A depiction of the Battle of The Little Bighorn by Kicking Bear.
Horned Horse's Account
The Battle of the Little Bighorn
By Dakota Wind
BISMARCK, D.T. (N.D.) - In Chapter 2 of Warpath and Bivouac, or Conquest of the Sioux, by John Finerty, Finerty compares the Battle of the Little Bighorn to the Battle of Thermopylae in ancient Greece over two thousand years ago. Finerty also compares General Custer to the biblical hero Samson, “both were invincible while their locks remained unshorn.”
In Jessie Reil’s
article, Custer’s Stand Mattered for Victory, which appears on the website http://www.custerwest.org,
Reil compares General Custer’s passing, also, to that of Samson’s death. Both “pulled the house down” on their enemies
and lost their lives for it.
Here follows an
excerpt from Finerty’s book, chapter XIV.
Horned Horse, an old Sioux chief, whose son was killed early
on in the fight, stated to the late Capt. [William] Philo Clark, after the
surrender of the hostiles, that he went up on a hill overlooking the field to
mourn for the dead, as he was too weak to fight, after the Indian fashion. He had a full view of all that took place
almost from the beginning. The Little
Bighorn is a stream filled with dangerous quicksand, and cuts off the edges of
the northern bluffs sharply near the point where Custer perished. The Indians saw the troops on the bluffs
early in the morning, but, owing to the abruptness and height of the river
banks, Custer could not get down to the edge of the stream. The valley of the Little Big Horn is from
half a mile to a mile and a half wide, and along it, for a distance of fully
fifty miles, the mighty Indian village stretched. Most of the immense pony herd was out grazing
when the savages took the alarm at the appearance of troops on the heights. The warriors ran at once for their arms, but
by the time they had taken up their guns and ammunition belts, the soldiers had
disappeared. The Indians thought they
had been frightened off by the evident strength of the village, but again,
after what seemed quite a long interval, the head of Custer’s column showed
itself coming down a dry water course, which formed a narrow ravine, toward the
river’s edge. He made a dash to get
across, but was met by such a tremendous fire from the repeating rifles of the
savages that the head of his command reeled back toward the bluffs, after
losing several men, who tumbled into the water, which was there but eighteen
inches deep, and were swallowed up in the quicksand. This is considered an explanation of the
disappearance of Lieutenant Harrington and several men whose bodies were not
found on the field of battle. They were not
made prisoners by the Indians, nor did any of them succeed in breaking through
the thick array of the infuriated savages.
Horned Horse did not recognize Custer, but supposed he as
the officer who led the column that attempted to cross the stream. Custer then sought to lead his men up to the
bluffs by a diagonal movement, all of them having dismounted, and firing,
whenever they did, over the backs of their horses at the Indians, who by that
time crossed the river in thousands, mostly on foot, and had taken the General
in flank and rear, while others annoyed him by a galling fire from across the
river. Hemmed in on all sides, the
troops fought steadily, but the fire of the enemy so close and rapid that they
melted like snow before it, and fell dead among their horses in heaps. He could not tell how long the fight lasted,
but it took considerable time to kill all the soldiers. The firing was continuous until the last man
of Custer’s command was dead. Several
other bodies besides that of Custer remain unscalped, because the warriors had
grown weary of the slaughter. The
water-course, in which most of the soldiers died, ran with blood. He had seen many massacres, but nothing equal
to that. If the troops had not been
encumbered by their horses, which plunged, reared and kicked under the
appalling fire of the Sioux, they might have done better. As it was, a great number of Indians fell,
the soldiers using their revolvers at close range with deadly effect. More Indians died by the pistol than by the
carbine. The latter weapon was always
faulty. It “leaded” easily and the cartridge
shells stuck in the breech the moment it became heated, owing to some defect in
the ejector. It is not improbable that
many of Custer’s cavalrymen were practically disarmed, because of the
deficiency of that disgracefully faulty weapon.
If they had been furnished with good Winchesters, or some other style of
repeating arm, the result of the battle of the Little Big Horn might have been
different.
What happened to Custer, after he disappeared down the north
bank of the river, has already been told in the words of Curly and Horned
Horse. Not an officer or enlisted man of
the five troops under Custer survived to tell the tale. The male members of the Custer family, George
A., Colonel Tom and Boston,
were annihilated. Autie Reed, a young
relative of the General, who, like Boston Custer, accompanied the command as
sightseer, was also killed. Mark
Kellogg, of the St. Paul
and Bismarck Press, the only correspondent who accompanied the Custer column,
nearly succeeded in making his escape.
The mule he rode was too slow, however, and he was finally overtaken and
shot down. Had he succeeded in getting
away, his fame would have rivaled that of the explorer, Stanley.
Reno
crossed the Little Big Horn, accompanied by some of the scouts, and charged
down the valley a considerable distance.
He finally halted in the timber and was, as he subsequently claimed,
attacked by superior numbers. He
remained in position but a short time, when he thought it advisable to retreat
across the river and take up a position on the bluffs. This movement was awkwardly executed, and, in
scaling the bluffs, several officers and enlisted men were killed and
wounded. The Indians, as is always when
white troops retreat before them, became very bold, and succeeded in dragging
more than one soldier from the saddle. Captain
De Rudio, an Italian officer, exiled from his country for political reasons,
and a scout, unable to keep up with Reno’s main body, concealed themselves in
the brush, and the Indians passed and repassed so close to them that they could
have touched the savages by merely putting out their hands. They were fortunate in remaining
undiscovered, and joined Reno
on the 27th, after the arrival of Terry and Gibbon.
Col. F.
W. Benteen, new retired and residing at Atlanta,
GA., has, at the request of the
author, given the following statement relative to the movements of his
battalion after parting from the main command:
There was to have been
no connection between Reno,
McDougall and myself in Custer’s order.
I was sent off to the left several miles from where Custer was killed to
actually hunt up some more Indians. I
set out with my battalion of three troops, bent on such purpose, leaving the
remainder of the regiment, nine troops, at a halt and dismounted. I soon saw, after carrying out the order that
had been given me by Custer, and two other orders which were sent to me by him,
through the sergeant-major of the regiment and the chief trumpeter, at
different times, that the Indians had too much “horse sense” to travel over the
kind of country I had been sent to explore, unless forced to; and concluded
that my battalion would have plenty of work ahead with the others. Thus, having learned all that Custer could
expect, I obliqued to the right to strike the trail of the main column, and got
into it just ahead of McDougall and his pack train.
I watered the horses
of my battalion at the morass near the side of the road, and the advance of
McDougall’s “packs” got into it just as I was “pulling out” from it. I left McDougall to get his train out in the
best manner he could, and went briskly on, having a presentiment that I’d find
hot work very soon. Well, en route, I met two orderlies with messages – one
for the commanding officer of the “packs” and one for myself. The messages read: “Come on. Be quick” and “Bring packs;” written and signed
by Lieutenant Cook, adjutant of the regiment.
Now, knowing that there were no Indians between the packs and the main
column, I did not think it necessary to go back for them – some seven or eight
miles – nor did I think it worth while waiting for them where the orders found
me, so I pushed to the front at a trot and got there in time to save Reno’s
“outfit.” The rest you know.
Reno,
Benteen and McDougall, having effected a junction, fortified themselves on the
bluffs and “stood off” the whole Indian outfit, which laid close siege to them,
until the 27th. Several
desperate charges of the savages on the position were handsomely repulsed. The troops, especially the wounded, suffered
terribly from thirst, and during the night a few daring soldiers succeeded in
getting some water out of the river in their camp kettles, at the peril of
their lives. One of those brave men was
Mr. Theodore Golden, then of the 7th Cavalry, and now a resident of Janesville, Wisconsin.
The situation of the closely beleagured troops was growing
desperate, when the infantry and light artillery column of General Gibbon,
which was accompanied by General Terry, came in sight on the morning of the 27th. The soldiers of Reno,
at this inspiriting vision, swarmed out over the rough and ready breastworks,
cheering the heroes of Fort Fisher and Petersburg
vociferously. Many wept for joy and the
chivalrous Terry and the gallant Gibbon did everything in their power to cheer
up the wearied soldiers in their hour of misfortune. The Indians did not attempt any further
attack after the rescuing party arrived.
They, too, were tired out, and had expended a vast quantity of
ammunition. They drew off toward the
mountains, first burning such irremovable impedimenta as remained in their
village. A part of their teepees had
been burned in the fight with Custer.
General Gibbon, after a brief rest, set out to see what had become of
that officer. Reno’s men felt certain that something
dreadful had happened to their comrades, because during the afternoon of the 25th
and the morning of the 26th they had recognized the guidons of the 7th
Cavalry, which the savages were waving in ecstasy of triumph. General Gibbon had to march several miles
before he came upon the field of blood.
The sight that met his eyes was a shocking one. The bluffs were covered with the dead bodies
of Custer’s men, all stripped naked, and mostly mutilated in the usual
revolting manner. The General’s corpse
was found near the summit of the bluff, surrounded by the bodies of his brothers
and most of the officers of his command.
The Indians, had recognized his person, and who respected his superb
courage, forbore from insulting his honored clay by the process of
mutilation. The 7th Infantry,
General Gibbon’s regiment, buried the gallant dead where they fell, marking the
graves of all that could be identified.
Custer’s remains, and those of his relatives, together with those of
most of the officers, have been removed.
The brave General is buried at West Point,
from which he graduated, and on which his glorious career and heroic death have
reflected immortal luster.
General Custer’s body
was mutilated, not nearly to the extent as his brother Tom’s body was – who was
mutilated beyond recognition; a tattoo was the only thing that identified Tom
Custer’s body at all. In fact, several,
out of the 206 other soldiers were not mutilated, and two soldiers, it would
seem, out of respect were not mutilated at all.
One of General Custer’s legs was slashed, an arrow was forced up his
manhood, and his ears were perforated – possibly with arrows or awls.
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