Horses
fell, or ran about neighing; men flung up their hands and died in that
first awful minute of consternation, and the little column seemed to
shrivel away as if consumed by the flame which struck it, front and
flank and rear. It was as if those men had ridden into the mouth of
hell. God only knows the horror of that first moment of shrinking
suspense--the screams of agony from wounded men and horses, the dies of
fear, the thunder of charging hoofs, the deafening roar of rifles.
Yet it was for scarcely more than a minute. Men trained, strong, clear
of brain, were in those stricken lines--men who had seen Indian battle
before. The recoil came, swift as had been the surprise. Voice after
voice rang out in old familiar orders, steadying instantly the startled
nerves; discipline conquered disorder, and the shattered column rolled
out, as if by magic, into the semblance of a battle line. On foot and
on horseback, the troopers of the Seventh turned desperately at bay.
It was magnificently done. Custer and his troop-commanders brought
their sorely smitten men into a position of defence, even hurled them
cheering forward in short, swift charges, so as to clear the front and
gain room in which to deploy.
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