Bloodshed of Eagles

Chapter Seventeen

June 21, 1876

Mouth of the Rosebud

With Reno absent on his scout, General Terry moved the rest of the column to the Yellowstone, where they were able to set up their bivouac alongside the Far West. Custer was getting more and more anxious, and he started agitating Terry to let him go on his own to try and join up with Reno, then to strike at the Indians wherever they might be found.

Terry held him back, but on the afternoon of the nineteenth, he finally received a dispatch, by courier, from Reno.

We have advanced to the mouth of the Rosebud. We have found no Indians, but have found a very large trail with many hoofprints and lodge pole tracks leading to the valley of the Little Bighorn.

“What is Reno doing at the mouth of the Rosebud?” Custer asked. “I thought his orders were to examine only the Tongue and the Powder Rivers.”

“They were,” Terry said. “He has exceeded his orders.”

“And put the entire operation into jeopardy,” Custer said angrily. “I told you, you should have sent me.”

“Custer, are you trying to tell me that if you hadn’t found Indians on the Tongue or the Powder, you wouldn’t have gone on to the Rosebud?”

“I may have,” Custer agreed. “But it’s different for me.”

“How is it different?”

“I have experience with the Indians,” Custer said. “If I had encountered them, I would have known what to do. I think we should all be very thankful that Reno did not find them, for if he had, the courier might have been bearing the message that his entire command was wiped out to the last man.”

“Oh, come now, that’s a rather harsh appraisal, isn’t it?” Terry replied.

“Are you saying that you don’t think it possible for an entire command to be massacred?” Custer asked.

“No, one only has to recall the Fetterman experience to know that it is possible. But Reno’s command is much larger and more mobile. And there are three columns out here in pursuit of the Indians. So I think any talk of the loss of an entire command is a bit too much.”

“So, what do we do now?” Custer asked.

“We now know where the Indians aren’t,” Terry replied. “We just aren’t that certain where they are. They aren’t on the Tongue or the Powder, so they have to be on the Rosebud, the Little Bighorn, or the Bighorn. I want you to cross the Tongue, find Reno, then come back to the Far West.”

“I’ll go find Reno and bring him back,” Custer said. “But you should have sent me after him three or four days ago. We’ve lost a week with Reno’s blundering. In fact, you should have sent me in the first place.”

“Yes, Custer, I am well aware of your opinion on the matter,” Terry replied wearily.

At three o’clock in the afternoon of Wednesday, June 21, General Terry held a conference in the master cabin of the Far West. Present were Terry, Gibbon, Custer, Major Brisbin—who was the commander of Gibbon’s cavalry—and by special invitation, Falcon MacCallister.

Custer took the first seat at the table, as if it were his due, even though Gibbon outranked him. Gibbon and Brisbin also had seats at the table, and though Terry offered to have a chair brought in for Falcon, he declined, and chose to lean against the wall with his arms folded across his chest as he looked on.

Again, Terry had the map laid out on the table, held down at the corners with an ink bottle, a paperweight, a canteen, and a pistol.

“Gentlemen, we know that General Crook is in the field, but we don’t know exactly where he is. I wish we could coordinate our efforts with him, but that is impossible. In fact, it is going to be difficult to even coordinate our own efforts, but let us hope that our timing is good enough that we can converge in such a way as to prevent the Indians from fleeing, and to convince them to return to the reservation.”

“They aren’t going to be talked back onto the reservation,” Custer said.

“Then we will convince them by force,” Terry said.

Custer nodded. “I’m glad we see eye to eye on that, General. A decisive victory over the hostiles now will, in all probability, end the Indian wars out here once and for all. And I intend to have that decisive victory.”

“General Custer, may I remind you that my men have been in the field much longer than you have?” Gibbon said. “Brisbin’s cavalry has been here since February twenty-second, and the infantry has been here since early March. We have monitored and corralled the Indians for five months, waiting for this operation to begin. I do not understand what you mean by saying that ‘you’ intend to have that decisive victory.”

“Why, General Gibbon, of course when I say ‘I,’ I am talking about all of us,” Custer replied.

“General Gibbon, while I understand what you are saying, I do intend to give the initial attack to Custer,” said Terry.

“But, General, I—”

Terry interrupted Gibbon’s protest with a raised hand.

“Hear me out,” Terry said. “The Seventh Cavalry is numerically stronger. Also, whereas your command is mixed infantry and cavalry, Custer’s is all cavalry, which means if the Indians do attempt to escape, Custer will be able to run them down. Your column is half infantry and, no doubt as you move quickly, you will become separated, thus weakening your force.”

“I understand,” Gibbon said.

“You will not be left out,” Terry said. “My idea is to have Custer move quickly and strongly against the Indians, forcing them against you as a blocking force.

“Here is how I propose the operation to be.” Terry put his finger on the map to illustrate his strategy. “Custer, I want you and the Seventh to push up the Rosebud on the Indians’ trail. Gibbon, you will march up the Yellowstone and Bighorn, to a blocking position at the mouth of the Little Bighorn. If the Indians turn out to be on the Little Bighorn, Custer, you will attack from the south, and Gibbon, you will intercept any who try to get away to the north. Gibbon, how long will you need to get into position?”

“We should be there by the twenty-sixth,” Gibbon replied.

Terry looked at Custer. “I assume you will have no problem getting there by the twenty-sixth?”

“I will have no trouble,” Custer replied. “General, what if we get there and don’t find the Indians?”

“General Custer, once our columns are separated, then you will be essentially on your own,” Terry said. “I will give you written orders before you leave.”

“Very good, sir.”

“In order to give you every advantage, I want you to take four troops of Brisbin’s cavalry with you.”

Custer shook his head. “No, sir,” he said. “No disrespect meant for Brisbin’s cavalry, but I feel that the introduction of troops outside the Seventh will just complicate matters. There will be the problem of command and control. I’m convinced that the Seventh will be able to handle any situation that might arise. Besides, you said yourself that the Seventh was already numerically stronger. Taking four troops of Brisbin’s cavalry would only serve to weaken Gibbon’s column.”

“All right, I’ll accede to your wishes on that,” Terry said. “Now, what about Gatling guns?”

Again, Custer shook his head. “The Gatling guns with caisson weigh over two thousand pounds. I think they would so greatly impede our progress as to take away the very advantage of rapid mobility you pointed out just a moment or two ago.”

“All right,” Terry said reluctantly. “It is just that we brought them this far, I hate not to see them used. But you know the situation better than I, so I’ll go along with you on that as well.”

“Do we have any idea of the strength of the Indians?” Gibbon asked.

“My estimate, from what both Reno and Gibbon have found, would be from eight hundred to a thousand,” Terry said.

Falcon cleared his throat, and Terry looked up at him. “You have something to add, Colonel MacCallister?”

“I think you are greatly underestimating the number of Indians you are going to face,” Falcon said.

“How do you know how many Indians are out there?” Brisbin asked.

“I was on a rather lengthy scout with Mr. Dorman,” Falcon said. “We encountered Indians in great numbers, and they all seemed to be moving toward one general gathering place.”

“Custer, given that, are you sure you don’t want to reconsider taking four troops from Brisbin’s cavalry?” Terry asked.

“No need, General,” Custer said, refusing the offer a second time. “As we have discussed here, our biggest problem will be in catching them before they discover us and scatter all across the plains.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure they have already discovered us,” Terry said.

“All the more reason we should move quickly,” Custer replied.

“All right, gentlemen, you can return to your commands and get ready. Custer, I’ll have written orders for you in the morning.”

“Very good, sir.”

Falcon left the stateroom when the others did, but Custer remained behind to have a few more words with Terry. Falcon stepped up to the rail and looked out over the bank at the soldiers who had come almost one thousand miles from Ft. Lincoln. Even the greenest and rawest recruits were now seasoned veterans of the march. How they would behave in battle was another question.

“Ah, Falcon, here you are,” Custer said, stepping out of the stateroom then. “Come, we must get ready.” Seeing Captain Marsh, Custer called to him.

“Captain Marsh, I’m disappointed that you didn’t bring my wife up with you. I would have enjoyed seeing her again.”

“She wanted to come, and to bring your houseguest with her,” Marsh replied. “But I thought it would be too dangerous. Though the Indians have never made a major attack against us, they have taken potshots at us from time to time.”

“Yes, I see what you mean,” Custer said. He nodded his head. “I’m sure you were correct in not bringing her.”

“I’ll tell you what, General,” Marsh said. “When the expedition is over and I return to Bismarck, I’ll send word to Mrs. Custer and if she would care to, I’ll bring her back with me when we meet you at your resupply point on the way back.”

“Wonderful!” Custer said. “I’ll be counting on that, Captain. And I thank you for it.”

At dinner that evening, the civilian reporter accompanying the expedition, Mark Kellogg, sought out Falcon.

“It has been an exciting journey, hasn’t it?” Kellogg asked.

“It has been interesting,” Falcon replied, choosing that word over “exciting.”

“I wonder, sir, if I could prevail upon you to read the latest dispatch I am sending with the next mail,” Kellogg asked.

“Why me?” Falcon replied.

“Because, like me, you are not a member of the Seventh. Therefore I feel that your appraisal of the article will be free of any tint of partisanship.”

“All right,” Falcon agreed. “If you think my opinion is worth anything.”

“Oh, I do, sir. I do indeed,” the young reporter said. He handed a tablet to Falcon.

“I know that it is a bit overembellished, but I want the readers to get the feel of it, to know what it is like to be with the army on the march. Here, you may use my folding chair as a place to sit while you read.”

“Thanks,” Falcon said, sitting on the proffered chair and turning his attention to the pages Kellogg handed him.

At Mouth of Rosebud, on Yellowstone River,

June 21, 1876*

From June 12, the date of my last communication, until June 19, the only occurrences of General Terry’s command were the establishment of a supply depot at the mouth of the Powder River and making the steamer Far West a moving base of supplies, having on board thirty days’ rations and forage; the movement of the steamer to the mouth of the Tongue River with the headquarters command on board; and the march of General Custer from the mouth of the Powder River to the mouth of the Tongue River, an estimated distance of forty miles, moving up the valley of the Yellowstone River. During the trip no incident occurred except the display of sharp rifle shooting on the part of General Custer, who brought down an antelope at 400 yards and nearly shot off the heads of several sage hens. The country north of the Powder River, for a distance of twelve to fifteen miles, is very poor, low, and causing hard marching, with a soil producing no grasses, only sagebrush and cactus. En route, on the 15th, the column passed through an abandoned Indian camp, apparently less than a year old. It had been a large camp, being two miles or more in length, and must have contained 1,200 or 1,500 lodges. Game was very scarce, and no buffalo at all were seen.

The Yellowstone is looming high, and its current is so swift, eddying and whirling as to create a seething sound like that of a soft wind rustling in the tall grass. Its color resembles yellowish clay at this point. It is cool and pleasant to the taste, and is a larger body of water than that of the Missouri River above its mouth, but very much superior for purposes of steamboat navigation. The waters of the Tongue River are of a deepish red color, running swiftly, and not very palatable to the taste.

On the 19th of June, General Custer, with six companies of cavalry, crossed the Tongue River, about three miles from its mouth, by fording, and marching to a point about nine miles from where Major Reno with six companies of the Seventh Cavalry were encamped, having returned from the scout he was ordered upon; but, for some cause unknown to your correspondent, Major Reno was unfortunate enough not only to exceed but to disobey the instructions of General Terry. Major Reno made an error in that he crossed, going a due south course, from the forks of the Powder to the Rosebud River, where he found afresh hostile trail. General Terry had planned to have Major Reno return to the column, marching down the valley of the Tongue River; and after he had formed the junction, General Custer was to organize his regiment for a scout up the Tongue, thence across to the Rosebud, striking it near its head; thence down that valley towards General Terry, who in the meantime would move by steamer to the mouth of the Rosebud, join General Gibbon’s command, march up that valley until he met and joined General Custer. The plan was an excellent one, and but for the unfortunate movement of Major Reno, the main force of the Indians, numbering 1,500, would have been bagged. As it is, a new campaign is organized, and tomorrow, June 22, General Custer with twelve cavalry companies, will scout from its mouth up the valley of the Rosebud until he reaches the fresh trail discovered by Major Reno, and move on that trail with all rapidity possible in order to overhaul the Indians, who it has been ascertained are hunting buffalo and making daily and leisurely short marches. In the meantime, General Terry will move on the steamer to the mouth of the Bighorn River, scouting Pumpkin Creek en route, with General Gibbon’s cavalry as well as infantry, which are marching toward the Bighorn on the north side of the Yellowstone. This part of the command marched up the Bighorn Valley in order to intercept the Indians if they should attempt to escape from General Custer down that avenue. The hope is now strong and, I believe, well founded that this band of ugly customers, known as Sitting Bull’s band, will be “gobbled” and dealt with as they deserve.