Private John Martin, also known as Giovani Martino, was an Italian-American trumpeter serving with the United States Army’s Seventh Cavalry Regiment on June 25, 1876. He would become one of the few men to survive the Battle of the Little Bighorn, the fight that would come to be remembered as Custer’s Last Stand. Born in Italy in 1852, Martin had immigrated to America and enlisted in 1873, joining the Seventh Cavalry and taking part in several campaigns before that fateful summer morning. A little before eight o’clock on the morning of June 25th, Martin’s captain, Frederick Benteen, called him over and ordered him to report to Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer as his orderly trumpeter.
The regiment was still miles from the divide between the Rosebud and the Little Bighorn rivers. The command had halted there to make coffee after marching through the night. Everyone knew the Indians were close. For two days they had passed through abandoned villages and followed a heavy trail from the Rosebud.
On the 24th, they had discovered the carcasses of buffalo killed and skinned only a short time before. Martin reported to the general, who simply looked at him and nodded. Custer was deep in conversation with an Indian scout named Bloody Knife, who was describing a large village in the valley ahead—several hundred tepees, and around five thousand Sioux. Martin sat down a short distance away and listened.
He could not understand the scout’s words, but he grasped the meaning from the general’s questions and his exchanges with the interpreter. Custer was dressed that morning in a blue-gray flannel shirt, buckskin trousers, and long boots. He wore a standard company hat. His yellow hair had been cut short, no longer the long, curly mane that had once fallen to his shoulders.
Very soon, he jumped onto his horse and rode bareback around the camp, speaking quietly to his officers and laying out his plans. By 8:30, the command was ready to march. The scouts went ahead, and the column followed slowly about fifteen minutes later. Martin rode about two yards behind the general.
They moved at a walk until, roughly two hours later, they reached a deep ravine and halted. Custer left the column and went forward with the scouts to the high point known as the Crow’s Nest, hoping to spot the Sioux village Bloody Knife had described. He was gone a long time. When he returned, word came that fresh pony tracks had been found nearby and that the Sioux had already spotted the soldiers in the ravine.
The element of surprise was gone. Custer immediately ordered Martin to sound officers’ call. For two days there had been no trumpet calls; every precaution had been taken to hide the march. Now everything changed.
The officers gathered quickly and held a serious conference with the general. The men were kept away, and after the discussion the officers returned to their companies. The column moved on again and crossed the divide around noon. Soon Custer said something to his adjutant, pointed to the left, and within minutes Captain Benteen, with three troops, left the column and rode off in that direction.
Martin wondered where they were going, because his own troop was among them. The rest of the regiment continued in two columns: Major Marcus Reno with three troops on the left, and Custer with the remaining five troops on the right. Martin rode directly behind the general. They followed the course of a small stream leading toward the Little Bighorn River, with Reno on the left bank and Custer on the right.
Scouts kept riding in and out, reporting to the general, and at times Reno’s column drew close enough that Custer motioned with his hat and they crossed over to join him. Soon they came to an old tepee containing a dead warrior inside. Indian scouts had set it on fire. Not far off stood a small hill, and from it one of the scouts, Fred Gerard, spotted some Indians between the soldiers and the river.
He called out to Custer and pointed them out, saying they were running away. Custer ordered the Indian scouts to pursue them, but they refused. The general then motioned Reno forward and told his adjutant to order him to cross the river, attack the village, and that he would support him with the whole regiment. He said he would go down to the other end and drive the Indians, and that Benteen would hurry up and attack them in the rear.
Reno and his three troops left at once at a trot, heading for the river. The rest followed for a few hundred yards, then swung to the right down the river at a gallop, stopping only once to water the horses. Custer was clearly in a hurry. After going a mile or two, they came to a large hill overlooking the valley and rode around its base before halting.
The general took Martin with him to the summit, where they could see the village and the valley on the far side of the river. It was a big village. Several hundred tepees were plainly visible, though neither man realized the full scale of what lay before them. No warriors could be seen, only some women and children playing, a few dogs, and ponies.
Custer seemed surprised and pleased, remarking that the Indians must be asleep in their tents. Martin was sure the general never saw Reno’s column from that hill. Custer looked all around with his field glasses, then turned in his saddle, took off his hat, waved it to the men halted below, and shouted, “Hurrah, boys! We’ve got them.
We’ll finish them up and then go home to our station. ”
They rode back down, and Custer briefly told his adjutant what he had seen. The column moved on quickly until they reached a large ravine leading toward the river. The general pointed down into it and then called Martin over.
It was about three miles from where they had left Reno’s trail. Custer said, “Orderly, I want you to take a message to Colonel Benteen. Ride as fast as you can and tell him to hurry. Tell him it’s a big village and I want him to be quick and to bring the ammunition packs.
”
Martin acknowledged, but as he checked his horse, the adjutant stopped him. He hastily wrote a message in a small book, tore out the page, and handed it over. “Now orderly, ride as fast as you can to Colonel Benteen. Take the same trail we came down.
If you have time, and there is no danger, come back, but otherwise stay with your company. ”
Martin’s horse was already tired, but he started back as fast as he could go. The last he saw of the command, they were descending into the ravine at a gallop, the gray horse troop in the center. Before he reached the hill where he and the general had viewed the village, he heard firing behind him.
Turning, he saw Indians, some waving buffalo robes, others shooting. They had been an ambush. As Martin approached the summit, he came upon Boston Custer, the general’s brother, riding at a run. Seeing Martin, he reined in and shouted, “Where’s the general?
” Martin pointed behind him. “Right behind that next ridge, you’ll find him. ” Boston Custer dashed off. It was the last time anyone ever saw him alive.
From the hilltop, Martin looked down and saw Reno’s battalion in action. It had been no more than ten or fifteen minutes since he and the general had stood there, when no Indians had been visible. Now large numbers of them were riding around and firing at Reno’s men, who were dismounted and in skirmish line. Martin did not stop to watch.
He had to reach Benteen. The last he saw of Reno’s men, they were fighting in the valley and the line was falling back. The Indians had spotted him, and several shots were fired in his direction. None hit him, though his horse was struck in the hip, a wound he did not notice until later.
It was a very warm day, and his horse was hot and tiring fast. He kept on as fast as he could, following the trail back to the place where they had watered the horses, then scanned the prairie for Benteen’s command. Soon he saw them coming. He waved his hat and spurred his horse, but the animal had nothing left.
Martin met Benteen riding well ahead of his troops. Captain Thomas Weir was at the head of his troop, two or three hundred yards back. Martin saluted and handed over the message, then added what the general had told him—that it was a big village and Benteen must hurry. Benteen asked where the general was now.
Martin replied that the Indians they had seen were running and that by then the general had probably charged through the village. He was about to mention that Reno was already engaged when Benteen interrupted, asking about the horse. Martin said the animal was just tired out. “Tired out?
” Benteen replied. “Look at his hip. ” The blood from the wound was plainly visible. “You’re lucky it was the horse and not you.
”
Benteen passed the message to Captain Weir, and Martin was told to rejoin his company. He was given another horse and rode on with the troops. The pack train was in sight about a mile behind, mules walking, trotting, or running as they could. The column moved faster than the packs, and soon only the dust of the mule train remained visible behind them.
Martin had delivered his message and survived. He was one of the last men to see George Armstrong Custer alive, and one of only a handful of soldiers who would live to tell the story of what happened that day at the Little Bighorn. His detailed account became one of the most important eyewitness records of the battle that destroyed the Seventh Cavalry and ended Custer’s life.