The morning of June 25, 1876, began quietly enough for the Seventh Cavalry, but by nightfall it would be remembered as one of the most disastrous days in American military history. Giovanni Martini, an orderly trumpeter riding with General George Armstrong Custer, had no way of knowing that the orders he received before eight o’clock that morning would carry him into the heart of the Battle of the Little Bighorn. The regiment had paused near the divide separating the Rosebud and Little Bighorn rivers, resting after a night of marching. For two days they had passed through abandoned villages and followed a well-worn trail.

The signs were unmistakable: a large force of Lakota and Cheyenne was nearby. Earlier, they had discovered the remains of freshly killed buffalo, and that morning Martini had approached Custer directly and reported what he had seen. The general merely glanced at him and nodded. He was already speaking with an Indian scout known as Bloody Knife, who was describing a large village in the valley below, a settlement of several hundred tipis and roughly five thousand Sioux.

Martini sat a short distance away and listened. He could not understand the scout’s language, but he gathered the meaning from Custer’s questions and his exchanges with the interpreter. Custer wore a blue-gray flannel shirt, buckskin trousers, and tall boots. His blonde hair, once worn in long curls, had been trimmed.

Soon he mounted his horse and rode bareback through the camp, speaking quietly with his officers and giving instructions. By 8:30 the troops were ready to move. The scouts rode out ahead, and the column followed about fifteen minutes later. Martini rode roughly two yards behind the general, the column moving at a walk until they reached a deep ravine about two hours later.

Custer left the men there and went ahead with the scouts, climbing to a high point known as the Crow’s Nest to search for the village Bloody Knife had described. He was gone for some time. When he returned, he learned that fresh pony tracks had been found nearby and that the Sioux had already spotted the soldiers in the ravine. The element of surprise was gone.

For two days no trumpet calls had been sounded, and every effort had been made to keep the march concealed. Now Custer ordered Martini to sound the officer’s call. The officers assembled quickly and held a serious discussion, keeping their distance from the enlisted men. When it ended, they returned to their units and the march resumed.

Around midday the column crossed the divide. Not long after, Custer spoke to his adjutant and gestured to the left. Captain Frederick Benteen, with three troops, left the column and headed in the direction indicated. Martini was curious about their destination because his own troop was among them.

The rest of the regiment continued in two columns: Major Marcus Reno led three troops on the left, while Custer took five troops on the right, Martini riding directly behind him. They followed the path of a small stream flowing toward the Little Bighorn River. Reno’s column advanced along the left bank while Custer’s group stayed on the right. Scouts rode back and forth with information, and Custer would listen, then gallop ahead to survey the ground.

At times the two columns were several hundred yards apart; at other moments they came closer, and Custer would signal with his hat for Reno to cross over. Eventually they came upon an old tipi containing the body of a dead warrior, set ablaze by the Indian scouts. On a small hill nearby, the scout Fred Gerard spotted Indians between the soldiers and the river. They appeared to be fleeing.

Custer ordered the Indian scouts to pursue them, but they refused. He then signaled Reno to ride over and ordered him, through the adjutant, to cross the river and attack the village, promising support from the entire regiment. The plan was to push the Indians from one end while Benteen struck at the center. Reno’s three troops set off at a trot toward the river.

Custer’s command followed for a few hundred yards before veering right, moving downstream at a gallop. They stopped only once to water the horses. Custer was in a great rush. After covering a mile or two, they reached a large hill overlooking the valley.

Custer took Martini with him to the top, where they could see the village across the river. Several hundred tipis were visible, though they could not see all of it from that vantage point. There were no warriors in sight, only women and children playing, along with a few dogs and ponies. Custer appeared both surprised and pleased, remarking that the Indians must be resting in their tents.

He scanned the area thoroughly with his field glasses but saw no sign of Reno’s column. Turning in his saddle, he removed his hat and waved it so the men at the foot of the hill could see him. He shouted, “Hurrah, boys, we’ve got them. We’ll finish them off and then head back to our station.

”

They rode back down and continued quickly until they reached a large ravine leading toward the river, about a mile downstream from the hill and roughly three miles from where Reno’s trail had been left. Custer stopped and called Martini over. “Orderly, I need you to take a message to Colonel Benteen. Ride as fast as you can and tell him to hurry.

It’s a large village, and I want him to be quick and bring the ammunition packs. ”

Martini replied, “Yes, sir,” and reined in his horse. The adjutant called out, “Wait, orderly, I’ll give you a message. ” He quickly wrote it down in a small book, tore out the page, and handed it to Martini.

“Now ride as fast as you can to Colonel Benteen. Take the same trail we came down. If there’s time and no danger, come back, but otherwise stay with your company. ”

Martini’s horse was tired, but he set off as fast as he could.

The last he saw of the command, they were descending into the ravine, the grey horse troop galloping in the middle. He retraced the path and within minutes reached the same hill where Custer had surveyed the village. Before he reached the top, he heard gunfire from behind. Turning, he saw Indians, some waving buffalo robes, others shooting.

They had been lying in ambush. Just before reaching the hill, Martini encountered Boston Custer, the general’s brother, riding swiftly. Seeing Martini, he pulled up and called out, “Where’s the general? ” Martini pointed behind him and replied, “He’s just beyond that next ridge.

” Boston hurried on. It was the last time he was ever seen alive. From the hill, Martini looked down and saw Reno’s battalion engaged in battle. No more than ten or fifteen minutes had passed since he and Custer had stood there, and at that time there had been no Indians in sight.

Now many of them were circling and firing at Reno’s men, who were dismounted and formed in a skirmish line. Martini could not estimate how many there were, only that there were many. He had no time to watch. He had to find Benteen.

The last he saw of Reno’s men, they were retreating in the valley as the line fell back. Some Indians noticed Martini and began firing at him. Four or five shots came his way, but he was fortunate and was not hit. His horse was struck in the hip, though he did not realize it until later.

It was a very hot day, and the horse was overheating, so he pushed forward as quickly as he could. He did not know where Benteen was or where to search, but he knew he had to find him. He retraced the route to the spot where the horses had been watered. Before long he saw the command approaching.

Martini waved his hat and urged his horse forward, but the animal could not move any faster. He met Benteen, who was riding ahead of his troops, accompanied only by his orderly trumpeter. Captain Weir led his troop about two or three hundred yards behind. Martini saluted, handed Benteen the message, and relayed the general’s report that there was a large village and that he should hurry.

Benteen asked where the general was now. Martini replied that the Indians they had seen were fleeing and that he assumed Custer had charged through the village by then. He was about to mention that Reno was also engaged, but Benteen interrupted him. “What’s wrong with your horse?

”

“I think he’s just exhausted. ”

Benteen said, “Exhausted? Look at his side. ” Martini then noticed the blood from the wound.

Benteen remarked, “You’re fortunate it was the horse and not you. ”

By then Captain Weir had joined them. Benteen gave him the message to read before telling Martini to return to his company. He issued no orders to Captain McDougall, who led the rear guard, or to Lieutenant Mathey, who oversaw the packs.

Martini later clarified this in Chicago in 1879 during the court of inquiry, but he was not fluent in English at the time, and he was misunderstood. The report that he had received an order for McDougall was incorrect. Martini was given another horse and rejoined his troop. The pack train was not far behind, perhaps a mile, the mules walking, trotting, and running.

The command moved ahead faster, and soon the pack train was out of sight, though its dust could still be seen. By the time the fighting ended, Custer and every man under his immediate command were dead. Reno’s battalion, joined by Benteen’s column, held out on the bluffs until the following day, when the Sioux and Cheyenne withdrew and the survivors marched away.

Martini, having delivered his message and survived the battle, carried with him the last report from Custer’s command and the memory of a morning that began like any other and ended in catastrophe.