The Ghost of Little Bighorn: How Hunger and Desperation Forged a Victory at Slim Buttes
SLIM BUTTES, South Dakota, September 10, 1876 – Just over two months after the shocking, bloody defeat of General George Armstrong Custer and his 7th Cavalry at the Little Bighorn, a different kind of battle unfolded in the desolate landscape of what is now Harding County, South Dakota. Here, in the rugged Slim Buttes, General George Crook’s bedraggled and starving command, chasing the ghost of the victorious Lakota and Cheyenne, stumbled upon a small encampment. What followed was not a grand, strategic confrontation, but a desperate, visceral struggle for survival that would become known as the Battle of Slim Buttes – a minor skirmish in the grand scheme of the Great Sioux War, yet a profound turning point for the morale of the U.S. Army, stained with the hunger of its troops and the blood of its adversaries.
The summer of 1876 had been a disaster for the U.S. military. Custer’s Last Stand had sent shockwaves across the nation, transforming a punitive expedition into a national crisis. General George Crook, known as the "Gray Fox" for his tactical acumen and cautious nature, had been pursuing the elusive Lakota and Cheyenne, led by figures like Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, through the vast, unforgiving wilderness of the northern plains. His command, a combined force of infantry and cavalry, along with Crow and Shoshone scouts, was tasked with avenging Custer and forcing the Native American bands back onto their reservations.
However, the pursuit had been brutal. The terrain was harsh, the enemy elusive, and the supply lines stretched to breaking point. By late August and early September, Crook’s command was in dire straits. Rations had run out, and the troops, exhausted and demoralized, were reduced to eating the flesh of their own horses – a desperate act that earned the expedition the grim moniker, "The Horse Meat March." Soldiers recounted the gnawing hunger, the raw, stringy meat, and the pervasive sense of despair. "We were literally starving," wrote one soldier, "and ready to drop from exhaustion. Every man knew that if we did not find food soon, the campaign was over, and perhaps, our lives."
It was against this backdrop of extreme privation that fate intervened. On September 8th, Captain Anson Mills, leading an advance detachment of cavalry in search of supplies and the enemy, spotted a tell-tale plume of smoke rising from a ravine. As they cautiously approached, the faint outlines of tipis became visible – a small Lakota village, nestled discreetly amidst the rugged terrain of Slim Buttes. This was not the main encampment of Crazy Horse or Sitting Bull, but a smaller band, perhaps a few dozen lodges, under the leadership of Chief American Horse (also known as Iron Shield). They were likely stragglers from the larger camps, perhaps on their way to gather supplies or seeking fresh hunting grounds.
Mills, understanding the critical importance of this discovery, ordered an immediate, dawn attack. His 150 troopers, though famished, recognized the opportunity. As the sun began to peek over the horizon on September 9th, they charged into the sleeping village. Chaos erupted. Women and children scattered, warriors grabbed their weapons, and a desperate, close-quarters fight began. The surprise was complete, and the villagers, caught off guard, fought fiercely but were quickly overwhelmed.
General Crook, hearing the distant gunfire, rapidly advanced with the main body of his troops, numbering around 2,000 men. Upon his arrival, the scene was one of both victory and utter pandemonium. The village was partially captured, but a determined group of warriors, led by American Horse, had taken refuge in a deep, natural ravine – a narrow, winding cut in the earth that offered excellent defensive positions. From this stronghold, they poured a steady stream of fire onto the attacking soldiers, protecting the women, children, and elderly who had also sought refuge there.
Crook, recognizing the tactical challenge and the presence of non-combatants, ordered his men to surround the ravine, while also sending in skirmishers to try and dislodge the defenders. It was a brutal stalemate. The soldiers, fueled by desperation and the promise of food, pressed their attack. The Lakota warriors, defending their families, fought with an unwavering resolve. Among them, American Horse stood out, rallying his men and directing their fire, despite being severely wounded.
As the battle raged, the starving U.S. troops made a startling discovery within the captured tipis: an abundance of food. Fresh buffalo meat, dried berries, and other provisions – a literal lifeline for the famished soldiers. Accounts from the battle describe soldiers, their faces gaunt with hunger, tearing into the provisions with a primal urgency, even as bullets whizzed past their heads. It was a macabre feast amidst the fighting, a stark illustration of the desperation that defined the campaign.
But the most poignant and unsettling discovery came from another source. Amidst the scattered belongings of the village, soldiers found artifacts clearly belonging to Custer’s annihilated 7th Cavalry. A guidon (a small flag), gauntlets, a paymaster’s ledger, and even some personal items – grim trophies of the Little Bighorn, now recovered. For the soldiers, this was more than just plunder; it was tangible proof that they were on the right track, a symbolic validation of their suffering, and a potent reminder of the defeat they were determined to avenge. The sight of these relics undoubtedly hardened their resolve.
By late afternoon, the situation in the ravine became untenable for the Lakota. American Horse, critically wounded in the abdomen, was losing strength. With many of his warriors dead or wounded, and his people trapped, he eventually agreed to surrender, reportedly on the condition that his people would not be harmed. Accounts vary on the exact circumstances of his death; some say he died of his wounds shortly after surrendering, others that he was killed during the surrender process. What is clear is that a brave and respected leader fell at Slim Buttes.
Just as the fighting seemed to conclude, a new threat emerged. A dust cloud on the horizon signaled the arrival of Lakota reinforcements, led by none other than Crazy Horse himself. He had been alerted to the attack by escaping villagers and had ridden hard to aid his people. Crazy Horse’s warriors engaged Crook’s perimeter in a sharp skirmish, unleashing harassing fire to cover the retreat of any remaining villagers and to test the strength of the U.S. position. However, seeing the overwhelming numbers of Crook’s force, and perhaps realizing the main village had been captured, Crazy Horse did not launch a full-scale assault. After a tense standoff and exchange of fire, he eventually withdrew, melting back into the vast plains.
The Battle of Slim Buttes, while a clear victory for Crook, was far from decisive in ending the war. It was a skirmish, not a knockout blow. Yet, its significance was immense, particularly for the U.S. Army. It was the first substantial victory for the military since Little Bighorn, a much-needed boost to shattered morale. The capture of food ended the agonizing "Horse Meat March," saving many from starvation. And the recovery of the 7th Cavalry artifacts provided a powerful symbolic closure and a sense of progress in avenging Custer.
For the Lakota and Cheyenne, Slim Buttes was another tragic loss, a reminder of the relentless pressure they faced. While the main bands remained largely intact, the battle underscored the vulnerability of even smaller camps to the persistent pursuit of the U.S. military. It was a grim prelude to the harsh winter that would soon descend upon the plains, a winter that would force many more bands, weakened by constant movement and dwindling resources, to finally surrender.
General Crook’s command, though victorious, was still exhausted. They remained in the field for a short time longer, attempting to locate Crazy Horse, but the weather soon turned, and the campaign had to be suspended. Crook returned to Fort Robinson, his reputation partially restored, having salvaged a small victory from the jaws of a campaign that had teetered on the brink of disaster.
Today, the Slim Buttes remain a quiet, rugged landscape, bearing little overt sign of the fierce, desperate struggle that unfolded there. Yet, the echoes of that day persist. It was a battle born of hunger and desperation on one side, and fierce defense and the protection of family on the other. It was a minor engagement with major implications, a bitter victory that helped turn the tide of a devastating war, and a poignant chapter in the long, often tragic, history of the American West. The Ghost of Little Bighorn, haunting the plains, was perhaps a little less terrifying after the desperate stand at Slim Buttes.
