It’s fitting cause exactly 150 years have passed since ‘Autie’ gave orders to his subordinates, Reno and Benteen, they were unfit to carry out. In the case of Reno too drunk to carry out. In the case of Benteen too loathsome of Custer to even want to carry them out. And so Custer rode to his death at the Little Big Horn.

An excuse to give gifts to my son and a trick to pass on something that profoundly influenced me as a child.

When I was his age I spent hours on the floor reenacting the battle of the Little Big Horn with toy soldiers. I find it odd that my son has zero inclination to do this, is not interested in war or guns or movies. He has a healthier, more shielded upbringing than he had and it’s doubtful he will ever write about a genocide he cannot stop or pause or slow down or get comfort obsessed corporate rats to care about. Good for him. To care about seems to do nobody any good and watching Israel reduces kids to slush in shopping bags shaves ten years off your life.

Some of my first memories are scenes of US cavalry raiding a native camp and massacring the women and children. Imagine my shock when a few decades later I see the same thing done in Gaza, this time live. Starving tent people shot to pieces, but without the horses. And without the snow.

I often wear T-shirts with Custer’s picture on it. Which at first glance will make little sense, cause if you know me a little bit I reserve my deepest, most savage contempt for the baby killers of the IDF and their invariably impotent looking supporters.

I’ve already explained in another post today why I think there are some key difference between Custer’s subjugating motivations and the genocidal motivations of the Israeli regime.

Custer for me is a reminder that you can ‘drink your own bath water’, meaning that given enough luck, success and seeing some chutzpah pay off you can get drunk on your own myth.

Custer reminds me that you can get overconfident. That you can underestimate your enemy. And that you can fall into the trap of thinking your sheer will power can move any men to do as you say. This clearly failed in the case of Custer.

Here is where I disagree with most historians and other armchair generals:

I think Custer’s battle plan was SOUND. His widow Libby would be most pleased to see someone write this 150 years after the death of her beloved George.

I suspect his plan was to create two diversions, have Reno absorb swarms of natives, likely stunned by what Custer thought would be a surprise attack. It’s rumored he yelled: ‘We caught them napping, boys!’

It’s not entirely clear if he did catch them by surprise or not. Native accounts say they were indeed having an afternoon siesta and were hoping to negotiate when Reno’s detachment started firing into the village. The first victims of these volleys were children…

But then rage took over in – probably- the younger warriors, they quickly realized Reno didn’t have enough men. Reno panicked and dismounted instead of charging on as Custer wanted. This made Reno’s position untenable very quickly. Military maxim: an offensive that stalls never regains momentum.

Benteen was off on a sweep of an area that held no natives and didn’t respond quickly enough to change course. Even when ordered by Custer to join he was sluggish and insisted on bringing his supplies, slowing him down considerably.

Custer meanwhile thought he could ford the river separating his own detachment from the natives and that he could capture the fleeing women and children.

A rather disgusting battle plan, but technically a sound one.

Only one problem: Benteen daddled, Reno completely lost his head and… the river looked fordable, but in many places wasn’t. The first soldier to try got stuck, were dragged from their mounts and quickly lost their scalps.

The natives DID know where to ford, so hundreds of hot blooded warriors smelled the opportunity of a life time to play smash with a few hundred bluecoats.

Custer’s detachment was likely wiped out in a mere twenty minutes. His detachments fragmenting into small groups.

Some accounts say Custer was killed early on, some say he got to have his ‘last stand’, dying as of one the last. You can guess which version Americans tend to prefer.

Some accounts even say his brother may have shot him in the head. He had two wounds. One to the side and one to the head.

Suicide can’t be ruled out either.

It’s one of the most thrilling stories I know of and has mesmerized me since before I could even read or write. It ranks above the story of the Titanic for me personally.

I could go on and on about what this skirmish sized ‘battle’ teaches.

Why do I call it a skirmish?

About a decade earlier, in the American Civil War, a loss of about 250 men would have gotten only a casual mention somewhere buried in the newspapers of the day.

A decade later the news of Custer’s demise at the hands of ‘savages’ was sensational.

I’ve never checked, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are about as many books about Custer and the Little Big Horn as there are about Gettysburg, the largest battle ever fought in the western hemisphere.

So what the hell do I want my son to even take away from this other than that dad gets very creative when it comes to buying him gifts (a huge pot of popcorn and a toy bus or two)?

I should say something like: don’t show overambitious intiative. Don’t get overconfident.

But maybe at the deepest layer I rather like Custer lived by Bukowski’s adagium: ‘Find your poision and let it kill you.’

I can forgive Custer his rash attack. I even admire it, because he had a real chance of success. He couldn’t have guessed the river was fordable only in a few spots or that his subordinates were 1. likely drunk and mentally unstabile 2. practically in rebellion against him (Benteen had legit reasons for despising Custer).

What I can’t forgive is that his attack killed children.

Am in the end a chivalrous 19th century romantic who rather likes war as long as only soldiers do the dying.

The only reason I like war is that war is honest.

Today we live in a system that rewards the phony. War strips that away.

Am not serious of course.

I hate war.

I hate violence.

And I wish the apex of human suffering on all those who are ok with violence towards children.

So did I explain myself well?

No, I did not.

Not even close.

Am a peacenik who admires some qualities in Custer enough to regularly put on a T-shirt with a portrait of him.

Some things can’t be fully explained.

You can be the kindest father in the universe and harbour horror visions of what you would do to certain people in the ‘most moral army in the world’ if you could get away with it.

The two drives are not mutually exclusive.

I wish you all a fine Custer Day.

We can have a Sitting Bull day and a Crazy horse day and a Chief Gall day as well.

Any reason to bestow gifts on Bruno The Builder, son of William The ADHD writer, grandson of Bruno The Ebulient is embraced.