Tag Archives: Little Bighorn

Which Way, Brothers

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Crow Warriors – Crow Reservation Click to see large version

It was a confusing day for everyone involved that fateful day of Jun 26th, 1876. The battle that was going to go down in history as the most devastating defeat for the American troops of the 7th cavalry they had ever faced, and the greatest victory for the massed Indian tribes gathered in the valley of the Greasy grass had just begun. It would be forever known as the Battle of the Little Bighorn.

The troops of the 7th cavalry had made contact and everyone on that side was gathering up their weapons and racing to get on their horses if they weren’t already mounted, while the Indians had already joined the various groups they were going to fight with and were heading out to different areas where they would meet their foe.

Some of the younger warriors were not affiliated with any warrior group yet but were determined not to be left out of the action. They formed their own small groups of family members and friends and against the advice of the older men were not going to be left out of the fighting. It was their time to become men and they were going to show what they were made of. They were going to battle, but first they had to find it.

As they raced out of the village the first challenge they ran into was, Which way, brothers. Which way to meet their destiny.

Open Late

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It was around mid-June, maybe the 14th or 15th of 1876 and General Alfred Terry of the United States Army had led one of the three Columns of troops heading toward the meadow known as the Greasy Grass where the Little Big Horn river flowed gently though the valley. The 7th cavalry was a part of this column under the command of General George Armstrong Custer. A large camp of Lakota and Cheyenne were known to be in the area and a huge battle was imminent.

After one of the three columns were met and turned back by the Indians General Terry halted his column and made camp. He then sent General George Armstrong Custer out with the 7th to gather intelligence on where the Indians might be camped. While Custer was gone time was spent getting the troops and their gear ready for the forthcoming battle. The Quartermaster was in charge of a sort mobile general store filled with military items and it was his job to hand out whatever was needed to keep the troops ready for action. Missing gear was reissued, repairs were made to what ever was broken or damaged, saddle straps mended, rifle slings replaced if necessary, bullet pouches filled, all the necessary small items soldiers carried with them that needed to be ready and in good condition were reconditioned and made ready for the events to come.

The Quartermaster was the person to see for any extra parts and other sundries that might be needed. Since it wasn’t known when they might see action the Quartermaster’s tent was kept open late so everyone could get what they needed. At this time there had been no word back from Custer and the troops took the opportunity to rest and make sure they were as squared away as possible before they moved out. It was a chance to get a little rest, eat some food and get ready for what ever was next. As a result the Quartermaster kept his store open late.

Misses His Friends

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Young men and war. How glorious it is. Sitting around the campfire, hearing the elders talk about battles they had when they were young warriors. Riding out across the prairie with a comrade and speaking of brave deeds you would do if given a chance. Scalps you would take, coup you would count, enemies dying on your lance or from your arrows. The excitement, the stories to bring back to the lodge of your prowess in battle, the admiring glances of the young maidens. All this and more if you can only get into the next fight. How agonizing not to have participated yet and be a respected warrior.

Then it happens. You get your opportunity to wage war with your sworn enemy. In this case it is the blue coats that have been relentlessly entering your land, running off the game, killing anyone they see. They’re coming and it will be a big battle, the biggest anyone has ever seen. The biggest in the memory of even the oldest old man in the village. Bigger even than the old mans grandfather could have remembered were you able to ask him. All the tribes are joining together to take part in this exciting, exhilarating, awful, incredible magnificent event. The medicine men have been singing of visions they have had where the Greasy grass is covered with the dead, the women going from body to body making sure no one is alive. Guns, rifles, and pistols laying about for the taking. Reputations made, brave acts to sing about for generations. And you and your friends will play a part. You will  be the relentless, merciless warrior and be victorious in this battle just as you have dreamed of since you  were a child.

 And then after a time filled with smoke and war cries, violence and death it is over. The Greasy grass is indeed covered with the dead just as foreseen by the visionaries and the spoils of war have been collected and it’s time for feasts and celebrations, and dancing and story telling, and a time to come down from that glorious battle high and look around you for your friends. That’s when you find that several of them are not at the celebration and never will be again. They’re among the dead laying in the Greasy grass. Killed by the enemy you were victorious over.

Suddenly in the aftermath of what was your greatest adventure you see that those friends that you rode with and boasted with and fought alongside of are no more. They are the same as the enemy now, lifeless and scattered across the land waiting for loved ones to come gather them for preparation to spend eternity in that other world where the dead reside. Songs will be sung about them that will live in the hearts of some for a while but the truth is they are gone forever now and will not share anything with you ever again. This death today is permanent. There will be more conquests and defeats for you to come, very likely more  of the latter than the former but those boyhood friends will not be a part of them. Now you think and mourn, the shine has gone off the day and in reflection you find that there is a high price to pay for glory. Perhaps too high but that’s something to think about later. His name tonight is Misses His Friends.

The Scout

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It was a common practice during the Indian wars for the Army to hire scouts as they entered unfamiliar areas of the country where they might encounter hostiles. These had to be men that were completely familiar with the country and tribes that lived there. Mostly they were white men who had grown up in this country and knew it like the back of their hands. Some had actually lived with the various tribes and spoke their language. Occasionally the Army hired Indians from opposing tribes to scout for them but this was usually done for specific campaigns.

Scouts were tough men, they had to be in they were to survive in this harsh land. They were independent and didn’t suffer fools easily. Their lives and the lives of the men  they were scouting for depended on their ability to travel fast, locate the enemy without being seen and get back to the Army with the information. They were like the special forces of their day.

This man was attached as a scout to Brigadier General George Crook’s column of ten companies (A, B, C, D, E, F, G, I, L, and M) of the 3rd cavalry out of Ft. Fetterman in Wyoming territory and as such did not get to the area of the Little Bighorn until well after the battle was over. As we know now this very probably saved his life and the lives of those men who accompanied him.

It was hard dangerous times in the 1870’s and so were the men who served in the military then. But most at risk were the scouts as they did the most dangerous job of all. To head out alone and survive by their own wits and courage. Mistakes usually meant he didn’t come back, so he tried very hard not to make any. History relates there were not many old scouts. Those that made it to a ripe old age were exceptional men, and a little bit lucky.