THE DIARIES OF JOHN GREGORY BOURKE.
VOLUME 2: JULY 29, 1876-APRIL 7, 1878
THE LITTLE BIGHORN BATTLEFIELD
Bourke Vol 1 - to July 1876 July 21st. Sky perfectly spotless: weather charming in softness and Italian warmth. Marched North and North East, threading the course of the Little Big Horn, an admirable stream, full of abrupt bends, enclosing grassy savannahs, studded with clumps of timber. The absence of undergrowth gave the appearance of the well-kept grounds of some of mansion, an illusion maintained by the clean-cut banks of the placid river. A soft shell tortoise lazily floated down stream, plying his flippers and indolently lifting his head from the water, but too shrewd to look above the surface while passing the point where a squad of our soldiers waited his coming ready to shoot him for supper.
We crossed over two or three little branches this morning but saw none of much importance. After marching twelve to fourteen miles, we entered a broad valley, of meadow land, running back at least a mile from the river which wound in and out on its Right hand: signs of former Indian habitancy were here to be seen in a manner that could not be mistaken. Pots, pans, kettles, tépi-poles, cups and dishes of several varieties lay strewn upon the ground, scarcely concealed by the grass. On the far side of the stream, ran a low chain of bluffs of clay and sandstone, the latter only in small quantity: on our side, the stream was fringed with goodly sized cottonwoods and one clump of these was pointed out by our guides as the position assumed by Major Reno when he first attacked the village.
A little further on was the point where Custer vainly essayed to cross the stream to charge the village near its center.
On the site of the village, we erected camp and then forded the stream to examine the spot where Custer’s Command was butchered. A short half mile back from the stream we came upon the ground passed over by Custer: it was almost level, or gently inclining, and extremely well suited for making rapid movements. A cross by the side of the trail drew our eyes and we read:
One hundred paces farther, a similar rude monument was marked while right next to it one commemorated the spot where Colonel Myles Keogh died, with his whole company “I” 7th U.S. Cavalry. It looked to me as if Keogh must have attempted to make a stand on foot to enable Custer to get away, because he and his company died in one compact mass whereas from here on, the graves are scattered in irregular clumps and at intervals about like those in a slaughter of buffaloes.
From the place where Keogh fell was one hundred or maybe one hundred and fifty yards to a little knoll which abruptly terminated at the divide or bluff, followed by Custer when pursued. This knoll served as the “holy ground” where our poor men died like sheep in the shambles. A great number of skeletons of horses, killed perhaps by our own people to serve as bulwarks against the enemy, strewed the ground at this point. On the summit of this knoll is the skeleton of Custer’s horse and here Custer’s own spirit took its flight. Lower down are scattered the graves of other officers and soldiers: at the head of each, a stout sapling, cleft at the extremity to hold a fragment of paper with the names of the fallen. On this knoll, the butchery practically ended: a frightened herd of thirty or forty poor wretches, still surviving, strong to gain the banks of the river. They were killed like wolves. As we made our way along the ravine, we stumbled upon four skulls in one collection, a lone one in another place, another under a little bush and still another, picked up by my orderly, Private Glennan, 3d. Cavl.
These corpses had been buried exactly where they fell by General Terry’s and Gibbon’s Commands over a year ago, but had been washed out by rain or dug up by wolves: it was hard to go ten yards in any direction without stepping on portions of the human anatomy and skeletons of horses, singly or mingled together. Colonel [Michael] Sheridan, of Lieutenant General Sheridan’s staff,7 was out here a fortnight ago to take up the bodies of the officers and also to re-bury the remains of any of the soldiers that might from any cause have been exhumed. The extent of the field was a great obstacle to the accomplishment of this task which indeed may never be done, unless the skeletons of the animals are likewise buried. Pieces of clothing, soldiers’ hats, cavalry coats, boots with the leather legs cut off, but the human feet and bones still sticking in them, strewed the hill.8 Well down the ravine of which I write was the grave of Captain Tom. Custer and below that still another, surmounted by a sapling, in whose paper I read the name scrawled in a rude hand, (on the leaf of a pocket diary, (bearing the printed day, “May 26th[”]) “BOSTON CUSTAR”.9 Sticking out from the ground in the ravine was the body of a man still clad in the rough garb of a scout: boots and bullet-ridden hat still by him: there was nothing to give the slightest idea as to who he might have been—and this was the Custer battle-ground or slaughter-ground! Evidently, Custer’s men broke at the point where Lieutenant Crittenden was killed, stampeded on the knoll where brave Keogh turned to make his stand, and, what few remained alive, ran like frightened deer for the river from the little bluff where Custer died.
It is unjust to criticize the poor fellows who fell under the bullets and arrows of the surging thousands of red fiends who thronged around them like blood thirsty wolves. But, laying aside the question as to whether or not the whole 7th Cavalry could have routed this immense village, it would have been better to make the onslaught by charging across the open plain near the locality of Reno’s first attack. Under the impetus of sudden terror, the savages might have abandoned their village which might have been set on fire to their great loss and discomfiture, even had they rallied and pressed our united force as strongly as they did Reno’s single Battalion11 until Terry came to his rescue. The report of the massacre as made by General Terry, I find to be very correct, but the newspaper accounts of that date are the veriest bosh, where they are not wilful lies. I will close this little sketch by saying I don’t believe fifty Indians were killed in any way during this action.12 General Sheridan sent a courier to the Commanding Officer of the Military Post, at the mount of the river and also detailed sixty men from our Command to reinter the bones and skeletons lying on the hills. This work was carried out under the superintendence of Colonel Kellogg and Lieut. Wheeler and finished before dark. Seventeen skeletons were found ten of which had never been buried. Our Indian scouts say that in this fight, Crazy Horse killed the first one of Reno’s men who entered the village: he split the man’s head with a war club. They pointed out the skeleton of a soldier, one of Custer’s Battalion, who, thanks to the fleetness of his horse made his escape. They pressed after him for over a mile, but then concluded to let him go that some one might be left alive to tell the tale. The soldier must have been crazed with fright, as he was seen to pull out his revolver and blow out his brains. Had he continued his race for a little over another mile he might have reached Reno’s column.
A courier came in from the Commanding Officer of the post at the mouth of the Little Big Horn, bringing information of two steamers being in the stream, three miles or so below the post, and two others ten miles, on one of which were Generals Sherman and Terry. The presence of great numbers of adventurous prospectors in this region has already been spoken of: nearing the post, we came upon men engaged in cutting logs for the construction of its buildings and some men met to-day have brought their families into the valley with them. Eight wagons came in from Tongue River to-day. Traces of a recent terrible hail-storm in this part of the valley confront us on all sides. This hail-storm killed five hundred ponies belonging to the Crow Indians, so we were afterwards informed. Grass is cut out, bushes broken down, graves washed out and many other marks of its severity were visible in the river bottom and upon the hill-sides. Big Bat, who came in here with Colonel Kellogg last month, says that then the grass was green and luxuriant all about here.
July 22d. Another pleasant balmy morning. Marched fourteen miles; our line of direction was North and North West, keeping on the Left side of the Little Big Horn and through a gently rolling plateau, covered with grama grass. Not much timber to be seen. Along the banks of the river itself and of its tributaries may be found quantities of cottonwood and occasionally box-elder, ash, oak (seen yesterday.) wild plum and wild cherry. Approaching the post which we could clearly make out eight miles off, we saw wagons, tents and every other sign of military occupation. Reached the post early in the morning: temperature very high, (107°F in the shade so Colonel [George Pearson] Buell told me, and later in the day, it climbed up to 108°F.) Four companies of the 11th Infantry are stationed here, under command of Colonel Buell who is making great advances toward the construction of buildings and quarters. After a pleasant conversation with Colonel and Mrs. Buell, we moved down to the pretty flat on the Little Big Horn and there under the shade of very graceful cottonwoods, went into camp. The heat was so extreme, nothing was done during the day but loll about on our beds with just as little covering as decency demanded.
Lieutenants Tiffany, Ruhlen, Doherty, and Doctors Tesson and Burgin called to visit us during the afternoon. After departure, we made up a party and went to the river to bathe. I was astonished to find a depth of six, seven and eight feet in spots. We sported in the water, riding on the logs which were floating down for the use of the post. Although we didn’t look as beautiful as a troop of mermaids, we had fully as enjoyable a time as they could have had in the warm and invigorating water. About six o’clock, the steamers Western, Big Horn and Silver City, succeeded in steaming up to the post: they had been in sight of it all day, but unable to cross a sandbar, running across the stream. By General Sheridan’s orders, they discharged some of their cargo on the banks and then had but little difficulty in ascending. In the evening, we called upon the ladies of the garrison, Mrs. Buell, Mrs. Conrad, Mrs. McTiel and Mrs. Swahn. Of the post itself not a great deal can be said. It is still in embryo and not yet taken shape. A couple of hundreds of workmen are employed as carpenters, builders, blacksmiths. A great many steamers have been chartered to deliver freight and an air of bustle and activity prevails all over the ground. Its situation is at the confluence of the Big and Little Horn, and should be one of comfort, salubrity and strategical value.