Charles DeRudio was an Italian aristocrat and former U.S. Army officer who served with the 7th Cavalry Regiment. Promoted to first lieutenant on December 15, 1875, he survived the Battle of the Little Big Horn and later wrote a detailed letter describing his terrifying experiences.
Captain Frederick Benteen reportedly referred to DeRudio as “Count No Account.” But DeRudio’s firsthand account of the battle, which took place on June 25 and 26, offers a rare and harrowing look at the chaos of Custer’s final stand.
On June 25 at around 10:00 a.m., General Custer’s scouts returned with alarming news. They had discovered an Indian village along the Little Big Horn, about 15 miles away. The Indians appeared to be fleeing from the approaching army.
Custer halted the march to plot his attack. He ordered Companies E, I, L, and C to cover the right side of the offensive line. Company B stayed behind to protect the crowded train. Company K, led by Colonel F.W. Benton, covered the left flank. Companies M and G, led by Colonel Reno, occupied the center position.
DeRudio was temporarily assigned to the column that reached the river, which was perhaps six or seven miles away. Custer gave specific instructions to clear anything in their route and assigned Company H, D, and a few others to keep up the pace.
The unit moved fast and followed the enemy into a thick, blinding dust cloud caused by the fleeing Indians. Colonel Reno had to stop the battalion because the dust was so dense there was virtually no visibility.
They were instructed to build a combat line after crossing the river and entering the grasslands beyond. After dismounting, Reno quickly formed a skirmish line, placing the men along the bank of a dry creek that was heavily forested.
The Indians launched a fierce attack. The soldiers were met by perhaps 200 yelping warriors. They were surrounded for about 30 minutes before it was discovered that there were a few lodges and a clearing that looked like a park on the other side of the creek.
The lodges were deserted. As the entire line crossed the creek, they were being led to safety in the woods. They immediately returned fire, and the conflict lasted longer than expected, making retreat nearly impossible.
The enemy’s relentless fire badly injured the small army, which consisted of only about 100 men before the battle started.
DeRudio was in the rear as they crossed the brook. A saddle that had been lost caught his attention, and he went back to retrieve it. As he prepared to saddle his horse, something sent the animal into a frenzy, and it hurdled through the woods.
He led his horse to the south bank of the creek and dismounted to retrieve the saddle. A guidon got caught in the branches and fell out of his hand as he moved through the ranks of the Indians.
Suddenly, he found himself facing mounted warriors. About 300 Sioux were just 50 yards away. They launched a barrage of whistling bullets at him, but amazingly, he was unharmed.
DeRudio managed to get away and make his way through thick brush to the dry, deep bottom of the creek. He hoped to stay undetected until nightfall.
He was also able to return covertly and rejoin Lieutenant O’Neal. DeRudio was dismounted, but Gerard and O’Neal had their horses. They refused when DeRudio tried to dismount them, saying the horses might reveal their location.
Private Thomas F. O’Neal of Company G, 7th Cavalry, and interpreter Fred Gerard stayed with him. They hid in the area where DeRudio could negotiate his survival and defend himself.
Words could not express the misery of the disgusting sight he witnessed. Women eventually left, possibly in pursuit of other victims, giving him time to reflect on his risky behavior.
Two women were closely observed as they carried out the gruesome task of scanning soldiers who might still be alive. Then came the unsettling voices of multiple squaws.
DeRudio raised his head cautiously. As he struggled with his thoughts, he heard a crackling sound nearby. After investigating, he found it was wood that the Indians had burned.
He moved a few yards in the direction of the voice. Because the wood was unusually dry, the fire spread quickly. He had to leave his hiding spot.
When he heard a voice calling as he was about to climb the bank, he crawled out of the stream bottom using the same path. He found the entire group he had just left hiding in the creek bottom.
He went down after Mr. Gerard, who informed him that he had left the horses together. Fortunately, the wind died down and a little rain fell, putting out the fire and giving them new life.
They had to wait for six hard hours. It was already 3:00 p.m. During this time, they could hear and occasionally see Indians nearby. Their voices were uncannily close.
The party was worried about the approaching fire, just like DeRudio. They hoped they would be hidden until nightfall. The sky was extremely cloudy, providing necessary shelter.
They offered to let Colonel Reno know where they were so he could secure their rescue if he could.
Finally, they could leave their hiding places and head to the ford, which was located across an open plain about a kilometer to the south.
DeRudio and the soldier shared a horse’s tail as Mr. Gerard and the rest of the group mounted their horses. Mr. Gerard accompanied them through the night, leaving DeRudio and O’Neal behind.
It was so dark they couldn’t see as they traveled across the broad plain. They could still see that they had crossed the stream earlier that morning. They crossed it once before realizing it was at bushes where Indians were returning to their settlement.
They realized their mistake and had to find the correct crossing. When they got to the woods near what they believed to be the dive, they went into some nearby bushes. The two mounted men immediately fled.
DeRudio knelt down. They came upon eight warriors by chance as they crossed the river again. While the soldier and DeRudio waited, they knew they would need to cross it again.
DeRudio cocked his handgun, ready to shoot if the fighters came near. The warriors seemed to believe that all the soldiers had fled.
With a tense demeanor, DeRudio cautiously approached the riverbank. Men in military blouses, some wearing nightwear, heard the distinct sound of horses splashing through the water.
Relief arrived, and they were reunited. They thought that every ford was heavily guarded and that attempting to cross the river appeared to be suicide.
At dawn, what appeared to be the approach of a sizable cavalry regiment was observed. DeRudio saw soldiers wearing white helmets and riding gray horses.
He saw them leaving the valley, with some soldiers scaling a precipitous bluff and others on the bank. He yelled, “Don’t abandon us, Tom.”
His call was answered with a fearful war cry. DeRudio was certain these cavalrymen were under their command. Even though it was only a few yards away, he was certain this individual was Captain Tom Custer.
He walked boldly forward when he saw a man wearing a white hat, buckskin jacket, breeches, and top boots. The man continued to cross the river.
DeRudio was both hopeful and anxious by this sight. But the man was dressed in apparel that made him realize his error.
The soldier and DeRudio decided to cross a 20-yard clearing to reach another forested area. A salvo of bullets sailed through branches, uprooting the upper branches from the undergrowth.
The Indian on the bluff opened fire on them. After they sat down to avoid the line of fire, DeRudio took the precaution of looking around before moving forward.
The view was eerie. He saw four or five Indians moving quickly away from them, only 50 yards away.
They hadn’t seen the soldiers. DeRudio fired when the front runner was only 10 yards away. The warrior dropped his shoes, raised his hands, and laid down on the grass.
The second warrior turned around by tugging his pony. Private O’Neal shot him. O’Neal’s carbine proved dependable and accurate.
The remaining members were traveling in single file when DeRudio took his shot, but they quickly turned around and departed.
The firing from the bluffs continued at this time, but it stopped after their bullets found safety in the crease of the Native Americans.
The cheers of their fellow troops, the steady rattle of musketry, and the sounds of war reverberated from above on the hills.
From where they were, they could see the Indian sun. On the bluffs, a line of sharpshooters lay prone on their stomachs, with their horses tied to the hill.
For their friends, they saw that enemies had set fire to both sides.
As they crawled almost to the edge, disappointment set in when they discovered the wooded sanctuary wasn’t safe from fire. They would have to relocate.
But their spirits were raised when they heard the familiar sound of forest fire. They moved until they came across a clump of what were known as muleberry trees and skulked beneath them.
Even though there was fire all around them, it kept them safe. They were able to see everything extremely green.
DeRudio was able to smother the fire with his guidon because it spread very slowly.
About 70 to 80 yards away, they observed Native Americans moving about, with one guard standing watch over the fire. The grass on the outskirts of the region was slowly getting closer to their hiding place.
Due to the lack of wind and a little drizzle around 4 p.m., the fire did not reach them.
Around that time, the Indians fired four bullets into the air, which DeRudio took to be a signal. Then they heard more Native Americans leave on horseback.
An hour later, the same signals were given again. Before long, the others left as well. The continuous firing subsided.
They heard Native Americans shouting loudly. After these cues, more than 200 could only be heard distantly. Then they felt hopeful.
They hadn’t had any food or water for 36 hours. By 6:00 p.m., there were no signs of Native Americans in the area. It looked like they would have to wait until dusk to cross the river and proceed in the direction of the Yellowstone.
They carefully thought through their options as they approached the river. They intended to build a raft there and float down to their supply camp on the Powder River.
They thought the Indians had left the battlefield. They would wade in the other direction, cross at twice, and climb the cliffs.
At around 8:00 p.m., they traveled two kilometers at a slow and careful pace. DeRudio ascended a steep hill to survey the area and look for any indications of the ford.
About two kilometers away, in the direction they believed their command was fighting, he noticed a fire.
They asked themselves if it was their orders or a Native American fire. As they got a little closer, they heard a mule bray. It gave them the courage to keep moving cautiously, still fearing they would encounter the enemy.
After descending the hill and making their way to the top, they paused and listened again. The voices they heard were too far away and hidden in the shadows to determine whether they were Native American or their own command.
The challenge wasn’t directed at them, so they continued for more than a mile.
As they were about 200 yards from the flames, a voice yelled, “Pick it, don’t fire.”
Private O’Neal and the lieutenant cheered loudly as they announced themselves. Lieutenant Varnum, a brave and capable officer, came up to DeRudio and was thrilled to see him alive. He had assumed DeRudio was one of the dead.
DeRudio asked about the condition of the regiment, hoping they would be the only ones with casualties. But his optimism faded when Lieutenant Varnum told him that Lieutenant DeRudio was there and they started to run in their direction.
The picket and brief exchange confirmed the worst. Lieutenant Varnum told DeRudio that their command had lost Lieutenant MacIntosh.
DeRudio was exhausted from two nights without sleep, so he couldn’t sleep when he got to camp at around 2 in the morning.
He talked to Lieutenant Varnum about the battle, explaining his situation. Varnum had no updates regarding the five companies under Custer, even though he had left.
They saw a large column of cavalry arrive at 2 in the morning, followed by a few experiences and near misses.
When morning finally arrived, DeRudio met with the officers to let them know that Native American scouts were on the way.
They soon learned that General Brisbane’s order was on the way. When General Gibbon came, a huge line of soldiers gathered on the plain.
Seeing their trench coats made their hearts melt. Even grown men acted like infants.
General Terry arrived at their camp. DeRudio thanked him for his invaluable service during their brief time together.
Charles DeRudio wrote that he and his friends would always be grateful to Private O’Neal for his bravery and dedication.