Epilogue

 

The historic image and reputation of George Armstrong Custer as a battlefield commander has been unfairly established from the events of one day in his life—the day he died at Little Bighorn—which has branded him to this day as the poster boy for military defeat. Every other aspect of his career has been overshadowed by perceptions about that lone, misunderstood fight against the Sioux and Cheyenne on the Western frontier.

In his time, however, Custer was not a symbol of defeat but a national hero on a grand scale due to his amazing achievements in the Civil War. If nothing else, the fact that he had a hand in turning the tide at Gettysburg should make him a legendary figure in the history of this country. But he accomplished so much more than success in just that one battle.

George Armstrong Custer rode the sanguinary battlefields of saber strokes and pistol fire with the utmost of distinction. He captured the first enemy battle flag taken by the Union army and he accepted the Confederate white flag of surrender at Appomattox. In between those notable events exists a series of intrepid acts of almost unimaginable proportion that earned him the admiration of his troops and the respect of his superiors, captured the fancy of newspaper correspondents, and gained him the adoration of the public.

It goes without saying that he also had the adoration of his widow, Libbie. She had been a model army wife, and had faithfully followed him to his duty stations whenever possible. She endured sacrifices and hardships on the frontier without complaint—satisfied to be at the side of the man she loved.

Libbie was thirty-four years old when Armstrong was killed at the Little Bighorn. At that time, she left Fort Abraham Lincoln in Dakota Territory and returned to Monroe to contemplate her future. Her mission in life was soon decided when a debate ensued over Custer’s actions during that battle. Libbie worked tirelessly to protect the image of her late husband and vigorously defended him against those who brought criticism. Her first act was to assist Frederick Whittaker in his writing of the 1876 A Complete Life of Gen. George A. Custer. This favorable portrayal of Custer would be the predominant view of him for many years to come.

Libbie moved to New York City in the summer of 1877, and began supporting herself by writing. Her books include three excellent memoirs—each of which became quite popular with the public. She related her frontier adventures with detail and insight, which have helped countless researchers understand the rigors of army life and also serve to further shape the heroic image of her husband. Her stories recount how her marriage survived, and indeed flourished, in spite of the frustrations, dangers, and hardships of living on desolate posts, and they refute criticism of various mistakes Custer was alleged to have made. These fascinating books stand out as several of the best ever written about that period in history.

Custer’s widow remained unmarried for the remainder of her life and lived most of the time in a Park Avenue apartment. She traveled the world and was much in demand as a public speaker—embracing issues that ranged beyond her husband’s image to include the women’s suffrage movement and other feminist causes.

Elizabeth Bacon Custer, the prettiest girl in Monroe, Michigan, died of a heart attack on April 4, 1933—four days short of her ninety-first birthday—and was buried beside her beloved Armstrong at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, New York.

The bibliography of George Armstrong Custer and the Battle of the Little Bighorn is one of the most voluminous in American history. Armchair generals, professional strategists, and learned historians have outlined their cases in excruciating detail to make their points about how this battle unfolded and why Custer made his tactical decisions.

Plenty of evidence exists that Custer’s plan of attack was nothing less than brilliant, especially given the terrain. And with all due respect, the Native Americans on the frontier were no more ferocious, skillful, or cunning than the Confederate officers and men that he had engaged—and more often than not defeated even when outnumbered—on the battlefield time and time again.

There was one difference, however. Custer’s skill as a battlefield strategist had not changed. But the makeup and mind-set of the cavalry had indeed changed in the ensuing decade, and in 1876 the men would not follow their commander blindly—as had Brigadier General Elon Farnsworth at Gettysburg, or Major Peter Weber at Falling Waters, or Custer on a number of occasions during the Civil War, regardless of risk. Nor were these soldiers fighting for the glory Custer had always believed men should attain in battle. Consequently, it was during that War of the Rebellion that the true picture of this extraordinary field commander emerges.

Horace Greeley, in the New-York Tribune, perhaps best summed up the Civil War legacy of George Armstrong Custer when he wrote, “Future writers of fiction will find in Brig. Gen. Custer most of the qualities which go to make up a first-class hero, and stories of his daring will be told around many a hearth stone long after the old flag again kisses the breeze from Maine to the Gulf. Gen. Custer is as gallant a cavalier as one would wish to see. Always circumspect, never rash, and viewing the circumstances under which he is placed as coolly as a chess player observes his game, Gen. Custer always sees ‘the vantage of the ground’ at a glance, and, like the eagle watching his prey from some mountain crag, sweeps down upon his adversary, and seldom fails in achieving a signal success. Frank and independent in his demeanor, Gen. C unites the qualities of the true gentleman with that of the accomplished and fearless soldier.”

High praise, indeed.

Regardless of the outcome or our opinion about Little Bighorn, it must be examined whether or not historians have been wrong to condemn so severely a soldier who helped preserve the Union and was always prepared to defend his country against whatever foe he was ordered to fight. He did not choose his enemies. He simply obeyed orders and marched off to war to carry out his mission to the best of his ability, just like every other officer and enlisted man who served at the pleasure of their country has done to this day.

Should all those spectacular, meaningful charges, daring strategies, and intrepid deeds be ignored? Can the willingness of this officer to accept any assignment no matter how dangerous or distasteful be set aside? Should the injustice perpetrated on Native Americans by the United States of America be transferred to a man who publicly stated on more than one occasion that he respected his Native American enemies and did not blame them for their rebellion?

With this book as a testament, George Armstrong Custer’s entire military career should be reassessed by fair-minded historians under a more favorable light and found to have been commendable. Few officers before or after have served with such honor and distinction.

In the end, he should receive praise rather than vilification for his patriotic service to America and be awarded his rightful place in history books alongside the greatest of cavalry commanders. After all, he not only proved himself time and time again on the field of battle but gave the ultimate sacrifice while wearing his country’s uniform.