Читать книгу Still Standing: Surviving Custer's Last Battle - Part 1 - Judith Gotwald - Страница 7

Tom Custer brushed the dust off his brother’s jacket as the two young men neared the office of Republican Congressman’s District Office. “You will be fine, Autie,” he encouraged his older brother, his thirteen-year-old voice cracking. “Wish I could go in with you.”

“You wait here,” Autie said and added with a wink, “Try to stay out of trouble.”

Both boys were beginning to grow tall, but Autie still enjoyed playing big brother. Tom was almost as tall as Autie, but Autie still reveled in his younger brother’s doting attention.

Had this been a normal Friday, the boys would have been looking to end their week with spirited fun. It had been a couple of weeks since their last good prank. The family was probably starting to feel safe. Time to strike again.

Tom and Autie were truly partners in unending shenanigans. Today, however, was serious business for the Custer boys. As they approached the wooden steps to the government office, Autie gave Tom a playful punch in the arm. “Think about that while you’re waiting,” Autie added.

Tom cringed, “You just wait.”

Leaving his brother behind, Autie crossed the street, opened the office door and strode through the foyer to an anteroom.

“George Armstrong Custer to see Mr. John Bingham,” he announced to the man attending the office door.

“Ah, yes, Master Custer. Mr. Bingham received your letter. He is expecting you. Go right in.”

Custer straightened his jacket and paused just a second to muster his fortitude. He thought to knock but instead opened the door and stepped boldly into his future.

“I am George Armstrong Custer, son of Emanuel Custer of Monroe, Michigan, and New Rumley, Ohio, and I want you to know I am a Democrat boy,” he announced as he entered the District Office of the local Republican Congressman.

The area had been a Whig stronghold, but with the growing tension with the South, the Republicans were gaining in popularity. Mr. Bingham, the District representative, gave the young man a quick once over, but he had no time to reply.

“I am a Democrat boy who wants to be a soldier,” Custer continued. “Democrat or Republican, I was meant to be a soldier.” Custer paused for a moment to read the representative’s reaction.

“I’ve heard about you, Master Custer.” John Bingham finally answered.

“Thank you, sir. I’m here to convince you that I am a Democrat that deserves an appointment to the United States Military Academy.”

“How is that, young Custer?”

“I’m figuring, sir, that the day is coming when you are going to wish you had a few Democrats on your side.”

Bingham tried not to laugh. “It may surprise you to know, young man, that I’m always looking for good Democrats to be on my side.” He continued, “I’ve heard some tales about you, Master Custer. Something about you and the local ladies!”

Custer was not taken aback. He knew his reputation. Everyone in the county knew him for his gregarious, fun-loving nature. Likewise it was well known that his family was staunchly Democratic and of moderate means. Custer had taken all of this into consideration when he set his sights on the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York. The prestigious appointment would surely impress Mr. Holland and his daughter. The days of being looked down upon by Monroe society folk would end without decades of groveling.

Now he stood in the office of the local political representative with his dream dangling within reach.

Custer took the direct approach.

“I have no more an eye for the ladies than any other young man, Mr. Bingham, sir. But I am supposing that if you are mentioning this today that you have heard from a Mr. Holland.” He paused again to measure Mr. Bingham’s reaction. Seeing none, he added, “I admit to being fond of his daughter, sir. For now, my eye is set upon becoming a soldier.”

Mr. Bingham leaned back in his chair and studied the youth standing before him. Custer was of moderate build for a still growing 16-year-old. He was obviously robust in physique. His wavy blond hair was tucked neatly behind his ears and there was impatience in his mannerisms. He wore his country clothes with an air of majesty. While he stood straight, almost at attention, the energy and fire in his eyes could not be contained.

“I’m sorry, Master Custer. I have already made an appointment for this year.” Bingham responded at last. “This appointment went to a good Republican boy.”

His words cut like a knife, instantly deflating Autie’s enthusiasm. Custer managed with difficulty to maintain his composure. “Thank you for your time, sir,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. He set his right foot directly behind his left and prepared to turn with military precision toward the door.

Custer paused when Mr. Bingham continued. “But…,”

That one word was enough to revive Custer immediately. “…but I’ve studied your letter, Master Custer, and I’ve looked into your situation. I understand you are a fine horseman.”

Custer answered. “I’ve worked all my life on the farm and helped my father shoe horses since I was twelve,” Custer answered. “I know my way around horses.”

“I also understand you have a good eye with a rifle,” Bingham added. “Yes, sir,” Custer answered. “That also comes from life on the farm. I shoot at vermin that would otherwise eat our wages.”

“Well, Master Custer, I know for a fact that the Academy is looking for good marksmen and horsemen.” Then his voice dropped. “In addition, as a matter of practicality, I’m looking for a few Democratic votes. While this year’s appointment has been filled, I will be glad to submit your name for next year’s class.”

Custer could not believe his fortune. The odds had been against him. Afraid to create any opportunity which might change his mind, Custer hurriedly thanked the representative and spun toward the door. “Thank you, sir. You’ll not be sorry.”

Thoughts of celebration filled his head. “Just wait ’til Tom hears this,” he thought. “Pap and Mother will be proud. And Mary! Mary Holland.”

Suddenly, Custer put two and two together. Bingham had raised the point that he had heard he had an eye for the ladies. Mary’s father was a Republican and a man of means compared to the Custer family. West Point cadets could not marry. Now he understood what had just happened. Any future with Mary was now on hold for at least five years! “I’ve been outflanked!” Custer realized.

For a brief moment, young Custer doubted himself. “Had he earned the appointment to West Point?” he asked himself in mental agony. As he stepped out of the office into the street, he saw Tom waiting across the street and his anguish dissipated. Custer saw his brother start toward him. There was no more time for thinking. At whatever price, he had achieved his goal. He was going to West Point. Just how he had reached that goal, Tom did not need to know.

As Tom reached his brother’s side, Autie was bursting to tell his news, but it would wait just a few more minutes. The boys ran together to escape the watchful eyes of the bustling business district. It was not until they reached the outskirts of town that they collapsed by the side of the road in celebratory wrestling.

George Armstrong Custer would have to leave Mary Holland behind. West Point and glory awaited.