7
General Crook's Problems
“All other Indian wars sink into insignificance compared with this.” —Reuben B. Davenport, Camp Cloud Peak, July 12, 1876, New York Herald, July 16, 1876
“No artillery has been ordered [by General Crook], which most of the officers consider a very unfortunate omission, as, after poor Custer's experience, the passion for charging into Indian villages has somewhat subsided”—Unknown, Camp Cloud Peak, July 16, 1876, Daily Alta California, July 24, 1876
“So far as definite damage to either side is concerned, the advantages thus far are in favor of the savage; and both big and little events have conspired to render the future of operations impossible to foresee.”—Joe Wasson, Camp at South Fork of Tongue River, July 22, 1876, Daily Alta California, August 1, 1876
Writing from Crook's bivouac on Goose Creek on June 27, in the shadow of the Big Horn Mountains, Cloud Peak rising “cold and stern” in the distance, Reuben Davenport expressed concern about the future of the campaign because of goings-on some sixteen hundred miles to the east:
Rumors reach us here, at the outskirts of the populous world, of the influences made to work at Washington to force a negotiation for peace upon the Sioux. To us the phrase has a ludicrous sound, as we have certain knowledge that no people ever were more nerved to desperate war or less open to soft seductions of pacific benevolence than they who await the soldiers of the United States with the bold spirit and prowess which they showed on the 17th of June in the Rosebud Hills.1
It was Davenport's opinion that if the army did not finish the job now, it would only be putting off the inevitable:
Unless [the Sioux and Cheyennes] were injured by the fire of General Crook's command in the battle of that day much more severely than we conceive, it is preposterous to prate of counseling with Sitting Bull or any of his breech-clouted minions. Should this campaign be checked at its beginning…it will merely procrastinate the inevitable taming which the Sioux must undergo….A treaty constructed of expedients will be of no value.2
But tidings of a peace initiative were not the only rumor buzzing about Crook's camp:
A rumor of a battle between the hostile Sioux and the force of cavalry commanded by General Custer, of General Terry's column, has reached us. It came from the Red Cloud Agency, by way of Forts Laramie and Fetterman, brought thither by the friendly Sioux, “Hand,” who last year served the Herald as a courier. He was told the news by a runner from the band of Sitting Bull, who said that many were killed on both sides, and that neither won an advantage.3
Whether this rumor of a battle with Custer was really nothing more than that, which by some uncanny coincidence turned out to be true shortly afterward, is unknown. After all, these types of rumors were nothing new. Back on June 9, there was a report in the New York Herald, based on the tale of an Indian courier two days previous, that Custer's troops had had a big battle with the Sioux and many were killed on both sides. On the other hand, if the rumor reported by Davenport was based in fact, then it was really quite an amazing feat. It would mean that news of the legendary fight somehow reached two forts and Red Cloud Agency and made its way back to Crook's camp all within forty-eight hours.
In addition to these two items, Davenport noted that the battle of the Rosebud was a hot topic around the camp: “Gossip and comparison of observations regarding the engagement of June 17 are not yet done. It has already been fought over a thousand times by the light of the camp fires, and the lines of advance and retreat marked as often in the ashes with rude gravers of cottonwood faggots.”4
According to Robert Strahorn, each cavalry company was exercising its horses “briskly every day,” and a general inspection of the troops was slated for the last day of the month:
On the 30th inst., there will be a regular muster and inspection of the entire force composing the infantry and cavalry battalions, together with all the miscellaneous equipage of the expedition. There will be the usual parade, reviews and evolutions, and to us who have so little to break the monotony while in camp, the affair is looked forward to with no little interest.5
In the first eight days since Crook had returned to his supply base on Goose Creek, the camp had been moved three times “in order to allow the pack and saddle animals new pasture.”6 According to the few Shoshone scouts who remained behind with the command, “Sioux spies” were watching their every movement, hoping to catch camp stragglers unawares. Rumors and gossip, frequent changes of camp, skulking Sioux, pending troop inspections, not to mention the beautiful mountain scenery, were not enough to keep Davenport absorbed. After sitting around for one week, the Herald correspondent was bored: “Idleness in camp is the most irksome experience in the world, as the chroniclers of war have oftentimes remarked, but it is especially so 200 miles from the telegraph and 300 from the railroad. Isolation is nearly as complete here as within the walls of a prison.”7
Trying to find something to fill out his dispatch, Joe Wasson wrote about the boredom:
With the single interval of the big skirmish on Rosebud Creek, June 17…Crook's campaign has been thus far little else than a picnic excursion. The longer I put it off the more difficult it is to start up the scribbling machine….During this tedious interval, various attempts were made to break the monotony. Books were almost unknown in camp, and the newspapers were invariably from twenty days old to one month. Cards became stale amusement.8
Lucky for Davenport and Wasson, Crook was planning “to break the monotony of waiting for supplies” with a little exploring expedition into the unknown recesses of the Big Horn Mountains, “to explore the deep valleys beyond in search of the rumored indications of gold, which scouts and troopers have long been so fond of depicting in their tales.”9 According to Davenport, it was an area “where white men had never entered and where there is no evidence that the Indian had ever gone.”10
Strahorn was looking forward to the trip too; in addition to demonstrating “the existence or non-existence of gold” in the region directly to the west, the “excitement of the chase and the satisfaction of viewing the fresh and novel scenes inside those rocky barriers, promise double rewards for the undertaking.”11
Accompanying Crook were Lieutenant Colonel William Royall, Captains Anson Mills and Andrew Burt, Lieutenants William Carpenter, Walter Schuyler, Henry Lemly, and John Bourke, six to eight packers, plus correspondents Davenport, Strahorn, Finerty, and Wasson. They were all mounted on mules, and each man carried four days' rations of hard bread, bacon, coffee, and sugar in his saddlebag.12
After ascending the nearby heights for two miles on the first of July, Crook's party of adventurers was about one thousand feet above the bivouac. Davenport described the scene:
We looked back at the white spots upon the table land by the stream, which were our canvas dwellings, and they were so small and filled so little space that the army of the Big Horn seemed to have dwindled to less than a battalion. In the vast plain it seemed like a mere fleet of petrels on the ocean.13
Davenport marveled at the sight of Cloud Peak and its surroundings:
We were then probably nearer it than any white man had ever been before us. Travelers have agreed that it is the highest mass of the Big Horn Mountains, but they have never described its peculiar outlines. We, for the first time, realize its great superiority of height and the abruptness and grotesqueness of the contour of the topmost crag. This is the feature by which Cloud Peak should here after be known. Its sister peaks are more symmetrical; no other in the whole range is so ragged and broken in form.14
Wasson was also impressed with the bivouac's namesake:
The summit is bare granite piled on granite again, till it culminates in one grand and rugged elevation known as Cloud Peak—a cluster of rim-like cliffs, as if the remains of an old volcano, and adapted to the business of gathering and holding the clouds. This mountain is over 11,000 feet high.15
The four-day trip was a memorable experience for all who took part, but as far as gold was concerned, there was practically nothing to report. The best Davenport could write was that the packers “found the ‘color of gold,’ a single flake, in the soil on the margin of No Wood Creek.”16
Between the battle of the Rosebud on June 17 and Crook's recommencing of the stalled campaign more than six weeks later, the most noteworthy incident that occurred to any part of his force was the Sibley Scout, a three-day luckless affair in all but the fact that no member of the scouting party was killed. The lone correspondent to accompany Lieutenant Sibley and his specially selected group of men was John F. Finerty, correspondent for the Chicago Times. His thrilling adventure tale was first published in the newspaper on July 26, and was picked up by the New York Herald three days later. Here is Finerty's story of the Sibley Scout, from the Herald:
New York Herald, Saturday, July 29, 1876
SIBLEY'S ESCAPE.
GRAPHIC STORY OF THE FIGHT IN THE BIG HORN RANGE.
A FORTY-FIVE MILE RACE.
WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF THE SCOUTS.
FRANK GROUARD.
Camp Cloud Peak, Wy. T., July 11, 1876.
The day after Crook's party returned from their hunt, the General, expecting the wagon train every moment, determined to send out a reconnoitering party along the base of the mountains, northwest, to discover where the Indians were and to take a general observation of the country. Lieutenant Frederick W. Sibley, of Company E, Second Cavalry, with twenty-five picked men drawn from the regiment, was detailed to accompany the scouts, Frank Grouard and Baptiste Pourier, on the reconnoissance. John Becker, a mule packer, who had some experience as a guide, was also of the party. The scouts had ventured forward some twenty miles two nights before, but saw Indians and returned. An officer came around to my tent on the morning of July 6 and informed me of the plan. He said the party were going in the direction of the Little Big Horn River, northwest, and if no Indians were discovered they would proceed still further. As I was sent out here
TO SEE THE COUNTRY
and not to dry-rot around camps I made up my mind to go with Sibley, who is a fine young officer and a son of the late Colonel Sibley, of Chicago. I obtained Crook's permission, which he appeared rather reluctant to give, and was ready to start when the party mustered at noon. Each of us carried 100 rounds of ammunition and enough provender to last a week. The scouts led us to camp on Big Goose Creek, but thirteen miles from Camp Cloud Peak, where we remained until night. When evening had sufficiently advanced our little party, thirty men, all told, moved forward for the most part on the old Fort C. F. Smith road, Grouard keeping a sharp lookout from every vantage point ahead. The full moon rose upon us by eight o'clock, and we continued our ride along the foot of the mountains until two o'clock that morning. Then we halted at a point seven miles from the Little Big Horn, in Montana, and fully forty miles from our permanent camp, half-corralled our horses and slept until daylight, our pickets
KEEPING WATCH FROM THE BLUFFS
above our encampment.
At half-past four o'clock on the morning of Friday, July 7, we were again in the saddle, pressing on toward where the scouts supposed the Indian village to be. Reaching the foot of a rocky mound Grouard told us to halt while he took observations. By this time we had moved about four miles from our late bivouac. We observed Grouard's movement with some interest, as we knew we were in the enemy's country, and might encounter Indians at any moment. Scarcely had the scout taken a first look from the crest of the ridge when a peculiar motion of his hand summoned Baptiste to his side. Both left their ponies below the bluff and observed the country from between the rocks on the summit. A minute afterward they had mounted their horses, and came galloping back to us. “Quick, for your lives!” cried Grouard. We mounted immediately and followed him. He led us among hills of red sandstone, the footstool of the mountains, and we were obliged to make our horses leap down on rocky ledges as much as six or seven feet to follow his course. Within fifteen minutes we reached a hill sufficiently large to conceal our horses, while those of us who were furnished with glasses—namely, Grouard, Pourier, Lieutenant Sibley and myself—went into the rocks and waited to see what was coming. “What did you see, Frank?” asked Sibley of the scout. “Only Sitting Bull's war party,” Frank replied. “Knew they were up here without coming at all.” We did not have long to wait for the confirmation of his words. Almost at the same instant
GROUPS OF MOUNTED SAVAGES
appeared on every hill north and east of us. Every moment increased their numbers, until they seemed to cover the country far and wide. “They have not seen us yet,” said the scout. “Unless some of them hit upon the trail we are comparatively safe.”
Gradually the right flank of the Indians approached the ground over which we had come that morning and the previous night. We watched their movements with breathless interest. Suddenly an Indian attired in a red blanket halted, looked for a moment at the earth, and began to ride round in a circle. “Now look out,” said Grouard, “that fellow has found our trail and they will be after us in five minutes.”
“What are we going to do?” asked the young officer.
“Well, we have but one chance of escape,” said Grouard; “let us lead our horses into the mountains and try to cross them. Meanwhile
PREPARE FOR THE WORST.”
Then we left the rocks and went down among the soldiers. Lieutenant Sibley said to them: “Men, the Indians have discovered us. We will have to do some fighting. If we can make an honorable escape all together we shall do it. If retreat is impossible let no man surrender.
DIE IN YOUR TRACKS,
for the Indians show no mercy.”
“All right, sir,” said the men, and the whole party followed the scouts and the officer up the steep mountain side, which at that point was steep to a discouraging extent. The Indians must have seen us, they were scarcely more than a mile distant, for hundreds of them had halted and appeared to be in consultation. We continued our retreat until we struck an old Sioux trail on the first ridge. “This path leads to the snowy range,” said Grouard. “If we can reach there without being overtaken or cut off our chances are pretty fair.” Most of the road was rather good and we proceeded in a northwestern direction at a brisk trot. Having gone five miles and seeing no Indians on our track Grouard concluded that they had abandoned the pursuit or else did not care about attacking us in the hills. The horses were
BADLY USED UP
and many of the men were suffering from hunger; so we halted to make some coffee and to allow our animals to recuperate. This occupied about an hour, when we again mounted and set forward. We crossed the main branch of the Tongue River, flowing through the mountains, and were in full view of the snowy range. The same splendid scenery that I had observed when out with Crook's party was visible on every side. The trail led through natural parks, open spaces bordered by rocks and pine trees on the mountain sides. Here the country was comparatively open. Suddenly John Becker, the packer, and a soldier rode up, exclaiming,
THE INDIANS! THE INDIANS!”
Grouard looked over his shoulder and saw some of the red devils riding on our left flank. We had reached a plain on the mountain range, timber on our left, timber on our front, and rocks and timber on our right, at about 200 yards distance. “Keep to the left along the woods,” said the scout. Scarce were the words uttered when from the rocks there came a ringing volley. The Indians had fired upon us, and had struck my horse and two others. Fortunately, the scoundrels fired too low, miscalculating the distance, and not a man was wounded. Our animals, after the manner of American horses, stampeded and nearly
DASHED OUT OUR BRAINS
against the trees on our left. The savages gave us three more volleys, wounding more of our horses, before we got the beasts tied to the timber. We gave them a volley back to keep them in check, and then formed a circular skirmish line in the woods. We could see the Indian leader, dressed in what appeared to be white buckskin, directing the movements of his men. Grouard recognized him. He is a Cheyenne called White Antelope, famed for his enterprise and skill. The Cheyennes and Sioux are firm allies and always fight together. White Antelope led one charge against us, but our fire sent himself and his warriors back in quick time. Then the Indians laid low in the rocks and kept up an incessant fire on our position, filling the trees around us with lead. Not a man of us ever expected to leave that spot alive. They evidently aimed at our horses, thinking that by killing them all means of escape would be cut off from us.
Meanwhile their numbers continued to increase. The open slopes swarmed with Indians, and we could hear their savage, encouraging yells to each other. Cheyennes and Sioux were mixed together and appeared to be in great glee. They had evidently recognized Grouard, whom
THEY MORTALLY HATE,
for they called out to him in Sioux, “Standing Bear (the name they give him), do you think that there are no men but yours in this country?” We reserved our fire until an Indian showed himself. They were prodigal of their ammunition, and fired wildly. But they were fast surrounding us. We had fought them and kept them at bay for two hours, from half-past eleven until half-past one o'clock, but they were twenty to our one, and we knew that unless a special Providence interposed, we could never carry our lives away with us. We were looking Death full in the face, and so close that we could feel his cold breath upon our foreheads and his icy grip upon our hearts.
No SURRENDER!”
was the word passed from man to man. Each one of us would have blown out his own brains rather than fall alive into Indian hands. A disabling wound would have been the same as death. I had often wondered how a man felt when he saw inevitable sudden doom before him. I know it now, for I had no idea of escape, and could not have suffered more if an Indian knife or bullet had pierced my heart. So it was with all of us. It is one thing to face Death in the midst of excitement. It is quite another thing to meet him in almost cold blood, with the prospect of your dishonored carcass being first mutilated and then left to feed the fox and the vulture. After a man once sees the skull and crossbones as our party saw it on the afternoon of July 7 no subsequent glimpse of grim mortality can possibly impress him in the same manner. Well, the eternal shadows were fast closing around us, the bullets were hitting nearer every moment, and
THE INDIAN YELL
was growing stronger and fiercer, when a hand was laid on my shoulder, and a soldier named [Valentine] Rufus, my neighbor on the skirmish line, said, “The rest are retiring. Lieutenant Sibley tells us to do the same.” I quietly withdrew from the friendly pine tree which had kept at least a dozen bullets from making havoc of my body. “Go to your saddle bags and take all your ammunition,” said Sibley as I passed him. “We are going to abandon the horses. The Indians are all around us, and we must take to the rocks on foot. It is
OUR ONLY CHANCE.”
I did as directed, but felt a pang at leaving my noble beast, which was bleeding from a wound in the side. We dared not shoot our horses, for that would discover our movement to the enemy. Grouard advised this proceeding. With a celerity which was only possible to men struggling for life, and to escape a dreadful fate, our party obeyed their orders, and, in Indian file, retired through the wood and fallen trees in our rear toward the east, firing a volley and some scattering shots before we moved out, to make the Indians believe we were still in position. Our horses were evidently visible to the savages—a circumstance that facilitated our escape. We ran for a mile through the forest, waded Tongue River (the headwaters) up to our waists and gained the rocks of the mountain ridge, where no Indian pony could follow us, when we heard five or six scattering volleys in succession. It was the final fire of the Indians before they made their charge at our “late corral” to get our scalps. “We are safe for the present,” said Grouard, with a grim smile, “but let us lose no time in putting more rocks between us and the White Antelope.”17 We followed his advice with a feeling of thankfulness which only men in such trials can ever know. How astonished the Indians must have been when they ran in upon the maimed horses and
DID NOT GET A SINGLE SCALP!
Even under such circumstances as we were placed in we had a little laugh at their expense. But we had escaped one danger only to encounter another. Fully forty-five miles of mountain, rock and forest lay between us and Crook's camp. We could not carry a single particle of food, and had to throw away everything superfluous in the way of clothing. With at least 500 Indians behind us and uncounted precipices before us we found our rifles and 100 rounds of ammunition each a sufficient load to carry. The brave Grouard, the ablest of scouts, conducted our retreat, and we marched, climbed and tumbled over places that at other times would have been impossible to us, until midnight. Then we halted under an immense pile of rocks on the top of a mountain, and there witnessed one of the most terrible wind storms that can be imagined. Long before dawn we were again stumbling through the rocks and forest, and at daylight reached
THE TREMENDOUS CANYON
cut in the mountain by what is called the eastern fork of Tongue River. Most of our men were too exhausted to make the descent of the canyon, so Grouard led us through an open valley down by the river, on the left bank, for two miles as hard as we could go, for if discovered there by the savages we could only halt and die together. Fortune favored us, and we made the right bank of the stream unobserved, being then about twenty-five miles from Crook's headquarters. In our front were the plains of the eastern slope, full of hostile Indians, while our only avenue of escape was to climb over the tremendous precipice which formed the right side of the canyon. But the dauntless Grouard was equal to the crisis. He scaled that gigantic wall diagonally, and led us along a mere squirrel path not more than a foot wide with an abyss 500 feet below, and a sheer wall of rock 200 feet high above us. After an hour's Herculean toil we gained the crest and saw the point of the mountain, about twenty miles distant, where lay our camp. This, as may be imagined, was a blissful vision, but we were
HALF DEAD WITH FATIGUE,
and some of us were almost famine stricken. Yet the indefatigable Grouard would not stop until we reached the eastern foot hills, where we made a dive into the valley to obtain water, our only refreshment on that hard, rugged road. Scarcely had we slaked our thirst when Grouard led us up the hills again, and we had barely reached the timber when, around the rocks at the point we had doubled shortly before, appeared another strong party of Sioux. This made us desperate. Every man examined his rifle and looked to his ammunition. We all felt that life would be too dearly purchased by further flight, and following the example of
THE BRAVE YOUNG SIBLEY
and the two gallant scouts, we took up our position among the rocks on a knoll we had reached, determined to sell our lives as dearly as possible. “Finerty,” said Sibley to me, “we are in hard luck, but damn them, we'll show the red scoundrels how white men can die. Boys (turning to the soldiers), we have a good position; let every shot dispose of an Indian.”
At that moment not a man among us felt any inclination to get away. Desperation and revenge had usurped the place of the animal instinct to preserve our lives. In such moments mind is superior to matter and soul to the nerves.
But we were spared the ordeal. The Sioux failed to observe us, as, very fortunately, they did not advance high enough to find our trail, but kept eastward on the lower branch of Tongue River. Thoroughly worn out we all fell asleep, excepting the tireless scouts, and awoke at dark somewhat refreshed. Not a man of us, Sioux or no Sioux, could endure the mountain journey longer, so we took our thirty jaded, hunted lives in our hands and struck along the valley, actually wading Big Goose Creek up to our armpits, at three o'clock Sunday morning, the water being cold as the mountain snow could make it. Two men, Sergeant [Oscar R.] Cornwell and Private [Harry G.] Collins, were too exhausted to cross, so they hid in the brush until we sent two companies of cavalry after them when we reached camp. After crossing Big Goose we were nearly a dozen miles from our camp on Little Goose Creek, and you may judge how badly we were used up when it took four hours to make six miles. The rocks had skinned our feet and starvation had weakened our frames. Only a few were vigorous enough to push on. At five o'clock we saw
A FEW MORE INDIANS,
but we took no pains to conceal ourselves further. They evidently mistook us for a camp outguard, and, being only a handful, kept away. At seven o'clock we met some cavalry out hunting and we sent into camp for horses, as most of the men could walk no further. Captain DeWees and Rawolle, of the Second Cavalry, came out to us with led horses, and we reached camp at ten o'clock Sunday morning [July 9] amid congratulations from every side. The men who remained at Goose Creek were brought in some hours later. Thus, after passing through incredible danger and great privation, every man of our thirty, unwounded as by a miracle, found himself safe in Camp Cloud Peak, surrounded by comrades. For conducting this retreat with such consummate success Frank Grouard deserves the highest place among the scouts of the American continent.
The oldest of our Indian fighters, including Colonel Royall, concur in saying that escape from danger so imminent and appalling in a manner so successful
IS UNPARALLELED,
in the history of Indian warfare. It was fortunate for the party that an officer possessing the coolness and good sense of Lieutenant Sibley commanded it. A rash, confused, bull-headed leader would have disregarded Grouard and brought ruin upon us all.
We found on getting in that General Crook was up in the mountains on another hunting expedition. A messenger was sent for him at once, but did not find him. News reached our camp by the scout, Louis Richard, from Fort Fetterman, on Monday, to the effect that General Custer, with five companies of the Seventh Cavalry,
HAD BEEN MASSACRED
in an Indian village not far from where Crook encountered the Sioux on June 17.18 This led Colonel Royall, who feared that Crook might be waylaid in the mountains by Indians, to send four companies of cavalry to his rescue. They met the General coming back with some officers and packers, having killed about twenty elk—a great boon to the camp, as we had been living chiefly on bacon for a month. Crook said very little when he heard o f our adventure and Custer's disaster, but
HE KEPT UP A BIG THINKING.
J. F. Finerty.
About three and a half weeks after Sibley's misadventure with the Sioux and Cheyennes, a party of Shoshone and Ute scouts was examining the area where the fight took place and came across the bodies of two Indians likely killed at the time. Davenport recorded the incident in a dispatch dated August 4:
Seemingly as if by instinct a Ute, who rode into the ravine, stumbled upon a putrid corpse in a thicket of wild cherry. The resounding blood-curdling yell which then arose cannot be imagined by the reader nor described by me. It was such as many who have perused Cooper have dreamed of in a shuddering nightmare but have never heard. A sickening stench attracted the Utes to a narrow gully, and there they beheld another mass of mortality. The body first found was wrapped in costly cerements, bedecked with ornaments and accompanied by the full paraphernalia of the mighty and revered warrior. The headdress and other portions of the costume betokened that the dead once bore the rank of a high chief. The friendly Indians stripped it and tore off the rotting scalp, and then cut it barbarously with their knives. The second body was evidently that of a common Sioux soldier. It was covered by only a blanket and a breechclout. The death wounds of both were easily found and had been caused by bullets….Despite the fact that the trophies [scalps and accoutrements] they had secured were not won by their own valor the Utes and Snakes performed a hideous war dance around them, not ceasing their horrible minstrelsy until long after midnight.19
The body of the “revered warrior” mentioned by Davenport may have been that of White Antelope (also known as High Bear/Tall Bear). He had been shot in the head and instantly killed during the clash with Sibley's scouting party.20
Other than providing a great story, the Sibley Scout was a complete disaster; the entire party of thirty men was almost killed, and they lost all of their horses and possessions, retaining only the clothes on their backs and their firearms. Davenport, suggesting that Sibley's party had been followed from the moment they left camp, wryly noted: “The handful of men [had] left our camp in broad daylight [on July 6], with a strange absence of precaution, for which somebody superior to Sibley in rank is responsible, it being usual to disguise such movements under the shelter of darkness.”21
The next bit of excitement occurred on Tuesday, July 11, when 213 Shoshones, under Chief Washakie, joined Crook at his bivouac. In a dispatch dated July 23, Davenport described the distinguished Indian leader:
Washakie, the chief of all the Northern Shoshones, is a man of handsome features and imposing stature. His form is massive, but symmetrical. His face in profile resembles that of [Henry Ward] Beecher, the emotionalist; in front it resembles that of Spotted Tail, the chief of the Brules, and his eyes have the same bright and intelligent twinkle, mingled with gleams of benevolent humor. Contact with civilization seems to have ripened his originally noble nature. He is a true friend of the white man, and one who makes his acquaintance cannot help believing in a kinship of mind between him and paler sages of the more fortunate Caucasian race….His hair is silvered with the hoary dust of sixty years,22 but he looks as young as if he had found in the Shoshone Sierra Mountains the fountain which Ponce de Leon sought in vain in the land of flowers.23
Davenport also noted that the Shoshones brought along quite a few of their women: “Twenty of the warriors are accompanied by their squaws, and there are three maidens who will probably bestow themselves upon the bravest trio of young braves, so proven in battle.”24
The following day, Crook's camp received three unexpected visitors from Colonel Gibbon's command at the confluence of the Big Horn and Yellowstone rivers:
Three couriers, James Bell, William Evans, and Benjamin Stewart, arrived in this camp this morning from General Terry's camp on the Yellowstone, near the mouth of the Big Horn River [one hundred miles to the north]. They started on the 9th and made the most daring ride on record, through the stronghold of the Sioux, in three nights and two days. They brought a dispatch from General Terry to General Crook recounting the details of the massacre of General Custer and his command on the 25th and Major Reno's fight and rescue.25
Lieutenant Bourke, Crook's aide, recorded Terry's July 9 dispatch in his journal:
On the 25th ult. General Custer, crossing over from the valley of the Rosebud to the Little Big Horn found on the last named stream an enormous Indian village. He had with him his whole Regiment and a strong detachment of scouts. At the time of the discovery of the Indians he had but eight companies close at hand but with these he attacked in two detachments, one, under himself, of five companies; the other under Major Reno, of three companies. The attacks of these two detachments were made at points nearly, if not quite, three miles apart. I greatly regret to say that Custer, and every officer and man under his immediate command, were killed….Two hundred and sixty-eight officers, men and civilians were killed and there were fifty-two wounded….It is estimated that not less than twenty-five hundred warriors were in the fight. Besides the lodges in the village, a vast number of temporary shelters were found, showing that many Indians were present there, besides those who properly belonged to the village….This morning, I received from General Sheridan a copy of your dispatch to him, giving an account of your fight of the 17th ultimo, and as it gives me information of your position at that time, I hope that the bearers of this may be able to find your train and reach you. The great and, to me, wholly unexpected strength which the Indians have developed seems to make it important and indeed necessary that we should unite or at least act in close cooperation. In my ignorance of your present position and of the position of the Indians, I am unable to propose a plan for this, but if you will devise one and communicate it to me, I will follow it….I hope that it is unnecessary for me to say that should our forces unite, even in my own Department, I shall assume nothing by reason of my seniority, but shall be prepared to cooperate with you in the most cordial and hearty manner, leaving you entirely free to pursue your own course. I am most anxious to assist you in any way that promises to bring the campaign to a favorable and speedy conclusion.26
Clearly, Terry did not want to be in charge when it came to fighting the Sioux. It was the reason he petitioned Grant to reinstate Custer as a member of the Dakota Column, and it was the reason he was now so willing to relinquish command and planning to Crook.27 Crook's response to Terry, written July 16, was probably not phrased exactly the way the latter general wished to hear it: “If you think the interests of the service will be advanced by combination I will most cheerfully serve under you”28 (italics mine). It appears that Terry tried to pass off responsibility for the campaign to Crook, who was only too happy to pass it right back to Terry. It was as if neither man wanted the responsibility at this particular time. From Crook's perspective, first there was the failed winter campaign, then a massive confrontation/standstill at the Rosebud, which now began to look more like one heck of a close call considering what happened to Custer's command eight days later,29 and most recently Sibley's hapless and near-fatal scouting expedition. The thought must have passed through Crook's mind that events were not supposed to be playing out this way. Trying to get inside the general's head, Davenport speculated:
He seems to have formed his estimate of the Sioux from his experience of the Apaches, and the surprise which he suffered on June 17 was the first awakening from this delusion. Nothing is more certain than that Apaches are insignificant and contemptible in comparison with the Sioux.30
As alluded to by Davenport, it was not likely that Crook's experience fighting Apaches was going to be very useful in his battles against the Sioux. The Apaches were not considered horse Indians and fought in relatively small groups or raiding parties. The Sioux (and their Cheyenne allies) were capable of gathering in much greater numbers and were expert horsemen. According to Davenport, Crook failed to make himself familiar with his new enemy:
Although a stranger to the Sioux at the beginning of his administration in this department, General Crook, as well as I can learn, consulted none of his subordinates regarding their knowledge of the enemy whom he was about to fight. Many of these gallant gentlemen had been constantly engaged in dealing with the Sioux in their military capacity since 1866.31
Late night “visits” from the Sioux and Cheyennes kept the pickets extra busy and extra vigilant. Still, the cunning warriors managed to steal a couple of horses, as one correspondent noted in his dispatch on July 12:
Our camp has been sadly harassed during the past week, and it is simply wonderful how we have managed to escape injury and loss so far. For four or five consecutive nights the savages have sent over detachments to pay us midnight visits, invariably coming around at a time and in a manner alarmingly suggestive of “churchyards yawning.” The first night they were noticed by infantry pickets, who saw a dozen or so of them crawling stealthily in the direction of the horses; but a few hurried shots scattered them. They came again, however, and it was only last night they succeeded in getting away with a couple of cavalry horses. The bold fellows crept within the picket lines of the cavalry camp, cut the lariats with scalping knives, took a pair of patent hobbles from one of the animals, and left a hair lariat of their own behind as a memento. The place was visited this morning by a few of us, and we found a couple of Indian scalping knives, and a few insignificant trinkets belonging to the savages, on the spot.
On the night of the 10th they made a desperate effort to smoke us out, by firing the prairie grass, and succeeded in doing so, causing us the loss of two mess-chests and a few other heavy and immovable articles. Our companies had formed a hollow square around the camp and were sleeping on their arms, and the savages, finding it impossible to force [their way] through the camp, had recourse to the fire and smoke process. Early this morning we had to beat a hasty retreat out of the burning grass to save [our] quarters.32
One day after receiving Terry's letter, the long-awaited wagon train made its welcome appearance:
The wagon train arrived on the 13th inst. from Fort Fetterman, with fresh supplies for sixty days33 for 1,800 men and five additional companies of infantry [219 men and 11 officers]34 as follows: Companies B, C, F, and I of the Fourteenth, from Camp Douglas, Utah Territory, and Company G, of the Fourth Infantry, from Fort Sanders, Wyoming.35
Crook had been planning to resume his pursuit of the Sioux upon the arrival of the infantry reinforcements (his current force then consisted of fifteen companies of cavalry and five of infantry, totaling some one thousand men), but now, as reported by Wasson, Terry's message of dread had caused him to change the program. Writing from the South Fork of the Tongue River, the veteran correspondent explained the details in his July 22 dispatch to the Daily Alta California:
Crook got a despatch from General Terry on July 12, which prompted him to send for the eight companies of the Fifth Cavalry [about four hundred men] under Colonel [Wesley] Merritt, near Laramie, hence instead of Crook starting on the war path on the return of the wagons, he has delayed accordingly….Orders were already issued for the packtrain to be all ready, and but for Terry's almost imploring despatch, this command would have been making more history of some kind or other ere this.36
In a letter to Assistant Adjutant General Richard Drum on June 12, Crook wrote that, despite being out numbered three to one, he had “no doubt” of his ability “to whip” the Sioux with his present force, however, “the victory would be barren of results.” Instead, it would be “better to defer the attack until I can get the Fifth here, and then end the campaign with one crushing blow.”37
Crook thought the eight companies of cavalry reinforcements would reach him by the end of July.38 However, as luck would have it, just as Merritt was about to start for Crook's camp on Goose Creek, some 800 Indians, mostly Cheyennes, including perhaps 150 warriors, fled from Red Cloud Agency to join the hostiles.39 Sheridan had no choice but to redirect Merritt's cavalry to cut them off, an order that resulted in the famous skirmish at Warbonnet Creek. Lieutenant Charles King's stirring account of that skirmish, including a most fortuitous incident in the life of William F. “Buffalo Bill” Cody, showman and scout, was published in the New York Herald on July 23, 1876, and follows here:
New York Herald, Sunday, July 23, 1876
DETAILS OF COLONEL MERRITT'S CHARGE ON THE CHEYENNES.
A SHORT STRUGGLE-THE INDIANS, UTTERLY SURPRISED, RUSH BACK IN DISORDER.
Fort Laramie, July 22, 1876.
At noon on Saturday, the 15th inst., the Fifth Cavalry, under General Merritt, were bivouacked on Rawhide Creek, eighteen miles from Fort Laramie, to which point they were ordered in from the Cheyenne River, 100 miles to the north, en route to join Crook. A courier suddenly appeared from the [Red Cloud] agency with despatches stating that 800 Cheyennes were making preparations to leave at once for the Northwest to join Sitting Bull; that he was to throw himself across their line of march in time to intercept them. Merritt had to make eighty miles before they could make thirty, but off he went, and Sunday night [July 16] found him with seven companies [totaling about 335 men and 16 officers ] hiding under the bluffs on War Bonnet or Hat Creek, square up their front.
THE INDIANS APPEAR.
At daybreak Monday morning Lieutenant King commanding the outposts to the southeast, sent in word that the war parties were coming over the ridge from the direction of the reservation. Joining him at the advanced post, General Merritt found the report correct. The command noiselessly mounted and was massed under the bluffs, a quarter of a mile to the rear, out of sight of the Indians. At the same time
THE WAGON TRAIN
was some six miles off to the southwest, slowly approaching, and the Indians were closely watching it, but keeping concealed from the view of its guard. The two companies of infantry with it were riding in the wagons. At six o'clock the Indians were swarming all along the ridge to the southeast, some three miles away. Suddenly a party of eight or ten warriors came dashing down a ravine which led directly under the hill where Lieutenant King, with his six men, were watching.
WAITING FOR SCALPS.
The object was as suddenly apparent. Two horsemen, unconscious of the proximity of the foe, had ventured out ahead of the train and were making rapidly for the creek. They were couriers with despatches to the command. The Indians, utterly ignorant of the rapid move of the Fifth, were simply bent on jumping on the couriers and getting their scalps. “Buffalo Bill,” chief of the scouts, lay on the hill with King, and instantly sprang to his horse down off the hill.
“All of you keep out of sight,” said the General. “Mount now, and when the word is given off with you.”
Then, turning to the officer of the picket, he said: “Watch them, King. Give the word when you are ready.”
Crouching behind the little butte, Bill and his party of two scouts and six soldiers were breathlessly waiting; half way up was the General with all of his staff. The Lieutenant lay at the crest watching the rapidly advancing foe. Down they came nearer and nearer, the sun flashing from their brilliantly painted bodies and their polished ornaments. Then, just as they are dashing by the front of the hill, King shouts, “Now, lads, in with you.”
With a rush and yell the troopers are hurled upon the Indians' flank, not fifty yards away.
THE FIRST REDSKIN SHOT.
General Merritt springs up to see the attack just as a tall Indian reeled in his saddle, shot by Corporal [Thomas W.] Wilkinson, of K Company. An answering bullet whistled by the General's head, when King—still on the watch—sung out, “Here they come by the dozens.”
The reserve Indians came swarming down from the ridge to the rescue. Company K was instantly ordered to the front. But before it appeared from behind the bluff the Indians, emboldened by the rush of their friends to the rescue, turned savagely on Buffalo Bill and the little party at the outpost.
CODY KILLS YELLOW HAND.
The latter sprang from their horses and met the daring charge with a volley. Yellow Hand [Yellow Hair], a young Cheyenne brave, came foremost, singling Bill as a foeman worthy of his steel. Cody coolly knelt, and, taking deliberate aim, sent his bullet through the chief's leg and into his horse's head. Down went the two, and, before his friends could reach him, a second shot from Bill's rifle laid the redskin low.
A GRAND SURPRISE.
On came the others, bent on annihilating the little band that opposed them, when, to their amazement, a long blue line popped up in their very front, and K Company, with Captain [Julius W.] Mason at its head, dashed at them. Leaving their dead, the Cheyennes scattered back, helter skelter, to the ridge, but their fire was wild and their stand a short one. Company after company debouched from behind the bluff, and, utterly disheartened, the Indians rushed for the reservation. General Merritt pursued them till night, when the whole command went into camp at the agency.
THE INDIAN LOSSES.
The Indians left their dead and admit having more wounded. They also lost six ponies. Their friends at Red Cloud say they never dreamed the Fifth Cavalry could get there in time to head them off. The regiment sustained no loss. It arrived at Laramie yesterday and leaves for Crook's camp tomorrow.
Unstated by King was the fact that Cody took Yellow Hair's scalp and, holding it high for everyone to see, declared it was, “The first scalp for Custer.”40 Cody went on to perform the feat numerous times in his stage show and later in the arena, expanding somewhat on the details, which had been transformed into a deadly duel, but that's show business. In 1890, King, who retired in 1879 at the rank of captain, wrote an account of the 1876 campaign, aptly titled Campaigning with Crook. In this latter version, Corporal Wilkinson's shot misses its mark (unlike the newspaper story) as the bullet merely “whistles by” the tall Indian at whom he fired.41 Modern accounts of the skirmish at Warbonnet Creek invariably state that Yellow Hair was the sole casualty, but that is not what was reported in the newspapers at the time. According to a clipping in the Cheyenne Sun, reprinted in the Weekly Rocky Mountain News on July 26, three Cheyennes were killed in the skirmish. According to James Hastings, the agent at Red Cloud Agency, the Indians told him “that some of their number had been killed.”42 Lastly, Surgeon Robert B. Grimes stated in a letter to his brother, “We afterward found other dead Indians—four in all. They were in full war dress, feathers, bonnets, and all the savage paraphernalia.”43 The problem is that Grimes was not there,44 and the other reports are unsubstantiated. On the other hand, Merritt's official report, written one day after the incident, only mentions one Indian killed.45 Merritt's report was likely correct.
In conversation with a correspondent a week after the death of Yellow Hair, one of the officers who witnessed the action at Warbonnet Creek said the soldiers were “mightily amused” at the way the “Indians had scattered when the cavalry made a charge on them,” and the “whole affair was exactly like a play which he was watching from a proscenium box.”46 As for Yellow Hair, if the report was even half-accurate, he was armed to the teeth:
From him as he lay dead on the field, was taken, first, a Winchester repeating rifle of the latest and most improved pattern, with a full supply of ammunition for it; second, the newest style of Smith & Wesson navy revolver, with ammunition; a Colt's old-style navy revolver, with ammunition; a heavy knife, shield, and spear.47
With the situation at Red Cloud Agency now under control, Merritt was back on the road to Crook on July 23. Five days later he was joined by two additional companies of the Fifth Cavalry, making ten in all, a total of 550 men, not including officers.48
For Crook, Merritt's arrival could not come soon enough. In a dispatch on July 16, he had informed Sheridan:
It is my intention to move out after the hostiles as soon as Merritt gets here with the Fifth….I am getting anxious about Merritt's ability to reach me soon, as the grass is getting very dry and the Indians are liable to burn it any day.49
The same day that Merritt departed Red Cloud Agency, Wasson was putting together his next dispatch for the New York Tribune. Commenting on the supposed whereabouts of the hostiles he wrote:
The Sioux are either scattered already or are in force on the headwaters of the Little Big Horn and Ash Creek, near the Montana line, not more than 40 miles distant….A small party of Snake scouts will be sent out tonight and endeavor definitely to locate the Sioux. This reconnoissance will require two or three days' time.50
Davenport was busy writing, too, musing over the fact that the Sioux may have escaped into the Big Horn Mountains and still taking little jabs at Crook:
If the Sioux retreat into the mountains the campaign will probably be prolonged into the winter, and artillery will be necessary in the field. General Crook, however, has a peculiar prejudice against the utility of this arm of the service against the Indians, although in the battle of the Rosebud it certainly would have been of great avail.51
However, despite his concerns and criticisms, Davenport still held out hope that the coming weeks would see the fortunes of war shift in favor of the Big Horn and Yellowstone Expedition: “General Crook has now the benefit of experience and an accession of force to enable him to lead on to victory, and there is reason to hope that the month of August will witness a decided triumph, provided that the Sioux are still disposed to try the fortune of battle.”52
If, as Wasson speculated, the Sioux had scattered into small parties or, as Davenport suggested, withdrew into the mountains, then the chance of a major victory against a large village was virtually nonexistent. In the meantime, Crook would wait for Merritt and the Fifth Cavalry. In reviewing Crook's situation a few weeks later, Wasson reflected:
In view of the unsatisfactory results on the Rosebud, June 17, the Custer affair on June 25, and the grand clamor on the outside, Crook had no alternative left but to await the arrival of the Fifth Cavalry, and take the chances of the enemy breaking camp, scattering, etc….Had he attacked the enemy with the force in hand, and not gained a decisive result, the outside world would have bounced him for inordinate rashness and ambition.53
Winchester ‘76
Daily Colorado Chieftain, July 26, 1876
“Where,” asked an Omaha reporter of an officer in Crook's command, “do the hostile Indians get all their firearms and ammunition?” The officer's reply was:
“The agency people say they don't furnish them any, and the traders claim that they don't. They got some from Custer's command the other day; but the most of their arms are repeating Winchester rifles, and the troops are not furnished with that pattern. Now if they don't get them at the agencies or of travelers, it must be that the Indians manufacture them themselves, and the Winchester Company should prosecute them for infringing on their patent.”
On that note, let us give the final word to Crook. According to one of his subalterns, the general, responding to the criticism that he was not doing enough to defeat Sitting Bull, stated:
I could fight and satisfy this clamor, but what would be the results? A lot of my good people killed, and a few dead Indians. But I am not out here to make a reputation or satisfy a foolish personal pride. I am here to do my duty to others, and to knock the bottom out of these Sioux when I do hit them.54
The “foolish…pride” comment was clearly a reference to Custer and helps date this remark to sometime after July 10, which is the date two couriers, Louis Richard and Ben Arnold, arrived at Crook's camp on Goose Creek with dispatches from Fort Fetterman announcing the battle of the Little Big Horn.55