“The soldiers of Reno's command testify that the Indians fought well and bravely; and in the opinion of the cavalry officers who took part in the Little Big Horn battle the Sioux are the best irregular cavalry in the world. Sioux Indians also fought on foot hand-to-hand with the soldiers, and not infrequently were the victors.”—Unknown, In Camp on the Yellowstone, July 4, 1876, New York Tribune, July 22, 1876
“The repulse of Crook, the disaster of Reno, and the massacre of Custer and his command are creating something of a panic in War Department circles, and some fear is expressed for our divided commands on the Plains.”—[Signed] Moultrie, “The Tactics of the Sioux,” New York Daily Graphic, July 8, 1876
“To the coolness and bravery and foresight of Captain Benteen, of the Seventh Cavalry, at the beginning of Reno's engagement, is due the salvation of Reno and the greater part of his command. He now occupies the very enviable position of idol in the esteem of those who were engaged with him and came out with their lives.”—A sergeant in the Sixth Infantry, Yellowstone Depot, July 15, 1876, New York Herald, August 1, 1876
“When I saw Custer march out with his regiment I said there is men enough to whip the whole Sioux Nation. I thought so, Custer thought so, and so did every officer in the army, and there is no use therefore in blaming Custer, for every officer in the army in his position would have acted in the same manner he did.”—Major James Brisbin, quoted by James J. O'Kelly, In Camp on the Yellowstone, August 3, 1876, New York Herald, August 11, 1876
“We were well on our way [to General Terry's bivouac], and every one's thoughts were turned toward the distant Big Horn, where the fates would mete out to each his predestined fortune.”—James J. O'Kelly, On Board the steamer Carroll en route to the Rosebud, late July 1876, New York Herald, August 7, 1876
“The country is most uninviting, and all the romance of this Yellowstone region fades like the baseless fabric of a vision when viewed from a military camp, with its prospect of long and fatiguing marches through the sand hills and sage brush under the burning beams of a sun that scorches the very marrow of the bones, with alkali water for drink, and this sweet season of sleep made hideous by the howling of coyotes or the more terrible yell of the Indian savage.”—James J. O'Kelly, Camp on the Rosebud, August 6, 1876, New York Herald, August 18, 1876
“There is no use trying to conceal the fact that the victory of the Sioux, so terrible in its completeness, has lowered the morale of our troops;…they no longer look upon victory as certain.”
—James J. O'Kelly, Camp on the Rosebud, August 6, 1876, New York Herald, August 18, 1876
Sitting on the banks of the Rosebud River I am reminded of the drawings of that stream published in some of the New York illustrated journals. In print it is a magnificent stream; here, in reality, it has the proportions of a ditch, with mud puddles of alkali water seen here and there in depressions of its bank; so it is with many other things in this region. Distance and imagination lend them importance.”1
Such were the thoughts of James J. O'Kelly, the thirty-one-year-old correspondent for the New York Herald. At the time, O'Kelly was about one week into his new assignment (not including travel time to Terry's camp on the Yellowstone), reporting on the Terry-Gibbon campaign; he did not know it yet, but by the end of the campaign he would become one of the first, if not the first, to critically investigate the Little Big Horn controversy—that is, which individual or individuals, if any, were responsible for the disaster—a controversy that still exists.
About one month prior to O'Kelly's arrival, the steamer Far West had transported the wounded, about forty in number, back to Fort Lincoln, and General Terry had set up camp on the north side of the Yellowstone at the mouth of the Big Horn River. In a dispatch dated July 4, a correspondent from the New York Tribune explained that the “camp is situated on the north side…because the expedition would be shielded by its waters from the attacks of the hostile Sioux occupying the region south of the river.”2 How times had changed. For the last three months, Gibbon's command had been posted on the north side of the Yellowstone to keep the Sioux from crossing over. Back in the middle of May he even tried (unsuccessfully) to get his command across the river in order to attack their village. Now, some seven weeks later, the river was being used as a protective barrier from those same Indians.
On the night of July 7, a small party of Crows brought the Terry Gibbon camp its first news of Crook's battle on the Rosebud some three weeks earlier.3 Captain Walter Clifford, Seventh Infantry, thinking that Crook and Terry were soon to combine their commands, had high hopes for the future:
We are awaiting the return of the Far West. If it has been decided to renew the campaign we can muster a force of about 1,000 infantry and cavalry.…[Then we will] cross the river, march up the Rosebud, effect a junction with Crook, and the next time the Sioux offer battle clean them up so effectually that, as the soldiers say, it will take “four of them to make a shadow.”4
Two days later, Clifford noted that Herendeen was sent on a mission to the Crows: “Scout Herendeen, the best one in the outfit, has gone today (July 9) to the Crow camp, about fifty miles above here [toward present Billings], and will return in about four days.”5
A party of about sixty Crows arrived at Terry's camp on July 15, so it seems probable that Herendeen brought them in.6 O'Kelly described the Crows as “physically a fine lot of men, and in their wild costumes strikingly picturesque.”7
Four days later, on July 19, a shot fired from within the camp brought investigation and sad news:
[Captain Lewis Thompson of the Second Cavalry] shot himself through the head. He had been suffering severely for some time past from sickness, the seeds of which were laid at the time of his confinement in a Southern prison during the war. Some years ago he had applied to be put on the retired list. Lately he had been on the sick list. We buried him on the bluffs to the west of the camp with due military honors. The funeral service was impressively read by Lieutenant Maguire,8 and Col. Gibbon made a few appropriate remarks.9
There was a bit of excitement the next morning, too, when a party of Sioux attempted a bold horse stealing raid: “Early on the morning of the 20th we were startled by some heavy firing toward the camp of the 7th Cavalry, and it was ascertained that a war party of 30 Sioux had been near, and that some of their number had ridden into camp for the purpose of stealing horses.”10
Then, five days later, the troops were happily surprised by the return of William Evans and Benjamin Stewart, two of the three privates who had volunteered to deliver dispatches to General Crook on July 9, and who had “long since [been] given up for dead.”11 They were accompanied by four Crow scouts who had been sent on the same mission July 17. The third trooper, James Bell, “remained with Gen. Crook, as his horse had given out.”12 Evans and Stewart informed Terry that Crook's command was camped on Goose Creek, a tributary of the Tongue, and also reported that “three miles from Custer's battleground…they saw 30 dead Indians.” It was naturally assumed that these were casualties from the fight on the Little Big Horn who had died shortly afterward. They also reported seeing Indian trails “leading toward the Rosebud, with heavy smoke in that direction.”13
On July 26, Terry, responding to reports that some of Custer's men were captured alive and tortured, composed a brief note to the editor of the Helena Herald in Montana:
Please publish the fact that there is not the slightest evidence that any one belonging to General Custer's command was captured alive and tortured by the Sioux. On the contrary, everything leads to the belief that every officer and man was killed while gallantly fighting. I deem it proper to make this statement to contradict the harrowing accounts given in some of the papers in regard to tortured prisoners.14
Terry's letter was certainly a case of damage control, intended to alleviate public concern and to promote the image that everyone who died did so “while gallantly fighting.”
During the last few days of July, the command marched downriver from the Big Horn to the Rosebud, where it arrived just in time to welcome twelve fresh companies of infantry on the first two days of August: first to arrive were six companies of the Twenty-second, 229 men (including fifteen officers),15 on the steamer Carroll, followed by six companies of the Fifth Infantry, 300 men,16 on the steamer Durfee. Also on board the latter boat were two three-inch Rodman guns and some replacement horses for the Seventh Cavalry. The commanding officers were Lieutenant Colonel Elwell Otis, Twenty-second Infantry, and Colonel Nelson Miles, Fifth Infantry, respectively. Reporter O'Kelly had been a traveling companion of the former group. One of the first things that struck him was the look of the men at the bivouac:
The absence of regularity of costume among the troops gives the whole outfit, to use a technical term, a romance that would not easily associate with regular troops. Both the officers and men set the regulations at naught, and dress very much as their fancy or their purses direct. Some are content with the regulation pants and blue shirt; others, more stylish, afford white corduroy breeches and tall riding boots, with any kind of shirts. But the true dandy dons a buckskin shirt with an immense quantity of fringe dangling about in the wind, which gives him the wild, adventurous look that suits the Plains so well.17
As for their entertainment, O'Kelly observed: “Horse racing is the only form of amusement within reach, and we have daily two or three races on an excellent level grass course which is behind the camp.”18
But clothing styles and horse racing were minor asides. O'Kelly wanted to know about the battle of the Little Big Horn, and by the end of his second day in camp, he had already interviewed the two surviving senior officers of the Seventh Cavalry and prepared his first report on the battle:
Considerable annoyance is felt by the officers who participated in Custer's fight, on account of the incorrect or garbled accounts published in some papers. They claim that a good many officers wrote a good deal about the fight who know nothing of it, and that they have perhaps unwittingly done their comrades serious injustice. Under these circumstances I thought it well to interview both Major Reno and Captain Benteen, who, by general consent, were the persons who could give the fullest account of the whole affair.19
Noting Reno's “swarthy complexion,” strong physique and “frankness of manner,” O'Kelly found himself favorably impressed with the Illinois-born officer:
Reno looks every inch a soldier, and judging from his appearance and temperament would be the last man to leave a comrade in a tight place without making an effort to save him. He is very much annoyed at the unfair criticism passed on the surviving officers of the Seventh by the people who know nothing of the battle.20
That last comment was specifically directed at railroad engineer Thomas L. Rosser, a former major general in the Confederate army and former classmate of Custer's at West Point, who was now one of Custer's staunchest defenders in death. Rosser, basing his opinion on early newspaper reports of the battle, had written a letter that somewhat incriminated Reno in the death of Custer. The letter first appeared in a Minneapolis-St. Paul newspaper on July 8, and was reprinted in the New York Herald on July 11. In part, Rosser's letter said:
I am surprised and deeply mortified to see that our neighbor, the P. P. and T. [the Pioneer Press and Tribune], in its morning issue, had seen fit to adjudge the true, brave and heroic Custer as harshly as to attribute his late terrible disaster with the Sioux Indians to reckless indiscretion. From what I can gather from General Terry's instructions to General Custer it is quite evident that it was expected, if not expressed, that Custer should attack the savages wherever found, and as to the manner of attack, of course that was left to the discretion and judgment of General Custer, and viewing the circumstances of this fatal attack from my standpoint, I fail to see anything very rash in the planning of it or reckless in its attempted execution. On the contrary, I feel that Custer would have succeeded had Reno, with all the reserve of seven companies, passed through and joined Custer after the first repulse. It is not safe at this distance, and in the absence of full details, to criticize too closely the conduct of any officer of this command, but I think it quite certain that General Custer had agreed with Reno upon a place of junction in case of the repulse of either or both of the detachments, and instead of an effort being made by Reno for such a junction, as soon as he encountered heavy resistance he took refuge in the hills and abandoned Custer and his gallant comrades to their fate.21
“[T]he conduct of any officer of this command” was most certainly a reference to Reno. “I don't usually pay attention to what is written about me,” Reno told O'Kelly, “but in this case I felt compelled to reply, as much on behalf of the other officers of the Seventh as in my own.”22 O'Kelly offered to print Reno's response to Rosser in the pages of the New York Herald, to which Reno immediately agreed.23 Reno's letter was dated “Camp on the Yellowstone, July 30, 1876,” and stated in part:
When I read the first part of your letter…my thought was that your motive had only the object of a defense of a personal friend—a gallant soldier against whom you fought; but after reading all of it I could no longer look upon it as the tribute of a generous enemy, since, through me, you had attacked as brave officers as ever served a government, and with the same recklessness and ignorance of circumstances as Custer is charged with in his attacks upon the hostile Indians. Both charges—the one made against him and the one made by you against us—are equally untrue.24
Regarding Rosser's claim that Custer and Reno had agreed upon a place of junction if they were repulsed, Reno declared:
My battalion was to the left and rear when we approached the village, but was brought to the front by Custer. The only official orders I had from him were about five miles from the village, when Lieutenant Cooke, the Regimental Adjutant, gave me his orders in these words: “Custer says to move at as rapid a gait as you think prudent, and to charge afterwards, and you will be supported by the whole outfit.” No mention of any plan, no thought of a junction, only the usual orders to the advance guard to attack by the charge.…As we approached near their village they came out in overwhelming numbers, and soon the small command would have been surrounded on all sides, to prevent which I mounted and charged through them to a position I could hold with the few men I had.
You see by this I was the advance and the first to be engaged and draw fire, and was consequently the command to be supported, and not the one from which support could be expected. All I know of Custer from the time he ordered me to attack till I saw him buried is that he did not follow my trail, but kept on his side of the river.…The Indians made Custer over confident by appearing to be stampeded, and undoubtedly, when he arrived at the ford, expecting to go with ease through their village, he rode into an ambuscade of at least 2,000 reds. My getting the command of the seven companies was not the result of any order or prearranged plan.25
In conversation with the Herald reporter, Reno declared that if he “had not made the charge for the bluffs my command would undoubtedly have been annihilated as Custer's was.” He believed that Custer's first mistake was underestimating the strength of the Indians, which Reno estimated anywhere from two thousand five hundred to five thousand warriors. “The Indians are the best light cavalry in the world,” he declared. “I have seen pretty nearly all of them, and I do not except even the Cossacks.”26
Describing the Seventh's brief foray in the direction Custer was supposed to have ridden, Reno stated:
[T]he whole command moved forward, proceeding about a mile and a half. During this time chopping shots were heard. So numerous were the masses of Indians encountered that the command was obliged to dismount and fight on foot, retiring to the point which had first been selected. It was a crest of hills which formed a depression, in which the pack mules and horses were herded, and men were put in these crests, sheltering themselves as far as they could behind a growth of sage brush. This was about half-past five p.m., and we had just taken up position when the Indians came on us in thousands. The fight was maintained in this position until night. About nine p.m. the Indians withdrew, and immediately the command was put to work making such rifle pits as the scanty implements at our command enabled us to do—mostly hunting knives, plates and canteens, a few axes and three spades. We were left undisturbed until half-past two on the morning of the 26th, when two sharp rifle cracks opened one of the heaviest fires I have ever witnessed, and which continued until halfpast nine a.m., when the fury of the attack subdued. In the meantime they fired into the herd through the opening of the valley from a hill which was beyond the range of my carbines.27
As with Reno, O'Kelly's initial impression of Benteen was quite positive, although, because of the captain's gray hair, he thought Benteen was older. In fact, both Reno and Benteen were born in 1834. Characterizing Benteen, O'Kelly noted his newly acquired high standing among the Little Big Horn survivors and pointed out that his appearance was deceptive for anyone trying to prejudge his battlefield prowess: “[Benteen] has covered himself with glory in the fight, and is popularly known as the Saviour of the Seventh…and from the kindly, gentle expression of his face, one would scarcely expect so much decision of character as he has shown on the field of battle.”28
Assuming O'Kelly recorded Benteen's words accurately, much of what he had to say was a little confusing, his sentences twisting about without any apparent rhyme or reason. Perhaps Benteen had something to hide about his actions that day, perhaps not, but if obfuscation was his game, Benteen was an adept player.
I was sent with my battalion to the left to a line of bluffs about five miles off, with instructions to look for Indians and see what was to be seen, and if I saw nothing there to go on, and when I had satisfied myself that it was useless to go further in that direction to rejoin the main trail. After proceeding through a rough and difficult country, very tiring on the horses, and seeing nothing, and wishing to save the horses unnecessary fatigue, I decided to return to the main trail. Before I had proceeded a mile in the direction of the bluffs I was overtaken by the Chief Trumpeter [Henry Voss] and the Sergeant Major [William H. Sharrow] with instructions from General Custer to use my own discretion, and in case I should find any trace of Indians at once to notify General Custer.29
Having marched rapidly and passed the line of bluffs on the left bank of a branch of the Little Big Horn River, which made into the main stream about two and a half miles above the ford crossed by Major Reno's command, as ordered, I continued my march in the same direction. The whole time occupied in this march was about an hour and a half. As I was anxious to regain the main command, as there were no signs of Indians, I then decided to rejoin the main trail,30 as the country before me was mostly of the same character as that I had already passed over, without valley and without water, and offering no inducement for the Indians. No valleys were visible, not even the valley where the fight took place, until my command struck the river. About three miles from the point where Reno crossed the ford I met a sergeant [Daniel A. Kanipe, Company C] bringing orders to the commanding officer of the rear guard, Captain [Thomas M.] McDougal[l], Company B, to hurry up the pack trains. A mile further I was met by my trumpeter [John Martin, Company H], bringing a written order from Lieutenant Cooke, the adjutant of the regiment, to this effect: “Benteen, come on; big village; be quick; bring packs.” And a postscript saying, “Bring packs.” A mile or a mile and a half further on, I first came in sight of the valley and Little Big Horn. About twelve or fifteen dismounted men were fighting on the plains with Indians, charging and recharging them. This body numbered about 900 at this time. Major Reno's mounted party were retiring across the river to the bluffs. I did not recognize till later what part of the command this was, but [it] was clear they had been beaten. I then marched my command in line to their succor.
On reaching the bluff I reported to Major Reno and first learned that the command had been separated and that Custer was not in that part of the field, and no one of Reno's command was able to inform me of the whereabouts of General Custer. While the command was awaiting the arrival of the pack mules a company was sent forward in the direction supposed to have been taken by Custer. After proceeding about a mile they were attacked and driven back. During this time I heard no heavy firing, and there was nothing to indicate that a heavy fight was going on, and I believe that at this time Custer's immediate command had been annihilated.31
Over the next several weeks, O'Kelly quietly gathered details about the Little Big Horn affair, mostly through camp talk. Soon a picture began to emerge that laid the blame of Custer's death on two of his highest ranking subalterns. Putting together these details in mid-September, O'Kelly's findings, which were for the most part strongly worded insinuations, were published in the New York Herald on September 20. This follow-up article stood in stark contrast to its predecessor and is printed in full in the interlude later in this chapter titled “A full and searching investigation.”
On August 5, O'Kelly reported on the death of scout William E. “Yank” Brockmeyer, killed three days earlier in a skirmish with some Sioux Indians near the mouth of the Powder River. Three companies of infantry had taken the steamer Far West to that point to retrieve several tons of forage that had been left behind on a previous trip upriver. They found the forage easily enough, some of which had been destroyed by the Indians, but they were shortly under the watchful eyes of the Sioux. Major Orlando Moore quickly introduced them to his twelve-pounder Napoleon gun, which had the desired effect and pushed the warriors back out of range. For some unknown reason, perhaps nothing more than an adventurous spirit, Brockmeyer, in company with Dave Campbell, the pilot of the Far West, and another scout named George W. Morgan, decided to ride downriver a short distance and have a look around. It was a foolish move. A band of Indians attempted to cut them off, which led to another shot from the Napoleon gun. This time it was not enough, and a few of the warriors refused to be deterred. Hearing about the story afterward, O'Kelly informed his readers of the fatal outcome:
[One of the Indians] rode up to within six yards of his victim [Brockmeyer] to deliver his fire, and such was the speed of his pony that he was unable to stop him in time to get off. The wounded man's comrades opened fire on the Indian, killing him. The wounded scout died about three hours after receiving his hurt, notwithstanding that every effort was made to save him by Dr. Porter, to whose gallantry at the fight on the Little Big Horn so many of our wounded men were indebted to for their lives.32
Upon hearing news of the Indians at Powder River, Reno and Miles had asked Terry's consent to head down that way:
The continued presence of Indians at Powder River has induced Major Reno and Colonel Miles to request permission to go down with their commands to see what force of Indians may be thereabout, and endeavor to inflict some punishment on them. The detachment would then cross over by the old trail from Powder River to the Rosebud to rejoin the main command. General Terry, however, has had enough of this kind of experiment and refused to divide up his command.33
James J. O'Kelly's Views on Indians and Indian Policy
New York Herald, August 7, 1876
(Probably written in late July, on board the steamer Carroll, en route to Terry's camp near the junction of the Rosebud and Yellowstone rivers.)
[The Indian's] code of morality is to be a great warrior. He despises every one who is not a brave. The peace policy has proved and will continue to prove an absurd failure. The Indian will not lay down his tomahawk and his rifle unless he is compelled to do so by force, and all pretended success in inducing him to is either the result of idiocy or knavery.…The present war gives Congress and the government an opportunity to deal in a sensible, practical manner with the Indian question, and set it at rest forever. The Indian should no longer be treated as a privileged person; he should be made responsible to the law for his acts, punished or rewarded according to his desserts. General Sheridan long ago asked to have the control of Red Cloud, Spotted Tail and Standing Rock agencies handed over to the military authorities to enable him to deal with the hostile Sioux, as it is notorious that it is through these agencies they obtained the rifles and bullets which killed Custer and his gallant comrades; yet this reasonable demand has never been attended to. It has been treated with contempt by the powerful Indian Ring, that most corrupt and infamous outcome of our political system.
Instead, with the arrival of Otis and Miles, it was now time for the entire force to renew operations, and, so far as Terry was concerned, that meant marching up the Rosebud:
Orders were issued last evening [August 2] to begin the forward march. The two steamers [Josephine and Far West] were detained to ferry the command across the Yellowstone to the mouth of the Rosebud. Colonel Gibbon's command, which is known here as the Montana Men, were assigned to the advance guard and began crossing the river this morning.34
O'Kelly considered Gibbon's movement to the south side of the Yellowstone as the start of a “new campaign.” Conversely, he pointed out that some of the veterans thought the Sioux campaign was, in fact, already over:
Whether they are destined to reap many laurels is a question upon which much difference of opinion exists. The old campaigners assert that we will have no fight and that the forces of Sitting Bull and his chiefs will disperse in small parties, making it impossible to encounter them.…Unless the Indians want to fight there will be no battle of consequence.35
The ferrying of troops across the river continued for several days. On August 6, Major Brisbin reviewed the Second Cavalry. O'Kelly described them as “decidedly weather-beaten” and “travel-stained,” explaining that they have been in the field since March.36 The following morning, Reno reviewed the Seventh Cavalry, which, according to O'Kelly, then numbered 418 men. He commented:
“Some of the companies are very strong, while those that suffered most severely in the Custer fight are merely the skeletons of their former selves, and it was not considered advisable to fill them up immediately with new recruits.”37
O'Kelly also noted the camp talk among the Seventh's officers who believed they were entitled to brevet rank:
There is a pretty general feeling that the surviving officers who were in the fight should receive brevet rank, in acknowledgment of their constancy and gallantry in one of the most terrible Indian battles that has ever taken place. The brevet ranks cost the country nothing, but it is esteemed by the soldiers as a mark of approval and commendation given by the country as a reward for service performed.38
One issue that struck a raw nerve with many survivors of the Seventh Cavalry was the disregard that three of the detached officers paid to Sheridan's directive to rejoin their regiment in the field:
One company in the Seventh, that of Captain Benteen, has two officers, Captains [Henry] Jackson and [James M.] Bell, who became captains by the death of their comrades in the Custer fight, who have not joined this command, though General Sheridan's order commanding them to immediately report to their regiment was issued on the 12th of July. Lieutenant [Charles W.] Larned also gained the position of first lieutenant, and has not come on. It is rumored he has received an appointment as professor at West Point, which in a few years will give the rank of lieutenant colonel, while men who have been in active service for twenty years remain simple captains with honorable scars. This appointment has caused a good deal of comment. It is thought here that it was due to honor and decency for every officer who wears the uniform of the Seventh to have immediately reported for service in the field, unless detained by what is known in the service as “legitimate detail,” but the failure of the three officers named in General Sheridan's order of the 12th to put in an appearance has given rise to a good deal of unfavorable comment, and the fighting men of the command speak of them as “coffee coolers,” which is the frontier term of contempt for stay-at-home soldiers.39
On the other hand, Lieutenant Ernest A. Garlington, who had just graduated from West Point that June, “threw up a four months' leave of absence and reported promptly for duty. He has in consequence become a favorite, and is voted one of the right sort.”40 Garlington filled the vacancy left by the death of Lieutenant Donald McIntosh of Company G.41
On one point in particular, O'Kelly's copy was inconsistent. He described the Second Cavalry as being in “good spirits and condition,” but then followed this up with the fact that “there has been a good deal of sickness among the men and some tendency to scurvy” due to a lack of vegetables and fresh meat. Describing the soldiers' diet, he wrote:
No attempt was made by the Commissary Department to send the troops vegetables, although the river affords every facility. During the campaign they have had to subsist chiefly on pork and crackers, a diet that would, in a short time, make havoc with the stomach of an ostrich. During the present expedition we are promised one ration of fresh meat every four days, for which we are expected to be thankful.42
In addition to dietary issues, the men were struggling with the intense heat. From the St. Paul Pioneer Press: [The temperature has been] “hot beyond precedent: the mercury indicates from 108° to 115° in the shade, according to locality. Much apprehension is felt as to the effect of marching in such heat.”43
Extreme heat and an inadequate menu aside, the troops were all ferried across the river by August 7, and the time for horse racing had come to an end:
Preparations are at last complete, and we march at daybreak tomorrow, the route being up the Rosebud, and the objective point the Indians, wherever and whenever they may be found. Primarily we expect to effect a junction with Gen. Crook, but no deviation from the main object will be made for that purpose.44
O'Kelly added:
The plan of the new campaign is that we will move along the valley of the Rosebud as far as the nature of the ground will permit, then cross over to the valley of the Little Big Horn and endeavor to form a junction with General Crook, if that General will permit us and Mr. Sitting Bull throws no insurmountable obstacles in the way.45
In another dispatch (dated August 7), he noted the latest smoke-fueled speculation on the eve of departure:
Smoky, fog-like clouds hang over the hills and the whole sky is obscured by a dark-brown haze. If the conjectures as to the cause of this phenomenon are correct we cannot be far from the Indians and may succeed in striking them in their retreat, though unless they are willing to fight us it will be a very difficult matter to compel them to combat.46
Reveille was set for 3 a.m., and “Forward” at 5 a.m.47 This time out the newly refitted Terry-Gibbon column consisted of troops from the Seventh Cavalry, Second Cavalry, Fifth Infantry, Sixth Infantry, Seventh Infantry, and Twenty-second Infantry. In addition there were three pieces of artillery and about 225 wagons carrying thirty-five days' rations and reduced forage for the animals.
O'Kelly broke down the command as follows, based on the official totals received directly from General Terry:
Infantry: officers, 55; men, 922.
Cavalry: officers, 26; men 574.
Battery: officers, 2; men 40.
Scouts: 75.
Total: officers, 83; men, 1,611.48
As the “Army of the Yellowstone” marched south up the Rosebud on August 8, it left behind one company of the Seventeenth Infantry and 120 dismounted recruits from the Seventh Cavalry, under command of Captain Louis H. Sanger, Seventeenth Infantry, to protect the newly constructed supply depot, “humorously christened ‘Fort Beans.’”49 For added firepower, the makeshift garrison also had three Gatling guns. O'Kelly described the depot as “a breastwork of barrels filled with sand.”50
Closing out his August 7 dispatch, the special correspondent for the New York Tribune simply stated:
Our adieux have been made with those who stay behind, and their last Godspeeds have been said. Last letters have been written home.…The command is in excellent spirits, and no fears need be entertained of its fate when communications cease.51
INTERLUDE
The Finale to the Reno-Rosser Feud
Reno's letter to Rosser (mentioned earlier in this chapter) was published in the New York Herald on August 8. Rosser's reply, written one week later, was published August 22. If his rejoinder was any indication, the ex-Confederate officer was quite the romantic. His letter was filled with flowery and chivalric language such as “a soldier's honor and reputation,” “valiant band,” “gallant knight,” “bold dash,” “worthy command,” “noble friend,” “honored grave,” and “patriots and lovers of heroic deeds.”52 Seemingly forgetting how Custer's cavalry had chased him from the field at Tom's Brook some twelve years earlier, Rosser had no qualms about criticizing Reno's actions at the Little Big Horn. After starting off his second letter by telling Reno that he had not intended any “disparagement” in his original letter, Rosser went on to disparage Reno a second time, and this time it was even more blatant:
The errors which I believe you committed in that engagement were attributed to what I believed to have been a lack of judgment and a want of experience in Indian warfare, as I understand you have seen but little service with your regiment on the plains; and, in looking over your plan of attack, I could see no good reason for your gently pushing a line of skirmishers down toward a mounted force of Indians when it was expected that you would attack vigorously with your entire command. The fact of your dismounting and taking to the point of timber to which you refer, was an acknowledgment of weakness, if not defeat, and this, too, when your loss was little or nothing. This was an act which I condemned. You had an open field for cavalry operations, and I believe that if you had remained in the saddle and charged boldly into the village, the shock upon the Indians would have been so great that they would have been compelled to withdraw their attacking force from Custer, who, when relieved, could have pushed his command through to open ground, where he could have maneuvered his command, and thus greatly have increased his chances for success.
Rosser, likely influenced by early fanciful reports of the battle and its terrain features, imagined that Custer had been trapped in a canyon:
You must remember that your situation was very different from the one in which Custer was placed. You had an open field in which you could handle your command, while Custer was buried in a deep ravine or canyon, and, as he supposed, stealthily advancing upon an unsuspecting foe, but was, by the nature of the ground, helpless when assaulted on all sides by the Indians in the hills above him.53
He also brought up the timing issue that has since become the focus of many students of the battle:
You do not state, but I have the impression from some of the accounts sent in from the field, that you began your skirmish with the Indians about half past twelve to one o'clock, and that you recrossed the river and occupied the bluff about two o'clock. Now, to the reporter of the New York Herald you state that you made a reconnoissance in the direction of Custer's trail about five o'clock. The Indians appear to have withdrawn from your front as soon as you recrossed the river. Why, then, could you not have gone in pursuit of Custer earlier? When you did go you say that you heard “chopping shots.” Do you not think that, even then, by a bold dash at the Indians, you might have saved a portion, at least, of Custer's perishing command? I have no desire whatever of casting a shadow over you or any one else, that the name of Custer may shine brighter; and, if my criticisms of your conduct in this engagement are unmerited, I deeply regret it, for from the beginning I have never had a thought of doing you or any member of your worthy command an injury, and, on the other hand, perhaps I can never benefit my noble friend who on this field fell a victim to a few combinations of unlucky mishaps.54
Rosser's last line would make for a great book title: The Battle of the Little Big Horn: A few combinations of unlucky mishaps.
INTERLUDE
“A full and searching investigation”
“Major Reno says that Custer and all of his men were probably dead when he joined forces with Captain Benteen on the north bank of the creek. He does not consider himself any more responsible for the killing of Custer and his men than a man in New York would have been. On the other hand, he thinks that either the want of a definite plan of battle or the mistake of General Custer placed the attacking detachment in serious and to some extent unnecessary jeopardy.”
—From an interview with Major Reno, Washington, DC, November 17, 1877, New York Herald, November 19, 1877
“History records no instance of a battle where a commanding officer was abandoned to death by his subordinates, as Custer was at the battle of the Little Big Horn, without an investigation into the cause of the disaster. Shall the blood of Custer and his brave men cry for justice forever? I trust not, for the honor of the American people. Let us have justice, no matter where it strikes.”
—Frederick Whittaker, Mount Vernon, New York, November 21, 1877, New York Herald, November 24, 1877
One of the great tragedies related to the battle of the Little Big Horn was the untimely death of Thomas B. Weir, the captain of Company D, in New York City on December 9, 1876. Undoubtedly Weir took to the grave a host of valuable details concerning the battle, which, had he lived, he may have eventually shared with the public. In January 1879, at the time of the Reno Court of Inquiry, the New York Herald remarked:
Action has at last been taken in this serious matter; but, unfortunately, not before the most important witness—the man who saw with his own eyes the last sad scenes of the Custer massacre—had passed from this world forever.55
The Reno Court of Inquiry
Tired of being publicly accused of cowardice and blamed for Custer's defeat at the battle of the Little Big Horn, Major Reno had requested a court of inquiry to clear his name. The trial was held in January and February 1879, during which eighteen soldiers (including Reno) and five civilians offered their testimony, much of which was most certainly restrained to protect the image of the regiment. The court's conclusion was that although some of Reno's subordinates “did more for the safety of the command by brilliant displays of courage than did Major Reno,” still, there was no particular reason to censure his actions.56 According to then-Lieutenant Jesse M. Lee, who served as the court recorder at Reno's inquiry, Colonel Wesley Merritt had told him at the time, “We have politely cursed him (Reno) and whitewashed it over.”57
The Herald then stated that, had the government acted promptly and investigated the battle of the Little Big Horn in 1876, “the gallant Captain Weir would have settled forever the question of responsibility in the terrible drama enacted on the Little Big Horn.”58 That is quite a teaser. What did Weir know? What could he have said? He must have had some very strong opinions, not to mention cold hard facts. Fortunately, thanks to correspondent James J. O'Kelly, we can get a glimpse at what Weir may have revealed if he had had the chance. O'Kelly had spent much of August and September in the camps of the Seventh Cavalry and, in addition to “confidential communications” made to him by Reno's “brother officers,” he soaked up the camp gossip. The result was the first newspaper article of its kind to appear about the much-debated battle. And there can be but little doubt that Weir was prominent among those “brother officers.”59
Here is O'Kelly's investigative and fiery article from the New York Herald in September 1876.60 It is followed by an editorial that speaks further to the charges against Major Reno.
New York Herald, Thursday, September 21, 1876
A REVIEW OF CUSTER'S LAST FIGHT ON THE LITTLE BIG HORN.
THE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE DISASTER.
WAS IT RASHNESS OF THE DEAD OR PRUDENCE OF THE LIVING?
SEVEN COMPANIES INACTIVE WHILE CUSTER WAS SLAUGHTERED.
THE DEAD HERO'S LONGING EYES.
Fort Lincoln, D. T., Sept. 20, 1876, via Bismarck, Sept. 20, 1876.
Now that the campaign is over no time should be lost in clearing up the causes which led to the great disaster that will ever be remembered in our history. No confidence can be placed in the official report of the battle of the 25th of June. It is full of inaccuracies, and has been read with something approaching astonishment by the men who took part in the fright [fight?]. If the public wants to know the whole truth about
THE CUSTER MASSACRE.
there must be a full and searching investigation where the witnesses will have to answer on their oath. If such investigation should be held startling revelations may be looked for. The story of Custer's fight and death is still unwritten. Your correspondent has gleaned some important facts which must compel further investigations, but the officers of the regiment will give no information unless they are compelled to do so. From the day the Herald correspondent arrived in the camp of the Seventh Cavalry he sedulously sought such information as would enable him to place this grave question in its true light, and fix in a manner that should have no room for cavil or evasion, the responsibility of the disaster that beset our arms on the 25th of June. The task was not an easy one. It was beset with difficulties that could not be met and overcome in the ordinary way.
RETICENCE OF OFFICERS AND WHY.
Men were there who could tell the whole truth, but they were soldiers; it was their duty to be silent; they were obliged to speak the official language; they were loyal to their regiment; there was a secret and they felt themselves bound in honor to be silent. It was also [in] their interest. Was it not known that the men who had in life been the enemies of the dead Custer were more than ever his enemies now that he was dead? How, then, could a mere subaltern dare to express an opinion? He must speak official language or he must prepare to be jumped, that is, pounced upon at some unwary moment and treated with the full vigor of military law, driven from his profession and made a beggar upon the world after years of meritorious service. What wonder that men who know the whole truth refused to speak their own thoughts and merely echoed the official language. But little by little the truth came out; words spoken at every unguarded moment and dropped in the heat of argument, simple questions answered by officers and men, and the whole joined together and connected, has produced the conviction that there was blundering, [a] want of soldierly sympathy—a failure on the part of men to do their duty or lukewarmness in supporting General Custer—that might be called by an ugly name. The whole truth of the Custer massacre will
NEVER BE KNOWN
unless the American public demands a full and searching investigation, when every man who was in the fight on the 25th of June at the Little Big Horn will be compelled to tell what he knows. There is buried with the dead a terrible secret; but the witnesses still live, and the government can learn the whole truth if the government wants to know it. Then can be settled forever the question whether the massacre of the Little Big Horn must be charged to rashness of the dead or prudence of the living. The issue is a fair one and must not be evaded. Either Custer or the men who survived him must be made responsible for the lives lost on the Little Big Horn, and now, while the witnesses are alive, is the time to settle the question forever.
CUSTER'S ATTACK JUSTIFIED.
That Custer was justified in making the attack on the village will hardly be questioned by any officer who has had any experience of Indian fighting. On that point the opinion of officers of the Seventh Cavalry is unanimous. Even today they believe that had the 600 men who rode after Custer's flag come into contact, as a body, with the Indians, success would not have been doubtful for a moment. The question, therefore, hinges on the description of the troops in the actual fight, and this naturally involves the consideration of how far Custer's plans were carried out by his subordinate officers and what amount of cooperation he received at their hands.
There is the story of
THE FIGHT IN THE BOTTOM,
about which various versions are given even by those who happened to be engaged in it. An investigation would throw some curious light on the actions of prominent actors, and bring out in bold relief names that have scarcely been mentioned in connection with the fight or the rout, as one may choose to view it. According to the official report the three companies in the bottom under Major Reno were overwhelmed by a mass of Indians and compelled to take to the woods. A prominent actor in the fight assured me that when the skirmish line retired to the woods there were not fifty Indians actually engaged with Reno's command. It is extremely doubtful whether more than one man had been struck by a hostile bullet when the skirmish line retired to the woods.61 Nearly all the men were killed while getting their horses or on the way to the ford. There was a great deal of confusion and the ride to the ford was something like a stampede, with Reno at the head. Opinions are divided also as to whether the position at the point of woods in the bottom was tenable or not. One cool-headed man assured me that fifty men could have held it against 500 Indians.
INDIANS IN RENO'S FRONT.
The mass of Indians who moved into the bottom took no part in the fight against Reno's command. As they moved out from their village they caught sight of Custer on the bluffs and turned off to meet him and prevent him falling on their women and children. The story that they first overwhelmed Reno and then turned to Custer is pronounced a fiction. Some of Reno's command fought with great bravery, especially Captain [Thomas] French, who was the last man to cross the ford in the retreat. He remained behind his company, and at times was completely surrounded by Indians. Major Reno led the run to the bluffs, as he tells us in his official report, but there it is called a charge, though there were no Indians between the bluffs and the retreating cavalry to charge. When the retreat began from the skirmish line only one man is known to have been wounded.
INDIANS ENGAGED.
The number of Indians actually engaged with troops at this point did not exceed sixty. All the men who were killed in this command fell while getting their horses and while they were retreating across the ford to the bluffs, except the wounded man, who was abandoned in the retreat. The handling of the troops on this occasion has been severely criticized. On entering the bottom they were first deployed as skirmishers and then mounted and dismounted several times within a few minutes without any apparent cause. The soldiers were withdrawn from [the] skirmish line after they had fired a few shots at the Indians who were a long way off, and there was no defense of the woods worthy of the name. All this conspired to
DEMORALIZE THE TROOPS
and the manner in which the retreat was conducted caused it to degenerate into a stampede. There is a strong impression that had a tougher fight been made in the bottom the Indians could not have overwhelmed Custer with their whole force. It must be kept well in mind that the whole Indian force withdrew and concentrated to attack Custer as soon as Reno had retreated to the bluffs. The statement that the Indians remained in front of Reno's position firing dropping shots is absolutely contradicted by officers who were present. The Indians left Reno severely alone on his hill, and for an hour heavy firing was distinctly audible in the direction Custer had taken. According to Captain Benteen's own statement he arrived on the field at the moment when Reno's command were escaping up the heights, and immediately joined his forces with those of Major Reno. There were then six companies assembled on the hill, increased soon to seven by the arrival of Captain [Thomas M.] McDougall with the pack train; that is to say, there was a force more numerous than that with General Custer, and who can doubt that the dead hero's eyes were after turned backward along his trail watching for the cloud of dust that would tell him his troopers were coming like a whirlwind to his support.
RENO'S SUPINENESS.
But they came not, and no serious effort was made to reach him. When Reno's command took position on the hill the Indians disappeared and went over the range of lower hills that hid Custer and his gallant men from view of his seven companies that were drawn up upon the hill under Reno, with not an enemy in view; with not a soul to bar the way while the roll of the rifle volleys across the hills told that Custer and his men were fighting for their lives.
THE ADVANCE OF D COMPANY.
In the official report furnished by Major Reno, it is stated that Company D [under Weir] of the Seventh Cavalry was sent forward to open communication with General Custer. This statement is inaccurate. It is true that D Company, of its own accord and without orders, did move forward to the crest of the hill which hid Custer and the men who died with him from the rest of the command, but they did so only when tired with the inaction of Major Reno's command, while rifle volleys were telling that their comrades were being done to death. Yet 300 horsemen under Major Reno were standing on a hill not four miles away from where General Custer fell, with not an Indian opposing their advance. When D Company went forward without orders precious time had been lost, and the order sent after this company was delivered when the company was returning. Custer's force was then destroyed; but had the seven companies under Major Reno advanced when Captain Benteen's battalion came up there is no doubt that they could have arrived at Custer's battlefield in time to take part in the fight.
PERTINENT QUESTIONS.
If Reno thought it possible for one company to open communication with General Custer why did he not try to join with his seven companies? Why was the mass of horsemen, kept idle on the hill for a space of time calculated at two hours, not hurled into the fight when they first arrived? What were seven companies of cavalry doing gathered upon a hill when four miles away their comrades were fighting desperately for their lives? When some members of D Company reached the summit of a range of low hills, which hid Custer's command from the view of Major Reno's forces, they saw some two miles away crowds of Indians on a hill, which is now thought to be the hill on which Custer died. The Indians were riding hither and thither, and on the plains masses of mounted men were swaying back and forth and straggling shots were fired from time to time. It was the end of the tragedy. The last victims were being offered up. From this it is clear that if seven companies, instead of halting on a hill, had advanced at a gallop to where the firing was heard, instead of halting an hour or two on the hill, they could have arrived in ample time to have cooperated with Custer. There was nothing to prevent them doing so. The fifty or sixty Indians who had stampeded Major Reno's command had gone to take part in the fight against Custer, and Major Reno and his command were left absolutely free until Custer's men had been massacred,62 when the whole Indian force returned to attack the men who had been standing idle for two hours while these same Indians slaughtered their comrades. How this came to pass and who is the responsible person must be answered by a searching investigation.
CAPTAIN BENTEEN'S MOVEMENTS.
Captain Benteen also, who in defense of the hill won golden opinions for his great courage and coolness, will have, unfortunately, to explain why his battalion failed to appear at an earlier hour on the battlefield. He had returned to the main trail and was following in Custer's wake before the fight began and could not at any time during the fight have been more than seven or eight miles distant from where Custer fell. About seven miles from Custer's battlefield Captain Benteen watered his horses at a pool in the road.63 While the battalion was halted Boston Custer rode up [from the pack train], spoke with several officers and then rode on to the front. He was found dead by General Custer's side about seven miles from this pool of water. Captain Benteen received
CUSTER'S LAST WRITTEN ORDER.
“Hurry up. Big village. Bring up the packs.” That order was practically ignored. Captain Benteen and his battalion walked at the ordinary marching pace until the point was reached where Reno's retreating men were seen, then, in combined force, halted for two hours and took no further part in the battle until the Indians came back and attacked them. No effort was made to join Custer or to follow up the Indians, who withdrew from Major Reno's front to go to attack Custer. The same Indians who fought Major Reno in the bottom took part in the fight against Custer, and had the companies advanced when they assembled on the hill they could also have taken part in the fight and Custer might be living today. Why Major Reno's command failed to move to the assistance of the General remains to be explained. A searching investigation would bring to light other and equally startling revelations with regard to the conduct of some of the prominent actors in the fight of the 25th of June, and justice to the living as well as to the dead demands that such investigation should be ordered by the government.
New York Herald, Monday, October 2, 1876
THE CUSTER MASSACRE—MUST THE RESPONSIBILITY REST ON THE LIVING OR THE DEAD?
Our special correspondent, writing from Bismarck on his return from General Terry's expedition, felt it his duty to make public serious charges, which had been privately circulated in camp, against an officer who had been prominent in the Little Big Horn fight. With or without reason, a large share of the responsibility of the Custer disaster was laid on the head of Major Reno by actors in the fight, both on account of his hurried retreat to the bluffs and his inaction after his junction with Captain Benteen. Our correspondent felt it was his duty, under the circumstances, to take the responsibility of putting before the country the serious charges of indifference and inefficiency which have been whispered about the camp by the soldiers who accompanied the gallant Custer in his onslaught on the Indian village. In doing this our correspondent did only his duty. He no doubt wrote these grave charges with as much regret as we felt in publishing them. There could have been no private spleen to vent, no personal interest to subserve, but only the fulfillment of a duty toward the public, who look to the Herald for an impartial account of what is transpiring in the most remote corners of the world. The rumors and charges may be unfounded: they may be absolutely untrue, as we sincerely hope they may prove to be. Our correspondent does not vouch for the correctness of these statements; for none of the events came under his own observation. But we cannot doubt for a moment that the rumors were in circulation substantially as he reported them to the Herald; and finding them whispered from one to another with no one having the courage to rise up and speak so that the country should hear what the soldiers and officers were saying, he took the responsibility of putting plainly into print the charges that were persistently made against the conduct of some of the prominent actors in the Little Big Horn tragedy.
Nothing is more painful than the laying of accusations against army officers engaged in difficult and dangerous duty. They have a great deal to contend against, and when it can be shown that their misfortunes have resulted from mistakes of judgment they are entitled to be treated with all charity. But, unfortunately, in the present case there is an element of doubt as to whether certain officers did do their duty in such a way as the country and their comrades had a right to expect. We do not make this accusation, but it is freely made by brother soldiers speaking among themselves in confidence, and we only call attention to the serious nature of these camp rumors in order to allow those interested either to prove the truth or the falsity of statements that affect the honor and compromise the soldierly reputations of some holding high rank in the army. No soldier, no matter how brilliant his past record may have been, can afford to allow statements reflecting on his efficiency and courage to pass unchallenged, and we sincerely hope to see a demand for investigation into this Custer massacre put forth by the officers themselves. This will be the best reply to any unworthy slanders that may have been uttered through jealousy or from a desire of revenge. The country would like to know all the truth about the Custer massacre, and no officer who did his duty need have any fear to come before an investigating committee to answer for his conduct. Much that our correspondent writes confirms in an authoritative way the suspicion entertained vaguely by the public that Custer had not been fairly dealt with, and strengthens the idea that the blundering of subordinates had as much to do in bringing about the massacre in the Little Big Horn valley as had the rashness of General Custer, if not more.
No officer of the United States army can afford to remain silent under accusations of such gravity. They must be answered, and, if possible, shown to be baseless fabrications. It will give real pleasure to the Herald if the officers interested in telling the whole truth about the Custer fight can show satisfactorily that none of the living are responsible for the untimely death of their comrades on the 25th of June. There exists in the public mind a deep seated suspicion that some one blundered, and the vague rumors that were current in General Terry's camp show that the soldiers were not satisfied with the conduct of all who went into the fight under the gallant Custer. The officers of the army cannot afford to have this subject discussed in the columns of the Herald and talked about in the public places and by the firesides of the country without trying to disprove these rumors if they can be disproved. We shall be delighted to do the fullest justice to the accused parties. We go further, and wish that they may be able to prove clearly that they are wholly free from responsibility for the blood shed so uselessly in the Little Big Horn. Soldiers in Indian wars cannot be judged by the same standard we apply when dealing with a civilized foe: the conditions are wholly distinct. Indian fighting resembles more the warfare of the Middle Ages, when victory was decided by personal prowess rather than by the application of scientific rules of war. Many circumstances may yet be unknown which would explain positions that we are now prepared to criticize severely; but if any such circumstances exist they should be at once brought to light.