shooting on the part of General Custer, who brought down an antelope at 400 yards and nearly shot off the heads of several sage hens. The country north of the Powder River, for a distance of twelve to fifteen miles, is very poor, low, and causing hard marching, with a soil producing no grasses, only sagebrush and cactus. En route, on the 15th, the column passed through an abandoned Indian camp, apparently less than a year old. It had been a large camp, being two miles or more in length, and must have contained 1,200 or 1,500 lodges. Game was very scarce, and no buffalo at all were seen.
The Yellowstone is looming high, and its current is so swift, eddying and whirling as to create a seething sound like that of a soft wind rustling in the tall grass. Its color resembles yellowish clay at this point. It is cool and pleasant to the taste, and is a larger body of water than that of the Missouri River above its mouth, but very much superior for purposes of steamboat navigation. The waters of the Tongue River are of a deepish red color, running swiftly, and not very palatable to the taste.
On the 19th of June, General Custer, with six companies of cavalry, crossed the Tongue River, about three miles from its mouth, by fording, and marching to a point about nine miles from where Major Reno with six companies of the Seventh Cavalry were encamped, having returned from the scout he was ordered upon; but, for some cause unknown to your correspondent, Major Reno was unfortunate enough not only to exceed but to disobey the instructions of General Terry. Major Reno made an error in that he crossed, going a due south course, from the forks of the Powder to the Rosebud River, where he found afresh hostile trail. General Terry had planned to have Major Reno return to the column, marching down the valley of the Tongue River; and after he had formed the junction, General Custer was to organize his regiment for a scout up the Tongue, thence across to the Rosebud, striking it near its head; thence down that valley towards General Terry, who in the meantime would move by steamer to the mouth of the Rosebud, join General Gibbon’s command, march up that valley until he met and joined General Custer. The plan was an excellent one, and but for the unfortunate movement of Major Reno, the main force of the Indians, numbering 1,500, would have been bagged. As it is, a new campaign is organized, and tomorrow, June 22, General Custer with twelve cavalry companies, will scout from its mouth up the valley of the Rosebud until he reaches the fresh trail discovered by Major Reno, and move on that trail with all rapidity possible in order to overhaul the Indians, who it has been ascertained are hunting buffalo and making daily and leisurely short marches. In the meantime, General Terry will move on the steamer to the mouth of the Bighorn River, scouting Pumpkin Creek en route, with General Gibbon’s cavalry as well as infantry, which are marching toward the Bighorn on the north side of the Yellowstone. This part of the command marched up the Bighorn Valley in order to intercept the Indians if they should attempt to escape from General Custer down that avenue. The hope is now strong and, I believe, well founded that this band of ugly customers, known as Sitting Bull’s band, will be “gobbled” and dealt with as they deserve.
Chapter Eighteen
June 21, 1876
Alongside the Far West
Custer issued an officers’ call to bring, not just the commanders, but every officer of the Seventh to his tent.
“Gentlemen, I am allocating twelve pack mules to each troop. Prepare yourselves for a long, hard march. Take fifteen days rations of hard bread,* coffee, and sugar, and twelve days rations of bacon. Choose your strongest animals to carry reserve ammunition—I want a minimum of twenty-four thousand additional rounds carried with the regiment. In addition, each man will be issued one hundred rounds of carbine and twenty-four rounds of pistol ammunition.”
“What about sabers?” Reno asked.
“No sabers. We’ll leave them here with the steamer.”
“The cavalry without sabers?” Reno said. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“The sabers will just take up more weight and space. Also, when a cavalry troop is on the march, the loudest thing you can hear are the rattling sabers. Besides, they are more ornamental than practical. Leave them here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I hope you all understand that it isn’t just probable that we are going to engage the enemy. It is an absolute certainty that we will.”
There was no response.
“You do know what that means, don’t you?”
“I think so,” Lieutenant Weir replied.
“Look around,” Custer said. “Look at the man who is standing next to you. There is a very good chance that one or both of you may not make it back alive. So when you return to your encampment, I want you to write your wills, have your men make certain that they either make out their own wills, or leave verbal instructions as to the disposition of their personal effects.”
“Yes, sir,” Reno said.
Custer held up his finger. “Mind you don’t overly frighten them, just make certain that these necessary details are taken care of.”
Falcon studied the faces of all the officers as they listened to Custer. Earlier, the expressions had been of confidence, even a bit of arrogance. Now, even the most confident and arrogant among them was wearing a somewhat anxious expression.
“That’s all, gentlemen. You are dismissed.”
Just as the officers broke up and started to leave, Custer called out to them.
“Gentlemen, we are going to follow this trail until we find the Indians, no matter how long it takes. That means we may not see the steamer again, so my advice to you is to take along several extra rations of salt. It could be we are going to wind up living on horse meat before this scout is through.”
Returning to the individual troop encampments, the officers informed the men that they would be moving out the next day.
General Terry gave permission for any soldier who wanted it to draw one cup of whiskey from the kegs. Most,
