Aftermath: Moving the Wounded

Three days after Custer’s devastating defeat, most of June 28^th was spent in hasty burials of his 212 dead. Later expeditions, as early as 1877, would exhume remains of Custer and other officers. They would be reinterred in more desirable places. In Custer’s case, his scant remains were reinterred at West Point.

Reno’s dead were also buried where they lay. Some were interred atop the bluffs where he and Benteen had been besieged for most of two days and nights. Those left behind by Reno in his hasty retreat were buried below the bluffs or in the riverbottom where they had died.

Making the First Move

Private William O. Taylor later wrote of using blankets to carry wounded soldiers down off the bluffs late on June 27^th. The Indian village below had been abandoned. Reno had 52 wounded soldiers who could be better cared for down at that site.  

Among its other benefits, the site offered access to flowing water. This was much needed by all, especially the wounded. Taylor noted the challenge of moving the disabled across the waist-deep river. One wonders about sanitation at the site of such large gatherings, but the Indians had apparently not been encamped there long. It seemed to prove a more desirable place for the whole command.

Not all the soldiers’ wounds were debilitating. Scout and packer George Herendeen later wrote of at least two wounded soldiers who survived with him after Reno left them behind. They were able to cross the river and climb to the siege site on the bluffs. Still, even the less severe wounds must have been exceedingly painful.

Moving a Second Time

Burials consumed most of June 28th. Able-bodied troopers not involved in burials were tasked with gathering poles to be used for litters. Others destroyed anything left behind that might later prove useful to hostile Indians. Both army supplies and goods abandoned in the Sioux/Cheyenne village were destroyed.

At 6:30 p.m. June 28^th, the combined forces began moving downriver. The steamboat Far West waited somewhere on the Bighorn River. First, the command just hoped to reach the site where Terry had camped the night of June 25^th. It lay 8 ¾ miles downstream, according to 7^th Infantry engineer Edward McClernand. He estimated it at less than 7 miles as a crow flies.

The command fell short of its goal, however. Finding that carrying the near dead weight of non-walking wounded, four soldiers could move a litter only 50 to 60 feet without rest. Even with eight to a litter, alternating regularly, the litters proved exceedingly difficult to move. The command covered only 4 ½ miles in 5 ½ hours before stopping at midnight.

June 29^th proved to be when the wounded truly could be moved. The progress came due to the innovation of Lt. Gustavus Doane. He improvised litters on poles more than 20 feet long. The poles’ front and back ends were fastened to mule saddles, and soldiers led the mules carefully by hand.

Rather than blankets to support the immobilized wounded, baskets were improvised between the poles. This was done by cutting rawhide strips from the skins of dead horses, which were plentiful after the battle. However, the process consumed the entire day. Again, those not involved were busy destroying plunder.

The Final Push (To the Far West)

Finally, this time at 5:00 p.m., the command resumed its move downriver. They planned to move only a few miles, this time to the site of Terry’s June 25^th camp. However, Doane’s improvised and innovative litters worked better than anticipated. Another factor also intervened.

After moving three miles the command was met by couriers from the Far West. They informed General Terry that the steamboat awaited at the Little Bighorn’s mouth. It was decided to press on until the Far West was reached. Having marched up the Little Bighorn three days before, perhaps Terry felt more confident in marching down.

Following the river’s “left bank,” (the west bank — in this case “left” as one faces downriver) the column perhaps found better travelling by topping an elevated plateau. However, both men and horses were much aggravated by its abundant “large cactus” that they strode through in the dark.

[Note: As an engineer, McClernand reported precise mileages. His distances were calculated using two odometers, one on either wheel of a cart moved by his assistant. Using wheel circumference, the odometers worked by counting each successive full turn of the wheel. His distance reports appear precise.]

Finally after nearly 15 miles (14.9 by McClernand’s report), the command neared the Far West after midnight. However, they encountered another obstacle. Their descent off the plateau and down to where the Far West lay moored involved a steep route off a somewhat steep bluff or ridge.

McClernand and others note that fires were built at intervals to mark and perhaps light the best route downward. Still, it must have been a somewhat jolting experience for those suffering from wounds. The fires may have been ordered by Terry or Gibbon. However, they have also been attributed to the foresight of steamboat captain Grant Marsh. Marsh will be featured more in weeks to come.

Marsh had shown the foresight to prepare his steamboat’s deck as a field hospital. A great deal of long, lush grass had been brought aboard by crewmen. Canvas had then been laid over this cushioning. It provided the best bedding he could offer the wounded. It also allowed the surgeons to tend them in the most efficient manner possible.

No Rest For the Weary

The Far West would not embark downstream until noon on June 30^th. Whether it was taking on fuel (wood for the boiler fires) or sorting essential vs. nonessential supplies, its departure was not early. It would then stop at the supply base near Fort Pease between the Bighorn and Rosebud Creek’s mouths.

Meanwhile, the able-bodied infantry and cavalry marched overland to the same supply base. The steamboat was used to ferry men and horses to the Yellowstone River’s north bank on July 2nd. It still ran high in early July, and infantry could not have crossed it on foot.

Finally, with ferrying done and essential supplies on board, the Far West started downriver at last with the wounded on July 3^rd. A full week had passed since the main battle. Working with the strong, fast current, Marsh ran his boat relentlessly. His destination was Fort Abraham Lincoln, the nearest location where wounded soldiers could receive good hospital care. It lay 700 miles downriver.

Marsh made a record run, which, again, will be featured in coming weeks. In addition to the wounded it bore shocking news of Custer’s unthinkable defeat. Arriving nearly on the date of the nation’s centennial, the Far West figured prominently in the story of the debacle at the Little Bighorn.