Evening Star Newspaper, June 22, 1930, Page 94

Lo g Against the Sioux By George Creel. The First of a Series of Complete Adventure Stories— T'his Details Custer’s Gallant Attack and the Massacre. EDITOR'S NOTE—Next Wednesday is the anniversary of the death of Gen. Gecrge Armstrong Custer, killed June 25, 1876, -in a battle against the Indians in the valley of the Little Big Horn. BY GEORGE CREEL. OT in the history of the Western plains is there record of any other such Indian encampment as that which sprawled along the banks of the Little Big Horn in the Sum- m-r of 1876, for the hot Montana sun beat Jdown upon more than 5,000 redskins, driven ii:'o zlliance by their hates and fears. All of the tribes of the great Sioux Nation were standing shoulder to shoulder at last— the Hunkpapas under crafty Gall, Crow King and Black Moon; the Ogalallas and Brules, with Crazy Horse as their despotic chieftain; Scabby Head and his Blackfeet; Spotted Tail and his San Arcs; the Mineconjous, with Fast Bull and Hump; the Yanktonnais and Santees, 3od by wise old Inkpaduta; ard to swell the painted host came White Bull and Two Moon, Icading the Northern Cheyennes and Arapahoes. Well may content have filled the heart of Sitting Bull, a chief and mighty medicine man o the Sioux, for the savage army that he lc ok>d upon was entirely the work of his cun- nypg hands. Through the years he had vreached a gospel of hate against the pale- i s, urging united resistance to their ad- vinece, and now he had made his dream come true For a while it seemed that the treaty of 1868 »uld defeat him, for it gave the Sioux a vast : retch of territory—the Dakctas, Northern Ne- | aska, Wyoming and Montana — the United ates pledging faith that this land should ever 1:> the Indian’s own, but soon it suffered the int> of previous treaties. "{"HE discovery of gold in the Black Hills brought a rush of white adventurers into t1e very heart of the Sioux possessions, and vhile the Government gave orders for their ex- clusion, only a handful of soldiers were supplied for the purpose. Like a locust swarm the gold- mad whites swept the land, and, as if this were ot injury enough, the Northern Pacific began o0 plan its line from Bismarck to the Yellow- :‘one. It was an open violation of the treaty, et not only did the United States approve it, hut soldiers were provided to protect the sur- veyors, driving the Indians from the hunting grounds that they had thought to enjoy in peace. eaping forward to grasp his opportunity, Sitting Bull had journeyed from village to vil- lage, fanning sullen angers into flame, making “medicine” that promised victory, and the re- sult of his tireless efforts was the great Indian army that filled the valley of the Little Big Hern, eager and ready for battle with the hated whites. Nor was it any mere prairie rabble, armed only with bows and arrows, for every warrior carried a modern repeating rifle and two first-class reveolvers, and in every tepee there were piles of ammunition. As he gazed Sitting Bull's lip must have curled with a new contempt for the whole white race, for every rifle, revolver and cartridge stcod as a manifestation of greed and infamy. The fur traders of St. Louis, slipping up the Mizsouri in heavy-laden steamers, had sold tr>m to the Indians in exchange for buffalo rches and pelts, even though they knew that each rifle was to be used against their own peenlz2, that each cartridge might mean the death of a soldier. Strong in numbers, admirably armed, it was in supreme confidence, therefore, that Sitting Bull and his allied tribes awaited the coming of the “bluecoats.” What added to the great chief's serenity was his knowledge that the United States was sending no more than 2,700 men against him, and that even this small army was divided into three parts. From the south marched Crook with 1,300 men; from the east came Terry and Custer, and from Fort Ellis came Gibbon. Gen. Terry, calling Custer and Gibbon into council on the banks of the Yellowstone, had no reason to believe that the Indian force somewhere in front of him was of large num- per, for by careful estimate it had been figured that nct more than 1,500 Indians were “off the pervation.” Here was an instance of the shameless dis- honesty that characterized the conduct of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, for although every ajent knew that fully half of his charges had slipped away to join Sitting Bull, no reports had been made. This, because the agents found rich profit in selling the supplies of the absentees, and kept these names on the books o5 “preseht and accounted for.” Out of his ignorance, Gen. Terry thought that his problem was simply one of cunning pursuit, rather than pitched battle, and laid l:is plans to corner the Indians. Knowing that Ciook was coming up from the south, he sent Gibbcn and 400 men to scout the banks of tahe By Horn and dispatched Custer with some 600 men to investigate an Indian trail that had been found on the Rosebud. In event that the trail led to the valley of the Little Big Horn, Custer was ordered to de- lay his advance until Gibbon could come up, the idea being to have the two reach the Little Big Horn at the same time, about June 26. It was on the morning of June 22 that George Custer and his 7th Cavalry set out for the Rosebud, as gallant a band as ever sat saddle, the dashing leader a figure of romance in his fringed buckskins and floating yellow curls. Only 37, few lives had been more packed with color and splendid achievement. Leaping into the battle of Bull Run, a mere boy, he was a brigadier general of volunteers at 24. And not even Sheridan playgd a more dra- matic part in the closing days of war, for it was Custer who herded Lee’s battered legions into the hopeless positions that led to sur- render. ENT West in 1866, he had made himself the great outstanding figure in the Indian wars, crushing the savages in battle after battle, harrying them over mountain and plain, care- less of Summer’s heat and Winter blizzards. In 1876, thercfore, when the War Department decided upon a vigorous campaign to round- up Sitting Bull and his malcontents, it fol- lowed naturally that brilliant Custer—the Yellow Hair of Indian fame—should be as- signed to command of the Eastern division. Even as he rejoiced, however, grim, implacable President Grant issued an order removing him from his command and forbidding him to take part in the expedition. The poorest judge of men that ever lived, unhappy Grant was surrounded by thieves from the very start of his administration, and nowhere was corruption more rampant than in the War Department. Custer, hot-headed and outspoken, waxed increasingly furious as he watched his men sicken and die from rotten food and saw the junk rifles and cartridges that were sent him. Bitterly attacking these conditions, as well as the thievery of the In- dian agents, even a court-martial and suspen- sion of office for a year had not been able to make him hold his tongue. It seemed Cutser’s hour of triumph when the House impeached Secretary of War Belknap, bringing forward plain evidence that he had been a silent partner in the corruptions of In- dian agents, but there was still President Grant to reckon with. Stubbornly refusing to admit Belknap's guilt, Grant turned his anger upon all who testified against his friend, and when Custer appeared before a congressional com- mittee, and told the truth as he knew it, he struck instantly and hard. Custer was ordered to stay at home, and Gen. Terry put in charge of the Indian cam- paign, and although the strenuous intercession of Sherman and Sheridan won Custer the right to accompany the expedition, it was only as second in command. It must have been with a feeling of relief, therefore, that Custer left Terry behind and struck into the Montana wilderness on his own, hopeful of some chance for a bold stroke that would retrieve “his for- tunes. Striking the Indian trail on the Rosebud River, Custer followed like a hound on the scent, and by the night of the 24th, found that it led over the divide into the valley of the Little Big Horn. While Terry had ordered that the pursuit be delayed until a juncture could be effected with Gibbon and his 400 men, Custer had been given leave to use his dis- cretion, and all of his experience pointed to the necesity of quick action. It was never the habit of the Indians to give battle, and the one hope of bringing them to bay was by a surprise march. Custer did not dream that there were more than a thousand Indians, at the most, nor were there telegraphs to tell him that Crook had been soundly whipped just one week before by Crazy Horsa, and that the Indian village was even then shouting its joy and beating the drums of con- fidence. Giving the order to march, Custer led his men through the pitch-black night, his plan being to gain the divide, hide in the rocks throughout the day, and attack the village at dawn. Ten weary miles were made, and at sunrise on the fateful morning of June 25, the Crow scouts mounted a high point, and returned with the report that the encampment of the Sioux lay in the valley some 15 miles away. l:VEN with his telescope, however, Custer “ could not see the village. In any event, the plan for a surprise attack was brought to an end, for it soon became known that Sioux scouts had discovered the presence of the col- umn, and Custer now decided to ride forward swiftly on the chance that he might get in a blow at the village, if village there was. Plunging down into the valley, he halted his men at noon, and still doubtful that the scouts had seen an encampment of any size, resolved to divide his command in such a manner as to form a net. Maj. Marcus Reno, with 112 men, was swung to the left; Capt. F. W. Benteen, with some 150 men, was ordered still further to the left, at a sharp angle, and Custer him- self went forward on the extreme right, leaving a company to guard the pack train. vTTTY’, SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. €, JUNE 22, 1936. From every side poured the shouting Sioux, led by Gall, bravest and craftiest of all the Indian host. Each soldier took 100 rounds for his carbine, and 24 rounds for his pistol, and at a sharp trot the doomed battalions set off on their ride into the jaws of death. About 2 o’clock, when Custer and Reno joined forces again, they had ridden nine miles and were still three miles from the Littie Big Horn, Here and there were evidences of Indian occu- pation, and a scout, climbing to higher ground, saw a small body of Sioux in swift retreat. The news confirmed Custer’s belief that the Indians were flying before his approach, and with swift decision he ordered Reno and his command to cross the river in pursuit, saying that he himself would follow in support of any charge. g When the two men parted, it was never to see each other again in life. Reno, fording the river, saw only a great dust cloud—Chief Gall's clever plan to conceal his strength; and as he advanced, this cloud parted before the swift charge of hundreds of Sioux. Instead of meet- ing and breaking the charge, however, Reno dismounted his men and led them into a clump of timber, at the same time rushing a courier to Custer with word that the Indians were in force before him. From every side poured the shouting Sioux, led by Gall, bravest and craftiest of all the Indian host. Beaten back to the heart of the timber, and realizing that ammunition was giving out, Reno called an order for his men w mount, but while the words were still on his lips, the redskins burst into the clearing, and Reno's face was spattered by the brains of the scout that stood beside him. Losing his head completely, the frantic com- mander now shouted conflicting orders, and spurred forward to the open. Most of his bat- talion followed him, but 17 men were left behind. Red men and white raced to the river in one indistinguishable mass, shooting, hacking, wrest- ling and even as they drove their horses through the water, Sioux and soldiers locked in terrible death grapples. Struggling up the far slope, Reno hastily formed his survivors on high ground and turned to meet the Indian charge. For a moment their lives hung in the balance and then, as if in obedience to orders that Reno could not hear, the Indians turned suddenly and rode away to the north, stopping only to butcher the 17 white men left in the timber. It was this slaughter that Capt. Benteen saw as he topped a hill about a mile away from Reno’s position. A ride of 12 miles had con- vinced him ‘hat there were no Indians in that part of the country to which Custer had sent him and, turning back, he rode hard to rejoin the command. At the spot where Custer and Reno had separated, he met a sergeant, carry- ing a message from Custer to hurry up the pack trains, and a mile further on, ancther rider came spurring across the plain, “Benteen. Come on, Big village. Be quiek. Bring packs.” This was the order that he read, and in amplification the messenger told that the Indians were in flight, and Custer was pre- paring to deliver a charge. Hurrying his men forward, anxious to be in at the death, Benteen reached high ground only to witness the massacre of the 17 unfortunates who were trying to race from the timber to the river. Learning of Reno’s whereabouts from a Crow scout, he led his command to the hill where the remainder of the battalion was dig- ging at the flinty earth with knives and spoons desperately trying to throw up some cover. ‘6WHERE is Custer?” This was Benteen's first question, but Reno could not tell. It was now 4:30, and they had parted at 2:30. Down the river, undoubtedily. He had not crossed, and during the retreat heavy firing had been heard to the north. Even as Reno and Benteen talked, another heavy crash of rifles came to them on the wind. Young Capt. Weir cried out that Custer must be engaged, and, act- ing on orders from Reno, he started north, followed by his company. Reno and Benteen, after waiting for the pack train to come up, moved after him. No further sound reached them, and as they started down stream, a great hprde of Sioux raced up the valley, yelling like davils as they forded the river and sprang to the attack. Retreating to their former position, Reno and Benteen beat off the assault until dark- ness fell, but dawn brought the Indians back, and until noon the battle raged. At least 4,000 Sioux encircled the dwindled band, but once again, as they looked death in the face, the Indians fell back, and soon the whole red army was winding over the distant hills like some monster snake. Not until the following morning—the 27th— did Reno and Benteen learn that it was the approach of Terry and Ribbon that had driven the savages away. As the blue column rode into view a great cheer rose from men who had counted themselves dead, but joy was short- lived, for news of Custer’s fate chilled every heart. Four miles down-stream Terry and Gibbon had come upon all that remained of Yellow Hair and his men, their sightless eyes staring into the sun, their naked mutilated bodies twisted into shapes of horror. What happened to Custer after leaving Reno can only be surmised, for of the 225 men who rode at his side, not one returned to tell the tale of horror. He was about three-quarters of a mile from the river when Reno’s messenger reached him with the word that the Indians were attacking in force. It is known that he swung to the right at once, starting down- stream, for it was shortly afterward that he sent Sergt. Kanipe to speed up the pack train. It is known, also, that he mounted a ridge three miles down the river and caught his first sight of the Indian village, seemingly asleep in the hot sun of afternoon. “We've got them!” he cried. “We've caught them napping.” So much was learned from Trumpeter John Martin, who stood beside him on the ridge, and then galloped back with the imperative message to Benteen. It is at this point that the curtain falls, shutting off all that followed, for Martin was the last white man to see any of that doomed company alive. It is obvious that Custer assumed that Reno would be able to hold the Indians in check, for the whole campaign was based on the belief that the redskin army did not exceed 1,500 in number. With Reno cutting them off at the south, his bold mind figured that a drive from the north would catch the Sioux in a trap, and it was to carry out this plan that he raced downstream, sending tack his messengers to hurry up Ben- teen and the pack train. Even should the Indians stand —and he did not think they would—the outcome was not to be feared, for throughout his years of Indian fighting the odds had always been 10 to 1 against the soldier. HAT he could not know was that the odds were 20 to 1, and that while a corrupt War Department had furnished his men with single- loading carbines and defective ammunition, the Sioux were armed with the latest model Win- chester and copper cartridges, generously sup- plied them by traders low enough to put their greed above patriotism. Nor did he know that the deserted appearance of the village was part of Chief Gall's cunning plan, and that the Ogalallas and Cheyennes, under Crazy Horse and Two Moon, were lying in wait like tigers crouched for a spring. Down from the ridge charged Custer and his men and, as they neared the river, thousands Continued on Twenty-first Page