Edward Settle Godfrey, a seasoned cavalryman and one of the few surviving officers of the Seventh Cavalry Regiment, watched the Battle of the Little Bighorn unfold with his own eyes. His account, recorded years later, remains one of the most important firsthand records of the fight that destroyed George Armstrong Custer’s command and stunned the nation in the summer of 1876. The battle began with a divided regiment. Custer had split his force into battalions, sending Major Marcus Reno across the river to attack the village while he moved downstream with his own battalion.
That separation would prove fatal. After Reno’s charge faltered and his men retreated in panic to the bluffs above the river, the survivors of his command and Captain Frederick Benteen’s battalion found themselves pinned down under a gathering storm of Sioux and Cheyenne warriors. As the two battalions united on the bluffs, the situation was grim. Reno’s men had spent nearly all their ammunition.
Benteen’s battalion was ordered to divide its own cartridge supply with Reno’s troops. Lieutenant Hare was sent to retrieve the ammunition pack mules, which, fortunately, had not yet been discovered by the Indians. While waiting, Reno decided to attempt the recovery of Lieutenant Hodson’s body, requesting a carbine because he had lost his pistols in the charge. A few men were loaded with canteens to fetch water.
The effort came to nothing. The party was fired upon by Indians who were likely scalping the dead near the foot of the bluffs. Gathered on the edge of the bluff overlooking the valley, a group of officers discussed the situation. Captain Moylan, a soldier of considerable merit, observed the scene below and remarked with emphasis that in his opinion General Custer had made the most egregious mistake of his life by not leading the entire regiment in the initial attack.
At that moment, a large number of Indian horsemen occupied the valley. Then, suddenly, they departed down the valley, and within minutes scarcely a horseman remained in sight. Heavy firing was heard downriver. Questions were posed among the men: what was the matter with Custer, why did he not dispatch word of his course of action, why were they waiting there?
A sense of unease crept through the ranks, yet no one appeared to exhibit great anxiety. Some of Reno’s men had caught sight of Custer’s headquarters party, including Custer himself, on the bluffs as the Indians began to assemble. The group was heard to cheer and seen to wave their hats as if offering encouragement, then disappeared behind the hills. Major Moylan believed the last he saw of Custer’s party was near the position of Reno Hill.
Major DeRudio thought he saw Custer and his brother Tom on a ridge, dismounted and observing through field glasses. They mounted and vanished. Custer’s battalion was not seen by Reno’s troops again after the separation. Around the time Custer was last seen, Trumpeter Martin departed from Adjutant Cooke with Custer’s final orders to Benteen: “Benteen, come on, big village, be quick, bring packs.
” The repetition of the order to bring packs suggested urgency. It is possible that from a high vantage point Custer had beheld nearly the entirety of the Indian camp and realized the prospects were desperate, but it was too late to reunite his forces. Reno was already engaged, and Custer’s own battalion was separated by a distance of two and a half to three miles. For an extended period after the junction of Reno’s and Benteen’s forces, heavy firing was heard downriver in the direction of Custer’s command.
The men were convinced Custer was engaged with the Indians. Two distinct volleys were heard, which excited some surprise. In later reflection, Godfrey had little doubt these volleys were fired by Custer’s orders as signals of distress to indicate his location. Captain Weir and Lieutenant Edgerly, after repelling the Indians from Reno’s command, grew impatient at the delay.
Weir sought permission to move in the direction of the firing but changed his mind, deciding to survey the situation from the high bluffs first. Edgerly, seeing Weir heading toward the firing, assumed it was acceptable and started down the ravine with his troop. From the high point, Weir saw large numbers of Indians moving toward Edgerly and signaled for him to change course. Edgerly joined Weir, where they remained until the rest of the troops marched down.
From their position, they observed the Indians riding about what later proved to be Custer’s battlefield, shooting into the bodies of the dead or killing wounded men. McDougall arrived with the pack train and reported the firing. Godfrey noted the time of his arrival as twenty minutes past four in his memorandum book. Around this time, thirteen men and a scout named Herendeen rejoined the command.
They had been missing since Reno’s flight from the valley, had lost their horses in the stampede, and had remained hidden in the timber. Around five o’clock, the command proceeded downriver toward Custer’s supposed location. The advance continued as far as the high bluffs, where the command was halted. The air was thick with dust, and stationary groups of horsemen could be seen moving about.
From their grouping and the manner in which they sat their horses, the men knew they were Indians. A peculiar sight caught their attention: what appeared to be a scorched patch of bushes with reddish-brown leaves shifted as they watched. With field glasses, they discovered the strange sight was in fact the immense Indian pony herds. Looking toward Custer’s field on a hill two miles distant, they saw a large assemblage.
Occasional shots were heard, most at a great distance. While observing this group, the conclusion was reached that Custer had been repulsed and the firing they heard was the parting shots of his rear guard. Then the firing ceased. The groups dispersed, clouds of dust arose from all parts of the field, and the horsemen converged toward their position.
The command was now dismounted to fight on foot. Weir’s and French’s troops were posted on the high bluffs, with Godfrey’s own troop along the crest adjacent to the river. As Godfrey was engrossed in posting his men, he was startled by the remark that the command was no longer in sight. Weir’s and French’s troops were under attack.
Orders were conveyed to Godfrey to rejoin the main command. As he proceeded, he glanced back and beheld French’s troop hastening over the bluffs, followed shortly by Weir’s troop in similar haste. The Indians promptly followed to the top of the bluff, firing into the retreating troops, killing one man, wounding others and several horses, then pursuing down the hillside. Godfrey immediately resolved that such a retreat and close pursuit would precipitate the entire command into confusion, potentially proving disastrous.
He dismounted his men to fight on foot, deploying as rapidly as possible. Lieutenant Hare expressed his intention to remain with him. Their fire soon compelled the Indians to halt and take cover. But before this was achieved, a second order arrived for Godfrey to fall back to the main command with all due haste.
Having checked the pursuit, they began their retreat, initially slowly while maintaining their fire. After proceeding some distance, the men began to congregate and move faster. The Indians emerged from cover, maintaining heavy fire. The Indian fire was not intense, but the pinging of bullets overhead seemed more terrifying than the thud of those striking the ground nearby.
Upon reaching the ridge before Reno’s position, Godfrey observed Indians hastening to secure a hill to the right which would command Reno’s position. He ordered Hare to take ten men and hold the hill, but an order from Reno arrived directing them to return quickly. Godfrey recalled Hare, drove the Indians to cover once more, and ordered the men to run to the lines. The movement was executed surprisingly without a single casualty.
The Indians now seized control of all surrounding high points, unleashing a heavy fire. Meanwhile, they had dispatched a substantial force up the valley, encircling the position. It was now approximately seven o’clock. The position adjacent to the river was protected by rugged steep bluffs cut by deep irregular ravines.
Benteen’s troop occupied the high hill to the south. Everyone lay down, spreading themselves as thin as possible. Godfrey walked along the line cautioning men not to waste ammunition, ordering skilled marksmen to fire and others to supply them with loaded guns. Firing continued until nearly dark, between nine and ten o’clock, although after dusk little attention was paid to it.
Naturally, all wondered about Custer, why he didn’t communicate by courier or signal. The prevailing opinion was that he had been defeated, driven down the river, where he would likely join General Terry and return to their relief. The Indians were decidedly more jubilant than their besieged foes. Their camp was a veritable pandemonium, resounding with unbridled revelry throughout the night.
They beat tom-toms, danced, whooped, and yelled with demoniacal screams while discharging firearms. The defenders knew they were holding a scalp dance. The Indians denied taking any prisoners, and the defenders discovered no evidence of torture in their camps, although they did find human heads severed from their bodies. The command’s casualties had been relatively few since taking position on the hill.
Scouts were sent out soon after dark to search for signs of Custer’s command but returned shortly, reporting that the area was swarming with Sioux. After the firing ceased, utter confusion reigned. Men imagined seeing columns of troops on the hills or ridges, hearing the sound of horses, officers’ commands, or trumpet calls. Someone suggested that General Crook might be approaching, prompting a civilian packer to gallop along the line yelling, “Don’t be discouraged boys, Crook is coming.
” But gradually they realized the much-wished-for reinforcements were mere phantasms and settled down to the task of digging rifle pits. The ground was hard and dry with only three or four spades and shovels available to the entire command. Axes, hatchets, knives, table forks, tin cups, and halves of canteens were pressed into service. Everyone worked diligently, some continuing to dig until the enemy opened fire at early dawn, between half-past two and three o’clock.
As dawn gave way to daylight, the enemy’s lines were heavily reinforced, and both sides maintained a continuous fusillade. The Indians’ strategy was to draw the defenders’ fire and exhaust their ammunition while exposing themselves minimally. The defenders forbade all but well-known marksmen from firing without orders. The Indians amused themselves by standing erect in full view for an instant then dropping down before a bullet could reach them, then resorted to the old ruse of raising a hat, blouse, or blanket on a stick to draw fire.
Benteen’s troops suffered greater losses than any other, as their rear was exposed to long-range firing from the hills to the north. The horses and mules suffered greatly. Benteen approached Reno requesting reinforcements for his line. Before departing, he instructed Gibson not to fall back under any circumstances, as his position was crucial.
Gibson’s men had nearly exhausted their ammunition, some reduced to merely four or five cartridges. Private McDermott volunteered to convey a message to Benteen urging him to expedite the reinforcements. After considerable urging, Reno finally directed French to lead M troop to the south side. Benteen, seeing the danger, launched a charge, driving the Indians nearly to the river.
The firing momentarily ceased only to recommence with greater intensity. Benteen returned to Reno, warning that if something wasn’t done soon, the Indians would overrun their lines. Reno ordered the men to prepare for a charge and instructed Benteen to give the signal. Benteen cried out, “Already now men, now’s the time, give them hell.
” With a hurrah, every man from troops B, D, G, and K advanced, except one who remained in his pit crying like a child. When they had progressed seventy to one hundred yards, Reno called out, “Get back men, back,” and the entire line retreated. A singular fact of the sortie was that not a single man who had advanced with the lines was hit. Immediately after everyone returned to the pits, the one man who had not participated was shot in the head and killed instantly.
Up to this point, the command had been devoid of water, and the excitement and heat had rendered their thirst almost unbearable. Men placed pebbles in their mouths to stimulate saliva, attempted to eat grass roots, and tried to consume hard bread only to expel it. Around eleven o’clock the firing subsided, and volunteer parties were formed to procure water under the protection of Benteen’s lines. The parties navigated the ravines, approaching within a few yards of the river.
The men would make a dash for the river, fill camp kettles, and return to fill canteens. Indians stationed in a nearby copse of woods opened fire whenever a man exposed himself. Several men were wounded. Godfrey believed all these individuals were subsequently awarded Medals of Honor.
By approximately one o’clock, the Indians had largely withdrawn but continued to guard the river. Around two o’clock they returned, opened fire, and drove the defenders back to the trenches, but by three o’clock the firing had ceased entirely. In the waning hours of the afternoon, a handful of horsemen appeared in the valley below. Shortly thereafter, the grass in the valley was set aflame.
At approximately seven in the evening, a vast and formidable body emerged from behind the veil of smoke, traversing the plateau in the direction of the Big Horn mountains. The travois laden with the families and accoutrements of the enemy formed a dense throng, while the warriors stood vigilant silhouetted against the crimson-hued western horizon. Their departure filled the defenders’ hearts with joy, soon supplanted by misgivings regarding their motivations. The stench arising from the lifeless bodies of men and horses had grown overpowering, and a decision was made to establish a new position in closer proximity to the river.
Their losses on the hill had amounted to eighteen fallen and fifty-two wounded. During the nocturnal hours of June 26th, Lieutenant DeRudio, Private O’Neill, Mr. Gerard the interpreter, and Jackson, a half-breed scout, presented themselves at the lines. They had been left behind in the valley upon Reno’s retreat and had concealed themselves in the underbrush.
On the morning of Tuesday, June 27th, the command arose to the sound of reveille. Not an Indian was to be seen, though a few ponies grazed peacefully in the valley below. At half-past nine, a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon several miles downriver. The assembly sounded.
An hour of suspense ensued. The slow advance of the approaching force led them to conclude they were in fact their own troops. The men searched in vain for the familiar grey horse troop, a telltale sign of Custer’s presence. It could not be Custer, therefore it must be Crook.
Cheers erupted in celebration of Crook’s arrival. A white scout appeared with a note from General Terry addressed to General Custer, dated June 26th. The note stated that two Crow scouts had reported the column defeated with nearly all men slain. Terry expressed skepticism yet was en route with medical assistance.
Shortly thereafter, Lieutenant Bradley of the Seventh Infantry entered the lines, an old acquaintance of Godfrey’s. Godfrey greeted him warmly and posed the question: where is Custer? Bradley replied, “I know not, but I fear he is fallen. As we counted 197 lifeless bodies, I dare say none escaped.
” The news seemed impossible to comprehend. This was the first intimation the defenders had received regarding Custer’s fate. Godfrey escorted Bradley to Major Reno and introduced him to the assembled officers. General Terry and his staff, accompanied by officers from General Gibbon’s column, soon approached.
Their arrival was met with prolonged hearty cheers, but the General’s grave countenance swiftly subdued the men to silence. The officers assembled to greet their guests, and the atmosphere was heavy with emotion. Scarcely a dry eye remained, and words were few, but quivering lips and firm handshakes bespoke the depth of gratitude for their timely relief and sorrow for the fallen. The remainder of the day was devoted to collecting belongings and destroying surplus property.
The wounded received attention and were conveyed to the camp of their newfound allies. Among the wounded was Saddler Mike Madden of Godfrey’s troop, whom Godfrey had promoted to sergeant on the field for gallantry. Amputation of his leg was necessitated, performed without anesthetic. The surgeon subsequently administered a generous measure of brandy.
Madden eagerly imbibed, his eyes sparkling with delight as he smacked his lips and exclaimed, “Doctor, cut off my other leg. ”
In August, the command encamped at the mouth of the Rosebud, where they chanced upon the carcass of a horse felled by a bullet to the head. Nearby lay a carbine, and upon the saddle rested a small canvas grain sack, a distinctive accoutrement of the Seventh Cavalry used for transporting oats. At the time of this discovery they surmised that perhaps a soldier had escaped, slain his horse for sustenance, and used the saddle straps to construct a makeshift raft.
An Indian would scarce have abandoned the carbine. Asked what factors contributed to Custer’s defeat, Godfrey responded with several. First, the overwhelming numerical superiority of the enemy and their unforeseen unity of purpose. The command possessed no conclusive intelligence upon which to base calculations of the enemy’s numbers, and it seemed almost inconceivable that such a vast assemblage of Indians could have departed the agencies and combined their forces without pertinent information being communicated to the commanders in the field.
Second, Reno’s precipitous and panicked retreat from the valley. The Indians averred that had Reno maintained his position, they would have been compelled to divide their forces, preventing the concentration of their entire warrior contingent upon Custer’s battalion. At the moment of Custer’s advance, the chiefs ordained the village to decamp, but upon Reno’s retreat this order was countermanded and the squaws were forced to return with the pony herds. Third, the flawed extraction of spent cartridge shells from the carbines.
When cartridges were sullied and corroded, the ejectors frequently failed to extract the empty shells from the chambers, necessitating the use of knives to dislodge them. To what extent this contributed to the calamity, Godfrey could not ascertain. A possible fourth factor was the division of the command, though such tactics had been employed with success at the Battle of Washita. Godfrey’s studies left him in little doubt that had Reno executed his charge as ordered, the hostiles would have been so engrossed in the valley that Custer’s approach would have occasioned a surprise of such magnitude as to precipitate a stampede of the village, shattering the warriors’ morale.
On the other hand, had the entire command been concentrated under Custer’s leadership, he firmly believed the charge would have been successfully executed. He also addressed the accusation that Custer harbored selfish motives in declining additional forces at the mouth of the Rosebud. General Terry’s official report made no mention of the alleged offer but rather stated it was deemed impracticable, as more than half of Colonel Gibbon’s troops consisted of infantry who would have been unable to keep pace with the cavalry. The Gatling guns were hauled by condemned cavalry horses unfit for prolonged rapid marches.
The poor condition of the horses may have influenced the decision against their inclusion. Following the battle, the 29th and 30th of June were devoted to destroying property left in the Indian village, preparing litters to transport the wounded, and conveying them to the Big Horn, where they were embarked upon the Far West. Captain Grant Marsh, master of the vessel, was the pioneering navigator of the Big Horn River, holding his vessel in position despite receding waters. On July 1st and 2nd, the command marched to and crossed the Yellowstone.
At noon on July 3rd, the Far West, laden with the wounded and bearing dispatches, cast off and embarked on its remarkable voyage down the Yellowstone and Missouri Rivers. The vessel reached Bismarck at 11:30 p. m.
on July 5th, bringing the astonishing news of Custer’s last battle to the thirty-nine widows at Fort Lincoln and to the world.