This is an extended version of an article that appeared in True West Magazine (September 2013). 

The version below can also be found in The Crow's Nest: The Journal of the Custer Association of Great Britain (Autumn/Winter 2013, Vol. 13, No. 2).

 

“A Very Lively Little Affair”: The Skirmish at Tongue River Heights, 9 June 1876 

by Marc H. Abrams

 

The Big Horn and Yellowstone Expedition was the official name of Brigadier General George Crook’s spring-summer campaign of 1876.1 It was an integral part of a military campaign that has since become known as the Great Sioux War. Its target was those Sioux and Cheyenne who had failed to heed the government’s call and report to their various government-appointed reservations by 31 January 1876, an arbitrary date set up by members of President Grant’s administration at the tail end of 1875.2 These various bands of Sioux and Cheyenne were living in an area south of the Yellowstone River that was, for the most part, bounded on the east by the Powder River and on the west by the Big Horn Mountains – a distance of about 100 miles. This region included the valleys of the Powder, Tongue, Rosebud, and Big Horn rivers, all of which drain into the Yellowstone. The Indians could usually be found somewhere along one of these watercourses, or sometimes further east, between the Powder River and the Black Hills, this latter point being the western edge of the Great Sioux Reservation (which covered almost the entire western half of present South Dakota).

 

Much or all of this vast area was part of the “unceded Indian Territory,” at least as far as the Sioux and Cheyenne were concerned. The unceded territory was a large hunting area west of the Great Sioux Reservation, as specified in article 16 of the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868. Use of the word “specified” is actually not that accurate, as there was nothing too specific about the western or northern boundaries as described in article 16, which vaguely stated “the country north of the North Platte River and east of the summits of the Big Horn Mountains.” How far north of the North Platte? How far east of the summits? Naturally the Sioux and Cheyenne believed they had a right to range further west and north than the government was willing to concede, at the very least, clear up to the Yellowstone, which created a conflict with the Crow Reservation. If the intent was to keep the Sioux from ranging as far north as the Yellowstone, it should have been spelled out in the treaty, in which case, they may not have agreed to it. One historian believed that the Sioux understood the northern boundary quite well but were just too arrogant to obey the intent of the treaty.3 Another point of view to consider is that many of the Sioux and Cheyenne living in and around the unceded territory were not party to the treaty of 1868, and therefore were not really bound by its specifications, regardless of their inherent vagueness. As far as the U. S. government’s position toward the various bands of Indians who had never acquiesced to living on the reservation was concerned (such as those under Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse), they couldn’t be allowed to stand in the way of the advancing tide of civilization and could no longer be tolerated roaming free through such a large tract of valuable land.

 

At this time in history the government wanted to buy (or lease) the gold-rich Black Hills from the reservation Indians; it also wanted to expand the railroad west of Bismarck (which point it reached in June 1873).4 It could do neither easily or peacefully until all of the free-roaming Sioux and Cheyenne were removed from the unceded territory and placed under government control. Simply put, their presence anywhere but on the Great Sioux Reservation was a perpetual thorn in the side of Manifest Destiny.

 

This expedition was George Crook’s second campaign since the start of the New Year. The first occurred in March, but the results were less than hoped for. On 17 March, six companies of cavalry (300-350 men) under Colonel Joseph J. Reynolds, Third Cavalry, razed a predominately Cheyenne village on Powder River in southern Montana under Old Bear. Also in the village was a handful of Sioux under a respected warrior named He Dog. The soldiers burned the village (estimated between 50-100 lodges) along with the Indians’ winter food stores and other worldly belongings. Indian casualties were as few as one or two or more than thirty, depending on whether you are reading Indian accounts or white accounts. The only good news for the Cheyennes (besides the possibility of a low casualty count) was that their captured horse herd was inexplicably left unguarded, allowing them to recapture almost the entire lot, perhaps as many as seven hundred, the next morning.5 As noted by Captain Azor H. Nickerson, Twenty-third Infantry, “[The] recapture of the horses was equal to nullifying the effect of the entire expedition.”6 Another blunder was burning the Indians’ provisions against Crook’s orders. These were valuable supplies that the general had intended to use to keep his troops in the field. Even worse (especially from the perspective of the enlisted men), when the troops withdrew from the battlefield, they left behind four dead soldiers in the village, with unsettling rumors that one of them had still been alive.7 The entire fiasco brought about the courts-martial of three officers, including Colonel Reynolds (who was already somewhat disgraced after he became entangled in corruption charges related to an army freighting firm while commander of the Department of Texas in the early 1870s).8 Although it has never been substantiated, the Cheyennes that Reynolds attacked may have been preparing to return to Red Cloud Agency (although they were then heading in the wrong direction) – from where they left in the fall of 1875 to hunt buffalo – in accordance with the 31 January ultimatum.9 Of course, if true, they were quite late in doing so.

 

In an odd twist of fate, the failed winter campaign was to have one far-reaching and very unexpected consequence: the defeat of Lieutenant Colonel George A. Custer and the Seventh Cavalry three months later. After Reynolds’ attack the Cheyennes were left destitute and sought refuge with the Oglala Sioux under Crazy Horse. They in turn sought an alliance with Sitting Bull’s Hunkpapa Sioux. Soon other bands of Sioux joined the alliance, including parties that journeyed from the reservation every spring and summer to relive the good old days (these Indians have since become known as “summer roamers”). By late June they were at the height of their military power. And of course, that is just when Custer found them on the Little Big Horn (but that’s another story).

 

Getting back to the Big Horn and Yellowstone Expedition, General Crook’s new column was about 1,200 strong – including 825 cavalry – larger than his previous command by at least 300 men.10 It consisted of fifteen companies of cavalry, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel William B. Royall, Third Cavalry, and five companies of infantry (about 185 men), under the command of Major Alexander Chambers, Fourth Infantry; plus some two hundred packers and teamsters to handle the nearly 1,000 mules and one hundred wagons. They departed Fort Fetterman, Wyoming Territory, on 29 May, heading north along the traces of the decade old Bozeman Trail.

 

Crook’s column was one of three then in the field, the other two being under Brigadier General Alfred H. Terry and Colonel John Gibbon, Seventh Infantry. Terry’s force, about 1,000 men out of Fort Abraham Lincoln in present North Dakota, included all twelve companies of the Seventh Cavalry under Lieutenant Colonel George A. Custer. Gibbon’s column out of Forts Ellis and Shaw in western Montana was the smallest of the three, about 425 men, including four companies of the Second Cavalry (196 men). These two latter columns were moving towards each other on the northern perimeter of the war zone with Terry personally advancing to meet Gibbon on 9 June on the Yellowstone (at a point near the Tongue River).11

 

The overall strategy to defeat the Indians was simple; in hindsight, maybe too simple. Correspondent Joe Wasson (of the New York Tribune and California Daily Alta) referred to it as an “anaconda combination,”12 that is, to strangle the Indians between the three columns (all of whom were then converging on the area south of the Yellowstone described above). Of course, to do so successfully would also require a fair amount of luck, as communication, particularly between Terry and Crook, the two primary fighting units, was likely to be chancy at best (and anything but timely).

 

The biggest concern by the military generals engaged in the Sioux War was not that the Indians would stand their ground and put up a good fight, but that they would run and scatter before the troops had a chance to defeat them in battle.13 The thought of them banding together and aggressively attacking troops many miles from their village or courageously countering a surprise attack by a regiment of cavalry on their combined camp (even if that regiment wasn’t up to full strength) didn’t occur to any of the military leaders. Yet it was precisely each of these actions that transpired at the battles of the Rosebud and Little Big Horn, respectively, and it most certainly caught the U. S. army off guard.

 

On 2 June, five days out of Fort Fetterman, Crook’s column reached the ruins of abandoned Fort Reno (Wyoming Territory) on the Powder River. Expecting to meet a large contingent of Crow scouts here, they were greeted only by two companies of the Third Cavalry (under Captain Frederick Van Vliet and Lieutenant Emmet Crawford) sent ahead a few days previous. That night Crook dispatched his three best scouts – Frank Grouard, Louis Richard and Baptiste “Big Bat” Pourier – to the Crow Agency near present Absarokee, Montana, a distance of about 200 miles west, to try their luck at recruiting two hundred warriors.14 To the general’s way of thinking, the Crows were essential to his future operations. This was reflected in the words of his subordinates. According to Lieutenant James E. H. Foster, Third Cavalry, the Crows were considered “valuable auxiliaries in fighting the Sioux. Their natural qualities as trailers … cannot be equaled by the most experienced white man on the plains.”15 Lieutenant John G. Bourke, Third Cavalry and Crook’s aide, took the praise a step further when he noted in his diary that the “assistance [of the Crows] will be equal to that of an additional Regiment [of cavalry].”16 For the time being it was a matter of patience and fingers crossed that his three primary scouts would return sooner than later, and not alone.

 

Five days later (7 June) the column had advanced another eighty-five miles to the confluence of Tongue River and Prairie Dog Creek, just south of the Montana-Wyoming line (here they learned they were not on Goose Creek as expected, the latter creek being several miles west of Prairie Dog Creek; both creeks drain into the Tongue River).17 They were now about 160 airline miles north of Fort Fetterman. Here they buried Private Francis Tierney (alias Doyle), Troop B, Third Cavalry, the first casualty of the campaign. Tierney accidentally shot himself on 30 May and clung to life until the night of 6 June. The funeral service was conducted by Captain Guy V. Henry, Third Cavalry, after which it took ten men to place a huge granite boulder onto the grave; lastly, three volleys were fired in his honor. “We left [Tierney] to his ever-enduring sleep,” solemnly noted John F. Finerty, the correspondent of the Chicago Times.18

 

Right about the time that Crook reached the mouth of Prairie Dog Creek the Hunkpapa Sioux were holding their annual Sun Dance religious ceremonies. Their village was then on the Rosebud at a site known as Deer Medicine Rocks, about forty-eight miles north of the Montana line.19 As history will bear witness, this proved to be the most famous of all Sun Dance gatherings for it was here that Sitting Bull offered fifty pieces of flesh from each arm and had his famous vision of soldiers falling upside down from the sky into the Indian village; this was translated to mean that a great victory over the soldiers was soon to occur20 (which is exactly what happened on 25 June, at the battle of the Little Big Horn).

 

Late on the night of 7 June, a small group of Indians from across the river tried to communicate with Crook’s camp, and one in particular attempted a conversation with a courier named Ben Arnold, who could speak some Sioux. According to Arnold’s reminiscences, he knew the Indian he was having difficulty communicating with in the dark was a Crow scout and pointed out that had it been daytime he could have used sign language to better effect.21 However, all other accounts, thinking the worst, imagined the Indians across the river to be Sioux who were toying with them by asking questions such as, “Have your Crows come into camp yet?”22 Apparently the soldiers took this to mean, Don’t expect them anytime soon, we killed them (or chased them back to their village). Finerty, in his book, War-Path and Bivouac, wrote that the Indians were Sioux, but then corrected himself a few pages later.23 In any event, after this incident the pickets (apparently none of whom were placed on the bluffs across the Tongue River, a strategically important position to control) were on extra alert. Two days later found the Big Horn and Yellowstone Expedition at the same location, anxiously awaiting the return of the three scouts.

 

Crook’s men spent the afternoon of Friday, 9 June, enjoying a couple of exciting horse races – both won by Captain Andrew Burt’s “charger,” on the flats along Tongue River and Prairie Dog Creek.24 Afterward, the packers held a 100-yard foot race. Somewhat humorously, if not sarcastically, Lieutenant Bourke remarked, “As a [foot] race the less said the better; as an incident, as a piece of driftwood in our ocean of monotony, it is worthy of notice.”25 (To deal with the boredom of camp life mentioned by Bourke, many of the men passed the time playing cards, reading, fishing or napping.)

 

It was now between 6:00 - 6:30 p.m. and many of the soldiers and packers were in various stages of their evening meal, a “frugal” serving of beans and bacon according to Charles St. George Stanley, a packer and self-proclaimed “Bohemian of Frank Leslie’s staff”; others among the cavalrymen were attending to their horses.26 Suddenly the relative quiet of the evening bivouac was broken when warning shots were fired by the outlying pickets stationed a half mile east of the camp. In his dispatch to the New York Tribune, Wasson noted, “[the pickets] were seen firing in the air and making demonstrations to attract our attention.”27 These first shots were quickly followed by others from the bluffs directly across the river, except these were from an unfriendly source. If the afternoon races didn’t put an end to the boredom of camp life, the bullets now recklessly being fired in and around the soldiers’ tents and wagons certainly did. The skirmish at Tongue River Heights was under way.“28

 

“At last they have come,” wrote Lieutenant Foster, rather calmly, in his dispatch to the Chicago Tribune. Describing the opening scene of the conflict, Foster continued: “We had not time to even express and form an opinion as to what was the matter with the picket, when a rattling volley was fired into the camp from the heights on the other side of Tongue River, and a number of Indians were seen running about the crest of the cliff, firing their breechloaders and making themselves especially unpleasant and remarkably noisy, while one who appeared to be principal musician in the serenade kept galloping up and down as though he had lost something and was in a great hurry to find it.”29

 

Correspondent Wasson also related the opening shots: “The pickets on the receding bluffs, east of Prairie Dog Creek, sounded the alarm, which was soon followed by a raking, random volley from a party of well-mounted Indians, estimated all the way from 25 to 100, as seen from different stand-points.”30 The Indians were firing wildly and Wasson thought the distance from the bluffs across the Tongue to the edge of the camp to be anywhere from 500-800 yards. “The bullets ‘zipped’ in among our tents, horses, and wagons, in a way extremely interesting. The soldiers, teamsters, etc., returned the fire at once.” Some of the more daring Indians would ride “up to the edge of the bluff in very plain sight for an instant, only to turn and fall back out of range.” Wasson felt compelled to admit that the warriors presented “a very pretty sight.”31

 

“The firing … had become so general across the river, and the passage of bullets so rapid, that the air seemed alive with bees as the leaden hail whizzed over and around us,” noted St. George Stanley, who was in his first ever Indian fight. “Volley answered volley and the evening breeze drifted clouds of smoke redolent of powder through the trees. The yelling of the savages was something horrible [recall Lieutenant Foster’s comment that the Indians were “remarkably noisy”], and the wild, painted forms of the Dakotas, darting here and there upon the bluffs opposite, firing at every plunge of their ponies, gave the scene a sinister appearance.”32

 

One warrior in particular caught the attention of the soldiers and packers and may have been the warrior referred to as the “principal musician” by Lieutenant Foster. St. George Stanley’s description of this memorably decorated warrior and the amusing scene that he inspired is the best of those available:

 

“He was mounted upon a white war pony, smeared with great bands of vermillion, and his head adorned with a coffee pot, brightly burnished and decorated with eagle plumes. This individual rejoiced in the sobriquet of ‘The man with the Tin Hat,’ and it was his business to pass rapidly backwards and forwards upon the side of the ridge, in order to draw the fire of the troops, thus enabling his comrades to fire into us with impunity. His appearance was so striking that he naturally attracted the attention as well as the fire of the command, although without effect, as the confounded rascal seemed to bear a charmed existence. At this juncture some of the packers displayed an utter disregard for personal safety, and running to the river bank at a point where the vegetation ceased, and a small stretch of sward intervened, turned handsprings and somersaults, yelling at the top of their voices, ‘head him off!’ ‘hobble him!’ ‘nosebag him!’ and other kindred expressions peculiar to their profession, until the thing became really amusing.”33

 

By this time General Crook realized that the haphazard response of the troops was doing nothing more than wasting ammunition, and, as Wasson explained, “conveyed to the enemy a poor opinion of our coolness.”34 Lieutenant Foster even thought the Indians were having a little too much fun shooting up the army camp, to which Finerty added that they “were rapidly getting the range of our camp, and making things uncomfortably warm.”35 Simply put, it was time to get organized and strike back. Three companies of the Ninth Infantry – C, G, & H – were ordered across the river to occupy the hills on the right while four companies of the Third Cavalry – A, E, I & M – under Captain Anson Mills were directed to cross the river and, as Foster expressed it, “clear the heights [of Indians] in a manner that would keep them cleared permanently.”36

 

John F. Finerty of the Chicago Times may have been the only correspondent to accompany the cavalry across the river. As the horses were half-swimming, half-wading, the Indians continued to fire from the relative safety of the heights but the soldiers made it safely across, thanks in part to cottonwood trees that provided a helpful screen. From Finerty’s account: “[Once across] we were ordered to halt and dismount, every eighth man holding the horses of the rest. Then we commenced to climb the rocks, under a scattering fire from our friends, the Sioux. The bluffs were steep and slippery, and took quite a time to surmount.”37 Each of the four companies reached the summit about the same time. Beyond the ridge they ascended there was a series of succeeding ridges. Finerty again: “We could see our late assailants scampering like deer, their fleet ponies carrying them as fast as the wind up the first ascent, where they turned and fired. Our whole line replied, and the boys rushed forward with a yell. The Sioux gave us another salute, the balls going about 100 feet above our heads, and skedaddled to the bluff further back.”38 According to Wasson, during this part of the fight the soldiers and Indians exchanged about one hundred shots.39 Continuing with Finerty’s account, by now the Indians had retreated far enough away that “nothing less than a long-range cannon could reach them, and we could pursue them no farther, as the place was all rocks and ravines, in which the advantage lay with the red warriors. The latter showed themselves, at that safe distance, on the east of the ridge, and appeared to take delight in displaying their equestrian accomplishments…. To say the truth, they did not seem very badly scared, although they got out of the way with much celerity when they saw us coming in force.”40 Borrowing a field-glass, he could only see about twelve warriors, down about forty from those first sighted on the heights across the river at the beginning of the fight.

 

Lieutenant Foster reported on the disappointment of some of the soldiers who thought the Indians gave up the fight a little too easy: “[Some of the soldiers] had their feelings hurt because the Indians could not be induced to give the battalion who went after them a respectable fight. If they had done what everybody had expected, they could have inflicted serious loss on us as the line ascended the hill; but they appeared to have a pressing engagement farther back.”41 With the Indians retreating and the soldiers unwilling to follow them further, the skirmish at Tongue River Heights was over.

 

As reports of the encounter were written down for the various newspapers, it was clear that the soldiers and newsmen thought the attacking Indians were Sioux; in fact, they were a party of Northern Cheyenne, under a twenty-eight year old warrior named Little Hawk.42 Their village was located at the junction of Muddy Creek with the Rosebud, about 45 miles north of Crook’s camp.43 They had come to steal horses but when that didn’t work out, it appears they decided to entertain themselves with a long-distance firefight with the soldiers. How many Cheyenne were with Little Hawk? According to Lieutenant Foster, who was only repeating what he heard from officers in the Ninth Infantry who were in a good position to see, there were anywhere from one hundred to two hundred Indians in the skirmish.44 Correspondent Reuben B. Davenport of the New York Herald also reported two hundred Indians in the attacking party (a detail he probably heard from Captain Mills or someone under his command).45 One hundred sounds reasonable; two hundred seems too high a number for what was afterward claimed to be a horse-stealing raid. Of course, this is all just conjecture.

 

By all accounts, the fight lasted no longer than one hour. Wasson thought the start time was 6:00 p.m. and Finerty reported it as 6:30 p.m.46 On the other hand, Reuben Davenport thought the firing started at 4:00 p.m.,47 which is certainly too early (unless his watch was off by two hours). Little Hawk himself, who was interviewed in September 1908 by Brooklyn-born historian and naturalist George Bird Grinnell, recalled it being nighttime.48 Keeping in mind that he was trying to recall events from thirty-two years earlier, the sixty-year old veteran thought it was late enough in the evening that the soldiers would have been sleeping and was surprised that they were able to shoot back so fast, telling Grinnell, “[we] slipped up close and charged and began to shoot but the soldiers must have been sitting up with guns in their hands for a rain of bullets met [us].”49

 

In his dispatch to the New York Tribune, Wasson guessed the Indians fired 250 shots into the camp, but suggested fifty more in his report to the California Daily Alta.50 Regardless of how many shots were fired, everyone was surprised at the lack of casualties, which totaled two men barely wounded (merely bruised according to Wasson) – Sergeant John Warfield, Company F, Third Cavalry, and Private Emil Renner, Company D, Second Cavalry – each hit with a spent bullet.51 St. George Stanley acknowledged that “the firing was hot enough to have occasioned a heavy list of killed” and surmised that the casualties were so slight thanks to the “abundant shelter at hand.” Alternatively, he thought that if the fight had occurred “upon an open field … we would have suffered severely, as the enemy were almost all of them armed with Winchester repeating rifles.”52 Lieutenant Capron amusingly wrote: [The Indians] “favored us with their little missives of hate quite often but without harm to any man although some fell in close proximity.”53 Lieutenant Foster joked that “one man [was] seriously shot through the tail of his blouse.”54 That covers the human toll. The horses were less fortunate. Shortly after winning two races that afternoon, Captain Burt’s prized mount ran out of luck when it was shot in the left fore-leg and afterward had to be killed.55 Lieutenant Edgar B. Robertson’s horse was wounded in some manner but survived, same for another horse from E Troop, Third Cavalry, which was also shot in the leg.56 It is interesting to note that two of the three horses shot (assuming there were no others), were owned by officers in the Ninth Infantry, that is, Burt and Robertson – the cavalry got off light! Accounts are vague, but one or more mules were wounded, too.57

 

In truth, it was the camp itself that took the worst beating. In his dispatch to the Chicago Tribune, Lieutenant Foster noted: “Quite a number of tents were perforated, and Captain Luhn of the 4th Infantry was seriously injured in the ridge pole of his tent. Captain Mills of the 3rd Cavalry was hurt in his stovepipe and very nearly lost his dinner, as his cook was just engaged in his culinary duties when the ball came along.”58 Undoubtedly, it was due to the lack of casualties that Foster could afford to be lighthearted about the fight.

 

Regarding Indian casualties, Little Hawk stated that, so far as he knew, there weren’t any.59 However, Foster reported that a picket from the Second Cavalry “knocked an Indian off his pony as a party were attempting to cross the river above camp”60 and Davenport also reported the incident, stating that the warrior, on attempting to cross the river, “was shot, and [then] lifted from his seat by his companions. Those on the bluff led off the riderless pony.”61 Bourke reported the same incident, stating that the Indian was killed, but then added, “the report was not verified.”62 In other words, the skirmish may have resulted in no human fatalities on either side.

 

Although the skirmish caused no real harm to his command, General Crook has to take the blame for the fact that it occurred. He neglected to post pickets on the bluffs north of the river directly opposite his camp, arguably the position from which his troops were the most vulnerable, and, as it turned out, from where they were attacked. Had he done so, the Indians never would have posed a danger from that position, which was really the only point from which they could have even attempted such a confrontation and still given themselves enough time to get away. As Wasson recorded in his dispatch to the New York Tribune: “[The Indians commenced firing at the troops from] a high bluff on the north side of the river, where no pickets were placed in the day time, and bullets began to ‘zip’ overhead among the tents, horses, and wagons throughout the camp, and all hands soon realized that a party of hostile Indians had begun an attack.”63 The pickets Crook did post were on the same side of the river as his camp, at least some being stationed to the east. However, after the skirmish and through the following day, Crook kept a company of cavalry on the bluffs across the river.64 With the approach from the northern bluffs now covered, Foster wrote in jest on 10 June: “We are all discussing today the probabilities of having a ‘serenade’ from the south side of camp tonight.”65

 

End of part 1.  Please use the menu at the top of the page to read part 2.