge, White Shield and his tribesmen began firing at the soldiers. The five Lakotas ran behind them and joined in the shooting.6 More warriors began to arrive, some of them from the battle upstream, others who had just retrieved their horses. They began to cross the stream and fire on the soldiers. More appeared on the bluffs overlooking the ford and opened fire on the wasichus below. A group of them rode down the hillside and made a charge on the soldiers. Everywhere, white cottonwood blossoms fell softly from the trees along the water.7
From up the coulee three or four loud volleys of rifle fire could be heard. The soldiers nearest the river pulled back to their gray horses and began to retreat, ascending a narrow ravine that angled north from the crossing. The second group of bluecoats fired past them into the warriors,8 who pursued and shot at the retreating troops. A few whites pitched from their horses, one of them apparently an officer, judging from his buckskin attire and the field glasses and compass in a wooden box found on him later.9
Hundreds of warriors crossed up and down the river wherever they could. Many of them followed the bluecoats up the small ravine into the hills above. Others galloped downriver in the direction of their women and children. Sitting Bull urged them on, then rode toward the hills on the western side of the valley to join Inkpaduta and the older men to protect the families.10 There were more than enough men of fighting age.
A MILE TO the east, Wolf Tooth and Big Foot had found what they wanted.
At sunrise the two young cousins had carefully made their way downstream away from the village and out of sight of the akicita. They worked their way downriver until they ran into more young warriors with the same idea, and then some more — almost fifty men had evaded the lookouts. A couple of miles north of the village, they turned east and followed a creek a few miles.
They were making their way up a hill when they heard someone yelling behind them. They turned to see a Lakota horseman about a mile back, waving at them to return. When they reached him, he told them that the soldiers were already riding down to the village. They all galloped back up the creek until they found a ridge they could follow south toward the camp. In a few minutes, they could see soldiers ahead of them. They decided to split up, with half of them riding around the north side of the bluecoats to intercept them and the other half riding south and then west to follow them. When they were several hundred yards away, the soldiers dismounted and started shooting, and the warriors pulled up and returned fire, then retreated back to the hills. Soon the wasichus moved north.11
“GENTLEMEN,” SAID CAPTAIN Myles Moylan as he and most of the other officers stood near the edge of the bluffs overlooking the valley, “in my opinion General Custer has made the biggest mistake of his life, by not taking the whole regiment in at once in the first attack.”12 They watched the Indians across the river at their work of plunder and mutilation, some with stone hammers crushing the heads of the dead and the wounded, others with knives gashing the bodies, hacking off heads, private parts, and extremities.13 These Indians were not Sitting Bull’s warriors; they were women and old men. About a quarter of an hour after the arrival of Benteen’s battalion, virtually every one of the hundreds of horsemen had turned and galloped down the valley out of sight. The gunfire downstream had become quite heavy, and almost everyone commented on it — even the half-deaf Godfrey. Behind Moylan, the noncoms of M, A, and G took roll call and checked on the condition of their remaining troopers. Dr. Porter tended to the seven or so wounded men who had made it to the summit, only to slip from their mounts.14
The subject of riding toward the gunfire was raised. Benteen spoke against it.15 Custer could take care of himself, everyone agreed. But why hadn’t he sent word to them? What were they supposed to do? Reno and Benteen conferred for a few minutes. Reno made Luther Hare his acting adjutant and then ordered Benteen’s battalion to share its cartridges with his own. (He would later claim that his men were almost out of ammunition, though little or none had been expended on the retreat to the ford.) As Godfrey observed, “The men gave up their ammunition ungraciously.”16 But in the absence of orders, Reno made no effort to “ride to the sound of the guns” or communicate in any way with Custer’s force downstream. Whether because of alcohol, shock, or the simple inability to command, he had not even sent a reconnaissance detachment toward Custer to assess the situation. Instead, he had decided that something else was more important.
Over the next thirty minutes, while half the Seventh Cavalry did almost nothing but listen to the steady roar of gunfire from Custer’s battalion downstream, Reno took a dozen troopers and Dr. Porter down the bluffs to find his closest friend in the regiment, Benny Hodgson. Reno’s adjutant had been reported dead, but the Major wanted to make sure. They found the unmutilated body of the “Jack of Clubs” by the river. Reno recovered Hodgson’s class ring and some other personal items, but a few Indians fired on them, persuading him not to carry the body up the steep incline.
In the half hour Reno was gone, three of Custer’s dismissed Crow scouts — White Man Runs Him, Hairy Moccasin, and Goes Ahead — made their way upstream to Reno’s command.17 They stayed there for less than an hour, then left to go home, to their village on the Yellowstone. They had seen enough of this expedition. Some of the Arikara scouts rode up with their purloined ponies. They, too, left in a few minutes, riding hard on the back trail toward the Powder River depot, where Custer had told them to go.
Upon scaling the hill and finding the pack train still not arrived, Reno sent Hare to hurry it up and bring a few mules with ammo boxes ahead. By plan or serendipity, he picked the right man for the job. The lieutenant was the best horseman outside of Custer in the regiment, and he actually had some experience with hostile Indians, albeit as a child. In Texas, when Hare was three, an Indian had attempted to kidnap him, pulling him onto his pony. Young Luther’s screams had brought his mother running with a gun, and when she had started shooting, the warrior had dropped the boy and disappeared.18
Hare’s horse had been shot in the jaw, so he borrowed the mount of his troop commander, Godfrey, and galloped off. Then Reno ordered Varnum to go down and bury Hodgson. Varnum told him that he would do so as soon as the pack train arrived with the regiment’s few shovels.
Weir’s D Troop had been standing beside their horses for a long while after driving away the Indians on the bluffs to the north. The Captain had been pacing anxiously for several minutes, impatient to do something. When the thunderous crash of two or three distinct volleys could be heard — a signal of distress to some — his Second Lieutenant, Winfield Edgerly, said to him, “We ought to get down there.”
Weir asked his subaltern what he thought they should do.
“Go get Custer, of course,” said Edgerly.
The heavy firing continued, as did Weir’s pacing. His First Sergeant, Michael Martin, approached Edgerly.
The Lieutenant noticed a cloud of dust to the north and pointed it out to the Sergeant. “There must be General Custer. I guess he is getting away with them,” he said.
Martin said, “Yes sir, and I think we ought to go there.”
Edgerly made no answer.19
CAPTAIN GEORGE YATES had been gone
only a few minutes when a group of Indians — about fifty, it looked like — appeared several hundred yards to the north of the ridge where Custer and his three companies were positioned. The General ordered his troopers to dismount and fire on them. The warriors fell back and scattered into the hills. After about fifteen agonizing minutes, Custer could wait for Benteen no longer. Through his field glasses, he could see a growing number of Indians pressuring Yates and his two companies at the ford. He ordered several volleys of rifle fire by the entire battalion to signal Yates to move to the rendezvous point, then led his headquarters staff and Keogh’s right wing down a ravine and up onto another ridge.
Custer’s men moved north along the rise, stopping to fire at the increasing numbers of Indians encroaching from the south and east, who sent up showers of arcing steel-tipped arrows that fell upon the three companies. A few troopers were hit and fell from their mounts.20 As the men neared the south end of the long, high ridge, the left wing could be seen approaching up a coulee that snaked from the river. Indians followed behind them and on their flanks, though they kept their distance.
Yates led his men up out of the shallow coulee and reported several dead, among them Jack Sturgis, the son of the regiment’s commanding officer, shot from his horse at the river. If Custer had been unsure of what to do before, he was not anymore. He could not return to Fort Lincoln with nothing to show for his efforts but the Colonel’s dead son.
There was still no sign of Benteen, and the hundreds of hostiles on almost every flank, especially those riding downstream, represented a serious threat. Custer convened a brief officers’ call and outlined his plan. Keogh and his three companies would hold this high point, both to act as a beacon for Benteen and to protect the General’s rear. Custer would take Yates’s smaller wing, ride down the ridge to its end, and then head west to the river to find the noncombatants. A bold offensive thrust to seize the women and children was now the only chance for success. To dig in or to retreat would signify surrender and renounce any hope of victory.
A Terrible Glory Page 29
