Reno stood in his stirrups, then turned to look back at the formation.
“Forward!” he called.
“Forward!” The supplementary commands rippled down through the column as the troop commanders gave their own response.
“Ho!” Reno shouted, and the regiment started forward in columns of fours.
Custer had massed the trumpeters from every troop, and it was they, not the band, that played “Garyowen” as the Seventh passed by rank and file.
Falcon rode with Varnum, Dorman, the white scouts—Lonesome Charley Reynolds, George Herenden, and Fred Gerard—as well as the Indian scouts—Bloody Knife, Mitch Boyer, White Man Runs Him, Hairy Moccasin, and Curly. They rode at the rear of the mounted troopers, but ahead of the wagons. Shortly after they passed by, Custer mounted Vic, then galloped to the front of the column.
“Now, Custer, don’t be greedy!” Gibbon called as Custer rode by. “Wait for us!”
“No, I won’t,” Custer called back.
“Lieutenant Varnum, what do you think Custer meant by that answer?” Falcon asked. “Did he mean, no, he wouldn’t be greedy? Or, no, he wouldn’t wait?”
Varnum laughed. “General Custer is a man of precise words. I think he knows exactly what he said, and he knows exactly how confusing his response was. Look over there.”
Varnum indicated Gibbon and Terry. The two men were engaged in an animated discussion, and though he was too far away to hear what they were saying, there was no doubt in his mind but that they were discussing Custer’s ambiguous response.
The column moved up the Yellowstone for two miles to the mouth of the Rosebud. There, the Rosebud was from thirty to forty feet wide and about three feet deep, with a gravely bottom. The water was also slightly alkaline, and because of that some of the soldiers, who had intended to fill their canteens, decided not to.
Proceeding along the Rosebud, and riding in the choking dust kicked up by so many horses, the column made camp that evening. Once they were encamped, Custer called for a meeting of all his officers.
“How many of your men have filled their canteens?” Custer asked.
“General, have you tasted that water?” Lieutenant Hodgson asked. “It tastes like shit.”
“Why, Benny,” Lieutenant Weir said, “how do you know what shit tastes like?”
The others laughed.
“Come on, Tom, you know what I’m talking about,” Hodgson replied. “The water is alkaline.”
“Colonel MacCallister, did you fill your canteen?” Custer asked.
“Yes,” Falcon replied.
“Why? I mean, you heard Lieutenant Hodgson. The water is brackish.”
“Now, General, that isn’t exactly what Benny said,” Tom Custer said, and again, there was laughter. “He said it tastes like—”
“Yes, I know what he said it tastes like,” Custer replied, cutting his brother off. “But I am making a point here. Colonel MacCallister, why did you fill your canteen, knowing that the water was brackish?”
“I always take advantage of water when I find it,” Falcon answered. “You never know when you are going to need it, and even brackish water is better than dying of thirst.”
Custer smiled broadly, and clapped his hands quietly. “Good, sir, good for you.” He turned to look at the other officers. “Listen to Colonel MacCallister, gentlemen,” Custer said pointedly. “There could well come a time during this scout where you would give a month’s pay for one canteen of brackish water.
“Tom, how is the pack train doing?” Custer asked.
“Why are you asking me?” Tom Custer asked.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” Tom Weir responded.
“I mean Captain Tom McDougal,” Custer said.
“It’s clear to me that we have just too damn many Toms around here,” Keogh said, and again, the officers laughed.
“The mules are carrying just about the maximum they can carry, General,” Captain McDougal said. “It’s all we can do to keep up.”
“Do the best you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As of now,” Custer said, continuing his briefing, “we are to do all that we can to prevent the Indians from discovering us. From now on, all orders will be given by hand signals, verbally, or with couriers. No more trumpet calls. Tomorrow morning, have the stable guards awake the troops at three a.m. We will move out at five a.m. sharp. Captain McDougal, will you be able to handle that?”
“Yes, sir,” McDougal replied.
Custer took a deep breath and looked at all the officers for a moment before he spoke again.
“Now, gentlemen, I’m going to discuss something that no commanding officer should ever have to discuss with his officers, but I think it needs to be discussed.”
The expression on Custer’s face was grim and the smiles left the faces of the other officers as they paid attention to him.
