Reporter Theodore Davis interviewed a messenger heading for Hancock’s command in April 1867. The seasoned Plainsman thought talk of treaties was an attempt to buy time. “The soldiers will learn what nonsense it is to undertake to fight Indians during the summer season,” he said, offering that winter was “the time to go for their villages. They know they can’t escape, because their ponies are too poor to carry them; so they will stay by and fight.” Defeating Indian mobility was the key to victory. “If the Indians are whipped at this time of year there will be some show for peace for the rest of the summer; otherwise they will fight all summer, and make peace in the fall.”19 Everything the anonymous messenger predicted came true.
As the fall of 1868 approached, Sheridan began planning for a winter campaign. Some thought the plan was too risky, but Sheridan reasoned that “as the soldier was much better fed and clothed than the Indian, I had one great advantage.” He planned to “fall upon the savages relentlessly, for in [winter] their ponies would be thin, and weak from lack of food, and in the cold and snow, without strong ponies to transport their villages and plunder, their movements would be so much impeded that the troops could overtake them.”20
Sherman approved the concept. He wrote to General Dodge, then a member of Congress from Iowa, “[W]e propose not to let up all winter & before spring comes I hope not an Indian will be left in that belt of country through which the two railroads pass.”21 It was the same rapacity he had brought to his march through Georgia.
Sheridan wanted Custer to lead the winter campaign. He appealed to Sherman, who approved Custer’s reinstatement in late September, cutting about eight weeks off his sentence. He was ordered “to report in person without delay to Maj. Gen. Sheridan for duty.” George left Michigan immediately, eager to validate the trust that Sheridan and Sherman were placing in him. “I rely in every thing upon you,” Sheridan wrote, “and shall send you on this expedition without giving you any orders leaving you to act entirely upon your judgment.”22
“I can whip the Indians if I can find them,” Custer wrote, “and I shall leave no effort untried to do this. I have a difficult task before me but I am confident that if the Indians can be found I can do it as well as most persons could.”23
The impending winter campaign was by no means a secret. The Army would have preferred the Indians come onto the reservations, so they spread the word. In late September, Sherman instructed Colonel Hazen to “give out general notice that all Comanches, Kiowas, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, that wish to escape the effects of the present Indian war, should now remove to the Reservation assigned them in their treaty at the Medicine Lodge.” He went on to say, “General Sheridan shall prosecute the war with vindictive earnestness against all hostile Indians till they are obliterated or beg for mercy, and therefore all who want peace must get out of the theatre of war.”24 Indian agents Boone and Wynkoop would be on hand to distribute annuities to Indians who came in. They were supplied with $50,000 to make the arrangements for food, blankets, and other materials. Hazen was to establish himself at Fort Cobb after sending word out, and “if the Indians do not come, it is not his or our fault.”25
Hazen got the word out as ordered, but it offended more Indians than it attracted. Part of the problem was that the Indians did not know the limits of the reservations, and some of the agents had established their headquarters far outside reservation lands, defeating the purpose of keeping the Indians stationary.
On November 20–21 Hazen met with a delegation of Arapahoe and Cheyenne chiefs headed by Little Big Mouth and Black Kettle. Both said they wanted peace, but they could not control every band in their tribes. “I do not represent all the Cheyennes,” Black Kettle said. “I come from a point on the Washita River, about one day’s ride from Antelope Hills. Near me there are over one hundred lodges of my tribe, only a part of them are my followers. I have always done my best to keep my young men quiet, but some of them will not listen.” Black Kettle said he would “like to stop fighting, and come here soon with my people, and stay here with these Indian friends of mine, and be fed until the war is over.”26
Hazen warned the chiefs he faced a similar situation. “North of the Arkansas is General Sheridan, the great war-chief,” he told them. “I cannot control him, and he has all the soldiers, who are fighting the Cheyennes and Arapahoes. . . . You must go back to your country, and if the soldiers come to attack you, you must remember they are not from me, but from that great war-chief, and with him you must make Peace.”
Hazen quickly sent word to Sherman that a deal with these two bands would bring in most of the Indians “on the war-path south of the Arkansas.” But Hazen was unclear what he could promise them, or whether he had any authority to negotiate peace. “I should prefer that General Sheridan should make peace with these parties,” he wrote, and feared that “as General Sheridan is to punish those at war . . . a second Chivington affair might occur which I could not prevent.”27
Hazen was referring to the incident that took place November 29, 1864, near Sand Creek in southeastern Colorado, when the Colorado Militia under Colonel John Chivington attacked Black Kettle’s camp without provocation and killed over 150 men, women, and children. Black Kettle thought his people were safe and flew an American flag to show loyalty to the Union. Indian agent Ned Wynkoop, then a major in the 1st Colorado Volunteer regiment, had tried to broker a peace deal, but Chivington attacked anyway. The Sand Creek Massacre became a notorious incident in the history of relations with the Indians.
Despite Hazen’s wish for peace, the next day Custer was on the march. On November 23, his regiment moved south from their base at Camp Supply on the North Canadian River in what today would be western Oklahoma. The weather was cold, and as the column began its march, a fresh snowstorm blew in, adding to the foot-deep snow blanket that covered the countryside. But Custer’s force of around eight hundred was well trained and motivated, and the fresh snow would make tracking the Indian bands that much easier.
Custer’s column was accompanied by New York Herald reporter DeBenneville Randolph Keim, a friend of president-elect Grant’s who had accompanied Sherman on the march to the sea.28 He wrote that Custer’s operations order from Sheridan was straightforward: “To proceed south, in the direction of the Antelope hills, thence towards the Washita river, the supposed winter seat of the hostile tribes; to destroy their villages and ponies; to kill or hang all warriors, and bring back all women and children.” Sheridan believed this no-quarter approach would level the playing field with the Indians and represented “two parties playing at the same game.”29 He declared he would march over the Indian villages “if he had to go all the way to Texas.”30
Custer’s column moved toward the Indian winter villages along the Washita River led by Osage scouts, the traditional enemies and frequent victims of the more numerous and warlike Cheyenne. Also along were experienced trackers “Old California Joe” Corbin, Raphael Romero, and Little Beaver. On November 26 the scouts “called our attention to a trail resembling a ‘buffalo path’ which was covered with snow,” Albert Barnitz wrote. But “it should have been deeper, if the path had been made by buffaloes”—the track had actually been made by a band of Indians, but “whether a war party or a hunting party we could not tell.” They followed this trail for some distance until they came to another, fresher trail, “which had obviously been made in the afternoon of the previous, by a war party of from one to two hundred Indians. It was known to be a war party from the fact that the Indians had no dogs with them, whereas hunting parties are always accompanied by dogs.”31 They sent word to Custer that they were going to follow the trail until they received further orders, and made sure their weapons were loaded and unfrozen in case of trouble.
That night the Osage scouts reported that they had tracked the war party back to a village on the Washita, where they had seen “heaps ponies.” Custer went forward to scout the location himself. He crept through the snow along a ridgeline to look down on the valley by the light of th
e half moon. They were looking at the pony herd, but the figures were indistinct in the dim light; one officer said they were buffalo, until they heard the tinkle of a bell. The leader of the Osages repeated, “Heaps ponies.”
“I am satisfied they are ponies, the herd of the village,” Custer whispered back. “Buffaloes are not in the habit of wearing such ornaments as bells in this country.”32 Below them, across the Washita on a high bank in a strip of trees, stood the fifty-one lodges of Black Kettle’s band.
Custer left eighty men back with the baggage train, and as quietly as possible brought up the rest. He divided them into four columns, which would attack the village from separate directions. They moved cautiously into position in the darkness, making as little noise as possible, to preserve the element of surprise. When they reached their attack positions, the men waited, standing in the deep snow, some of them sleeping leaning on their horses. As dawn approached, Captain Francis M. Gibson recalled listening intently for the attack signal, the regiment’s trademark song, “Garryowen”: “At last the inspiring strains of the rollicking tune broke forth, filling the early morning air with joyous music. The profound silence that had reigned through the night was suddenly changed to a pandemonium of tumult and excitement; the wild notes of ‘Garryowen’ which had resounded from hill to hill, were answered by wilder shouts of exultation from the charging columns.”
“We had just reached the edge of a shallow ravine beyond which we could see the clustered tepees, situated among wide-branching cottonwood trees,” Albert Barnitz wrote,
when a shot was fired in the village, and instantly we heard the band on the ridge beyond it strike up the familiar air “Garry Owen” and the answering cheers of the men, as Custer, and his legion came thundering down the long divide, while nearer at hand on our right came Benteen’s squadron, crashing through the frozen snow, as the troops deployed into line at a gallop, and the Indian village range with unearthly war-whoops, the quick discharge of fire-arms, the clamorous barking of dogs, the cries of infants and the wailing of women.
“We played one strain through,” band member Henry Meder recalled, “then our instruments all froze up.”33
“With cheers that strongly reminded me of scenes during the war,” Custer wrote to Sheridan, “every trooper, led by his officer, rushed toward the village.”34 George led from the front as the four columns converged on the lodges. He was the first in the village, and fought through to the south side where he directed the battle from atop a low hill. Captain Hamilton, charging by his side, was shot from his mount and killed.
“The sleeping and unsuspecting savages were completely surprised by the onset,” Sheridan wrote.35 Some warriors were killed as they emerged from their teepees. Others managed to fight back, with rifles or hand-to-hand. Women and children ran about the village in fear, or hid in the lodges, and many fell victim to the hail of gunfire. “In the excitement of the fight, as well as in self defense,” Custer noted, “it so happened that some of the squaws and a few children were killed and wounded.” One count had around ninety-two women, children, and old men killed, along with ten warriors, but Cheyenne chiefs later told Custer thirteen men, sixteen women, and nine children were killed.36
Black Kettle rushed from his lodge and jumped on a horse, pulling up his wife Medicine Woman Later behind him. They tried to cross the river but were felled in a fusillade of bullets, killing them and the horse. Little Rock, the second senior chief after Black Kettle, tried to mount a defense until he was shot down by Major Elliott.37 Seeing a small group of Indians fleeing downstream, Elliot rode off in pursuit with nineteen troopers shouting, “Here goes for a brevet or a coffin!”38
The battle subsided as the morning wore on. “Light skirmishing is going on all around,” Frederick Benteen wrote. “Savages on flying steeds, with shields and feathers gay, are circling everywhere, riding like devils incarnate. The troops are on all sides of the village, looking on and seizing every opportunity of picking off some of those daring riders with their carbines.”39 A few charges scattered whatever organized resistance remained. The troopers took time to eat and rest as the Indian scouts collected scalps.
Custer took stock. He had successfully attacked what he believed to be a hostile band, and demonstrated that offensive operations in the winter were possible. His losses had been slight—only a few killed that he knew of, and some wounded, including his brother Tom and Captain Barnitz. Fifty-three women and children were taken captive. Custer’s men sorted through the camp and discovered evidence suggesting that some in the group had been raiding. They saved various artifacts; Custer later sent the Detroit Audubon Club a buffalo hide shield, a bow and arrows, a beaded buckskin dress, and a ten-inch knotted scalp, said to be that of Little Rock.40
After picking over the camp, they prepared the rest for burning. “The plunder having been culled over, is hastily piled,” Benteen wrote, “the wigwams are pulled down and thrown on it, and soon the whole is one blazing mass. Occasionally a startling report is heard and a steamlike volume of smoke ascends as the fire reaches a powder bag, and thus the glorious deeds of valor done in the morning are celebrated by the flaming bonfire of the afternoon.”41
“All that was left of the village were a few heaps of blackened ashes,” Custer wrote. The eight hundred ponies and mules in the herd were killed to deny them to other Indian bands, Custer himself picking off a few that were straggling through the village.
Sounds of the battle had echoed down the valley and alerted Indians in nearby camps. Presently warriors appeared along the ridgeline, watching the soldiers and taking some pot shots. “The firing was kept up by the Indians out, on the bluff, on our left front, all day,” Henry Meder recalled.42 Custer established a defensive ring around the village and distributed ammunition. He did not know how many Indians were in the vicinity, but he assumed they outnumbered his force. His supplies and ammunition were limited, and his pack train was miles away. He could not stay at the village; there was no relief column coming or even a prospect of other forces being sent to secure the position. The day was wearing, and Custer concluded he had to leave or be surrounded and put under siege.
Custer assembled his men and prisoners and began to march loudly downstream toward the next village, of Arapahos. This had the intended effect; the warriors who had been observing his force withdrew quickly and rushed ahead to spread the alarm. But after the Indians disappeared, Custer abruptly turned his column back toward his pack train and made for Camp Supply, the band playing “Ain’t I Glad to Get Out of the Wilderness.” The Indians did not give chase, and Custer returned to the post on December 2.
“The head of Custer’s column made its appearance on the distant hills,” Sheridan recalled, “the friendly Osage scouts and the Indian prisoners in advance.” Sheridan noted their “wild and picturesque performance in celebration of the victory, yelling, firing their guns, throwing themselves on the necks and sides of their horses to exhibit their skill in riding, and going through all sorts of barbaric evolutions and gyrations,” and that night “the rejoicings were ended with the hideous scalp dance.”
The rest of Custer’s column arrived after the scouts, but Major Elliott was missing. He and his small band had vanished down the Washita. Days later, Custer, Sheridan, and one hundred soldiers returned to the site to learn their fate. The bodies were found in a small circle two miles from the village, “stripped as naked as when born, and frozen stiff,” Frederick Benteen recalled. “Their heads had been battered in, and some of them had been entirely chopped off; some of them had had the Adam’s apple cut out of their throats; some had their hands and feet cut off, and nearly all had been horribly mangled in a way delicacy forbids me to mention.”43
“The little piles of empty cartridge shells near each body showed plainly that every man had made a brave fight,” Sheridan wrote. “None were scalped, but most of them were otherwise horribly mutilated, which fiendish work is usually done by the squaws.” The bodies were identified and buried.
Clara Blinn and her son turned up at an abandoned Kiowa village ten miles away. She had been shot twice in the forehead, and the back of her skull was smashed. “The body presented the appearance of a woman of more than ordinary beauty,” one report noted, “small in figure, and not more than twenty-two years of age.”44 Sheridan, who was present at the discovery, noted that the powder from the weapon used to kill her had “horribly disfigured her face.” One of her hands gripped a piece of corn cake, indicating she may have been eating or feeding her son when she was killed. Willie, who showed signs of starvation, had been grabbed by the feet and his head smashed against a tree. The bodies were wrapped in blankets and taken from the site, eventually being interred at Fort Arbuckle. A piece of Clara’s calico dress and a lock of Willie’s hair were sent to her husband.
“The Kiowas have been engaged in the war all the time, and have been playing fast and loose,” Sheridan threatened after he returned. “I will take the starch out of them before I leave them.”45 Satanta, the Kiowa leader who had captured Clara, surrendered to Custer on December 17 along with Chief Lone Wolf, hoping to avoid the fate that befell Black Kettle. Instead, Custer had Satanta placed under arrest and sought permission to hang him for murder. Satanta was held until February when Chief Tene-angopte negotiated his release, promising that the Kiowa would return to the reservation.
The Real Custer Page 27