In one of the charges Captain Henry was shot through the face and frightfully wounded. The troopers had dismounted, but the officers remained mounted. Henry reeled in his saddle as the bullet pierced both his cheek bones and tore out the whole front of his face below the eyes. Although, as an eye-witness has it, he was spitting blood by the handful, he continued on the battle line. The situation of Royall’s wing of Crook’s army was precarious. Henry’s battalion held the extreme left flank. It was his duty to remain there. Vroom’s troop L, of the Third Cavalry, had become separated from the main body during the battle, and was caught ahead of the line and surrounded by Indians, in imminent danger of annihilation. Crook had ordered Royall to bring his men back to their horses, in order to mount them and prepare for a general charge. The Indians took this movement for a retreat, and came dashing after the retrograding troopers. Only the cool courage of Royall and Henry, and the magnificent way in which they handled their forces when they went forward to the rescue, prevented the annihilation of Vroom’s troops.
It was in the midst of this operation that Henry received his fearful wound and stayed on the line.[[62]] Presently he fell from his horse. As he did so, the soldiers, dismayed by his fall, began to give back before the Sioux. The impetuous Indians charged over the place where Henry lay. Fortunately, he was not struck by the hoofs of the galloping horses. His men rallied and rushed to his rescue. Old Chief Washakie and his Shoshones at this period of the fighting displayed splendid courage. The fight actually raged over the body of Captain Henry until the Indians were driven off, and Henry was rescued from what would otherwise have been certain death. After this fierce struggle, part breaking through the line and part turning the flank, the Indians galloped down the valley between the river and the troops, and finally disappeared on the other side of the Dead Cañon, their retreat accelerated by the movement of Mills toward the village. The fighting had lasted a little more than two hours.
VI. Mills’ Advance down the Cañon
Meanwhile Mills and his men, in a column of twos, trotted down the gloomy depths of the Dead Cañon, the rocky walls of which, towering on either side, would have afforded abundant cover for Indian riflemen. Before entering the cañon, they had cleared the mouth of it of a body of Sioux by a smart charge, and they were thereafter unmolested. They advanced rapidly but with caution, although what they could have done if attacked it is hard to see, and how caution would have saved them it is difficult to tell. They had their orders to go through the cañon and attack the village. There was nothing to do but obey. Sending them forward was a mistake which might have resulted in a terrible disaster, although nobody believed that then. The soldiers had not yet realized what fighters these Indians were. The Custer disaster was still to come, and no one imagined that so large a body as that commanded by Mills and Noyes could be defeated. If Crook had followed with his whole force, the troops under his command would have been annihilated; it is probable that not one of them would have come out of that cañon.
When Crook began to prepare to follow Mills with the rest of his force, he discovered that he had a much larger number of wounded than he had thought possible, and the doctors protested against their being left with a feeble guard while Crook with the best of the force went up the cañon. The protest was justified by the situation. Besides, the attack on Royall and Henry had not yet ceased. Crook reflected, concluded that he could not leave the field, and that Mills’ force was too weak for the work assigned it. The general thereupon despatched Captain Nickerson, of his staff, attended by a single orderly, at the imminent peril of their lives, with orders to ride after Mills and tell him to leave the cañon, defile to the left, and rejoin him at once. Crook hoped that Mills, on his return to the field, might succeed in getting in the rear of any Indians who might be lurking in the hills before Royall’s shattered line.
So rapid had been Mills’ movements, that Nickerson, although going at the full speed of his horse, did not overtake him until he had penetrated some seven miles down the cañon. Fortunately for all concerned, the command had halted where a cross cañon made an opening toward the west, and on that side the cañon was so broken and so sloping that it could be scaled by the troopers. Firing was heard to the front, and the Indians were detected massing to attack Mills’ detachment. A halt had been ordered for the purpose of making final preparations for the attack.
“Mills,” said Nickerson, as he came galloping up, “Royall has been badly handled—there are many wounded. Henry is severely hurt, and Vroom’s troop is all cut up. The General orders that you and Noyes defile by your left flank out of this cañon and return to the field at once. He cannot move out to support you and the rest on account of the wounded.”
Never was order more unwelcome. The officers at the head of the column urged Mills to go on. The Indian village was in sight. Crook could not have known how near they were, or he would not have recalled them. Mills, however, was a thorough soldier. In his mind orders were to be obeyed, and he silenced the objectors and advisers, and did as he was directed, although with great disappointment and reluctance. Never was obedience better justified. General Mills admits now that, had he disobeyed Crook, his command would have been annihilated.
The cañon was the mouth of Crazy Horse’s trap. A short distance farther on, it ended in a great dam covered with broken logs, making a dangerous abattis. Here the main body of the Indians had been massed. Here they expected, seeing the confident advance of the eight troops of cavalry up the cañon, to fall upon them and kill them all, which they might easily have done. Nickerson got there just in time.