Trumpet on the Land: The Aftermath of Custer's Massacre, 1876

Meanwhile to the east the action began to drag out for much of the next hour as Burt’s infantry inched forward, pushing the enemy back, back, back through each narrow draw and tangle of brush—the deep, reverberating booms of their Long Toms contrasting with the sharper cracks of the cavalry carbines. In a whirl of color the retreating warriors regathered and concentrated, firing back on infantry without inflicting any damage, then scurried off a few more yards before turning to fire on the soldiers once again, seeking all the time to find some point of weakness in the soldier lines. Always the Sioux kept at least five to eight hundred yards between their position and Burt’s oncoming footmen.

Just behind the infantry scampered newsman John Finerty, straggling along in his big, clumsy brogans—writing down bits of action, the names of soldiers, and snippets of orders. In these final minutes of the afternoon’s battle, another soldier suffered a minor wound, and the officers watched a warrior topple from a horse, his body quickly scooped up by his companions and raced to the rear.

“Look at that, will you?” hollered one old Irish soldier near Finerty. “I sure softened the wax in that boy’s ears!”

Seeking to put an end to that long-range skirmishing, Major Upham’s battalion of the Fifth succeeded in driving the Sioux from the three low hills southwest of the village by sweeping in on the enemy’s right flank—scattering the warriors in confusion and fear as other units pressed in from behind to reinforce Upham’s troops. Most of the fleeing Sioux escaped to the west, scaling the rugged chalky ridges and terraces where they could hide among the dark pines, there to overlook the campsite from afar. It had been that way for almost an hour: the Sioux driven from one place, dashing away to pop up attacking another spot along the soldiers’ skirmish line.

Despite Upham’s success, Crook was not content merely to flush the enemy from the hills. He hungered to make them stand and fight. As the sun began its final fall, he therefore ordered his dismounted cavalry to attack the western bluffs themselves. As a cloudy dusk began to swallow the land, the troops pushed into the hills at the base of the bluffs. Below them in the sodden air hung the thick, moist smudges of gray gun smoke and oily black columns rising above each one of the burning lodges, all of it tumbling together to create a fog clinging to every nearby ravine.

Pushed north along the jagged shelves of those gray heights, the warriors suddenly swept down, attempting to rout some units of the Third Cavalry situated northwest of the village. But in a steady rattle of gunfire the dismounted troopers held their ground and within fifteen harrowing minutes were pushing the enemy back, the muzzle flashes of the guns on both sides lighting up the pale hue of the buttes.

Dusk soon gave way to darkness, and with the arrival of night’s secure cloak away slipped the warriors, leaving the soldiers in control of the bluffs, the hills, and the full perimeter of the village itself. It was a clear victory for Crook. Although he likely outgunned the warriors, estimated by his officers to number between six and eight hundred, he could claim, nonetheless, a victory. Sitting Bull had attacked a Three Stars twice stronger than Crook had been on the Rosebud, leading his warriors into battle this day against a soldier force three times stronger than that of Custer’s five companies destroyed along the Little Bighorn.

In the first confusing moments of attack the warriors had captured the high ground—but with able officers and diligent soldiers, the Big Horn and Yellowstone Expedition had regained the battle’s momentum, retaken the heights, and eventually driven off the enemy as night fell.

John Bourke took a quick tally early that evening, reporting to the general that the units counted a total of eight soldiers wounded. For most of the battle the warriors had been firing down upon the soldiers, and that “factor of terrain” had caused most of the Sioux bullets to sail harmlessly over the heads of the white men. As was normally the case, enemy casualties were entirely unknown, but Carr estimated that they had killed or wounded as many as seven or eight of the Sioux. Another officer reported off the record that fourteen warrior bodies were found on the battlefield, while another four had been carried off—nothing more than an educated guess made from an examination of the pools of blood found on many of the rocky ledges where the Sioux had made their stand.

“That Reuben Davenport needs someone to take him down a notch or two,” Crook’s young adjutant complained as he came up to kneel at the captives’ campfire beside Donegan.

“What’s that pain-in-the-ass reporter saying now?”

“The wag is saying Crook’s soldiers missed a grand opportunity by not following up and capturing the warriors.”