In 1904, Theodore W. Golden, a former soldier of the Seventh Cavalry and one of the last men to see General George Armstrong Custer alive, committed his personal recollections of Custer’s final battle to paper. His account offers a rare and valuable firsthand testimony of the events leading up to and including the disastrous fight at the Little Bighorn in 1876. Golden first came to know Custer when he joined the regiment in 1873 and served with him on campaign until Custer’s death, except for a period in 1875 when his troop was posted in the southern states.
In the spring of 1876, word arrived that a major expedition against the Sioux was being organized, and Golden’s battalion marched from near Shreveport, Louisiana, to Fort Lincoln in the Dakota Territory. When they arrived, Custer was still in Washington giving testimony before an inquiry committee. He joined the regiment only days before the column departed, having been placed under arrest in Chicago while traveling from Washington. The command marched from Fort Lincoln to the Yellowstone River, which they reached near the mouth of the Powder River.
There they stayed for several days, preparing the pack train, as it had been decided to leave their wagons behind and establish a supply camp. Major Reno had gone out on reconnaissance days earlier and was expected to rejoin them near the mouth of the Tongue River on June 17th. After final preparations, the column moved to the mouth of the Tongue River, making camp on June 17th, the same day General Crook fought a fierce battle with the Indians on the Rosebud. All day long, the men watched rising dust clouds in the distance, hoping for Reno’s return.
Hearing nothing, they broke camp on the morning of the 18th and moved up the valley, finally meeting Reno shortly after noon. Golden observed that something in Custer had changed. He seemed sullen, dissatisfied, and not quite himself. But when Reno delivered his report, Custer’s usual energy returned at once, and he quickly formed the command and set out for the Rosebud, where General Terry had already gone ahead to meet General Gibbon’s nearby column.
The next day, they camped near the mouth of the Rosebud, where a council of war was held to examine Reno’s findings. Detailed plans for the campaign were made, and a final council took place aboard the steamer Far West on the night of June 21st, during which Custer received his final instructions. As the council ended, General Gibbon was asked when he could arrive at the mouth of the Little Bighorn. He replied, “Not before noon on the 26th.
” At that meeting, it was said that Custer had been offered the second cavalry battalion and artillery brought on the steamer, but he refused both, saying he trusted the speed and ability of his own command and worried that artillery might slow movement near the enemy. Many believed this was part of his effort to secure an independent command, something he had been accustomed to in earlier years. On the afternoon of June 22nd, the command paraded before Generals Terry and Gibbon and soon set out on the trail Reno had identified. From that point forward, they followed the trail steadily until Reno located the Indian village.
Golden noted that no attempt was made to scout the country around them or to send word back to General Gibbon, despite scout George Herendeen having been assigned to the column for exactly that purpose. Their marches were long and rapid until the night of the 24th, when they left the trail as though stopping for the night. It was a ruse to mislead the Indians, as they had been told to remain saddled and ready for a night march. Golden observed that from the moment they left the Rosebud, Custer’s energy returned, and he seemed wholly focused on locating and fighting the Indians.
The trail they followed came from the direction of the Missouri River, and according to Bloody Knife and the Crow scouts, it belonged to about 1,000 to 1,200 Indians who had come from the Missouri River agencies, almost all of them warriors. Around 11 p. m. , orders came to saddle up, and a scouting party made up of Crows, Rees, and several officers, including Lieutenants Varnum and Hare, had gone ahead to locate the village.
The command pushed along the trail, intending to cross the divide and reach the foothills of the Little Bighorn before sunrise, but rough ground and difficulty following the trail slowed them, and dawn found them in a ravine beneath high bluffs. During the night, word came that Custer had ridden ahead to join the scouts, and just after sunrise, they reported finding the village in the valley of the Little Bighorn. Custer was said to have doubted their claim. At the same time, it became clear that their presence had been detected after an ammunition box filled with hardtack was lost, and a detachment sent to retrieve it found Indians attempting to open it.
As the command was being divided, Mitch Boyer, the mixed-blood Crow interpreter, warned Custer that he would find more Indians in the valley than he could handle with his force. Custer asked whether Boyer was afraid to go. Boyer replied he would follow Custer anywhere but warned that if they entered the valley, neither of them would come out alive. Just before the advance began, Lieutenant McIntosh instructed Golden to report to General Custer for duty as an orderly.
Custer told him to ride with Lieutenant Cook, the adjutant, and follow any instructions he gave. During a brief halt, the men lay on the ground, most asleep, while the horses fed among the sagebrush. Custer ordered the advance, directing that the first company ready should take the right of the line. Orders had been given for Benteen to move left and scout the country, for Reno to follow the trail, and for Custer, leading five troops, to move to the right, leaving McDougall with the pack train to follow as best he could.
After half an hour of difficult riding, the rough ground forced Custer to turn left, and they soon came upon Reno’s column climbing ahead. After a hard ascent, they reached the top of the ridge and saw a rolling plateau sloping toward the river’s foothills, five or six miles away. Reno’s column moved rapidly along the trail ahead, while Benteen’s force was visible several miles to the left, scouting the bluffs. To those near him, Custer seemed impatient with their pace.
He would ride ahead at a gallop, stop, wait for the column, then rush forward again. Soon they saw a great dust cloud moving down the valley but could not determine its cause. Custer, accompanied only by his orderly trumpeter, rode toward the river and stopped on a high point, waving his hat as though signaling to someone in the distance. He returned to the head of the column where Captain Keogh and I Company, veterans of many fights, led the way.
With brightened eyes, Custer told Keogh, “Those Indians are running. 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 men behind him, and replied, “General, we will do all that man and horse can do. ”
Moments later, the bugles sounded the charge, the first since leaving the Rosebud, and they swept northward, trying repeatedly to descend into the valley but failing each time.
After perhaps the third attempt failed, Custer spoke briefly with Cook, who quickly wrote a note, folded it, and called for an orderly. Golden reached him first, and Cook handed him the message. “Deliver this to Major Reno. Remain with him until we join, then report to me at once.
” Then they were gone. A moment later, the rear of the column thundered past and disappeared into the ravines. Golden watched them vanish, then realized he was alone in a hostile country. He headed toward Reno, guided by the rising dust over his position, with only a few long-range shots directed at him.
After a six-mile ride, he reached Reno as Reno dismounted to fight on foot. Golden delivered the message, its contents unknown to him. Reno glanced at it and put it in his pocket. Just then, the Ree scouts panicked and fled, not stopping until they reached the wagon train back at Powder River.
The Indians soon worked around their flanks and began closing in behind them. They had to turn and push back the Indian advance until they reached the timber. Several horses were shot, and others bolted. Once in the timber, with better cover, they resumed fighting, protected by the trees and the riverbank.
Soon they saw Captain Moylan preparing his troop for action. Lieutenant Wallace, nearby on the skirmish line, called to Captain French, who commanded the center company, asking about orders. French replied he had received none but would inquire. Moments later, he shouted that he understood a charge was imminent, though no clear instructions had arrived.
He proposed they mount and support it. When they prepared to mount, they discovered about 15 men had lost their horses, shot or scattered. Lieutenant McIntosh had lost his horse and took one belonging to Trooper McCormick, who said sorrowfully that they were doomed anyway and he might as well die on foot as on horseback. As they mounted and rode out of the timber, they were stunned to see that instead of charging the Indians, Reno was leading a rapid retreat toward the bluffs on the opposite side of the river.
The Indians quickly closed in on their flanks and fired heavily into the retreating column. Fortunately, their aim was poor and losses were relatively light, though the withdrawal became a chaotic rush. Golden addressed a common claim that Reno became so excited he emptied his revolver and threw it away. He stated this was false, noting that the revolver in question later belonged to General Benteen or his family and was still accounted for years later.
During the retreat, Golden was riding on the left side of the column near the timber when his horse suddenly fell, throwing him into the sagebrush. He escaped with only minor injuries. As he got up, Lieutenant Wallace rode past, calling out that his horse was down and urging him to run for the timber. With only brief pauses, he reached the timber safely.
From his hiding place, he saw the men pushing their horses into the river and forcing them through the rocky water. He watched Lieutenant Hodgson’s horse leap into the stream and saw Hodgson struggling as though wounded. Hodgson freed himself from the stirrups and held on to a trooper’s stirrup strap, crossing with difficulty. Once on the far bank, it was clear he had been hit, and the trooper tried to help him mount but dared not stop his horse.
A moment later, Hodgson seemed to be struck again, lost his grip, and fell. He rose unsteadily and tried to reach the ravine where the command was disappearing, but collapsed again. Realizing escape was impossible, he turned, drew his revolver, and faced the Indians. Moments later, several shots rang out, and he fell.
As the men reached the bluffs, Golden found himself alone, but he remained unnoticed as the Indians were occupied with stripping and mutilating the dead along the riverbank. Around this time, he heard distant heavy firing downriver and assumed Custer was engaged. From the glimpses he had of the enormous village, he feared Custer was as heavily outnumbered as they had been. Most of the Indians near him suddenly mounted and raced to join the fight at the lower end of the village.
Golden spotted scout George Herendeen and called to him. Herendeen told him the 15 dismounted men had made it to a position about 200 yards away in the timber, having been driven back by fire when they tried to reach the river. Before leaving, the Indians set the river bottom ablaze, either to conceal their movements or to flush out the wounded. The smoke, however, became their salvation, allowing them to reach the river unnoticed.
They crossed with some difficulty and encountered a Crow scout who directed them to the rest of the command. When they rejoined the force, they found that Benteen had arrived, but there was still no word of Custer. Not long after, a white flag appeared from the river bottom near where Herendeen and Golden had hidden. Lieutenant Hare bravely crawled to a lookout point on the bluffs to signal that they were friendly.
The men crossing turned out to be the dismounted men left behind during Reno’s retreat. During the earlier retreat, Golden had seen Lieutenant McIntosh riding some distance ahead on McCormick’s horse. His lariat had come loose and was dragging, with the picket pin bouncing dangerously through the brush. Several men called warnings, but he seemed not to hear.
His horse soon fell, and when Golden passed him, he lay motionless. They found him in the same spot the next day after the Indians withdrew, and it appeared he had died there. As Golden stood on the bluffs overlooking the valley, he heard an angry exchange. Captain Weir shouted, “By God, if you won’t go, I will, and if we ever get out of this, someone will answer for it.
” Weir strode off, and soon Golden saw his troop mount and move toward the distant firing. Without official orders, the entire command followed, except Benteen’s and Godfrey’s troops, which retained some formation. They went down the valley until they met Weir’s troop falling back. Overwhelmed by a far larger Indian force, they formed a line and held off the pursuing warriors until Weir’s men passed through and reformed behind them.
Together, they withdrew again. As they continued falling back, Colonel Benteen, who now seemed in command, turned to Lieutenant Wallace and said, “Wallace, there’s no point retreating farther. Form your troop with your right secured here. We’ll make a stand.
” Wallace smiled faintly and said, “I have no troop, only two men. ” Benteen laughed grimly. “Form yourself and your two men, and I’ll explain our situation once I understand it myself. ”
That small group formed the center of their defensive line.
Others joined, and they took cover behind sagebrush, building rough barricades and opening fire. They held the Indians at bay until nightfall finally brought relief. During the night, they shifted position, set up a corral and hospital, and dug in as best they could. At dawn, the battle resumed, continuing without pause until about 3 p.
m. , when the Indians suddenly began striking their lodges, packing their travois, and moving up the valley, sadly out of rifle range. Twice that afternoon, volunteer parties went for water, drawing fire both times. Madden of K Troop was struck on the second attempt, suffering grievous leg wounds that required amputation that night.
The next day, Generals Terry and Gibbon arrived, bringing relief and news of the fate of their comrades in Custer’s battalion. On the 28th, after ferrying their wounded across the river, they moved to the battlefield and buried the remains of Custer’s men. With few exceptions, including Custer himself, the bodies showed signs of mutilation. Golden recalled, however, that Custer’s own remains bore no such marks.
Golden noted that in speaking with various officers and frontier veterans, the general opinion was that three main factors led to the disaster. First, dividing the command into four separate columns 15 miles from the battlefield without precise knowledge of the enemy’s size or location left them fatally unsupported. Second, Custer’s premature arrival nearly 24 hours ahead of the planned time proved disastrous. Third, the loss of horses and extra ammunition severely reduced their effectiveness.
Reflecting on his experiences with Custer, Golden described him as fearlessly brave, sometimes dangerously so, inclined to take chances without fully weighing the odds. He believed that one possible reason for Custer’s decisions, despite his orders, may have been the lasting sting of what he viewed as the president’s unjust treatment of him. Custer may have sought to restore his reputation with a bold victory, reclaiming his place as a leading Indian fighter in the public eye.
Whatever his motives, Golden concluded, Custer fought courageously and ultimately died with the comrades who had ridden with him to victory many times before.