The three men ran to the other side of the island, stooping over so low that they were concealed by the grass. But just as they reached the other side, they ran into a party of six mounted Indians. The sudden appearance of Falcon and the other two startled the Indian ponies, and they reared and bucked, causing two of the Indians to fall off. Those Indians ran toward the river. The other Indians fired, but because their horses were milling about, their shooting was inaccurate. Falcon, DeRudio, and O’Neil opened up on them. Falcon got two, DeRudio and O’Neil got one each.
“If we’re going to go, we need to go now!” Falcon shouted, and leading the way, he plunged into the river and worked his way to the far bank with O’Neil and DeRudio behind him.
“Who goes there?” a voice called, when they reached the other side.
“Lieutenant DeRudio, Sergeant O’Neil, and Colonel MacCallister,” DeRudio called.
“MacCallister, it’s me, Varnum. This way,” another voice called.
Going toward Varnum, the three were once again reunited with the rest of the battalion.*
Until noon, the Sioux tried to take Reno’s position, but they were beaten back with heavy losses every time. During the fighting, Falcon and Benteen moved back and forth along the line, exposing themselves to Indian fire while inspiring the troops and, when necessary, supplying a little addition firepower on their own.
Reno had taken up a position behind a breastwork constructed from some of the packs. Once, he called out to Falcon.
“I’m convinced that Custer has gone on to effect his juncture with Terry,” Reno said when Falcon joined him. “He has abandoned us to our fate.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Falcon said. “It could be that he is like us, surrounded and unable to break out.”
Falcon didn’t share with Benteen his suspicion that, not only was Custer’s battalion surrounded, but that Custer himself might be dead.
“You saw what happened when Weir tried to go to him. He was pushed back,” Falcon said.
“Yes, I saw. But I do think Custer has joined with Terry.”
“If so, that would be a good thing,” Falcon said. “The combined troops could come to our relief.”
“Why didn’t Custer support me as he said he would?”
“Only he can answer that.”
“I think we should leave,” Reno said.
“Leave? We can’t leave. For one thing, we have too many wounded. They would slow us down.”
“We can leave our wounded,” Reno said. “I don’t want to do it, but we may have to sacrifice the few to save the many.”
“Reno, you don’t mean that,” Falcon said.
Reno took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, then sighing, he pinched his nose.
“No,” he said. “I don’t mean that. I don’t know what got into me for saying that. I’m sorry, please forgive me.”
Falcon put his hand on Reno’s shoulder. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said. “It has been a rough twenty-four hours.”
“Major!” someone shouted. “Look!”
Looking in the direction pointed to by the trooper, Falcon saw that the Indians had set fire to the prairie grass.
“God in Heaven, they are going to burn us out!” one of the troopers shouted in fear.
“No they ain’t, Johnny,” another soldier said. “As long as that fire is on the other side of the river from us, it can’t hurt us.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess you are right,” Johnny said, his voice showing his relief. “But what the hell are they doing?”
It soon became evident what the Indians were doing, because, in addition to the smoke, they also started the women and children milling about, dragging limbs behind them to stir up a large cloud of dust to mingle with the smoke. Within half an hour, the village, which had been easily seen before, was so obscured by smoke that the soldiers could see virtually nothing on the other side of the river.
“Be on the alert, men!” Benteen called out. “They may launch an attack from all the smoke and dust!”
For the next hour, the men were tense as they waited apprehensively for the upcoming attack.
By seven o’clock that evening, though, their worries eased somewhat when they saw thousands of Indians— warriors, squaws, and children—on horseback, being pulled by travois, and walking, along with many more ponies and dogs. The village was no more and the giant procession was leaving the site, winding its way up the slope on the far side of the valley, headed for the Bighorn Mountains.
“Major, the Indians are gone,” Weir said. “We need to get through to Custer.”
“No,” Reno replied. “It is Custer’s responsibility to get through to us. I have no orders suggesting I join him.”
“Maybe not, but
“What do you mean by that?” Benteen said.
