Day 5, April 30, Billings to the Little Bighorn

    

 

 

Sunday

 

I pulled in to Billings in the dark of the evening prior and camped on the high airport plateau, near the end of the runway. The view from this vantage point is grand, both at night and in the light. Nary an aircraft disturbed the quiet until after sunrise...

 

I was strolling around Bigfoot with my coffee, enjoying the fine morning, when a fellow pulled up nearby to run his dog. As the fellow was getting out of his truck, with the dog jumping out after him, I was stepping around the front of Bigfoot, putting Bigfoot between me and the fellow. I heard the fellow yelling for the dog to stop! I stepped back and saw the fellow taking off for the cliff; I took a couple of quick steps and looked toward the cliff just in time to see that dog dive out into the void, then the fellow scrambling to the edge. That dog had sprinted from the truck straight for the cliff and jumped off, like he was jumping into a lake! I assumed that the dog had made its last great leap. The dog's owner immediately called two friends who arrived lickety-split to launch a rescue effort...

 

       

 

 

 

Fortunately the dog landed on a bushy outcrop about 25 feet below the edge, which surely saved the poor doggie's life. Upon being pulled up the dog appeared stunned and its eyes were rolling about, but it was alive. The dog was scooped up by its owner and rushed to the local animal hospital...

 

   

I poured another cup of coffee and gazed down upon Billings...

 

 

Proceeding on... across the Crow Indian Reservation to the Little Bighorn...

 

       

 

 

 

Just after I pulled off I-90 at the Little Bighorn Battlefield I heard the tell tale explosion of a flat tire. The tire on my right rear dually was flat, I was in the middle of Montana, and it was Sunday afternoon. My first thought was that I would be spending the evening with the ghosts of the Little Bighorn, waiting until Monday morning. The clerk at a nearby store recommended Bill's Repair and I gave Bill a call. I had to backtrack to Hardin, but once there Bill fixed me right up. Note the culprit - a Phillip's head screw.

 

       

 

 

 

 

Approaching the Little Bighorn Battlefield... again...

 

       

 

 

I drove down to the southern end of the battlefield in order to trace the progress of the battle, generally northward, from Custer's initial advance to Last Stand Hill...

 

     

 

Custer rode in from the distant hills. From the Crow's Nest in the distant hills Custer first saw evidence of the approximately 7000 Lakota, Cheyenne, and Arapaho encamped at the Little Bighorn River. The gathered Indians were under the leadership of Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse...

 

Before reaching the above point, Custer, convinced that he had been discovered by the Indians encamped along the Little Bighorn, divided his command. Maj. Marcus Reno attacked the Indian encampment from the south in what became known as the "Valley Fight."

 

Reno's battalion was outflanked and forced into the timber. A rout ensued and Reno's men retreated up the bluffs, there creating a hilltop defense. Capt. Frederick Benteen's battalion soon joined Reno's men in the hilltop position where they were surrounded by Indians who directed a steady and deadly barrage upon them until the next afternoon...

       

 

       

 

        

 

       

 

 

 

While Reno fought in the timber and retreated to the bluffs, Custer's men rode north of the bluffs overlooking the Little Bighorn Valley, conspiring to reach the northern end of the Indian encampment in order to prevent the Indians from scattering and escaping...

 

       

 

 

At Medicine Trail Ford Custer charged the Indians. It would have been at this point that Custer first realized the size of the force he was up against. I tried to imagine the spot where Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer might have muttered his first lament of that fateful day. Custer's men retreated up Deep Coulee...

 

The 20 minutes or so that I stood between Medicine Trail Ford and Deep Coulee were profound, in a way that I find difficult to now describe...

 

       

 

       

 

 

After briefly reuniting on Calhoun Hill, Custer's command was again overrun, with a bloody retreat to Last Stand Hill following. Custer's command launched a final advance down Last Stand Hill before being forced to withdraw back up the hill. On Last Stand Hill Custer's men put their horses down to form breastworks and there fought to the death. 210 men of the 7th Cavalry under Custer's direct command died that day and another 53 men under Reno and Benteen perished.

 

As was the case as I stood between Medicine Trail Ford and Deep Coulee, finally being at Last Stand Hill was a profound moment... one difficult to now describe. Oh the many thousands of times I imagined being at this place since first reading Black Elk Speaks as a high school student...

 

       

 

       

 

       

 

Indian Memorial...

 

Last Stand Hill. It was difficult to pull myself away from this ground. The wind was howling...

 

 

Inside the Visitor Center...

 

     

 

 

 

Proceeding on... Montana highway 212...

 

       

 

     

 

 

As I approached the Powder River in Montana I thought of Lonesome Dove and recalled the words of Capt. Augustus McCrae, former Texas Ranger, as the Hat Creek Cattle Co. pushed through this country on their way to the Milk River. Augustus was riding with Newt and spoke thusly: "Aint nothing better than ridin' a fine horse through a new country. That's exactly what me and Woodrow was meant for."

 

I'd say that thought holds true in a motorhome as well...

 

Robert Duvall as Capt. Augustus McCrae, Texas Ranger...

 

 

On in to Broadus and across the Powder River...

 

     

 

 

 

Proceeding on through eastern Montana...

 

       

 

   

 

 

Crossing the South Dakota state line...

 

 

Belle Fourche, South Dakota...

 

I put in for the night at Spearfish, South Dakota...