VI.

To sum up, I suggest this as a possible line of investigations by which the student may determine the question for himself:

First. Were Terry’s written orders definite and explicit?

Second. Were they intelligent orders capable of execution?

Third. Did these orders admit of more than one meaning?

Fourth. What are the various meanings, if more than one?

Fifth. Did Custer carry them out in any of their meanings?

Sixth. Did Custer depart from them?

Seventh. If so, how far?

Eighth. Such being the case, was he justified in so departing by the exigencies of the situation?

Ninth. Were the consequences of such a departure serious?

Tenth. Did Custer receive verbal orders from Terry at the last moment?

Eleventh. If so, when?

Twelfth. Did these verbal orders supersede the written orders?

In closing, I repeat that I should be glad to be convinced that I have erred in my conclusions; and that if any one can convince me that Custer did not disobey, or that in doing so he was justified in his disobedience, I shall make the fullest public amends for my expression of opinion that he did and that he was not.^[135] If this Appendix shall cause any light to be thrown on the affidavit so often referred to, it will serve an excellent purpose; for, I say again, I shall consider the establishment of that affidavit as settling the question.

The subject is now left with the student. Perhaps I cannot more fitly close the discussion than by this quotation from the confidential report of General Terry by General Sheridan, dated July 2, 1875:

“I do not tell you this to cast any reflection on Custer, for whatever errors he may have committed he has paid the penalty, and you cannot regret his loss more than I do; but I felt that our plan must have been successful had it been carried out, and I desire you to know the facts.”

After the publication of the Custer article censuring Reno, my attention was called to the following editorial, which appeared in the Northwestern Christian Advocate, of September 7, 1904:

Why General Custer Perished

General George A. Custer was and will always be regarded as one of the most brilliant officers of the United States Army. His career abounds in romantic interest; and his death, together with that of every officer and soldier fighting with him, was one of the most tragic and memorable incidents in Indian warfare. The story of Custer’s last fight with the Indians, which took place on the Little Big Horn River in the summer of 1876, is graphically described by Cyrus Townsend Brady. It is not our purpose to relate the story of the battle, but to call attention to the real cause of Major Reno’s conduct, which resulted in Custer’s defeat and death.

After describing the movements by which Custer distributed his force, and the task assigned to Major Reno, who displayed remarkable indecision and errors of judgment, which would have been inexcusable even in an inexperienced young officer, and caused Reno to retreat instead of vigorously attacking the Indians, Mr. Brady says:

“His [Reno’s] second position was admirable for defense. Sheltered by the trees, with his flanks and rear protected by the river, he could have held the place indefinitely. He had not, however, been detailed to defend or hold any position, but to make a swift, dashing attack; and after a few moments of the feeblest kind of advance, he found himself thrown upon the defensive. Such a result would break up the most promising plan. It certainly broke up Custer’s.

“It is a painful thing to accuse an army officer of misconduct, but I have taken the opinion of a number of army officers on the subject, and every one of them considers Reno culpable in a high degree. One, at least, has not hesitated to make known his opinion in the most public way. I am loath to believe that Major Reno was a coward; but he certainly lost his head, and when he lost his head he lost Custer. His indecision was pitiful. Although he had suffered practically no loss and had no reason to be alarmed, he was in a state of painful uncertainty as to what he should do next. The soldier—like the woman—who hesitates in an emergency which demands instant decision is lost....

“There had, as yet, been no panic, and under a different officer there would have been none; but it is on record that Reno gave an order for the men to mount and retreat to the bluffs. Before he could be obeyed he countermanded this order. Then the order was given again, but in such a way that nobody, save those immediately around him, heard it because of the din of the battle then raging in a sort of aimless way all along the line, and no attempt was made to obey it. It was then repeated for the third time. Finally, as those farthest away saw those nearest the flurried commander mounting and evidently preparing to leave, the orders were gradually communicated throughout the battalion and nearly the whole mass got ready to leave. Eventually they broke out of the timber in a disorderly column of fours, striving to return to the ford they had crossed when they had entered the valley.

“Reno calls this a charge, and he led it! He was so excited that, after firing his pistols at the Indians, who came valiantly after the fleeing soldiers, he threw them away. The pressure of the Indians upon the right of the men inclined them to the left, away from the ford. In fact, they were swept into a confused mass and driven toward the river. All semblance of organization was lost in the mad rush for safety. The troops had degenerated into a mob.”

Major Reno was not a coward, as many believe. His career in the army during the Civil War and his promotion for gallant and meritorious services at Kelley’s Ford, March 17, 1863, and at the battle of Cedar Creek, October 19, 1864, are evidence of his courage. What, then, was the explanation of his conduct at the Battle of the Little Big Horn? Dr. Brady does not give it. Perhaps he does not know. But Major Reno himself told the late Rev. Dr. Arthur Edwards, then editor of the Northwestern, that his strange actions were due to the fact that HE WAS DRUNK. Reno’s conduct in that battle lost him many of his military friends. To Arthur Edwards, who knew him well, and continued his faithful friend, Major Reno often unburdened his heart, and on one occasion in deep sorrow said that his strange actions were due to drink, and drink ultimately caused his downfall. His action at the Battle of the Little Big Horn was cited as one instance of the result of his use of intoxicating liquor. Liquor finally caused his expulsion from the army in disgrace. In 1880 he was found guilty, by a general court-martial, of conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman. While in an intoxicated condition he engaged in a brawl in a public billiard saloon, in which he assaulted another officer, destroying property and otherwise conducted himself disgracefully. For this offense the court sentenced him to be dismissed from the army.

It had occurred to me that probably the explanation of Reno’s conduct lay in the fact that he might have been intoxicated. I asked Colonel Godfrey if he thought so, and his reply has been noted above in Appendix A.

After reading the article in the Advocate, I wrote to the editor, Dr. David D. Thompson, asking for further evidence of the statement quoted. Here follows his letter:

Doctor Arthur Edwards, the former editor of the Northwestern Christian Advocate, was chaplain in the army during the Civil War. He was a soldier by instinct, and kept up his interest in military and naval affairs and his acquaintance with army and naval officers during all his life. In the army he won the confidence of his fellow-officers by his character and moral courage.

He was requested, by a number of officers, to wait upon General Hooker, then in command of the army, and express to him the great anxiety felt by the officers over his intemperate habits. Doctor Edwards waited upon General Hooker, and told him what the officers had requested him to say. He did it in so manly and delicate a way that General Hooker thanked him, and told him the army would not again have occasion to fear ill results because of his habits.

The story of this incident came to the knowledge of Mr. H. I. Cleveland, an editorial writer on the Chicago Herald, who published it several years ago over his own name in that paper. I had never before heard the story from Doctor Edwards, and when I saw Mr. Cleveland’s article I asked Doctor Edwards about it. He related the story to me, and, after doing so, told the story of Reno as I give it briefly in the Northwestern.

From all that I can learn of Reno, the feeling in the army against him was not due to his drinking habits, but to his conduct in his relations with others. Doctor Edwards told me that Reno told him that all of his trouble in his contact with his fellow-officers was due, primarily, to his drinking habits, which had undermined his moral character. Doctor Edwards knew Reno very well, and told me he believed that drinking was, as Reno himself stated, the cause of all his trouble. He had known him in the army during the Civil War, and spoke highly of his character as a soldier at that time.

P. S.—Doctor Edwards intended at some time to publish this story, but died in April, 1901, before doing so.

II.

As I have always been most willing and anxious to give the accused a hearing in every case, it gives me great pleasure to insert here a letter recently received from Mr. William E. Morris, an attorney, who is also an alderman of Greater New York. In this letter will be found a spirited defense of Major Reno, with interesting details of his fight. Although Mr. Morris dissents from many of my conclusions, and differs radically from the printed accounts of Colonel Godfrey and others, I am glad to place the other side before my readers. I only regret that this paper was received too late to be included in the body of the book.

I have read your article entitled “War with the Sioux,” and as a survivor of Reno’s Battalion desire to enter an earnest protest against the many incorrect statements of alleged facts.

Col. Reno was cruelly libeled while he was alive, and took his medicine manfully, knowing that he had the respect of every officer and enlisted man who served under him on the 25th and 26th days of June, 1876.

The 7th Cavalry had no use for cowards, and had Reno showed the white feather, he would have been damned by every member of his command.

As a matter of fact, we revere his memory as that of a brave and gallant officer, who, through circumstances over which he had no control, was blamed by the public, who had no personal knowledge of the facts for the result of the Battle of the Little Horn.

It is quite evident to me that you have never interviewed a single member of Reno’s Battalion, to wit: Troops “A,” “G,” and “M,” for if you had you would not misstate the facts, as I assume that you intend to be fair, and would not intentionally mislead the public mind.^[136]

I was a member of Capt. Thomas H. French’s Troop “M,” 7th U. S. Cavalry, and I submit the following as a concise statement of the facts:

We lost sight of Custer, whose command was on our right, at least thirty minutes before we crossed the Little Horn River.

We saw a party of about one hundred Indians before we reached the river; we pursued them across the Little Horn and down the valley. As soon as we forded, Reno gave the command, “Left into line, gallop—forward, guide, center,” and away we went faster than I had ever ridden before. The Indians rode as fast as they could, and the battalion in line of battle after them. A body of at least two thousand came up the valley to meet the one hundred or more we were pursuing. They immediately made a flank movement to our left and a stand, opened a galling fire, causing some of our horses to become unmanageable. John R. Meyer’s horse carried him down the valley through the Indians, some of whom chased him two or three miles over the hills and back to ford. He escaped with a gun-shot wound in the neck. Rutten’s horse also ran away, but he succeeded in making a circle before reaching the Indians, and received only a gun-shot wound in the shoulder. We were then abreast the timber; to continue the charge down the valley meant (to the mind of every one) immediate destruction of the battalion, which consisted of about one hundred and twenty men (the old guard, of ten men from each troop, being with the packs).

Reno, very properly, gave the command “Battalion halt—prepare to fight on foot—dismount!” He directed French to send ten men from the right of his troop to skirmish the woods, before the “numbers four” proceeded there with the horses. We immediately deployed as skirmishers and opened fire. The odds were at least thirty to one, as our line with the fours out did not exceed seven officers and ninety men. We had, however, a few Indian scouts and civilians. We had entire confidence in our officers and in ourselves, and went to work smiling and as cool as if we were at target practice. In less time than it takes to relate it, the Indians were on three sides of us. We were ordered to lie down, and every man that I could see, except Reno and French, were fighting lying down. Reno walked along the line giving instructions to the men, while French was calling his men’s attention to his own marksmanship with an infantry long-tom that he carried.

While in this position, the man next on my right, Sergeant O’Hara, was killed. The smoke obscured the line, but bullets were taking effect all along it. We were perfectly cool, determined, and doing good execution and expected to hear Custer attack. We had been fighting lying down about fifteen minutes when one of our men came from the timber and reported that they were killing our horses in the rear. Every troop had, at this time, suffered loss and the enemy was closing in, despite our steady and deadly fire. Reno then made his only error; he gave the command, “Retreat to your horses, men!” French immediately corrected the mistake with the command, “Steady, men—fall back, slowly; face the enemy, and continue your fire.” “M” troop fell back slowly and in perfect order, held the Indians in check until “A” and “G” had mounted. Several of their horses had been shot, and their riders, consequently, very much disturbed.

“M” Troop left Sergeant O’Hara and Private Smith on the skirmish line. Isaiah, the colored interpreter of Fort Rice, Bloody Knife, the Chief of the Rees Scouts, and a civilian also remained. Lawrence was hit in the stomach when about to mount. I went to his relief, which caused me to be the last man to leave the timber, with the command, with the exception of Lieutenant Hare, who passed me in the bottom. Sergeant Charles White was wounded in the arm and his horse killed. He was left in the woods, as was also “Big Fritz,” a Norwegian, whose surname I do not remember, but whose horse was killed. “A” and “G” had men left in the timber also, and they all reached the command on the hill during the night with De Rudio, or about the same time.

I give more details in regard to “M” than the other troops, because of a personal acquaintance with each member. Corporal Scollen and Private Sommers fell in the charge from the timber to the ford. It was a charge and not a retreat, and it was led by Reno. Every man that I saw used his revolver at close range. I was at least twenty yards behind the rear of the command. The Indians closed in, so I was compelled to jump my horse off the bank, at least fifty yards below the ford, and while in the river had an excellent view of the struggle. It was hand to hand, and McIntosh was certainly there at the ford and sold his life as dearly as he possibly could. When I reached the cut in bank, I found Turley and Rye mounted and Lieutenant Hodgson wounded and dismounted. He was waist-deep in the water. He grasped my off stirrup strap with both hands. Rye let Turley go ahead through the cut, and he was killed as he reached the top; Rye followed without receiving a scratch. The lieutenant held onto my stirrup for two or three seconds, and was dragged out of the water. He was hit again, and let go as my horse plunged up the cut. Sergeant Criswell may have assisted him out of the water, but if he did he went back into it again. To say that any man could or did ride back down that cut is to suggest, to my mind, the impossible. Upon reaching the level above the cut I dismounted and led my horse as fast as possible up the bluff, and overtook Tinker, Bill Meyer and Gordon about half way up the bluff. We stopped a moment to rest. The bodies of the fallen soldiers were plainly visible. They marked the skirmish line and the line of the charge from the timber to the ford, and were in the river and at the top of the cut. At this instant a shower of lead sent Meyer and Gordon to the happy hunting-ground, and a fifty caliber passed through the left breast of your humble servant. Our horses were also hit. I continued up the hill alone and joined the command; was then assisted to the improvised hospital.

Reno at this time had lost, in killed, wounded, and left dismounted in the woods, over 30 per cent. of his battalion (there were over ten left in the woods). Lieutenant Hare was particularly conspicuous, and distinguished himself by his cool and determined manner when he ordered the men to fall in at the top of the hill, and whatever demoralization there was, was immediately dispelled by that courageous young Texan. Benteen, arriving about an hour later, came up as slow as though he were going to a funeral. By this statement I do not desire to reflect in any way upon him; he was simply in no hurry; and Müller, of his troop, who occupied an adjoining cot to mine in the hospital at Fort Abraham Lincoln, told me that they walked all the way, and that they heard the heavy firing while they were watering their horses.

Benteen was, unquestionably, the bravest man I ever met. He held the Indians in absolute contempt, and was a walking target from the time he became engaged until the end of the fight at sundown on the 26th. He took absolute charge of one side of the hill, and you may rest assured that he did not bother Reno for permission of any kind. He was in supreme command of that side of the hill, and seemed to enjoy walking along the line where the bullets were the thickest. His troop, “H,” did not dig rifle-pits during the night of the 25th, as the other troops did, and in the morning their casualties were increased on that account. He ordered “M” out of their pits to reinforce his troop. There was some dissatisfaction at the order, as the men believed that the necessity was due solely to the neglect of “H,” in digging pits. They obeyed, however, and assisted Benteen in his famous charge.

It was rumored, subsequently, that French recommended his First Sergeant, John Ryan, a sharpshooter, and some other men for medals, and that Benteen refused to indorse the recommendation as to Ryan, because he failed immediately to order the men out of their pits at his end of the line at his (Benteen’s) order. It was claimed that French thereupon withdrew his list. Ryan was in charge of the ten men that Reno sent to skirmish the woods.

I was very much amused to learn, from your article, that Windolph received a medal. I remember him as the tailor of “H” troop, and have a distinct recollection of his coming into the field-hospital, bent almost double and asking for treatment for a wound which, his appearance would suggest, was a mortal one, but which the surgeon found, on removing his trousers, to be only a burn. The surgeon ordered him back to the line amid a shout of laughter from the wounded men. Mike Madden of “K” lost his leg, and Tanner of “M” his life, in the dash for the water for the wounded. I hope Madden received a medal.

In view of the conflict between the foregoing and the statements contained in your article, I ask you to investigate the matter further, with a view to correcting the false impression that your readers must have concerning Reno and his command. In conclusion, I ask you “how, in God’s name,” you could expect Reno, with one hundred and twenty men, to ride through upwards of three thousand armed Sioux, and then be of assistance to Custer or any one else? I say we were sent into that valley and caught in an ambush like rats in a trap. That if we had remained ten minutes longer, there would not have been one left to tell the tale. That the much abused Reno did charge out of the timber, and that we who survive owe our lives to that identical charge which he led. We, at least, give him credit for saving what he did of his command. I am, sir,