On June 25, 1876, Private Charles Windhoff of Company L, Seventh Cavalry Regiment, rode with his comrades over the divide separating the Rosebud from the Little Bighorn River. A German immigrant who had enlisted in 1872, Windhoff would survive the day and later receive the Medal of Honor for his actions in the battle. His account of the engagement stands as one of the most detailed firsthand descriptions to come out of the fight. The regiment advanced in column of march, four riders abreast per company, with fifty or sixty feet between units.
The soldiers understood that a substantial hostile force lay twelve to fifteen miles to the west, but the exact numbers remained unknown. The Indian scouts estimated that several thousand warriors awaited them. Most of the officers, including General George Armstrong Custer, believed they would face between one thousand and fifteen hundred men, probably poorly armed, and they expected a rear-guard action rather than a pitched battle. Instead, the Seventh Cavalry, numbering about six hundred men, would confront a force possibly double that size and outnumber them by as much as five to one.
Custer had intended to launch a surprise attack at dawn on June 26, but when hostile scouts spotted his column approaching, he decided to strike immediately. He divided his command into several detachments. Major Marcus Reno received troops M, A, and G, along with the majority of the Indian scouts under Lieutenants Charles Varnum and Luther Hare. Custer kept troops C, E, F, and L under his direct command and sent Captain Frederick Benteen, with troops H, D, and K, to scout the rough hills to the south and west.
Windhoff rode with Benteen’s detachment. They moved through difficult terrain that proved demanding for their horses. From each hilltop they climbed, Lieutenant Gibson signaled back that he saw no signs of Indians. Even the troopers in the ranks believed their mission was pointless.
After two hours of riding without finding anything, they swung back onto Custer’s trail and proceeded west along a small stream, where the lead pack mules became trapped in a bog, a constant reminder of how slowly the supply train moved. As the detachment left the swamp, they heard distant firing ahead. Captain Weir took his company forward, with Benteen just behind him. The soldiers knew they would soon be in combat.
They passed a burning teepee, likely set alight by their own Indian scouts, and the horses sensed danger, growing agitated. They then encountered Sergeant Knipe of Tom Custer’s troop, carrying an order for Captain McDougall to hurry forward with the pack mules. Benteen sent him back down the trail. Soon after, they met Trumpeter Martini, a spirited Italian who had once served as a drummer boy with Garibaldi in the struggle for Italian independence.
Martini was carrying a message from Custer to Benteen, ordering him to bring the packs forward promptly. His horse was bleeding heavily from a bullet wound in its right hip, though Martini himself did not seem to realize the animal was hit. Benteen instructed him to return to his company and gave no further orders regarding the pack train, since Sergeant Knipe had already relayed the instruction to McDougall. Martini’s horse was spent, and he struggled to keep up with the column before falling behind.
The sound of heavy firing grew louder. The detachment met several Crow and Arikara scouts driving a few captured Indian ponies, who yelled that soldiers were fighting and motioned toward the bluffs to the north. Benteen ordered his men to draw their pistols, and they charged up the bluffs at a gallop, expecting to meet hostiles at any moment. When they reached the top of the first series of rolling hills, the valley of the Little Bighorn opened up before them.
Windhoff later described the scene as enough to instill fear in the hearts of the most courageous men. Below them, perhaps one hundred and fifty feet down in the valley and about half a mile away, horsemen raced madly in every direction, gunfire echoing across the plain. Further along the river, they saw large groups of mounted men they took to be Indians. Then they spotted mounted and dismounted soldiers on a hill to the north and rode quickly toward them.
Windhoff was not present for the opening moves of the battle. He rode with Benteen and did not witness what happened during the next five hours, but he later listened so often to the reports of survivors that he was able to retell the sequence of events. Around 12:15 p. m.
, Reno was placed in command of three troops, seventeen Crow and Arikara scouts, and three white scouts. Custer, leading five troops, continued in column to the right, while Reno’s column moved to the left. The soldiers found a burning teepee containing the body of an Indian warrior slain in General George Crook’s fight with the Indians only a week earlier, less than twenty miles away. A white scout ahead called back that hostiles were close but remained outside rifle range.
Custer then signaled Reno to ford the creek, and his adjutant, Lieutenant William Cooke, ordered Reno to attack the Indian village two miles further west, with the understanding that the whole force would support him. That order later became a heavily disputed point in the arguments over the disaster that followed. Reno led his force of about one hundred and twenty men, with a few guides and scouts, at a quick trot across the Little Bighorn. They stopped only to water their horses and reform in troop formation on the west bank.
The valley on that side was flat and roughly a mile wide, stretching to a low plateau in the west. Along nearly three miles of the riverbank, the Indian camps were arranged, with each of the five Sioux tribes, along with the Cheyennes, Blackfeet, and Arapahos, occupying distinct circles spaced about a quarter mile apart. To the west, huge pony herds grazed, watched over by Indian boys and women. The gathered force numbered an estimated ten thousand Indians, nearly a third of all Sioux tribesmen, including two to three thousand warriors.
Windhoff also corrected a common misunderstanding about the weapons of the hostiles. Against popular belief, not every warrior carried a modern repeating Winchester rifle with plenty of ammunition. In his judgment, half the warriors bore only bows, arrows, and lances, while half of the rest carried various old muzzleloaders, single-shot rifles, and miscellaneous arms. Only about twenty-five to thirty percent owned modern repeating rifles.
Indian boys of fourteen years and older also went with the warriors and took an active part in the battle, particularly in its later phases. The soldiers carried single-shot . 45-70 caliber Springfield carbines, a weapon known for its accuracy and lethality at distances up to six hundred yards. But when fired rapidly, the breech became dirty, and the greasy cartridges frequently jammed, refusing to be pulled out by the extractor.
Troopers often had to pry the empty shells out with a hunting knife, a slow and dangerous process that cost many men their lives that afternoon. Each soldier also carried a six-shot, single-action Colt Army revolver, the newest model available, along with one hundred rounds of rifle ammunition and twenty-four rounds of revolver ammunition. Reno formed his troops in a skirmish line spanning the width of the narrow valley, with Troop M on the right, A in the middle, and G on the left. The scouts rode to their left front.
After advancing half a mile toward the Indian camp, they met a large group of mounted Indians who rushed down upon them. For ten minutes, Reno’s men held their position, firing continuously, but hundreds of mounted Indians quickly surrounded them, many armed with repeating rifles. Recognizing the danger of being encircled, Reno ordered a retreat. The men mounted in good order and withdrew three hundred yards, but hundreds of Indians charged again.
Reno formed another skirmish line and dismounted his men, firing steadily for ten more minutes. The Indians pressed in from all sides, shooting at close range and inflicting serious losses. Fearing total envelopment, Reno ordered his men to fall back to a grove of cottonwoods half a mile to the rear. In the chaos of that retreat, many troopers became separated from their companies.
Horses stamped and men broke in wild disorder. It was there that the greatest casualties occurred. Many troopers were shot off their horses, killed instantly, then mutilated and scalped. The survivors crossed the river in confusion and climbed a steep hill on the east bank, closely pursued by hundreds of mounted Indians.
Somewhere between fifteen and twenty soldiers died in the river or along its banks. Once Reno’s men reached the hilltop, the Indians pulled back. At that decisive moment, around 2:30 p. m.
, Captain Weir arrived with his troop, followed closely by Benteen’s troops H and K. Reno’s forces were in disorder, but the arrival of reinforcements helped reestablish control. Benteen quickly assessed the situation and ordered his men into defensive positions. They were soon joined by Captain McDougall’s Troop B and the pack train, bringing much-needed ammunition and supplies.
The combined forces dug in on the hill, preparing for a desperate defense. Custer, meanwhile, had continued north along the bluffs with his five troops, attempting to flank the Indian village. As they rode, they came upon the main body of the hostiles near the northern end of the valley, close to the location of what is now the national cemetery. There, the full extent of the Indian force became clear, and Custer’s men found themselves surrounded by overwhelming numbers.
Despite their brave efforts, they were overrun and killed to the last man. As evening fell, Reno and Benteen’s forces on the hill heard the distant sounds of the fighting and understood what had likely happened to their comrades. The night passed in anxious waiting, with occasional skirmishes as the Indians probed the defensive line. By morning, the Indians began to withdraw, having achieved a decisive victory.
The survivors were finally relieved by General Alfred Terry’s column, which arrived two days later. The Battle of the Little Bighorn remains one of the most tragic and compelling chapters in American history. Charles Windhoff, who lived to tell the story, offered one of the most detailed and precise accounts of the engagement, describing not only the unfolding action but also the courage and endurance of the men who fought and died that day on the plains of Montana.