The Rosebud | Boboverstreetwriter

The Battle of Rosebud Creek

June 17, 1876, 8:00 A. M., along Rosebud Creek, Montana Territory

The general looked at the hand he’d just been dealt, ace of spades, ace of diamonds, eight of spades, eight of hearts, and five of clubs. He pulled the five and flung it, face down, onto the blanket. General Crook, reclining on one edge of the blanket, panned the faces of his officers, Captain Azor Howitt Nickerson, Captain Anson Mills, Captain Guy V. Henry, and Colonel William B. Royall. Fanning his hand closed, he turned his head toward their unsaddled horses grazing down by Rosebud Creek.

He inhaled the smells of wood smoke and coffee. Panning his gaze back, he noted the undulating waves, caused by the morning breeze, moving across the tall grass.

A grin on his face, Crook picked up his cards as he observed, “You know, the Crows say that Crazy Horse threatened to attack us if we crossed the Tongue River.”

“We crossed two days ago, General,” replied Mills.

The general looked up from his hand. “So much for the threats of savages,” he said with a chuckle. The officer’s laughter was silenced by the echoes of distant rifle shots.

The general, his eyes two slits, looked north, listening. “Are the scouts hunting out there again?”

“I’d be surprised, considering the tongue lashing you administered after yesterday’s buffalo hunt,” observed Nickerson.

The conversation fell silent, soldier’s faces turned north.

Crook rose to his feet, his eyes scanning up the little valley. Turning back, he noted activity among his two hundred and sixty Crow and Shoshone allies who now ran for their horses. Snapping his head back north, the general saw three horsemen crest the rise, three miles distant, firing their rifles into the air.

Everyone in camp now stood, staring north. A dark shadow appeared all along the ridge to the north, pouring down the slope, a towering cloud of dust rising behind it.

Crook snapped his head right just in time to see his loyal Indian allies ride out to meet the ominous swarm that now resolved itself into a mass of charging warriors—a thousand or more.

Throwing his cards down, the general called, “To your horses, they are upon us!”

The officers scattered to their units, the blanket, coffee cups, and scattered cards left behind.

The general stood in place, surveying the terrain until a lieutenant appeared, leading Crook’s mount. He stepped into the stirrup, swinging himself up into the saddle, and looking down he received his rifle.

In the distance, his Crow and Shoshone allies were swallowed up by the charging mass of Sioux and Cheyenne. A steady crackle of gunfire echoed off of the hills.

Reining his horse in a slow circle, the developing battle now to his back, he regarded the high bluffs beyond Rosebud Creek. “Azor, where are you?”

Behind him, he heard Captain Nickerson answer, “Here, sir.”

“Good. Which companies are in the saddle?”

“Companies C and G, 3rd Cavalry--Van Vliet and Crawford, General.”

“Get them to the high ground behind us before the Sioux figure it out.”

Nickerson, nodding, turned his horse.

Crook then turned to Captain John Bourke, “Bourke, get Noyes and Chambers into those savages, before the Crows are wiped out.”

Calling out, “Yes, sir,” he turned his horse.

The Sioux had pushed his Crows halfway down the valley and past the ridge, one and one-half miles from his position, by the time the two hundred and seventy-eight men of Noyes’ 3rd Cavalry Battalion and one hundred and ninety-seven men of Chambers’ 4th Infantry Battalion had moved across broken ground to meet the oncoming Sioux and Cheyenne.

One more ridge remained between the general and his enemy.

The general watched, his breathing quickening, as Noyes and Chambers dismounted their battalions and advanced on foot. God damn it, he thought, they’ve got to get up there.

Crook found Second Lieutenant Henry Rowan Lemley approaching on horseback. “Lemley, have Mills charge his battalion to the right in support of Noyes and Chambers. Let’s see if we can slow those people down.”

Lemley charged away, dust rising behind him.

Crook spurred his horse forward at the trot, toward a high promontory where Colonel Royall and his remaining 3rd Cavalry force of two hundred and eight men awaited him. Ahead, the battle raged; to his left was a two-hundred-foot-deep arroyo, formed by Kollmer Creek; and beyond, extended a plateau.

Stopping his horse near Royall’s, the general spoke, “William, I would like you on that plateau to the west, before these people turn our left end.”

Royall turned his horse and, raising his hand, called out, “Forward, men.”

The general turned east, watching as Mill’s force charged into the advancing Sioux and Cheyenne. At that moment, the two battalions on foot rose up and poured a volley into the enemy. Now the general was surrounded by the crackling roar of gunfire. “That’s the way, boys. Push them back now,” he called.

Having completed his errand, Captain Nickerson appeared, nodding, “…General.”

“Thank you, Captain,” replied Crook, “Let us move up to get a better view.” The general spurred his horse to a walk and then, crossing the reins on the pommel of his saddle, withdrew a cigar from his pocket and, lit it as his mount ambled forward.

The soldiers now advanced in one long line, firing as they walked, the progress of the Sioux and Cheyenne now checked. The two battalions of cavalry, one battalion of infantry, and Crow and Shoshone allies now formed one long skirmish line, a force of more than nine hundred.

Slowly they drove the enemy before them, until the Sioux and Cheyenne returned to the higher ridge. Flowing like quick silver, the enemy soon regrouped and poured a galling fire into the advancing soldiers.

Leaning forward in the saddle, the general felt his heart quicken as the advance he had ordered now stalled. Calm yourself, he thought. He spurred his horse forward at the trot to better observe the action.

The opposing lines, two hundred yards apart, kept up a constant fire across a gentle gully. Suddenly, from different points along the hostiles’ line, several warriors emerged on horseback. Crook stared in frustration as they rode out into the no-man’s-land and, turning their ponies, rode at full speed between the two lines.

Now, five warriors, in different locations, sped before his line, one hundred yards out, brandishing their lances or rifles in the air, drawing the soldiers’ fire as clouds of dust rose behind the ponies and bullets struck all around them.

Across the divide, Buffalo Calf Road Woman, the lone female warrior among the Northern Cheyenne, watched, her breathing quickening, as her brother, Comes in Sight, displayed his daring horsemanship. Four other warriors participated in the dangerous ritual, White Shield and White Bird of the Cheyenne, and Lakota warriors Red Cloud and Low Dog. All around Buffalo Calf Road Woman, the other warriors called their encouragement as the thrilling display continued. The rumble of the Army rifles became a rolling thunder as several hundred soldiers and their Crow and Shoshone allies attempted to knock the hell-bent riders from their horses.

Army bullets ripping the air, the riders now passed each other head to head. Buffalo Calf Road Woman, in her middle twenties, watched with pride as her brother and the others shamed the cowards who had come to destroy her way of life. Despite grumblings about her presence among the men, she had accompanied the Sioux and Cheyenne warriors as they rode all night in search of the blue-coated soldiers. She wore her finest doeskin dress, trimmed in red trade cloth, the bodice covered in elk teeth. Her hair, worn in two braids, fell to her waist. On her feet she wore her finest beaded moccasins. She had joined the expedition to accompany her husband, Black Coyote. Now, as she watched her brother, she nervously squeezed the handle of her Colt revolver.

She called encouragement as her brother dashed through the dust, his eagle feather war bonnet streaming in the wind. Comes in Sight leaned forward on his pony’s mane and, reaching his rifle under the animal’s neck, firing at the soldiers.

A cavalry bullet found its mark. The chief’s pony somersaulted forward, propelling Comes in Sight through the air. Rolling out on the ground, stunned for a moment, he sat in silence, until the cacophony of war entered his consciousness again. Comes in Sight, smelling dust, looked around. His pony struggled to rise, but collapsed with a grunt. He now saw Crow warriors running toward him. Hearing the wasp like buzz of a bullet passing his ear, the chief, jumped to his feet and, recovering his rifle, ran toward the Cheyenne lines.

Buffalo Calf Road Woman, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed, watched as the Crow and Shoshone allies of the enemy surged forward from among the soldiers. She flailed her feet while leaning forward to grasp the mane of her pony. Feeling the wind in her face as the animal skimmed the earth, accelerating to a full run, she emerged from the Cheyenne line. Two hundred yards away, her brother, pursued by mounted Crow warriors, ran toward her. Behind her someone shouted, “No, you cannot save him.”

Ripping noises filled the air as the soldiers’ bullets passed all around her. The rhythm of her pony’s breathing and hoof falls accelerated beneath her, the ground rapidly passing below. Looking forward, she was startled as White Shield and White Bird, both riding at full speed, passed on either side of her in the opposite direction. She craned her neck to see if they would turn to follow, but they continued on, obscured by their own dust. Peering forward again, she saw the Crows overtaking her brother.

Braids waving behind her, she closed to within fifty yards and, raising her pistol, thumbed back the hammer. Mane slapping her face, she leveled her Colt at several of her brother’s pursuers, the barrel tracing little circles above her pony’s bobbing head. The pistol discharged, and she briefly smelled the gunsmoke as she sped through the smoke. One of the Crows rolled backward off his mount, the others pulling up in amazement.

Concealing the weapon beneath her garments, she stopped her pony before Comes in Sight. The Crows now resumed the chase. Running at full speed, he pulled himself over her pony’s neck, swinging one leg across in front of her. Her brother hanging from her horse’s neck by one arm and one leg, Buffalo Calf Road Woman quickly turned the animal, slapping its rump with one hand. Grasping her brother’s shirt, she jerked the reins toward the Cheyenne line.

Several startled Crows picked up their wounded comrade and rode back toward their lines as the enraged soldiers brought their fire about on the fleeing form of Buffalo Calf Road Woman and her rescued brother. As she neared her people, they turned their rifles on the pursuing Crows. Within seconds, the girl who had saved her brother, greeted by joyous war cries, rode in among the Cheyenne. Several even called out words of praise for her valiant act. Stopping her pony, she let her brother slide to the ground, and turned her tear-streaked face to look into the grateful eyes of Chief Comes in Sight, who, uninjured, rested his hand on her wrist and smiled.

***

Across the field, the frustrated general turned his attention back to the matter at hand. His black charger, ears pinned back, danced from foot to foot. The terrified animal’s grunts and snorts came in time to the bullet falls near its feet. Crook, his face reddened, decided that it was time to take this fight to the enemy.

He turned to Lieutenant Bourke, “Please take my regards to Colonel Royall and inform him that he is to regroup his entire force with ours. I’m ordering the entire column down the Rosebud to take Crazy Horse’s village.”

Nodding, the lieutenant then turned to ride down the steep slope toward Kollmar Creek, two hundred feet below. The general watched his aide zigzag down the slope, avoiding trees and boulders. Crook’s gaze followed the stream to his left, where he saw Royall’s horses in groups of four, each guarded by a cavalryman, hiding among the large boulders on either side of the little creek. Crook turned his concerned gaze up-creek.

Hundreds of Sioux fired from prone positions, several hundred yards away. Their village must be nearby I have never seen them fight like this.

Crook again looked after Bourke and saw that he was nearly down to the creek. Raising his head, he saw Royall’s men, beyond the canyon, firing into the enemy before them.

The general spun his horse around and watched as Mills’ and Noye’s battalions dismounted and formed skirmish lines along the ridge now held by the Army. From a distance, Mills looked at Crook, and the general waved his arm, indicating that Mills should drive the enemy before him.

***

Twenty minutes after leaving Crook’s side, Bourke approached Royall, “Colonel, the general sends his compliments and orders that you bring your battalion across to rejoin us.”

Royall, concealing his irritation, turned to the lieutenant, “Do you know what he has in mind, Lieutenant?”

“He intends to take the entire command up the Rosebud and attack Crazy Horse’s village.”

Royall turned to observe the enemy massed before his line. The Sioux bullets landing among them, his men held their own, maintaining a steady rate of fire. How in the hell are we to get across to the general? We are pinned down here. As soon as we let up, they’ll pour in on us, Royall thought. Royall turned back to Bourke, “Thank you. We’ll be over there directly. Now, you’d better get back, while you can.”

The lieutenant saluted, saying, “Yes, sir,” while Royall returned his attention to more immediate concerns.

Royall walked toward the line of Captain Henry’s battalion, consisting of his own Company D, 3rd Cavalry, and Company F, 3rd Cavalry, commanded by Second Lieutenant Bainbridge Reynolds. As Royall walked behind the line, he looked out to see the enemy now within two hundred yards of their front. Royall walked the entire length of their skirmish line. Approaching Captain Henry, he said, “Captain, we have been called to re-join with the general on the other side of the creek.”

“Colonel, the enemy might not allow that. We are quite outnumbered here.”

“Yes, well, pivot your line ninety degrees from Vroom’s line at your right end, and our four companies will cover each other as we cross the arroyo.”

“Yes, sir.”

Royall looked across to see Crook ride toward the line being held by Captain Mills’ battalion.

Mills turned to the general, seeing at once that his commander was frustrated.

“Mills, I think that is about enough of this skirmishing. I am told that Crazy Horse’s village is on the Rosebud, just six miles north of here. I want you to take your three companies and Captain Noyes’ five companies and get up the Rosebud.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to take their village and, as soon as I can get Royall over here, the rest of us will come after you.”

Crook turned his horse and rode back to his position at the middle. Bourke, out of breath, met him.

“Yes, thank you, Bourke,” greeted the general.

“What next, sir?”

“I want you to ride along with Mills up the Rosebud. My intention is to take Crazy Horse’s village. Having their women and children under our protection ought to take some of the starch out of them.

General Crook turned to Captain Nickerson, “Ride back and get Van Vliet and

Meinhold up here to cover Mills’ movement toward the Rosebud.”

The general turned to see the eight companies commanded by Mills and Noyes mounted and forming up. The Sioux in the line that they had been facing now stood, puzzled by the withdrawal. Mills’ three companies started back south in a line of fours, followed by Noyes’ five companies.

Crook saw the Sioux who had been confronting Mills dash away from the line toward their horses. Let’s see who gets to your village first, shall we.

Mills and Noyes’ force now rode at the gallop toward the Rosebud, one mile south.

Turning his horse back west, Crook noted that Royall was hard-pressed, receiving enemy fire from the north and west. The fighting was now intense.

When Crook looked back east, he saw Van Vliet and Meinhold move up to retake the position abandoned by Mills.

Across Kollmar Creek, Colonel Royall decided it was time to get down there.

Turning to Captain Henry, he ordered, “Back your line down the slope to the creek and secure the horses. Vroom and Andrews will cover you.”

Henry, without reply, called to Second Lieutenant Reynolds, “Lieutenant, let’s get our companies down to the creek.”

Royall called out, “Lemley!”

“Here, sir.”

Royall rode to Lemley, saying, “Please see if the general can get a couple companies of infantry firing down toward the creek. We’ll need cover.”

The lieutenant started his horse down into the arroyo.

The fire that Sioux and Cheyenne now a continuous rolling thunder, the cavalrymen were now enshrouded in a huge, bullet-generated dust cloud. Colonel Royall looked to the line running from Captain Vroom’s Company L to the west to Captain Andrews’ Company I to the east. The entire line faced north while Henry’s battalion entered the arroyo behind them. Royal yelled at the top of his lungs, “Captain Vroom, reverse your fire to cover Henry’s movement.” Vroom’s men turned around and brought their fire to bear on the hostiles firing into Henry’s line from the west.

War cries of braves, both friendly and hostile, and the steady crackle and boom of firearms filled the air, along with the smells of dust, gunpowder, and sweat.

Across the arroyo, Crook looked southeast to see Mills’ and Noyes’ battalions disappear behind the hills blocking his view of Rosebud Creek.

Encouraged, he turned his horse back to face west and was shocked to see hundreds of Sioux and Cheyenne warriors pouring into the north end of the little arroyo occupied by the horses of Royall’s battalion. God damn it, he thought. Where are they all coming from?

Down by the creek, Henry’s and Reynolds’ men retrieved their horses and mounted up.

The Sioux and Cheyenne suddenly retired, re-mounted, and rode south, around Royall’s battalion. The enemy’s fire from the north had now quieted and Royall ordered Vroom and Reynolds into the arroyo. Within a few minutes they moved down-slope to the creek. Retrieving their horses, they mounted up. Royall turned to give the order to move up the hill toward Crook, when he looked around to see the enemy behind him, occupying the ridge he had just abandoned.

Down along Kollmar Creek, now receiving enemy fire from three directions, the desperate soldiers felt death pressing them.

To the east, on top of the crest, General Crook, trembling with rage, looked on as the enemy fell upon Royall’s four companies. The desperate fighting in the bottom became hand to hand. Crook turned his horse and watched as the Sioux facing the other end of his line pulled back and began streaming westward toward Kollmar Creek.

“Christ almighty,” he said to no one in particular. The general stood in his stirrups, waving a hand toward Van Vliet. His horse grunted and he felt himself propelled forward. Sliding down the animal’s neck, the ground seemed to rise to meet him. Reflexively, the general rolled to the side, hearing his horse hit the ground. The side of the forty-six–year-old officer’s head impacted the dirt.

Everything went dark.

“General…? General, are you all right?” asked Nickerson.

The captain shook his prone commander, hoping for any sign of life.

As though waking from a dream, Crook heard a distant call, “General!”

Crook blinked his eyes as the din of battle filled his consciousness. His shoulder was sore. Opening his eyes, he saw Nickerson’s face.

“General, are you all right, sir?” asked the captain.

Crook pushed himself up to a reclining position with one arm, taking a few short breaths. His horse lay dead beside him. “What the hell? How long have I been

down?”

“…Only a minute, sir.”

“Help me up.”

Taking his commander’s hand, and placing his other hand under the general’s elbow, the captain helped him to his feet.

Crook felt pain in his hip, but determined to ignore it. “Thank you, Captain, please have another horse brought.”

“Right away, sir.”

General Crook looked down toward the creek and, to his dismay, saw Royall’s four dust-enshrouded companies, out-numbered five to one, fighting for their lives.

To the left, his Crow allies poured down into the arroyo.

Below, Royall’s men fought well, but Vroom’s company, the last one off of the hill, had already suffered many casualties.

On his horse, Captain Henry, leading Company D, 3rd Cavalry, became visible as though emerging from a fog. Overwhelmed, the captain swung his bloodied saber at the braves pressed around him. Suddenly Royall saw Henry’s head driven violently to the side, amid a spray of blood. Stunned, the injured captain sat still for a moment. Raising one hand to his nose, he opened his mouth and coughed out a mouth-full of blood. Closing his eyes, he rolled sideways out of the saddle, landing hard on the ground. His tormentors rapidly fell upon him.

Royall opened his mouth as several of the Crows rode in among the Sioux, firing their revolvers, point-blank, into the enemy warriors surrounding Henry. As the startled Sioux withdrew, two of the Crows lifted Henry’s limp form and laid him, face down, across his own saddle. One of them jumped up behind the saddle and spurred the horse up the side of the arroyo.

Elsewhere along the creek, Sergeant David Marshall of F Company, 3rd Cavalry, and several of his men, rapidly fired their pistols into the screaming enemy swarming around them. Pressed from behind, the enemy closed in.

Now the cavalrymen were out of ammunition.

Sergeant David Marshall and Privates Otto Broderson, William Featherly, Gilbert Roe, and Phineas Towne were soon clubbing the enemy with their carbines. With a loud thump, an arrow struck Marshall square in the chest. Dropping his weapon, he stood, looking down at the arrow, his eyebrows raised, and then collapsed. Soon all five were dead. The Sioux, using knives, set to work on the corpses, cutting arms off at the elbow and removing scalps.

Across the arroyo, General Crook, his head clearing, looked down into the maelstrom of blood. He needed to act. Captain Nickerson appeared, leading a saddled horse.

“Thank you, Captain,” said the general as he pulled himself into the saddle. “Lemley was just here,” continued Crook, “Colonel Royall needs some infantry fire directed down there to discourage those savages. I sent him to order Troops G and H, 9th Infantry, to the edge of that slope over there.”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Nickerson.

“I want you to overtake Mills and Noyes on the Rosebud. We need them back here by the shortest route possible.”

“But, sir, if they can take the village….”

“Quickly, Nickerson, there won’t be any villages taken today. We’ll be lucky to get out of here alive.”

The captain spurred his horse to a dead run.

Away from the sounds of battle and down the spine of the ridge he charged, Rosebud Creek two miles ahead. Considering the eight-mile ride ahead of him, he reined his horse back to a trot.

Minutes later he turned his horse east, and rode parallel with the creek. Ahead, the Rosebud made a sweeping bend to the left into a canyon, through which it continued northwest. As Nickerson entered the canyon, he noted that the time was a little after noon. Hearing sporadic firing ahead, he spurred his horse to a gallop.

The canyon down which he now rode had a relatively flat bottom, almost one-quarter mile wide, and gentle slopes on each side. Ghostly, distant sounds of Royall’s struggle echoed in the canyon. The captain, reflecting on the fact that they had been fighting for four hours, now realized that something had changed. This was more than the usual sparring, in-and-out engagement they had come to expect from the Sioux. His stomach constricting, he came to another conclusion: The enemy, fighting as coordinated units, had outmaneuvered the general at every turn.

Thirty minutes later, he noticed the bottom of the canyon narrowing and the walls steepening on either side. He warily surveyed the canyon walls ahead. Any rock or tree might conceal a sharp shooter.

Ahead, the sound of cavalry horses’ hooves and the occasional sound of some soldier calling to another echoed back to him down the canyon. Looking to the front, he urged his horse forward.

***

On the east ridge above Kollmar Creek, Companies G and H, 9th Infantry, turned their longer rifles on the enemy, in support of Royall’s besieged battalion. Although they could not fire directly into the melee, they fired at the warriors on the opposite bank and into the massed warriors pressing into the arroyo from each end. As the infantry fire took effect, the blood lust of the encroaching Sioux cooled and they sought cover behind trees and rocks.

***

Mills rode along Rosebud Creek, his fears rising as the canyon narrowed. This would be the perfect place for an ambush.

Nevertheless, he thought, we must be very close to the enemy village. We’ve come about six miles. As he turned his head to examine the steep bank above Noyes’ column, on the opposite side of the creek, he heard the faint echo of hoof beats behind them. Quickly turning his horse, he rode back along the line of his battalion.

Lieutenant Bourke noticed Mills’ movement and turned to overtake him. Soon Bourke rode beside Mills and they continued back up stream. Ahead, the sound of a running horse became louder. Nickerson emerged from behind a bend in the canyon wall, his horse running at full speed on the other side of the stream.

Mills and Bourke brought their horses to a halt, awaiting his approach. Nickerson pulled his horse up directly across the stream from them. By this time, some of the other company commanders were approaching Mills and Bourke. “Captain Nickerson,” called to Mills, “why are you here?”

“The general’s compliments, Captain Mills,” replied Nickerson, “The general orders that you rejoin him, taking the fastest route possible.”

Behind him, Mills heard several of the company commanders commenting that the order made no sense. Raising his hand for silence, he called across to Nickerson,

“We’re close to the village. We can take it and hold it.”

Nickerson spurred his horse to cross the stream. Mills withdrew his pocket watch and looked at the time, 12:45 P.M. Nickerson’s horse climbed the bank and came to a stop in front of Mills and Bourke. Mills said, “Are you quite sure he wants me back there?”

“Colonel Royall’s battalion was overwhelmed by the enemy when I left. I only hope that they can survive. The situation has deteriorated back there. The general was very clear. We are to get back over there as quickly as possible.”

“The map indicates a side canyon just ahead, we can ride west through there,” replied Mills. Turning to his company commanders he called out, “The general’s situation is grave. We must rejoin him at once.”

Mills rode his horse beside his battalion until he arrived at the front. Seeing Noyes across the stream, he called out, “Henry, we’ve got to get back to the general at once. Bring your men, at the gallop, please.”

Noyes, waving an arm above his head, called out, “Forward, men.”

Soon they came to the break in canyon wall offering a way west.

The column rode uphill for a mile until they crested the ridge and the battlefield came into view. We have them. We can drive into their flank, Mills thought.

“Charge!” yelled Mills at the top of his lungs. Eight companies of cavalry, their horses running downhill at full speed, drove toward the Sioux and Cheyenne, who were still concentrating on Royall’s beleaguered men. A towering cloud of dust rose behind the cavalry horses as they closed on the still-unsuspecting enemy.

Now within six hundred yards, Mills’ men opened fire with their carbines. The Sioux and Cheyenne before them suddenly broke off their attack and sped off, to the northwest. Mills and Noyes chased after them, units from Crook’s force joining in the pursuit.

Having covered six miles in hot pursuit of the fleet Sioux and Cheyenne ponies, Mills broke off the chase. Leaving scouts out, they slowly returned to where they had stopped this morning. It was 2:00 P.M. and they had been fighting without let-up for five and one-half hours.

One half hour later, Mills found General Crook near Rosebud Creek. A temporary hospital had been set up, and the general had just finished visiting his wounded.

“Mills, thank God you made it in time,” said Crook.

Mills observed his general for several moments. Crook seemed to have aged years in the past several hours. I’ve never seen a more dejected man, he thought.

“General,” Mills began, “why did you recall me? We were very close to the village and could have taken it.”

Crooked looked down at the ground and then back into Mills’ eyes. “Well, I found it a more serious engagement than I thought. We have lost fifty casualties, and the doctors refused to remain with the wounded unless I left the infantry and one of the squadrons with them. I knew I could not keep my promise to support you.”

Mills silently looked into Crook’s eyes. He drew a breath to speak, but stopped. The captain looked away for a moment, then said, “Thank you, General,” and, saluting, walked away.

That night, in council, the Crows and Shoshone refused to pursue the enemy any further.

The next morning, the troops having expended over twenty-five thousand rounds of ammunition and their food almost gone, the general ordered travois constructed to tow the wounded behind mules. Each wounded man would be attended by six of his fellows during the march.

The command turned south toward their wagon train, beginning the long trek back to Fort Fetterman.

The Battle of the Rosebud, still known among the Cheyenne as “The Fight Where the Girl Saved Her Brother,” was over.

A runner was sent ahead to Fort Fetterman, where, on June 19, 1876, an initial report was sent, by telegraph, to General Sheridan in Chicago.

Camp on South of Tongue River, Wy. June 19 via Fort Fetterman.

Lt. Gen Sheridan, Chicago, Ill

Returned to camp today having marched as indicated in my last telegram. When about forty miles from here on Rosebud Creek Mont, morning seventeenth inst, Scouts reports Indians in vicinity and within a few minutes we were attacked in force, the fight lasting several hours. We were near the mouth of a deep canyon through which the creek ran. The sides were very steep and covered with pine and apparently impregnable, the village supposed to be at the other end, about eight miles off. They displayed strong force at all points occupying many and such covered places that it is impossible to correctly estimate their numbers. The attack, however, showed that they anticipated that they were strong enough to thoroughly defeat the command during the engagement. I tried to throw a strong force through the canyon, but I was obliged to use it elsewhere before it had gotten to the supposed location of village.

The command finally drove the Indians back in great confusion, following them several miles, the scouts killing a good many during the retreat. Our casualties were nine men killed and fifteen wounded of third cavalry, two 2 wounded Second Cavalry, three men wounded Fourth Infantry, and Captain Henry Third Cavalry severely wounded in the face. It is impossible to correctly estimate the loss of the Indians, many being killed in the attack others being gotten off before we got possession of that part of the field, 13 dead bodies being left. We remained on the field that night and, having but what each man carried himself, we were obliged to return to the train to properly care for our wounded who were transported here on mule litters and lie now comfortable, all doing well. I expect to find these Indians in rough places all the time, and so have ordered five (5) companies of infantry and shall not probably make an extended movement until they arrive. Officers and men behaved with marked gallantry during the engagement.

Crook, Brig Genl.

***

General Crook awaited the arrival of the five companies of cavalry he had requested and would not rejoin the Great Sioux War for another two months.

His supposition that Cray Horse’s village was only eight miles away was wrong. Crazy Horse’s people had already joined with the rest of the Sioux Nation and the Northern Cheyenne, and were approaching the Little Bighorn River.

Word of Crook’s abandonment of the march to the Little Bighorn did not reach George Custer’s 7th Cavalry before their own fight with the same warriors, and many more, eight days later.