When the gunfire finally stopped at the Little Bighorn, Chief Gall walked through the wreckage of his own camp and found his two wives and three children dead. The Hunkpapa Lakota warrior had fought in many battles, but nothing had prepared him for that moment. His grief turned instantly to fury, and from that day forward, he swore vengeance against every soldier in George Armstrong Custer’s command. Gall later became one of the first Native Americans to publicly share his version of the battle, and his account challenged the polished legend that Americans had embraced for decades.
His testimony described a fight defined not by heroic last stands, but by chaos, grief, and a brutality that both sides inflicted. When Lieutenant Colonel Custer arrived at the Little Bighorn on June 25, 1876, Gall and his people had only a few hours’ notice. A seasoned warrior of 36, Gall had already earned a fearsome reputation in combat. His standing was so great that Chief Sitting Bull had adopted him as a younger brother and counted him among his closest advisers.
The morning began with Sioux scouts discovering ration boxes abandoned by Custer’s men a few miles from the village. After the soldiers chased the scouts off, Custer decided he had no choice but to strike quickly before Sitting Bull could flee. The Sioux scouts raced back to the village with the news, and Sitting Bull dispatched watchers to shadow the cavalry’s movements. Custer had divided his command into three groups.
He took five companies over the bluffs to attack from the north, Major Marcus Reno took three companies to strike from the south, and Captain Frederick Benteen moved with three more companies to approach from the west. The strategy was to seal off every escape route. Reno’s men were already crossing the river when they charged into the southern edge of the village. Gall later recalled that his camp lay directly in the attackers’ path.
Gunfire tore through the lodges as families scattered in panic. Gall’s first thought was of his own family, but by the time he reached them, it was too late. “They were killed there by the white soldiers, and it made my heart bad,” he later said. In Sioux expression, having a bad heart meant grief, despair, and vengeful rage.
Gall swore revenge. “After that, I killed all my enemies with the hatchet,” he said. Abandoning the rifle for a hatchet meant a warrior had chosen brutality over survival. Reno’s soldiers dismounted and formed a skirmish line only a few hundred yards from the village.
Gall joined the defenders. Although Sitting Bull’s name remains the most famous associated with the battle, he did not personally fight that day. By then he had retired from combat and remained in camp performing medicine rituals. Men like Gall and the Oglala leader Crazy Horse directed the fighting.
Among Reno’s ranks were native scouts from the Crow and Arikara tribes, longtime enemies of the Sioux. The defenders deliberately singled them out. One was Custer’s chief scout, Bloody Knife, half Arikara and half Hunkpapa Sioux, who had grown up alongside Gall. Their feud had turned bitter over the years, and Gall had already killed some of Bloody Knife’s brothers and one of his sons.
As Reno’s line faltered, a bullet struck Bloody Knife in the head, killing him instantly. His blood splattered across Reno’s face. Shaken, Reno ordered a retreat. Gall and his warriors attacked the fleeing soldiers, dragging men from their saddles and shooting them in the back.
At least 32 soldiers fell before the survivors made it across the river to the bluffs. Gall wanted to pursue them, but cries from fellow warriors stopped him. Another American column was advancing from the north, and if it reached the village, the women and children would be trapped. Gall turned his attention to Custer.
Gall claimed that he and three warriors rode north along the bluffs, shadowing Custer’s approach. From about 600 yards away, they watched the soldiers halt. One officer rode ahead with binoculars, scanning the village. Custer had cut his once-famous long golden hair short, so Gall did not recognize him.
Only later did he realize he had been watching Custer himself. “No, no one knew it was Custer,” Gall said. “We could not tell him from any other. ”
According to Gall, Custer hesitated when he saw the size of the village.
In Gall’s telling, the Sioux attacked first, and Custer’s last fight became a desperate defense rather than a planned assault. Other Sioux warriors remembered it differently, insisting Custer attacked soon after Reno’s retreat. Historians note that Gall may have arrived after Cheyenne fighters had already forced Custer back across the river. What is certain is that the fight descended into chaos.
American carbines jammed from overuse, forcing soldiers to draw revolvers. Many ran out of ammunition entirely. Sioux fighters whipped blankets and shouted to spook the cavalry’s horses, scattering mounts and trapping soldiers on foot. “It was a slaughter,” Gall admitted.
“We took no prisoners. Our hearts were bad and we cut and shot them all to pieces. ”
Gall maintained that Custer’s force split, with Companies C and F remaining with Custer and his brother Tom on what became known as Custer Hill. But he insisted that the final resistance came from the southeast, where Lieutenant James Calhoun’s L Company and Captain Miles Keogh’s C Company made their stand.
Those men fought on foot until the last of them fell. “They fought strongly,” Gall said, “but it did not save them. ”
Reno’s men regrouped on the hills to the southeast, joined by Benteen and the pack train around 4 p. m.
They formed a defensive circle with more than 400 soldiers. Gall and Crazy Horse led repeated charges, but the cavalry held. That night, Gall ordered his warriors not to waste lives in reckless assaults. Sioux snipers harassed the soldiers while the rest rested.
By morning, the water shortage was dire. Sioux marksmen fired at every party attempting to reach the river. Eventually, US sharpshooters cleared a path, and some soldiers earned Medals of Honor for fetching water under fire. On June 26, Sioux scouts spotted rising clouds of dust.
General Alfred Terry and Colonel John Gibbon’s column was finally arriving to rendezvous with Custer. Gall took it as the sign to leave. By sunset, Sitting Bull’s people had packed up and withdrawn west toward the Bighorn Mountains. It was a resounding victory, but it would not last.
The US Army redoubled its campaign, and within months, most Sioux bands were forced to surrender. Gall fled with Sitting Bull to Canada but later returned and settled at Standing Rock. He converted to Christianity and became friendly with reservation officials. In 1886, Gall was persuaded to attend the 10th anniversary commemoration of the battle, where he met survivors of the 7th Cavalry.
For the first time, Americans heard the story of the Little Bighorn from the other side. Speaking in Lakota, English, and sign language, Gall described what he had seen. His accounts varied across interviews, which historians continue to debate. Some versions depicted him fighting Reno, while others only showed him fighting Custer.
Some mentioned the deaths of his family, others left it out. Despite the inconsistencies, Gall’s testimony remains one of the earliest Native accounts of the battle, essential for understanding not only what happened, but also how it was remembered. More than a century later, the contrast between the two versions remains sharp. The nation remembered Custer’s last stand as a story of bravery and sacrifice.
Gall remembered a battlefield where he lost his wives, his children, and any desire for mercy. Two men bound together not by glory, but by loss. Historians and Lakota descendants still ask whose truth deserves to be honored: the version written by the 7th Cavalry, or the one spoken by a chief whose heart was made bad by grief.