by Thom Hatch
To support this assertion—had our position been taken 100 yards back from the brink of the heights overlooking the river, we would have been entirely cut off from water; and from those heights the Indian demons would have swarmed in hundreds picking off our men by detail, and before midday June 25th not an officer or enlisted man of our Regiment would have been left to tell of our dreadful fate as we then would have been completely surrounded.
With prayerful hope that our petitions be granted, we have the honor to forward it through our commanding officer.
Very Respectfully,
[236 signatures]
At face value this petition would appear innocent enough. The enlisted survivors of the battle—at least 236 of them—in appreciation of the gallant efforts of their senior officers for saving their lives and perhaps in an effort to maintain continuity within the regiment had formally requested that Major Marcus A. Reno and Captain Frederick W. Benteen be rewarded with promotions.
The petition was trumpeted by newspapers and forwarded through military channels until reaching General William T. Sherman, who returned it with his endorsement. Sherman noted, however, that only the president and Senate could grant the petition. The matter never did reach the White House or Congress, and no further action was taken.
The first inclination that there could be a question about the validity of the petition arose years later when General Edward S. Godfrey looked into the matter, and wrote: “There were several men of the 7th Cavalry at Soldiers Home and in Washington in 1921 and 1922 who, when asked if they had signed the petition, denied ever having had such a thought, yet their signatures proved genuine.… Not one would admit that he had signed, until shown his signature.” Taking into consideration the absolute authority that officers had over enlisted men, perhaps these soldiers had been “ordered” to sign or had signed without knowing the content of the document and had later dismissed the act as inconsequential or were ashamed to admit that they had been coerced.
In 1954, Major Edward S. Luce, the superintendent of Custer Battlefield National Monument, became suspicious about certain irregularities within the petition. He noticed that a number of the signers were not on regimental rolls at the time of the battle and others had always signed the payroll with an “X” but had signed their full names on the document. Luce called in the Federal Bureau of Investigation to determine the authenticity of the signatures in question.
The FBI, although hindered by a lack of handwriting samples from many of the enlisted men, nevertheless concluded that at least seventy-six of the signatures—one-third of the total—were “probable forgeries.” Many had purportedly been signed by one man—First Sergeant Joseph McCurry of Company H, which was commanded by Captain Frederick Benteen.
That overwhelming evidence clearly points toward a devious scheme by a person or persons unknown who perhaps had a desire to head off any potential criticism and validate his conduct on June 25, 1876. The finger of guilt, given the fact that First Sergeant McCurry was involved, would point directly at Captain Benteen. Furthermore, McCurry could not have accomplished the task without Benteen’s knowledge. And the captain was no stranger to conducting unscrupulous business behind people’s backs.
Benteen was indeed popular with the enlisted men and had distinguished himself during the hilltop fight—although his actions beforehand are a subject of controversy—and possibly in the minds of the troops he was deserving of a promotion. Reno was not well liked, but the petition would have been far less credible had his name been left off. Without additional evidence—a “smoking gun”—the guilty party or parties will never be revealed.
The Enlisted Men’s Petition, however, stands as a perfect example of the pattern of deception that has created many myths, controversies, and conjectures about the battle while suppressing the true facts and preventing a clear view of actual events to emerge.
Seventeen
Clearing the Smoke from the Battlefield
Even as the smoke still wafted over the battlefield strewn with bodies, fingers of blame pointed and controversial theories abounded. The United States Army simply does not lose that high of a percentage of men in one engagement to not come under fire from countless critics who wanted to know why and how it could happen. The entire nation wanted to know what had happened to the gallant Custer and his brave Seventh Cavalry troopers.
Theories for this battle have ranged from the marginally credible right on down to the ridiculous. Sadly enough, each one of these assumptions has been taken seriously by certain factions of the history community and many have taken root long enough to appear true.
Surprisingly, the order issued by Brigadier General Alfred H. Terry to George Armstrong Custer on June 22, 1876, has become the most enduring misconception. This document has ignited a major controversy over whether or not Custer willfully disobeyed Terry’s instructions.
Here is the uncensored copy of those orders:
Camp at Mouth of Rosebud River
Montana Territory
June 22nd, 1876
LIEUT.-COL. CUSTER 7TH CAVALRY COLONEL:
The Brigadier-General Commanding directs that, as soon as your regiment can be made ready for the march, you will proceed up the Rosebud in pursuit of the Indians whose trail was discovered by Major Reno a few days since. It is, of course, impossible to give you any definite instructions in regard to this movement, and were it not impossible to do so the Department Commander places too much confidence in your zeal, energy, and ability to wish to impose upon you precise orders which might hamper your action when nearly in contact with the enemy. He will, however, indicate to you his views of what your actions should be, and he desires that you should conform to them unless you shall see sufficient reasons for departing from them. He thinks that you should proceed up the Rosebud until you ascertain definitely the direction in which the trail above spoken of leads. Should it be found (as it appears almost certain that it will be found) to turn towards the Little Horn, he thinks that you should still proceed southward, perhaps as far as the headwaters of the Tongue, and then turn toward the Little Horn, feeling constantly, however, to your left, so as to preclude the possibility of the escape of the Indians to the south or southeast by passing around your left flank. The column of Colonel Gibbon is now in motion for the mouth of the Big Horn. As soon as it reaches that point it will cross the Yellowstone and move up at least as far as the forks of the Big and Little Horns. Of its future movements must be controlled by circumstances as they arise, but it is hoped that the Indians, if upon the Little Horn, may be so nearly enclosed by the two columns that their escape will be impossible.
The Department Commander desires that on your way up the Rosebud you should thoroughly examine the upper part of Tulloch’s Creek, and that you should endeavor to send a scout through to Colonel Gibbon’s column, with information of the result of your examination. The lower part of the creek will be examined by a detachment from Colonel Gibbon’s command. The supply steamer will be pushed up the Big Horn as far as the forks if the river is found navigable for that distance, and the Department Commander, who will accompany the column of Colonel Gibbon, desires you to report to him not later than the expiration of time for which your troops are rationed, unless in the meantime you receive further orders.
Very respectfully your obedient servant
E. W. Smith
Captain 18th Infantry
Acting Assistant Adjutant General
When reading the text of this order, with phrases such as “It is, of course, impossible to give you any definite instructions in regard to this movement,” and “the Department Commander [Terry] places too much confidence in your zeal, energy, and ability to impose upon you precise orders which might hamper your action,” and “He will, however, indicate to you his views of what your actions should be, and he desires that you should conform to them unless you shall see sufficient reasons for departing from them,” one sees that Custer was for all intents and purposes on his own in making de
cisions about the march after he had ventured up the Rosebud, which he did.
It must also be remembered that Terry had no practical experience fighting Indians; Custer had plenty. Therefore, it would only be logical for Terry to give Custer a free hand with respect to his own initiative depending on what he found in front of him and where the trail led him.
Yet people after the battle and through the ensuing years, mainly fueled by statements from defensive military participants shamed by their own ineptitude, have come to the conclusion that Custer brought about the loss of his command by disregarding those orders. This accusation brings the term “scapegoat” to the forefront.
Even President U. S. Grant made remarks in the public debate following the battle that reflected his malice toward Custer over the Belknap affair when he said: “I regard Custer’s Massacre as a sacrifice of troops brought on by Custer himself, that was wholly unnecessary—wholly unnecessary.” Grant was no stranger to his own battlefield blunders—his ill-advised frontal assault at Cold Harbor during the Civil War left nearly seven thousand federal soldiers killed or wounded.
At the time of his statement, Grant was dodging barbs for his own actions toward Custer. The pro-Custer faction blamed the president indirectly for Custer’s defeat, maintaining that Grant’s earlier humiliation of Custer undermined the Seventh Cavalry commander’s authority and set the stage for the questionable military behavior of Benteen and Reno.
In addition to his official report that outlined the facts of the battle, General Terry, in an attempt to deflect criticism from himself, wrote a “confidential” report on July 2, 1876. This second explosive report, which was leaked to the press by General William T. Sherman, implied that Custer had disobeyed orders by not following Terry’s “plan.” Terry’s “plan”—whatever that might have been—was never revealed.
The press was quick to engage in sensationalism. Newspapers revealed this shocking story under headlines such as “Custer’s Blunder” and “Custer’s Fault.”
Terry also told reporter Charles S. Diehl that had Custer survived he would have faced a court-martial for disobeying orders. At the time, it must be noted that Terry, the ranking officer who had remained back at the Powder River base camp when Custer marched, was fighting for his military life. His own competence in the matter was being questioned, with at least one newspaper calling for his court-martial.
In addition to the top brass circling the wagons, Custer critic Captain Frederick W. Benteen, no stranger himself to disobeying orders, wrote to his wife on July 4, 1876: “Had Custer carried out order he got from Genl. Terry the command would have formed a junction exactly at the village—and have captured the whole outfit of tepees, etc. and probably any quantity of squaws, pappooses &c. &c. but Custer disobeyed orders from the fact of not wanting any other command—or body to have a finger in the pie, and thereby lost his life.”
It would be doubtful that by the time this letter was written Benteen had been privileged to read or know the contents of the order that Custer received to have enough knowledge to determine whether or not the orders had been disregarded. Perhaps Benteen had written his letter from the position that the best defense is a good offense. No doubt Benteen’s scheming mind had already dreamed up plenty of excuses why he had not immediately ridden to the sound of firing when Custer sent him the order to “hurry.”
Benteen’s letter, Terry’s order, and other questionable statements have led some historians to suggest that Custer was scheduled to rendezvous with the Terry-Gibbon column on June 26 or at least was required to send a messenger when he found a village and wait for the other column to arrive before attacking. But Terry did write in his order that “its [Gibbon’s column’s] future movements must be controlled by circumstances as they arise.” That column, by the way, did not arrive at the battlefield until the twenty-seventh. By that time, the village would have been vacant whether Custer had attacked or not.
Custer was under the impression that his column had been discovered by the Sioux, as evidenced by the episode of the box of hardtack that had been lost and was subsequently surrounded by Indians. As he knew that it was the Indian custom to flee from a large detachment of approaching soldiers, that would have made it imperative in his mind that he immediately attack.
Similar views were later expressed by many army officers, including Generals Nelson Miles and Phil Sheridan, who were experienced in the ways of the hostiles. The real concern of the campaign participants, which was summed up before the battle in the June 20, 1876, edition of the St. Paul Pioneer Press, was that “there is not much probability of these cunning rascals being caught by our more slow-moving forces, for they can break up and fly in a thousand different directions and hide among the hills and gullies, every foot of which is to them familiar ground.” This certainly was Terry’s concern as well. He wrote to Sheridan on June 21: “My only hope is one of the two columns will find the Indians.”
Another factor was the statement made by Custer’s cook, Mary Adams, who had accompanied him on the campaign. She claimed in an affidavit dated January 16, 1878, that she overheard Terry tell Custer: “Use your own judgment and do what you think best if you strike the trail.”
If Terry’s order were followed to the letter of the law, Custer could have chased the Sioux and Cheyenne across the entire country to the streets of New York City if that was where the trail led and would not have been in violation of the order.
Quite simply, the officer who has shouldered the blame, the scapegoat, could not personally defend himself against the charges—he was dead. Therefore, the accusation that Custer disobeyed orders and thereby lost his command has been a convenient excuse for those who may have played a part in the defeat but lived to tell their stories. Those orders, however, tell a different story and serve to clear him of that charge.
But, absurd as it seems, historians to the present day have somehow clung to this fallacy that Custer disregarded orders and charged into the cannon’s mouth to obtain glory. He was merely following orders, like the professional military man that he was.
While on the subject of Custer rendezvousing with Gibbon—oddly enough, the vanishing act by General George Crook has not come under scrutiny. After his humiliation on the Rosebud, Crook should have dispatched messengers to Terry at the Powder River base camp and informed him of the whereabouts of his one-thousand-man column. Crook should then have taken up the trail of Sitting Bull’s village, which would not have been difficult to follow. Terry could have coordinated efforts between Crook and Custer, and at least two prongs of the three-column pincer movement they had designed would have struck the village in force. But Crook was missing in action and became the weak link in the campaign strategy that he had helped devise.
Now that the subject of the orders has been dismissed as a smoke screen, the second most criticized action taken by Custer that day has been his decision to separate his command into three battalions at the mouth of Reno Creek on his advance toward the village. In fact, this subject has been one of the primary reasons many armchair Napoléons have given for the defeat.
Those scholars have argued that Custer’s total command of nearly six hundred fighting men would have been quite a formidable force had it swept into the village in force. Consequently, Custer had weakened his ability to contend with the overwhelming number of warriors by separating his command.
Historians have been so intent on treating Little Bighorn as a lone entity—as if it had been the only engagement of Custer’s career—that they have failed to factor in the experience he had gained in previous battles. Few cavalry officers throughout American history have charged the cannon’s mouth with as much frequency or with as much success as George Armstrong Custer.
Part of the reason for this modern error in judgment can be attributed to the sad fact that a great number of Little Bighorn scholars are ignorant of Custer’s tendencies in battle because they have failed to study and dissect his prior battles, mainly those during the Civil War. He bec
ame known for the ability to develop a strategy on the field with a moment’s notice that would exploit the weakness of his enemy while making use of the terrain.
At Winchester in September 1864, he had even been permitted to countermand an order on the field from General Phil Sheridan, which is unheard of in military protocol. Had junior officers made that request it would have been considered insubordination. But this demonstrates the trust Sheridan had placed in his star field commander. And Custer, outnumbered as usual, prevailed that day, capturing seven hundred prisoners and seven battle flags.
It can be noted that Custer traditionally separated his command before charging into the enemy. He had employed this tactic time and time again in victories during the Civil War and again at the 1868 Battle of the Washita, where he secured a large Cheyenne village within ten minutes of his charge. He would traditionally dispatch one strike force on a frontal assault of his objective while sending one or more detachments on a flanking movement.
Custer’s battle plan at Little Bighorn was devised with the thought—and rightly so—that the Indians would flee, which had been their custom. Had he charged into the village with his entire command from the south, where Reno had been ordered to enter, the thousands of occupants would have raced through the tangled maze of lodges toward the north, where the pony herd was located, with the result being that great numbers would have escaped.
Besides that, the warriors would have had the opportunity to organize a solid defense and effective counterattack if afforded the time to gather on the north end. There may have been nearly six hundred cavalrymen, but there were also fifteen hundred to two thousand warriors, a good many armed with Winchester repeaters. The Indians were familiar with the terrain, and groups of warriors could have deployed across the river on the high ground to maintain a withering fire on the bunched-up horsemen.
Those cavalrymen who would have been threading their way through the complex of tepees and other obstacles would have been met with steady resistance as they advanced and assuredly faced a large force of warriors at the end, if they made it that far, who would cover the getaway by their old men, women, and children. Either way, there also was the chance that the cavalrymen could have been driven from the village or at the very least stalled completely while the occupants fled. In either case, casualties for the cavalry would have been high.