by Thom Hatch
As a last resort, the Indians could have stampeded thousands of ponies through the village from the north directly at the oncoming cavalry. This tactic would have stopped the cavalrymen in their tracks. The warriors would have hated to place their precious ponies at risk, but the safety of their families was far more important. And they still would have had plenty of ponies left over in the herd estimated at up to twenty thousand to ride away from the attack—breaking up into small bands and vanishing across the prairie.
Consequently, attacking with the entire command from one direction offered the enemy too many options to save themselves.
With that in mind, it would appear that the only logical method of attacking the village would be by separating the command in order to cover escape routes to the west with Benteen and for Custer’s detachments to enter the village from the east and north at various points along the natural pathways created by the ravines when Reno charged from the south.
To charge that village head-on with his total command would have been an outdated and impractical European Napoléonic tactic and would surely have been doomed to failure.
Another issue that has been raised has been the question regarding the readiness, or the lack thereof, of the cavalrymen to effectively fight on June 25, 1876. The theories that many of the troopers were untrained raw recruits and that the unit as a whole had succumbed to fatigue by the time they reached the battlefield have been posed as reasons for the Seventh Cavalry’s poor showing against the enemy. In fact, more than one author has claimed that Custer’s men just wanted to lay down their weapons and go to sleep instead of fighting this enemy.
The first matter of contention pertains to new recruits who lacked proper training and were said to have been called upon to fight alongside seasoned veterans. There can be no question that poorly trained troops are more vulnerable under combat conditions. The ability to fight effectively was dependent upon learning the skills necessary to be proficient in the ways of warfare. Lessons in weaponry and military discipline are essential in order to engender personal confidence and unit cohesiveness when facing the enemy. This competency requires intense training over a period of time. But did a lack of training apply to those soldiers who rode into the Valley of the Little Bighorn?
Records indicate that approximately 150 recruits joined the Seventh Cavalry in 1875, with about 60 of them having prior service. Another 62 new men were said to have joined the unit in early 1876—although only 54 could be verified from regimental rosters on June 25, 1876. The latter men were more than likely untrained in the ways of a cavalryman, as their daily activities were consumed by guard duty, fatigue duty, and the monotonous post routine.
This lack of training for the new recruits can be placed on the shoulders of Major Marcus A. Reno, who commanded the Seventh Cavalry in Custer’s absence during preparations for the campaign. Reno neglected to schedule target practice training or instruction in the rudiments of cavalry tactics. Granted, it did not take an expert to figure out how to aim and fire the Springfield Model 1873 or the Colt .45 revolver. But, with respect to the Springfield trapdoor carbine, there was a technique of loading and extracting that required proper learning and practice in order to fire the maximum number of rounds per minute. Training in horsemanship—other than feeding, grooming, and mucking out stalls—had been lacking as well.
At first glance it would appear that these new recruits were a detriment to the efficiency of the Seventh Cavalry against the Sioux and Cheyenne—if they indeed had been called upon for a combat role.
A check of regimental rosters confirms that at the time of the battle a total of thirty-seven new recruits—those who had signed up in 1876—did not accompany Custer. He had wisely left these recruits on detached duty at the Powder River base camp, with one at Fort Abraham Lincoln, another in confinement, and two en route. Nine had been detailed with the pack train escort, while only four remained with companies assigned to Reno’s battalion—including Private Theodore Goldin, who was awarded the Medal of Honor—and two of those had years of prior service with the infantry. No new recruits were members of the companies that comprised Custer’s command.
Therefore, the charge that untrained recruits contributed to Custer’s defeat can be readily dismissed.
The second allegation concerning readiness charges that the cavalrymen were too fatigued to fight by the time they had arrived in the Valley of the Little Bighorn. The regiment had traveled approximately 113 miles with little sleep or nourishment between June 22 and 25. A long, hard march such as that can certainly create a state of tiredness that would prevent anyone from functioning at peak performance. Field rations during the previous month had consisted mainly of hardtack and bacon, with the occasional supplement of wild game. Fatigue and malnourishment unquestionably sap the spirit and can result in a breakdown of discipline and morale. These cavalrymen, however, were proud, trained professionals serving in an elite unit and were expected to perform under the most adverse conditions. A number of these troopers had braved freezing temperatures and a blizzard to successfully attack Black Kettle’s village at the Battle of the Washita.
There exists another element that must be considered when assessing a soldier’s readiness to fight. The one factor that can overcome fatigue and hunger is being under attack and hearing that bullet or arrow zip past your head too close for comfort. As anyone who has experienced combat is aware, adrenaline-fueled energy plays a major role in quickly readying the body and mind for battle. Like a slap in the face, senses and concentration are heightened when the first round has been fired and, although fatigue may become a factor during a prolonged battle, men trained to fight usually respond in an admirable fashion in the short term. Whether Custer’s men could have fared better had they enjoyed a good night’s sleep and a full belly is a moot point.
Another debate that has ensued for years was over the issue of whether or not the Model 1873 Springfield carbines that the cavalrymen carried into battle malfunctioned and thereby contributed to the defeat. The controversy stems from the fact that the weapon was known after firing to frequently fail to properly extract its spent .45/55-caliber copper cartridge casing, which expanded when hot. That failure, combined with a faulty extractor mechanism and common dirt, could cause the head of the cartridge to be torn away when the block was opened. This would leave the cartridge cylinder remaining inside the chamber, which required manual removal with a pocketknife before reloading and firing. This extraction malfunction problem had been noted in 1872 by the board of officers who selected the carbine for use by the army but at that time was not considered serious enough to scrap the weapon.
There is no doubt that if this malfunction occurred with enough frequency during the battle the troopers would have been seriously affected in firepower. Therefore, the question that must be posed is: With what frequency did this defect occur on June 25, 1876, when it really mattered?
And these numbers have been uncovered and analyzed over the years by Drs. Douglas D. Scott and Richard A. Fox, Jr. These two archaeologists found during the initial study of items from excavations on the battlefield that very few .45/55-caliber cartridge casings displayed any evidence of pry or scratch marks, such as those by a pocketknife that would have permanently scarred a hot casing. On the Custer portion of the field only 3 of 88 casings could have been involved in an extraction jam. Seven out of 257 fit this category on the Reno-Benteen hilltop site.
Sioux chief Gall mentioned that he witnessed soldiers throwing away their long guns in favor of their short guns. There is the likelihood that those men had simply run out of ammunition for their carbines. Each cavalryman carried only fifty .45/55 cartridges in his cartridge belt. Fifty additional rounds were located in his saddlebags, which would have been lost when the Indians stampeded the horses. Fifty rounds fired in the frantic heat of battle could be expended in a very short period of time. The Colt revolvers, for which they carried twenty rounds, may have been more effective at short range, but, again, twenty
rounds would not last long.
Custer had dispatched an urgent message to Captain Benteen that emphasized bringing up the ammunition packs in a hurry. Benteen dawdled along the trail, never arriving to assist Custer. There is a distinct possibility that rather than blame any malfunction of the carbine on the defeat, the more logical explanation would be that the cavalrymen simply ran out of ammunition and were overwhelmed by their enemy.
Perhaps that also explains why Custer’s command was strung out along Battle Ridge rather than formed in a tight defensive position. The companies to the south, led by First Lieutenant James Calhoun, may have been sent to escort Benteen and the ammunition—or even to locate the pack train themselves—and return with ammo but were stopped in their tracks at that point by an overwhelming number of warriors.
If the numbers of damaged cartridge casings posed by the archaeological digs are representative, and there is no reason to believe otherwise, it would appear that malfunction of the carbine from that source was quite minimal and could not be considered a factor in the defeat. Ammo not arriving in time along with reinforcements could certainly be considered a more relevant factor.
The question has been debated about whether the Indians were better armed than the cavalrymen. There can be no question that the cavalry was outgunned by the Indians that day—and not necessarily due to better firearms but simply by sheer numbers.
Customary Indian tactics called for them to remain a safe distance away—hidden by tall grass, bushes, and terrain features—while they fired an endless stream of arcing arrows at the pinned-down cavalrymen. Add to that arrow barrage the firearms, and the all-important fire superiority certainly favored the Indians in a battle of attrition.
There can also be no doubt that the modern repeaters made quite a difference. General George Crook, in a September 25, 1876, report, stated: “Of the difficulties with which we have had to contend, it may be well to remark, that when the Sioux Indian was armed with a bow and arrow he was more formidable, fighting as he does most of the time on horseback, than when he got the old fashioned muzzle loading rifle. But when he came into possession of the breech loader and metallic cartridge, which allows him to load and fire from his horse with perfect ease, he became at once ten thousand times more formidable.”
Some military tacticians who may not be familiar with the rugged terrain leading to the battlefield have suggested that Gatling guns would have provided Custer the firepower necessary to defeat the overwhelming number of Indians that he faced. In fact, Custer had been offered the use of three Gatling guns by General Alfred H. Terry. Custer at first accepted the offer and then about an hour later changed his mind, deciding that the guns would impede his march.
Surely, the formidable firepower that those guns, which were invented in 1861, could have brought into play would have been devastating to any enemy. The Gatling gun, forerunner of the machine gun, worked on the principle of having a soldier turn a crank that fed ammunition from a hopper into either six or ten barrels and could fire up to 350 rounds per minute.
The downside of these guns’ operation was that they had not been modified much since their invention and were known to frequently malfunction—often jamming due to residue from black powder or overheating. Also, they were designed to repel a massed attack of the enemy, such as was customary in European warfare, whereas the Indians would not have marched into the line of fire in the tradition of Redcoats. Another disadvantage was that the guns were mounted on large wheels, which meant that during operation the gun crew would be standing upright and this would make them sitting ducks to Indian snipers.
But perhaps the most negative aspect of Gatlings in turning the tide of a battle such as the Little Bighorn was the difficulty in simply getting them to the battlefield. The guns were drawn by four horses, and each obstacle would have required unhitching the horses in favor of manpower to maneuver the guns to an agreeable location, then re-hitching the horses in order to continue. Taking into consideration the difficult terrain on Custer’s march, the guns would have greatly impeded his progress.
This fact can be evidenced by Terry’s own battery—the one he had offered to Custer. Gibbon’s Twentieth Infantry was in charge of the guns and was unable to keep up with the column.
In his defense, General Nelson Miles wrote to General William T. Sherman on July 8, 1876, that Gatlings “are worthless for Indian fighting.”
There are also scholars who suggest that Custer would have fared better had he taken the Gatling guns—but not necessarily on account of their firepower. The guns would have delayed Custer’s march to the extent that he would have rendezvoused with the Terry-Gibbon column and unified their commands to attack the village.
To be fair, for the disadvantages outlined earlier Custer was justified in his decision to refuse the Gatling guns.
Apparently Custer had discussed artillery with scout Fred Girard prior to the march. Girard was of the opinion that the Indians would not charge the Gatlings or simply stand around getting picked off. The scout told Custer that a twelve-pounder cannon would be a much better choice of artillery. They could destroy a village in quick order by lobbing shells from a mile away.
That theory had already been proven by Colonel Kit Carson in early November 1864 at Adobe Walls, Texas. Carson had commanded fewer men than Custer and faced more Indians—in fact, more than anyone ever had or would on the plains—and was able to destroy a large Kiowa-Comanche village and extricate himself from being surrounded by several thousand warriors because of the two twelve-pounder mountain howitzers that he had brought along. Otherwise, Carson assuredly would have suffered Custer’s fate.
Still, it was not Custer’s custom to allow anything to delay his march to the objective. And, in this case, the village would have been packed and gone before he could have fired even one volley.
Thirty-seven years after the Little Bighorn battle an Arikara scout named Red Star through an interpreter stated that George Armstrong Custer told his Ree scouts before departing from Fort Lincoln in May 1876 that a victory against the Sioux would make him the “Great Father” in Washington.
Most famously, author Mari Sandoz used Red Star’s statement to outline her idea of Custer’s plan to gain the nomination of the Democratic Party, which was meeting in St. Louis June 27–29.
The theory was that Charley Reynolds would duplicate his Black Hills dash to a telegraph office and relay the news of the victory over the Sioux to the floor of the convention, where Custer’s supporters would push for his nomination. This ambition would explain the motivation behind Custer’s hasty attack.
This account, however, has led some to assume that Custer intended to use the Little Bighorn campaign as a launching pad into the presidency of the United States—perhaps to the extent that he would become reckless in his zeal to erase Grant’s insult over the Belknap Scandal and to occupy the office that Grant presently held.
There is no question that at some future date Custer would have made an attractive candidate to the Democratic Party for which he had performed admirable service over the years. Military commanders traditionally were mentioned as qualified contenders for the presidency after winning a major war. And had Custer defeated the Sioux on June 25, 1876, his already high popularity with the public would have soared to presidential heights.
It is doubtful, however, that Custer at that point in his career even remotely dreamed of the presidency. In fact, it is absurd to believe, given his prior embarrassing dabblings in politics, that he thought himself suited as a politician rather than a soldier.
In 1866, he had accompanied President Andrew Johnson on his “Swing Around the Circle,” a tour around the country designed to win support for the president’s Southern policy. Custer was mercilessly attacked in the North for mingling with Southern traitors, which compelled him to abandon the tour before its end to escape protesters and adverse publicity. Repercussions from his testimony at the Belknap hearings had served to further convince him that he presently lack
ed adequate political skills for national office.
Another problem would be the timing. Word of a victory over the Sioux—much less Custer in person—could not have reached the convention in St. Louis in time to make any impact on the party’s nominee, regardless of whether Charley Reynolds had killed several horses in an effort to reach a telegraph.
If Custer had indeed in early 1876 tendered presidential aspirations the perfect platform for a run had been presented to him. He had been offered a contract by the Redpath Lyceum Bureau, a Boston talent agency, that called for him to make a speech five nights a week for four to five months at an astounding two hundred dollars per lecture. Not only could he have earned more than ten times his annual army salary in that short period, but he also could have placed his carefully constructed views, thrilling war stories, and considerable charm before an already-adoring nationwide audience. Although it had been suggested that the tour would begin in the spring, had Custer been setting sights on the presidency that year he could have pushed up the date to suit his ambitions. He almost certainly could have received a leave of absence and not participated in the Little Bighorn Campaign in order to fulfill the schedule of speaking engagements.
The lecture tour could have concluded with Custer’s triumphant entrance at the Democratic Party convention. By that time he would have gained the admiration and confidence of the public and, that combined with his influential party benefactors, his friendship with a number of leading congressmen, his association with New York newspapers, and the fact that he had exposed fraud in the Grant administration and been punished for his actions, perhaps could have resulted in the nomination. But Custer had turned down this lucrative opportunity to gain publicity for himself in order to remain with the army on active duty.