Defending General Custer's Legacy: Complete Illustrated Trilogy - Elizabeth Bacon Custer

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their cry to that of their bereaved mothers. From that time the life went out of the hearts of the “women who weep,” and God asked them to walk on alone and in the shadow.

      * * * * *

      Mrs. Custer very naturally ends her work with the coming of the news that put so many women’s lives in shadow. She has attempted no account of the Little Big Horn expedition, and none seems necessary here; but it is deemed best to add the following very brief outline by way of explanation to any reader whose memory may need refreshing:

      The expedition during the summer of 1876, which ended so fatally with the battle of the Little Big Horn, was under General Terry, the ranking officer. General Custer commanded under him the 7th Cavalry. As it marched, the force struck a fresh Indian trail, and scouts were sent to follow it up and ascertain the number of warriors in the band. This can be done with great accuracy. The number of Indians can be estimated by following the trail far enough to get its average width and the size of the circle grazed over at night by the ponies on which the warriors ride. In this case the scouts followed the trail far enough to ascertain that twelve hundred Indians were in the band, but did not learn the location of the village where they were encamped. Upon their return General Terry and General Custer consulted together. It was well known to them that the vigilance of the Indian keeps outposts and signal-fires on every hill-top, thus making it an impossibility to approach one of their villages unobserved. Neither could it be kept from their quick eyes what the strength of the approaching force was. To await an attack or to advance with superior numbers was to give the Indians a chance to escape, and their wariness was known to all. Accordingly it was determined that General Custer should take such force as he thought the Indians, seeing him approach, would stand against awaiting its attack. He was convinced that the 7th Cavalry was as large a body as could be taken with safety, and was a match for twelve hundred Indians. He knew his men, and knew what he was doing. It was suggested that he should take a piece of artillery, but the scouts had described the bad lands over which they must march, and General Custer knew that artillery would hamper his movements besides increasing the apparent size of the command. He started with only his regiment, and the rest of the expedition halted to await the result. The officers and men went out feeling certain that a fight awaited them. If there had been but twelve hundred warriors, as there was every reason to suppose, the affair would have ended well; but Indian reinforcements, covering a trail half a mile wide (as was learned after the battle), had come from the North, and in an opposite direction to that in which the Indians were going. Instead, therefore, of a thousand, the gallant 7th Cavalry encountered about five thousand Indians, who were emboldened by success in their battle in another department, and made even more venturesome by their increase of numbers.

      General Custer called a halt as he approached the village, and summoning his officers, explained to them his plan of attack, which was the same that had proved so successful in the battle of the Washita, in the previous history of the regiment. He offered the lead to that officer who should first report his company ready for battle. In a few seconds one of the highest in rank received this desired honor. Dividing the command into three detachments, General Custer led the body of his regiment in that final charge, in which afterwards the line of battle of a portion could be traced by the dead men and horses as they fell at the post of duty, and from which no man escaped.

      APPENDIX.

       Table of Contents

      THE YELLOWSTONE EXPEDITION OF 1873.

       Table of Contents

       Extracts from Letters written by General Custer to his Wife during the Expedition to the Yellowstone in 1873.

      [Many of the letters from which the following extracts are taken are very long, but so much of them is of a personal nature that I have sought here to give only those portions that convey an idea of the camp-life and daily experiences of a campaign on the frontier.

      I regret that I have not the letters giving an account of the Indian fights. I have substituted a copy of General Custer’s official report to complete the story of the summer of 1873.—E. B. C.]

      Camp on Heart River, D. T., June 26, 1873.

      When I may have an opportunity to send this, or when it may reach you, I cannot tell; but I will have it ready, and when the first courier leaves he shall carry these tidings to you.

      This is our sixth day out from Fort Rice. We reached this river yesterday about noon, and are remaining in camp to-day as it is somewhere in this locality that we expect to find the railroad engineers, and Lieut. D—— and four companies of infantry that left Fort Rice before you did.

      Our march has been perfectly delightful thus far. We have encountered no Indians, although yesterday we saw the fresh tracks of about fifteen ponies, showing that they are in our vicinity.

      I never saw such fine hunting as we have constantly had since we left Fort Rice. I have done some of the best shooting I ever did, and as you are always so interested I want to tell you about it. I take twenty-five picked men with me, and generally have several officers in the party besides. It is not necessary to go out of sight of the column, as the game is so abundant we can even eclipse your story about antelope running into the men’s arms! They actually ran through our wagon-train, and one was run over by a wagon and caught! Tom2 immediately remarked, “Well, by George, we can beat Libbie’s story now!”

      The first day out the dogs caught an antelope and I shot one, since when I have brought in from two to four daily. Day before yesterday the members of our mess killed eight antelope. But I must tell you of some of my recent shots with my new Springfield rifle.

      Three days ago F—— and I with a party were out in sight of the column, when an antelope started up fully two hundred yards distant, and ran rapidly parallel to us. I fired five times at it while running, at this distance. It then stopped, and I got about twenty-five paces nearer when I fired off-hand, aiming directly at the head. It fell, and I measured the distance, which proved to be one hundred and seventy yards, and the antelope was found to be shot through the head. Of the five shots which I had fired at it while running at a distance of two hundred yards, four had struck the antelope, one breaking its thigh and two going through its body.

      Yesterday a fine large buck came bounding over the hill across our path. He was so far that no one seemed to think it worth while to aim at him, but I thought I would try. Jumping off my thorough-bred, Vic, in an instant I had my rifle at my shoulder and levelled at the buck, which was running at full speed. I pressed the trigger, and waiting an instant to give the bullet time to reach its mark, the buck was seen to fall lifeless in the grass. To be accurate in the distance I requested F—— to measure it. He did so, and found it to be two hundred and eighty yards. Galloping to where the antelope had fallen, I found him shot directly through the centre of the neck, about one foot from the head, the neck being broken by the shot. I put him entire on the orderly trumpeter’s horse and sent him to the wagons to be carried to camp, where I butchered him. He was the fattest antelope I ever saw.

      I sent H—— and M——’s messes each a quarter. I have not only been fortunate enough to keep our own mess supplied with game every meal since we left Fort Rice, but have had quantities to send to the infantry officers, to the band, and to many of our own officers.

      Poor Fred and Tom! They have accompanied me frequently—Fred always along—and yet neither of them has been able thus far to kill a single antelope. I tease them a great deal, for they use the Winchester rifle. It is remarkably accurate up to one hundred yards, and not so beyond that distance.

      You know when Tom takes a notion to get anything of mine how very persistent he is. Well, his latest dodge is to obtain possession of my Springfield rifle, which I allow my orderly, Tuttle, to carry. Night before last he carried it off to his tent without saying anything about it; but Tuttle slipped

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