by Thom Hatch
That appealing scenario of lecturing to help gain the nomination, however, may have been in the back of his mind for the distant future. The lecture tour certainly would have been available as a reward after Little Bighorn and beyond. He certainly had tales to tell—and without a doubt wanted to collect more adventures before he was put out to pasture by the army.
He was only thirty-six years old, much too young to seriously consider the staid chief executive position, an old man’s job. And another relevant consideration: it would be doubtful that this man of good humor and sensitivity who craved constant activity could picture himself mired down in the daily partisan bickering and boring policy meetings inherent to that high office. Perhaps when he was older he may have entertained a run, but not in 1876 when the West promised excitement for years to come.
If Custer truly had made any statement of that nature to his Arikara scouts before Little Bighorn it was probably little more than playful banter, an indication of the importance that a victory against the Sioux would be for his career. More than likely Custer was envisioning for himself the reward of a brigadier general’s star, an appointment made by the president when a vacancy occurred—regardless of seniority—to a worthy recipient. And a victory over Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse would certainly make George Armstrong Custer worthy of promotion. But Custer failed to attain that victory.
This reason for the defeat remains behind an insidious smoke screen to blame the scapegoat who could not defend himself.
Each of these issues has been presented over the years as a reason for Custer’s defeat, with most of them pointing the finger of blame at Custer for his personal actions. There can be found, however, the real reason for the defeat—and one must only look to the source of the conspiracy theories for the answers: the military cover-up.
Eighteen
What Really Happened?
Contrary to the assumption of many, if not most, modern scholars who believe that George Armstrong Custer’s plan of attack was hastily devised, reckless, and destined to fail, his battle plan was in fact well thought out and logical and could have—should have—succeeded. He did not blunder whatsoever but designed a plan with the potential to be as effective as any in his career.
But how do we know what he intended when apparently no one who survived the fight was told the specific details? It does not take a military genius to understand exactly how Custer envisioned the unfolding of his plan. Plenty of evidence exists to support a strategy that was nothing less than brilliant, especially given the terrain.
According to Custer’s battle plan, Reno’s charge into the village would have caused the Indians to flee blindly into the hands of Custer’s command, which had ridden to the east and north. It would then have been a matter of securing the village and deploying a tight perimeter to guard against a counterattack from those who had slipped through the seams, while details of other troopers chased down the stragglers.
By that time, Benteen and his battalion, along with the pack train of ammunition and an additional eighty-five men, would have arrived as reinforcements—as ordered by Custer. Captured Indian women and children would have been held as hostages with which to bargain and assure that a counterattack in force would not be forthcoming for fear of the captives being in harm’s way. A systematic destruction of the village, its valuable contents, and the huge pony herd would then have taken place. Messengers would have been dispatched to hurry the Terry-Gibbon column to the scene. Even if Custer had become surrounded by survivors of the attack, he had enough firepower within the village proper to maintain his position until Terry and reinforcements arrived.
In the preceding scenario, it would not have mattered how many Indians escaped Custer’s trap. They would have been demoralized, split into small bands running for their lives, and on the verge of poverty, which would have encouraged many to submit to the reservation.
The conduct of Major Marcus Reno during the period of time that his command remained in a defensive position on the hilltop under siege by the hostile Indians has been the subject of controversy. Suffice it to say, had a man of lesser discipline than Benteen been second-in-command there might have been another bloody retreat similar to one Reno had ordered earlier that day from the timber to the hilltop.
The questions about Reno’s behavior after his retreat will never be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction—but it is a moot point. It does not matter how Reno handled himself on the hilltop. He and his men should never have been on that hilltop in the first place. At that point, Reno’s command should have been within the confines of Sitting Bull’s village. Reno was only on the hilltop because he had not executed his orders but decided on his own to shirk his responsibility and retreat to that position.
Major Reno had been ordered by Custer in the person of adjutant W. W. Cooke to cross the river and charge the Indian village, with the alleged parting words to the effect that “you will be supported by the whole outfit.” That was all Reno had been told. He had no other knowledge of Custer’s overall plan, only his part in it, which was normal military operating procedure. And Reno’s part in the plan was to charge the village, not to wonder about Custer’s location or how his battalion would be supported by Custer.
By his own admission, during the charge in the valley Reno kept looking behind him for any sign of reinforcement by Custer’s command, which, to his dismay, did not appear. This led Reno to believe—according to him—that Custer had abandoned him and he would be obliged to fend for himself. That fate evidently did not appeal to the major. Therefore, he aborted his charge one-quarter of a mile from the village.
It is quite obvious, however, that Custer had never intended for his command to appear behind or even beside Reno. Custer never meant to follow Reno’s charge into the village with reinforcements, as Reno even acknowledged in his official report. Reno was part diversion, part strike force.
The Indians in the village were unaware of Custer’s presence on the eastern bluffs. He had the all-important element of surprise in his favor, just as Reno had enjoyed until he aborted his charge. Custer meant to support Reno when the two commands rendezvoused inside the Indian village.
This plan of attack had been Custer’s customary tactic during the Civil War and again at Washita. He would execute a frontal assault with one detachment while sending one or two other detachments on a flanking movement. This strategy made it virtually impossible for the enemy to respond quickly enough to effectively repel both attacks.
When Reno charged into that village, which would have caused great chaos within as well as prevented the Indians from organizing any defense or mounting a counterattack, individual units from Custer’s command would have by then been descending the various ravines on the field sloping from Battle Ridge and striking the village from a number of locations at once—without any concentrated opposition.
Perhaps all or part of Captain Myles Keogh’s detachment would have ridden to strike the village from the north. If not, he would have ridden down the coulees on the upper reaches of the village to strike it at that point. That coordination would have created a massive one-two-three punch—Reno, Custer, and Keogh—and would have made it impossible for the Indians to escape and would have inflicted devastating casualties.
In Reno’s defense, apologists have suggested that the Indians that day were just so furious and fed up with the white man that they decided to make a stand and that spelled Custer’s doom. The facts do not support this theory.
Reno, who had never witnessed an arrow fired in anger, had every advantage—the upper hand on his charge as well as afterward inside what would have become a chaotic village. This can be evidenced by the fact that not one cavalryman had been shot from his horse by a bullet or an arrow on the approach. Chief Gall had rallied a handful of warriors as a delaying tactic while the women frantically packed the village and there was some return fire, but there had not been time for the Indians to mount a concerted effort to repulse Reno.
If these Ind
ians at the edge of the village had been such a threat, why was it then that Reno subsequently lost only two men whose horses had bolted and taken them into the village during his presence in the valley before retreating and during his indecisive wait in the timber? He suffered no other losses until he failed to maintain control of his command in the timber.
Reno and others have made the case that charging into the village would have been tantamount to suicide. In his imagination, Reno saw too many Indians for him to fight. Where did he conjure up this idea? Few warriors had emerged to confront him. For all he knew, all the men from the village were out hunting or on a war party far distant from that valley. For him to imagine great numbers at that point was sheer folly.
In dissecting a battle plan, it must be noted that every element, every component, every part, must be executed properly for the plan to succeed.
In battles throughout American history, success has been dependent on every component of a battle plan working properly, with or without knowledge of the other components. Attacks by land, sea, and air may be coordinated, but each commander would have only been informed about his own part in that plan. If he takes care of his mission and the other commanders take care of their missions, the battle plan, if drawn up properly, has a good chance of bringing about success.
In 1789, Article I, Section 8, of the United States Constitution provided Congress the power to regulate land and naval forces. On April 10, 1806, the United States Congress enacted 101 Articles of War—military law—that applied to both the Army and the Navy. This system of military justice was in effect at the time of the 1876 battle and continued to operate as the rule of military law until 1951, when the present-day Uniform Code of Military Justice came into effect.
Article 9 of the Articles of War stated: “Any officer or soldier who shall strike his superior officer, or draw or lift up any weapon, or offer any violence against him, being in the execution of his office, on any pretense whatsoever, or shall disobey any lawful command of his superior officer, shall suffer death, or such other punishment as shall, according to the nature of his offense, be inflicted upon him by the sentence of a court-martial.”
Not surprisingly, disobedience of orders was deemed important enough to be placed right up there with killing the commanding officer—that was how seriously obeying orders from a superior officer was taken. The gravity of an offense of this nature was further reinforced by the recommended punishment—death. And this disobedience was not reserved exclusively for orders delivered in combat—any lawful order in a garrison or in the field held the same serious consequences.
In these days and times, military personnel who disobey even the pettiest or most insignificant order are generally brought up on charges and punished in some manner, losing rank and/or a forfeiture of pay. It is widely known that a soldier today, just as those in 1876, does not have the right to question an order or obey it at his or her discretion. An order from a superior officer is to be carried out without question, or debate, or complaint, or risk—or else.
Custer’s battle plan had three basic parts—the most important being Reno’s charge on the village and Custer’s descent from the eastern slope. Benteen’s part in the plan became more relevant when he was ordered to hurry to the field with ammunition.
No one disagrees that Major Reno was issued a lawful order by Custer to charge the village with his battalion.
There was no discretion given in Reno’s orders. He was not told to use his best judgment on whether or not to charge the village. Subordinates obey orders from their superior officers—without question—or face punishment. Many a soldier throughout history has charged the cannon’s mouth under more desperate circumstances when ordered to do so. Reno was told to charge. It was not by any stretch of the imagination his prerogative to consider the odds or risk before carrying out his orders. It would not have mattered if he had observed two thousand entrenched, heavily armed warriors waiting for him outside that village. He would still have been expected to charge. If Custer had ordered Reno to execute a one-man charge by himself into that hostile village, Reno would have been obliged to obey. Moreover, Reno should have had faith that his well-trained cavalrymen would be up to the task of attacking that village and being victorious.
On July 3, 1863, George Armstrong Custer, a general for only four days, assumed command of a twenty-three-hundred-man Union cavalry detachment that was poised to charge directly into a force of six thousand Confederate cavalrymen and infantrymen. “Good heavens!” cried one Union officer. “We will all be swallowed up!” Custer led his force from four horse lengths to the front and they slammed into the enemy on what could only be called a suicide mission. He could have left his men entrenched and waited for this oncoming six-thousand-man sledgehammer to pound into them. Instead, he took the initiative, and, amazingly, he beat the odds that day and drove those Rebels back up the hill to their original position. It may have been the turning point of the battle.
But Major Marcus Reno failed to charge the Indian village as ordered by George Armstrong Custer, an inexcusable failure of command.
Further, Reno had no right to know the other components of Custer’s battle plan or even how it was intended to unfold. That information was simply none of his business. He only had to understand his own mission, which obviously he did. He should have known that if he carried out his part of the battle plan and every other detachment did the same then there was a good chance that they would prevail.
And what happens when orders by a commander are disobeyed in combat? When a battle plan falls apart—when only one part of it is not executed properly—the odds of total failure rise substantially. It can be a fatal mistake. In such cases, the lives of men are placed in dire jeopardy.
And that was exactly what happened at the Little Bighorn on June 25, 1876. Major Marcus Reno disobeyed the orders of his superior. Consequently, not only many of the men in his detachment were killed, but Custer and his battalion were massacred also—all because Reno did not follow orders.
When Reno halted his charge and formed a line of dismounted skirmishers, he afforded the Indians an opportunity to assemble in numbers sufficient enough to counterattack. Had Reno carried out his orders and charged the village, Custer’s troops would have been there to greet him—just as Cooke had indicated. Reno would have been supported by the whole outfit.
Instead, Custer made an attempt to probe the village with a detachment sent down Medicine Tail Coulee, which was forced back by warriors who would not have been available for defense had Reno penetrated the village as ordered. Custer’s other detachments were forced to retreat or remain on the eastern bluffs, as sitting ducks, when Reno ran away and left Custer’s command high and dry.
Furthermore, had Benteen ridden to the rescue immediately as ordered instead of dawdling along the trail, another 125 troopers would have roared into this chaotic village to wreak havoc upon their enemy. But Benteen, for reasons known only to himself, chose to disobey Custer’s order as well. And, when Benteen later met Reno, his order from Custer became Reno’s order. In other words, both men should have immediately led their commands to the aid of Custer. Instead, they cowered on the hilltop and shamefully accused Custer of abandoning them.
It should be noted that the outcome of the battle decidedly would have been different had Captain Frederick Benteen been in command of the battalion in the valley instead of Reno. In spite of his hatred for Custer, Benteen, a fearless soldier, would have slammed into that village as ordered, which would have permitted Custer’s strategy to proceed as planned. But Custer evidently had felt obligated to hand Reno, his second-in-command, the honor and glory of commanding the heroic valley charge.
The battle plan would have followed as such:
Reno charges down the valley into the village.
Custer stealthily descends down the coulees from the eastern bluffs and wades into the village at intervals.
Benteen rushes up with reinforcements and ammunition packs.
Executed vigorously, it was a brilliant plan devised by Custer, using the terrain like a chessboard and moving his pieces to checkmate his opponent. No other theory about this battle makes any sense whatsoever.
The Seventh Cavalry would have routed the Indians that day, killing and capturing great numbers of them, destroying a huge village, its valuable contents, and the pony herd, which would have crippled those who escaped to the extent that eventual submission would have been the only alternative. The victory would have been beneficial to the country by making the territory a more peaceful place for people to travel through or settle.
The portrayal of Custer as a bumbling tactician who led his men into certain death due to his ego and lust for glory is simply not supported by the evidence. The outcome of the battle assuredly would have been different—regardless of the number of Indians—had Custer’s subordinate officers simply obeyed their orders.
Reno’s guilt cannot be denied. Major Marcus A. Reno committed the ultimate betrayal for an army officer. His disobedience of orders by failing to charge the village cost the Seventh Cavalry almost three hundred lives that day. And punishment should have been doled out according to the Articles of War.
If Reno’s subordinate officers would have been more competent or aware of what was happening sooner, one of them should have either shot Reno or placed him under arrest and assumed command for the good of the unit. There is no worse offense in the military than letting down your fellow soldiers under enemy fire. It is the ultimate betrayal.
A person enters military service and abruptly forfeits all the freedom and rights granted under the Constitution and lives in a dictatorship in which he or she must obey the whims of even the most unreasonable or unstable superior in rank. Such a scenario is difficult for anyone to imagine. A soldier is on duty every minute of the day and night for the remaining years on his or her enlistment, no matter the inconvenience to their personal life. If they are told to jump, they may ask, “How high?” But they will jump.