The Last Days of George Armstrong Custer (25 page)

Dr. Henry R. Porter, the acting assistant surgeon, approached Reno and stated that the troops were quite demoralized by the disorganized retreat.

Major Marcus Reno replied with indignation, “That was a cavalry charge, sir!”

 

Twelve

Battle Ridge

While Reno's command had been running for their lives from the hostiles, the 125-man battalion led by Captain Frederick Benteen had reconnoitered ten grueling miles along ridges and ravines of broken terrain without observing anything of interest. Benteen considered his mission a wild-goose chase and finally decided to return to the main trail and follow the Custer and Reno battalions. He maintained a leisurely pace, watching the dust kicked up by Captain McDougall and the pack train to their right.

Benteen called a halt of perhaps twenty minutes to let the horses drink from a muddy water hole when his command first heard the faint sound of firing—Reno's men engaged in the valley fight. Benteen's officers wanted to move out immediately, especially Captain Tom Weir, Custer's friend, who even started down the trail. But the captain ignored these requests for some time, until the pack train reached them and the thirsty mules dashed for the water. Only then did Benteen mount the battalion and ride away at a slow trot.

Three miles later they encountered Sergeant Daniel Kanipe, who carried orders from Custer to Captain McDougall, which read in part to “bring the pack train straight across to high ground—if packs get loose don't stop to fix them, cut them off. Come quick. Big Indian camp.” Kanipe said he had heard Custer order the men to hold their horses, that “there are plenty of them down there for us all.”

Kanipe hollered, “We've got them, boys,” as he rode past Benteen's command.

Most of the battalion took that to mean that Custer had engaged the hostiles and the fight was on. Still, Benteen refused to hurry. About a mile farther, unwittingly within a mile or so of where Reno's men had taken refuge on the hilltop, Benteen again halted to water the horses.

It was there that Private John Martin, Custer's orderly, who was riding a wounded horse, arrived from the north. Martin presented Benteen a message that had been hastily scribbled by adjutant William W. Cooke. This note would be Custer's last known order.

The message read: “Benteen. Come on. Big village. be Quick. bring packs. W. W. Cooke. P. bring pacs.”

Martin told Benteen that Custer had exclaimed: “Hurrah, boys, we've got them!” Martin could have been confused by the unfamiliar English language, or Custer may have believed that victory was at hand. Martin also told Benteen that the village was the largest he had ever seen and that Reno's troops had charged and were killing everybody, which was not true.

Frederick Benteen discussed the message with his subordinate officers, wondering if there was any need to hurry when Martin had indicated that the Indians were probably fleeing. And, Benteen disdained, how did Custer expect him to hurry if he was ordered to bring along the lumbering pack train?

The positive statements by Martin, however, may have contributed to Benteen's subsequent inaction when he dawdled along the trail instead of obeying orders to “be Quick.” Incidentally, Benteen later referred to Martin as a “thick-headed, dull-witted Italian, just as much cut out for a cavalryman as he was for a king.”

It was not as if a lack of courage on Benteen's part could be blamed for his inaction. He had distinguished himself in fierce combat during the Civil War and bravely fought at Washita against the Cheyenne.

In fact, at Washita Benteen became the subject of a story written by George Armstrong Custer in his book,
My Life on the Plains or, Personal Experiences with Indians
. Custer related the story of an unavoidable duel between Benteen and an Indian boy. The incident cast considerable favor upon the humanitarian aspects of the captain.

Before the Battle of the Washita, Custer had issued orders for his troops to avoid killing anyone but warriors. When the charge had been sounded, Captain Benteen rode with the lead squadron. Upon entering Black Kettle's village, Benteen was boldly confronted by a mounted Indian whom Custer described as “scarcely fourteen years of age.” The youngster, armed with a pistol, appeared to invite Benteen to engage in a personal duel. Benteen admirably resisted the boy's entreaties and instead made “peace signs” in an attempt to encourage the boy to surrender.

This youthful warrior, however, refused to obey those gestures and spurred his horse toward Benteen while discharging his revolver. The bullet whistled past the captain's head. The boy closed the distance, again firing with the same result. Benteen maintained his discipline as a third round was fired at him, this one passing through the neck of his horse and dumping Benteen onto the snowy ground.

Still, Benteen made one final appeal for his antagonist to surrender. The determined boy answered by leveling his revolver for another shot. Regretfully, Benteen had no other choice but to shoot and kill this brave young warrior.

Later, a trooper retrieved from the boy's saddle a small pair of moccasins, elaborately ornamented with beads, and presented the trophy to Benteen. Custer wrote: “These (the moccasins) furnished the link of evidence by which we subsequently ascertained who the young chieftain was—a title which was justly his, both by blood and bearing.” George Bent, the half-white, half-Indian son of trader William Bent, who had married Black Kettle's niece, identified this young duelist as a twenty-one-year-old named Blue Horse, a nephew of Chief Black Kettle.

Tribute must be paid to the courage and discipline of Captain Benteen, whose restraint could have cost him his life—as well as to his respect for the courage of the warrior who may have looked younger than he actually was when he bravely rode out to defend his village.

But now Frederick Benteen demonstrated too much restraint. He and his men heard firing in the distance and had confirmation from the messengers that Custer and Reno were engaged in battle. Orders had arrived for Benteen to “come on” and to “be Quick.” Yet he saw no urgency and continued to lollygag along the trail.

Boston Custer, who had been with the pack train, came riding up, leaving plumes of dust behind him. He waved to the men in Benteen's battalion as he rode past, hurrying to catch up with his brothers at the front. Bos, as he was called, had been hired as a citizen guide at one hundred dollars a month for the Little Bighorn Campaign—regardless of the fact that he could not recognize one trail from another. He was well known to the members of the Seventh Cavalry, having accompanied his brother as a forage master for the Black Hills Expedition of 1874.

Bos had written to his mother on June 21, 1876, from camp at the confluence of the Yellowstone and Rosebud: “My Darling Mother—The mail leaves to-morrow. I have no news to write. I am feeling first-rate. Armstrong takes the whole command, and starts up the Sweet Briar on an Indian trail with the full hope and belief of overhauling them—which I think he will, with a little hard riding.… I hope to catch one or two Indian ponies with a buffalo robe for [brother] Nev, but he must not be disappointed if I don't.… Now don't give yourself any trouble at all as all will be well.… Goodbye my darling Mother.”

Bos would try to catch up to not only his two brothers but also his brother-in-law Jimmy Calhoun and his eighteen-year-old nephew, Harry Armstrong “Autie” Reed. Autie, the son of David and Ann Reed—Custer's sister, who was his trusted confidante and surrogate mother—had been named after his famous uncle and had come out west to spend the summer. He had initially been hired as a cattle herder for the campaign but was presently without an assignment and had attached himself to the headquarters group.

It was a little after 4:00
P.M.
and remarkably to Reno's men on the hilltop the Indians broke contact with them and could be noticed excitedly whooping and hollering as they rode away toward the north. The troopers miraculously had been afforded an unexpected respite from the constant barrage of bullets and arrows, other than a handful of Indians who had remained to harass them. The soldiers had been under the impression that the Indians would press the issue and attempt to overrun their flimsy position.

The troops were too involved in their own preservation, however, to consider the reason for this sudden departure. They were not aware that another force of Sioux and Cheyenne who had assembled from the village and pony herd had encountered Custer's command at the riverbank some four miles away and that their tormentors were hurrying to join that fray.

Perhaps Custer had noticed only Reno's initial skirmisher line, not the retreat, and believed that Reno would be fighting his way toward the village as ordered. The terrain did not afford a clear view of the entire valley. Regardless, instead of retreating, George Armstrong Custer had chosen to approach the village with his battalion from the east.

Earlier, Custer had moved his command down Cedar Coulee to upper Medicine Tail Coulee, pausing for an undetermined amount of time to adjust equipment as well as to allow Benteen and the pack train additional time to arrive. This coulee sloped from the northern ridge about three hundred yards to the river at the southern end of the Indian village, which was on the opposite bank.

Orderly John Martin, who had looked back as he rode off, claimed that his last sight of Custer's command was Company E, the Gray Horse Troop, named for the color of their mounts, commanded by Lieutenant Algernon E. “Fresh” Smith, galloping down Medicine Tail Coulee, heading toward the center of the village. This detachment was undoubtedly personally led by Custer along with battalion commander Captain George Yates. Custer had a propensity for leading the charge or, possibly in this case, gaining important reconnaissance information by approaching the village to observe with his own eyes the probability of attacking or checking on Reno's progress.

Even if Custer was aware of the fate of Reno's battalion, he may have believed that he could attack the village with only his battalion and prevail. After all, the Sioux and Cheyenne were no more ferocious, skillful, or cunning than the Confederate officers and men with whom he had engaged and more often than not defeated even when greatly outnumbered. He had faced overwhelming numbers of warriors at Washita and had completed his mission and escaped with minimal casualties. His experience against the Plains tribes had given him respect for his adversary, but he was not in the least bit intimidated.

Then again, it could be that Custer understood that Reno's retreat had placed him in a precarious position and instead of charging he should prudently seek a place to fall back and regroup. He had never hesitated to lead his men away from the battlefield to spare them, if necessary. He had broken contact with Jeb Stuart at Gettysburg after driving the Confederates back into their original position—and understood that to press the issue would have been costly in casualties.

Captain Myles Keogh with companies C, I, and L would have by this time ascended the slope to higher ground, with orders to ride toward the northern end of the village and cut off retreat in that direction or attack down convenient coulees at that end. Custer's action of heading down the Medicine Tail Coulee also may have been intended as merely a feint or decoy to distract the attention of the enemy from Keogh's battalion or even to allow Reno's men a better chance to save themselves.

Custer must have been frustrated that he had not received any word from Reno. The major should have reported his progress, position, and intentions by that time. No matter, Custer would have expected Reno's battalion to somehow make it into the village. Orders were orders, and Custer could not imagine that Reno would simply disregard his mission and flee.

The Indians who had routed Major Reno's troops and chased them to the hilltop could now concentrate on this new threat posed by Custer's battalion—joined by their brethren who had been tending the pony herd or been out hunting. The troopers under Custer and Yates were met with fierce resistance from warriors hidden in the bushes along the river as they approached the village, certainly more opposition than they had expected.

It would be possible that small war parties of warriors rode to elevated positions along neighboring ravines, firing their weapons and trying their best to discourage the cavalrymen from entering the village. The women and children were packing up to leave, and their lives and well-being would have been a priority to protect before mounting any full-scale assault.

In a very short time, Custer and the Medicine Tail Coulee detachment were receiving enough fire to force them to initiate a pullback and head for higher ground until reinforcements arrived. Custer would have ordered these troops to cover the movements of each unit with measured rifle fire as they executed a disciplined retreat.

There has been speculation that Custer had been struck down on this assault down Medicine Tail Coulee. Although no definitive evidence exists to prove or disprove this theory, dead or alive Custer would have been transported by his troopers to the high bluffs. Had he been killed, Captain Keogh as senior officer would have assumed command and adjutant Cooke would have moved to Keogh's side. Cooke's body, however, was found with Custer on Custer Hill—the northern edge of the ridge—while Keogh was quite some distance away to the southeast. So there was a good chance that Custer remained alive and in charge throughout this forced withdrawal and subsequent actions.

In spite of such speculation, this was not the way that the battle was supposed to unfold according to Custer's well-designed battle plan. Custer had expected to face little resistance from a village in turmoil as his men approached in a surprise attack down the various convenient ravines.

What had become of Reno? It was now clearly evident to Custer, if it had not been before, that the major and his battalion had not struck the village as ordered.