- Yes - dished frame around the threaded frame screw holes
- Custer split his forces - his subordinates did not stay in close contact - his ego was always a problem
- He left several Gatling Guns behind
- I have also heard he may have been carrying Bulldogs
- The single-shot Springfield Trapdoor .45-70’s tend to jam on the cartridge shells
- The Indians had repeaters and the troopers had long distance single-shot carbines - not too swift
- I have read that Custer had his men using Spencer carbines - but the brains far away knew so much better than Custer did
- You can even find pre Little Big Horn Colt SAA’s on guns international
“- Custer split his forces - his subordinates did not stay in close contact - his ego was always a problem”
George Armstrong Custer (West Point, Second Class of 1861) was described as the foremost American Indian fighter of the age. He had used the split force/multi-axis attack before, with a better success record than other commanders. What, on that morning in June 1876, would have caused him to suddenly lose faith in a tactical approach that had worked well before?
It’s an acknowledged truism that anybody who would presume to command troops in battle cannot do so without a very healthy ego. Custer was no standout among Army officers when it came to that aspect of character. And such egotism was no surprise: he pinned on the stars of a brigadier general only a couple years after graduating from USMA, then demonstrated the faith superiors had placed in him was justified, again and again during ACW.
It’s been argued that he ignored reports on the number of Indians present, but real-time battlefield intel has always been an iffy thing - truer in 1876 than today. Much had to be left to any commander’s discretion; difficult choices made in the heat of the moment, on scanty information, sometimes go wrong. So also do carefully considered choices, taken at a deliberate pace, backed by reams of data. One of the uncertainties of armed conflict.
“- He left several Gatling Guns behind”
I’ve walked the ground at the Little Big Horn site. Peering southeast from the monument, back over the terrain Custer and troopers crossed to arrive, it took me less than 30 seconds to realize that no Gatling gun could ever have made it in time. The chunk of territory in question was simply too rough and broken to allow anything with wheels to pass.
There’s every chance that even if the regimental Gatlings had somehow made it there with the troopers, they’d not have been much help. The 7th’s hurried ride to the field, frantic deployment, and general confusion preceding the engagement would have degraded their effectiveness.
“...- The single-shot Springfield Trapdoor .45-70’s tend to jam on the cartridge shells”
Little has been conclusively proven, but cartridge case metallurgy was still in its infancy. Solid-drawn brass cases were years in the future; the copper-case inside-primed 45-70 cases then being issued were notorious for sticking in the chamber after firing, especially during rapid fire on a hot day. Operational testing of the Allin-designed Trapdoor had been sketchy to nonexistent; no documented warnings nor special-use instructions were ever posted to field units about such jams. And the 7th’s defeat did not help the situation one bit; the site, remote even today, was past the far edge of beyond 138 years ago. Forensic science was unknown; even if an Ordnance Corps investigation team had been sent to collect evidence, precious little would have been usable, or findable, months after the fight. Not that the US Army would have admitted any errors; into the 1960s, the Army hierarchy was legendary for ignoring results it did not care for.
The poor reliability of 1876-vintage 45-70 ammunition may have worked its dark magic on Gatlings, had any managed to get there. Throughout the years 1865 to 1890, the Gatling earned a worldwide reputation for reliability and stoutness. But it also earned a reputation (thankfully less common) for falling victim to the most spectacular jams imaginable, always at the worst possible moment of battle. Cartridge cases of the day had an evil tendency to tear their heads off on occasion, thanks to the uncertain metallurgy. Additionally, primers had a much higher rate of delayed ignition, or hangfire. Bad enough in a single-shot rifle, pure disaster in a hand-cranked machine gun: if a primer chanced to delay ignition only a short while, the gunner rarely noticed (especially in the heat of action). When the round finally did fire, the barrel where it was had already been rotated part way along, the breech bolt often unlocked and cammed partially open. Now unsupported, the case head instantly split from the body and would be ejected, but the forward part of the case body stayed behind in the chamber. All unknowing, the gunner continued to turn the crank. Very shortly after, a fresh round would be driven forward, only to stick inside the remnant of the previous case’s body and fail to fully chamber. Result: jam, total tieup, gun out of action until it could be completely disassembled and the offending case body removed - a process that might require hours of false starts and frustration, even on a peaceful day back at the fort. In battle, defeat and disaster might be in the offing. Happened often enough that British forces composed a poem about it.
“- The Indians had repeaters and the troopers had long distance single-shot carbines - not too swift”
It seems blindingly obvious now, that repeaters were a good idea, but Army leaders in the 1870s argued constantly that any such weapon would tempt troops to exhaust their ammo too early. Please bear in mind that Plevna was still more than a year in the future when Custer was defeated.
Military doctrine of that period enshrined long-range fire, which could only be done with a large and powerful cartridge. Large cartridges are heavy, and require equally large, heavy rifles. It was decided that the average troop could not learn to use a repeater so large and heavy, and would balk at carrying around such heavy guns. If any forum member finds this spurious, I would urge them to go find an 1876-vintage repeater chambered for 45-70, load it fully, then carry it around for a day or two. But it cannot be done, because no repeater then in existence was strong enough, reliable enough, or durable enough to handle the 45-70, and keep it up for one battle. Gunmakers could not simply take, say, the Winchester 1873 and scale it up to handle the 45-70; the Winchester firm tried exactly that, but all they managed to bring forth was the 1876: shockingly large and heavy, yet still unequal to the 45-70. One would have to skip several years down the timeline, to the 1880s, to find viable repeaters like Winchester’s 1886, early Marlins, the Whitney-Kennedy, the Hotchkiss, the Remington-Keene, or the Chaffee-Reese. And each one of these is heavy empty, far worse when loaded.
No repeater made the grade until nitro propellant arrived (first fielded by the French, in 1886), fired from “small bore” cartridges of 25 to 32 caliber.
Accepted Army wisdom of the 1870s had it that trained troops firing single-shot rifles could defeat any enemy armed with repeaters, before the enemy could get close enough to render their repeaters effective.
“- I have read that Custer had his men using Spencer carbines - but the brains far away knew so much better than Custer did...”
George Custer is known for leading the first US troops into action firing repeaters: Spencers, at the battle of Gettysburg in 1863. But by 1876 it was peacetime (at least compared to the ACW), and peacetime rules were applied with a vengeance. It’s most unlikely that Custer would have flouted Army regulations by arming his troopers with weapons not officially approved, and for which no supply system of ammunition, spare parts, or trained armorers existed. It’s been reported he did take occasional advantage of his wife’s money (her father was a big wheel back in Monroe, Michigan), but for that purpose it would not have been very likely.
The “brains” - Army brass and civilian officials who bear ultimate responsibility for building up and controlling America’s military in this, our republic - have always held sway. A top-down system of hierarchy and constituted authority can really tolerate no other arrangement. And it’s true that sometimes the overlords are out of touch, behind the times, willfully flying in the face of reality, or merely incompetent. But sometimes they actually do know things the private soldier on the line doesn’t. Armed conflict is never so fully delineated, so completely understood that every possible alternative can be worked out beforehand. Sometimes the situation goes sour despite every effort of preparation and prior understanding. In those instances, the top-down command structure can be onerous, even deadly. But abandonment of all structure and negation of all authority may succeed no better: individual initiative can be a help, but it may not thrive nor survive long enough, once loss of cohesion degrades morale to the point where chaos sets in. Onerous and deadly after its own fashion.
“- Custer split his forces - his subordinates did not stay in close contact - his ego was always a problem”
George Armstrong Custer (West Point, Second Class of 1861) was described as the foremost American Indian fighter of the age. He had used the split force/multi-axis attack before, with a better success record than other commanders. What, on that morning in June 1876, would have caused him to suddenly lose faith in a tactical approach that had worked well before?
It’s an acknowledged truism that anybody who would presume to command troops in battle cannot do so without a very healthy ego. Custer was no standout among Army officers when it came to that aspect of character. And such egotism was no surprise: he pinned on the stars of a brigadier general only a couple years after graduating from USMA, then demonstrated the faith superiors had placed in him was justified, again and again during ACW.
It’s been argued that he ignored reports on the number of Indians present, but real-time battlefield intel has always been an iffy thing - truer in 1876 than today. Much had to be left to any commander’s discretion; difficult choices made in the heat of the moment, on scanty information, sometimes go wrong. So also do carefully considered choices, taken at a deliberate pace, backed by reams of data. One of the uncertainties of armed conflict.
“- He left several Gatling Guns behind”
I’ve walked the ground at the Little Big Horn site. Peering southeast from the monument, back over the terrain Custer and troopers crossed to arrive, it took me less than 30 seconds to realize that no Gatling gun could ever have made it in time. The chunk of territory in question was simply too rough and broken to allow anything with wheels to pass.
There’s every chance that even if the regimental Gatlings had somehow made it there with the troopers, they’d not have been much help. The 7th’s hurried ride to the field, frantic deployment, and general confusion preceding the engagement would have degraded their effectiveness.
“...- The single-shot Springfield Trapdoor .45-70’s tend to jam on the cartridge shells”
Little has been conclusively proven, but cartridge case metallurgy was still in its infancy. Solid-drawn brass cases were years in the future; the copper-case inside-primed 45-70 cases then being issued were notorious for sticking in the chamber after firing, especially during rapid fire on a hot day. Operational testing of the Allin-designed Trapdoor had been sketchy to nonexistent; no documented warnings nor special-use instructions were ever posted to field units about such jams. And the 7th’s defeat did not help the situation one bit; the site, remote even today, was past the far edge of beyond 138 years ago. Forensic science was unknown; even if an Ordnance Corps investigation team had been sent to collect evidence, precious little would have been usable, or findable, months after the fight. Not that the US Army would have admitted any errors; into the 1960s, the Army hierarchy was legendary for ignoring results it did not care for.
The poor reliability of 1876-vintage 45-70 ammunition may have worked its dark magic on Gatlings, had any managed to get there. Throughout the years 1865 to 1890, the Gatling earned a worldwide reputation for reliability and stoutness. But it also earned a reputation (thankfully less common) for falling victim to the most spectacular jams imaginable, always at the worst possible moment of battle. Cartridge cases of the day had an evil tendency to tear their heads off on occasion, thanks to the uncertain metallurgy. Additionally, primers had a much higher rate of delayed ignition, or hangfire. Bad enough in a single-shot rifle, pure disaster in a hand-cranked machine gun: if a primer chanced to delay ignition only a short while, the gunner rarely noticed (especially in the heat of action). When the round finally did fire, the barrel where it was had already been rotated part way along, the breech bolt often unlocked and cammed partially open. Now unsupported, the case head instantly split from the body and would be ejected, but the forward part of the case body stayed behind in the chamber. All unknowing, the gunner continued to turn the crank. Very shortly after, a fresh round would be driven forward, only to stick inside the remnant of the previous case’s body and fail to fully chamber. Result: jam, total tieup, gun out of action until it could be completely disassembled and the offending case body removed - a process that might require hours of false starts and frustration, even on a peaceful day back at the fort. In battle, defeat and disaster might be in the offing. Happened often enough that British forces composed a poem about it.
“- The Indians had repeaters and the troopers had long distance single-shot carbines - not too swift”
It seems blindingly obvious now, that repeaters were a good idea, but Army leaders in the 1870s argued constantly that any such weapon would tempt troops to exhaust their ammo too early. Please bear in mind that Plevna was still more than a year in the future when Custer was defeated.
Military doctrine of that period enshrined long-range fire, which could only be done with a large and powerful cartridge. Large cartridges are heavy, and require equally large, heavy rifles. It was decided that the average troop could not learn to use a repeater so large and heavy, and would balk at carrying around such heavy guns. If any forum member finds this spurious, I would urge them to go find an 1876-vintage repeater chambered for 45-70, load it fully, then carry it around for a day or two. But it cannot be done, because no repeater then in existence was strong enough, reliable enough, or durable enough to handle the 45-70, and keep it up for one battle. Gunmakers could not simply take, say, the Winchester 1873 and scale it up to handle the 45-70; the Winchester firm tried exactly that, but all they managed to bring forth was the 1876: shockingly large and heavy, yet still unequal to the 45-70. One would have to skip several years down the timeline, to the 1880s, to find viable repeaters like Winchester’s 1886, early Marlins, the Whitney-Kennedy, the Hotchkiss, the Remington-Keene, or the Chaffee-Reese. And each one of these is heavy empty, far worse when loaded.
No repeater made the grade until nitro propellant arrived (first fielded by the French, in 1886), fired from “small bore” cartridges of 25 to 32 caliber.
Accepted Army wisdom of the 1870s had it that trained troops firing single-shot rifles could defeat any enemy armed with repeaters, before the enemy could get close enough to render their repeaters effective.
“- I have read that Custer had his men using Spencer carbines - but the brains far away knew so much better than Custer did...”
George Custer is known for leading the first US troops into action firing repeaters: Spencers, at the battle of Gettysburg in 1863. But by 1876 it was peacetime (at least compared to the ACW), and peacetime rules were applied with a vengeance. It’s most unlikely that Custer would have flouted Army regulations by arming his troopers with weapons not officially approved, and for which no supply system of ammunition, spare parts, or trained armorers existed. It’s been reported he did take occasional advantage of his wife’s money (her father was a big wheel back in Monroe, Michigan), but for that purpose it would not have been very likely.
The “brains” - Army brass and civilian officials who bear ultimate responsibility for building up and controlling America’s military in this, our republic - have always held sway. A top-down system of hierarchy and constituted authority can really tolerate no other arrangement. And it’s true that sometimes the overlords are out of touch, behind the times, willfully flying in the face of reality, or merely incompetent. But sometimes they actually do know things the private soldier on the line doesn’t. Armed conflict is never so fully delineated, so completely understood that every possible alternative can be worked out beforehand. Sometimes the situation goes sour despite every effort of preparation and prior understanding. In those instances, the top-down command structure can be onerous, even deadly. But abandonment of all structure and negation of all authority may succeed no better: individual initiative can be a help, but it may not thrive nor survive long enough, once loss of cohesion degrades morale to the point where chaos sets in. Onerous and deadly after its own fashion.