Theodore W. Golden carried a memory few others could claim. As a veteran of the Seventh Cavalry, he had known General George Armstrong Custer from the day he joined the regiment in 1873, and he was among the last men to see him alive. In 1904, Golden set down his account in a letter, offering a rare personal testimony of the Battle of the Little Bighorn and the campaign that led to it.
Golden had served with the regiment on nearly every campaign, except for a posting in the southern states in 1875. In the spring of 1876, word came that an expedition was being formed against the Sioux, built around three substantial columns. Golden’s battalion moved from near Shreveport, Louisiana, to Fort Lincoln in Dakota Territory. Custer arrived there only days before the column was to march, having been delayed by testimony before an inquiry committee in Washington and an arrest in Chicago while traveling back.
The regiment left the fort and marched to the Yellowstone, reaching it near the mouth of the Powder River. There, the command made camp for several days, organizing a packed train in place of the wagons. Major Reno had gone ahead on a reconnaissance mission days earlier, with a plan to rejoin the column near the mouth of the Tongue River on June 17th. The regiment moved there and made camp that same day, unaware that General Crook was fighting a violent battle against the Indians on the Rosebud.
All day the men watched distant dust clouds across the river bottom, hoping each signaled Reno’s return. Nothing came. The next morning, the column moved up the valley and finally united with Reno soon after noon. Golden noticed a change in Custer.
He seemed sullen, dissatisfied, and unlike his usual self, tense and disturbed. But when Reno delivered his report, Custer’s energy returned. He quickly assembled the command and started for the Rosebud, where General Terry had already gone ahead on the supply steamer Far West to meet with General Gibbon’s command, known to be nearby. The column marched well into the night but reached the Yellowstone and camped, confident the steamer would be found below them.
The next morning they saw Gibbon’s wagon train and the Far West coming up the river. Messengers were sent with word of Reno’s discovery of a major Indian trail. The command camped near the mouth of the Rosebud, where a council of war examined Reno’s report thoroughly. A final council took place on the steamer on the night of June 21st, and Custer received his last instructions.
When General Gibbon was asked when he could reach the mouth of the Little Bighorn River, he answered, not before noon on the 26th. At that meeting, according to what was said at the time, Custer was offered the Second Cavalry battalion and artillery from the steamer, but he refused both. He said he trusted his own command and worried that the artillery would slow them near the enemy. Many officers and men believed Custer was seeking an independent command, as he had enjoyed in earlier years.
His wish was approved. On the afternoon of June 22nd, the regiment paraded before Generals Terry and Gibbon, then set off on the trail Reno had outlined. From that point, they followed it until Reno located the Indian village, leaving it only when necessary to find suitable camping spots. Against their instructions, no attempt was made to scout the surrounding country or to send a messenger to Gibbon, even though the scout George Herendeen had been assigned to the command for exactly that purpose.
The marches were long and fast until the night of the 24th, when the column left the trail, apparently stopping for the night. It was a ruse to mislead the Indians; the men were told to stay saddled and ready for a night march. Once they left the Rosebud, Custer’s manner changed completely. His old energy returned, and he seemed entirely focused on finding and fighting the Indians.
The trail they followed came from the direction of the Missouri River. Based on the estimates of Bloody Knife and the Crow scouts, it showed a force of about one thousand to twelve hundred Indians, later discovered to have come from the Missouri River agencies, almost entirely warriors. Around eleven that night, the men were ordered to saddle up and form a line. A scouting group of Crows, Rees, and some officers, including Lieutenants Varnum and Hare, went ahead to cross the divide and try to locate the Indians.
The column pushed on, aiming to cross the divide and reach the cover of the foothills along the Little Bighorn before sunrise. But the rough landscape and trouble scouting the trail slowed them, and dawn found the command in a ravine at the bottom of a range of high bluffs, unsure how far they were from the river. During the night, it was reported that Custer had gone forward to join the scouts. Just after sunrise, they told him they had found the village in the valley of the Little Bighorn.
Custer was said to have been doubtful and questioned their statement. Meanwhile, it became clear the command had been detected. A lost box of ammunition, which actually contained hardtack, was found by a detachment sent to recover it, only to come upon Indians trying to open it. When Custer received this report, he seemed to decide on an immediate advance.
As the command was splitting, Mitch Bouyer, the half-breed Crow interpreter, warned him that he would find more Indians in the valley than he could handle. Custer asked Bouyer if he was afraid to go on. Bouyer answered that he was ready to go wherever Custer went, but cautioned that if they entered the valley, neither of them would come out alive. Just before the advance, Golden was assigned by Lieutenant McIntosh to report to Custer as an orderly.
The general told him to ride with Lieutenant Cook, the regimental adjutant, and carry out any duties assigned. During the short halt, the men lay on the ground, many sleeping, while the horses grazed among the sagebrush. Custer ordered the advance, commanding that each battalion first ready should take the right of the line. In minutes, all were mounted.
Instructions had been given for Benteen’s battalion to move off to the left, scout the country, drive any Indians before him, and send word of discoveries. Reno was to follow the trail while Custer, with five troops, moved to the right, leaving Captain McDougall with the pack train to follow as best he could. After a half hour of difficult riding, the rough ground forced Custer’s column to turn left, and they came upon Reno’s command pushing ahead on the trail. They climbed to the top of the ridge and saw a rolling plateau sloping toward the foothills of the river some five or six miles away.
From the divide, they watched Reno’s column moving quickly down the trail while Benteen’s command scouted the bluffs several miles to the left. To those near him, Custer seemed impatient, sometimes galloping ahead, stopping to wait, then rushing off again. A huge dust cloud was seen moving down the river valley. Custer, accompanied only by his orderly trumpeter, rode toward the river and stopped on a high point, where he waved his hat as though greeting someone in the distance.
He returned to the front of the column led by Captain Keogh and I Troop, veterans of many battles. Custer said to Keogh, those Indians are running away. If we can keep up the chase, we can afford to lose half the horses in the command. Keogh turned calmly in his saddle, looked at the long line of eager faces, and answered, General, we will do all that man and horse can do.
Seconds later, the bugles sounded the charge, the first heard since leaving the Rosebud, and the column raced northward, trying to get into the valley below without success. After the third failed attempt, Custer spoke briefly with Captain Cook, who quickly wrote a note on his pad, folded it, and called for an orderly. Golden was the first to answer. Cook gave him the paper with orders to deliver it to Major Reno, stay with him until the commands joined, then report back immediately.
Cook was gone in a moment, and the back of the column raced past, disappearing into the ravines. Golden looked after them, then understood he was alone in enemy land. He hurried toward Reno’s command, guided by the dust cloud hanging over them. Only a few long-distance shots were fired at him, which only made him go faster.
After a six-mile ride, he reached Reno just as Reno was dismounting to fight on foot. Golden handed him the dispatch, not knowing what it said. Reno glanced at it quickly and put it in his pocket. Around that time, the Ree scouts became frightened and fled, stopping only when they reached the Powder River and the safety of the wagon train.
It soon became obvious that the Indians were moving around the flanks and closing in behind. The command had to turn and push back their advances until it could reach the timber. Several horses were shot, and a few ran away. The men fell back into the timber, where the cover of trees and the riverbank let them defend themselves briefly.
Captain Moylan was seen getting his troop ready for action. Lieutenant Wallace, standing on the skirmish line, called to Captain French, commanding the center company, asking about orders. French said he had received none but would try to find out. Moments later he shouted that he understood a charge was about to happen, though he had no clear orders.
He proposed they mount and support it. As they prepared, about fifteen men were found without horses, either because of heavy firing or runaway horses. Lieutenant McIntosh had lost his horse and took one belonging to Trooper McCormack, who said they were all finished anyway, and he might as well die on foot as on horseback. When they came out of the timber, they were amazed to find that instead of charging the Indians, Reno was making a charge for the bluffs on the other side of the river.
The Indians gathered on their flanks and fired heavily on the retreating column. Their shooting was poor, and losses were light during what became a disorderly rush. It has been said that Reno became so excited that he emptied his revolver at the Indians and threw the weapon away. Golden could confirm that story was wrong, as the revolver in question was owned by General Benteen or his family.
During the retreat, Golden was riding on the left side of the column near the timber when his horse fell, throwing him into a patch of sagebrush. He suffered only small injuries. As he got to his feet, Lieutenant Wallace rode past, telling him to run for the timber; his horse had been killed. Golden followed the advice and reached the timber soon after.
From his hidden position, he saw the men pushing their horses into the river, forcing them across the rock-filled stream. He watched Lieutenant Hodgson’s horse jump into the water, the lieutenant struggling as if hurt. Hodgson freed himself from the stirrups, held onto the stirrup strap of a passing trooper, and crossed with his help. On the bank, it was clear he was wounded, but he continued bravely.
The trooper tried to help him into the saddle but did not dare stop. In the next instant, Hodgson seemed to be hit again, lost his hold, and fell. He rose unsteadily and looked for help from another comrade, who stopped to help him. Just as he seemed safe, the second trooper threw up his arms, staggered in the saddle, and fell heavily to the ground.
Hodgson tried to move toward the ravine up which the command was vanishing, stumbling forward a few steps before falling again. Knowing further retreat was hopeless, he turned to face the Indians, drew his revolver, and began firing. An instant later, several shots sounded from Golden’s side of the river, and Hodgson staggered and fell. His fate was certain.
As the men successfully crossed the river and went up a nearby ravine, Golden found himself alone. He stayed unseen and undisturbed while the Indians stripped and mutilated the bodies of the fallen along the riverbank. Around this time, he heard the far-off sound of heavy firing downriver and guessed that Custer was fighting the enemy. From the quick looks he had of the village, he feared Custer was as greatly outnumbered as they had been.
Most of the Indians near him suddenly left, rushing to join their comrades at the lower end of the village. Golden saw the scout George Herendeen nearby and called to him. Herendeen told him that the fifteen dismounted men from their outfit had reached a spot in the timber about two hundred yards away. Their attempts to cross the open space to reach the river were met with Indian fire.
Before leaving, the Indians set the river bottom on fire, seemingly to hide their movements or force out the wounded. The smoke became their saving, allowing the men to reach the river under its cover. They crossed with some trouble and came upon a Crow scout who pointed them to the place of their command. Upon rejoining the command, they found Benteen’s battalion had arrived, but there was no news of Custer.
Soon after, a white flag was seen waving from the river bottom near where Golden and Herendeen had hidden. Lieutenant Hare risked his life to crawl to a lookout point on the bluffs and signaled that they were friendly forces. The party below carefully crossed the river and joined them, revealing themselves to be the dismounted men left behind during Reno’s retreat. During the retreat, Golden had noticed Lieutenant McIntosh on McCormick’s horse, riding ahead of him.
His lariat had come loose and was dragging on the ground, the picket pin striking sagebrush and other obstacles. Several men warned him of the danger, but he seemed not to hear. Moments later his horse fell. Golden could not tell if McIntosh was shot or not.
As Golden passed, the lieutenant lay still, dead or unconscious. They found him in the same place the next day after the Indians had left, and it appeared he had indeed died. As Golden stood on the bluffs looking into the valley, he heard an angry conversation nearby. Captain Weir shouted, By God, if you won’t go, I will.
And if we ever get out of this situation, someone will answer for it. He walked off, and soon D Troop mounted and moved into the valley toward the far-off firing. Without clear orders, the whole command followed, except for Benteen’s and Godfrey’s troops, which kept some appearance of military order. They went down the valley until they met Weir’s troop in retreat, overrun by a much larger force of Indians.
They quickly formed a line, holding back the advancing crowd until Weir’s command passed through and reformed behind them. With their help, they pulled back and reorganized. As they retreated, Colonel Benteen, who seemed to have taken charge, turned to Lieutenant Wallace and said, Wallace, there’s no point in falling back anymore. Form your troop with your right side secured here, and we will make a stand.
Wallace smiled slightly and replied, I don’t have a troop, only two men. Benteen laughed harshly and answered, Form yourself and your two men, and I’ll tell you about our situation once I figure it out myself. This small group formed the center of the defensive line. Others joined soon after, taking cover behind sagebrush, building rough barricades, and opening fire.
They held the Indians back until nightfall, when darkness gave them a welcome break. During the night, they changed position, set up a corral and hospital, and dug in as well as they could. At dawn the battle resumed and continued without stopping until about three in the afternoon, when the Indians suddenly began taking down their teepees, packing their travois, and leaving up the river valley, sadly out of rifle range. Twice during the afternoon, volunteer groups went out for water, drawing Indian fire both times.
Madden of K Troop was hit during the second trip, suffering leg injuries that required amputation. He was taken to the hospital, and his leg was cut off that night. The next day, General Terry and General Gibbon arrived, bringing help and news of their friends’ fate in the other battalion. On the 28th, after moving the wounded across the river, the men went to the battlefield and buried the remains of Custer’s men.
Except for Custer himself, they found few bodies that had not been subjected to some kind of mutilation. Golden remembered that their fallen leader’s body showed no such signs. In discussing the engagement with army officers and frontier veterans, the general agreement was that three main factors had led to the disaster. First, the splitting of the command into four separate columns about fifteen miles from the battlefield, without exact knowledge of the enemy’s position or strength, caused a crucial lack of support.
Second, Custer’s early arrival on the scene, nearly twenty-four hours ahead of plan, was harmful. Third, the loss of horses and extra ammunition badly limited the command’s effectiveness. Golden’s experiences with Custer made him see the general as dangerously brave, inclined to take chances without fully considering the odds against him. Golden always thought one potential reason for Custer’s actions, despite the orders he received, was his strong feeling of the shame he perceived from the president’s treatment of him.
He may have wanted to clear his name with a bold and decisive victory similar to his triumph at the Washita, restoring himself as a leading figure and Indian fighter in the public’s view. Whatever his reason, Golden concluded, all must admit that he fought with bravery and finally gave his life with the comrades who had ridden with him to success in many previous battles.