Book Review: The Court Martial of George Armstrong Custer

© 1977 by Douglas C. Jones

I’m not a big consumer of alternative historical fiction – although I should be.

For someone who loves reading martial history, I’ve discovered that historical fiction cements what one has learned. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane taught me better than any nonfiction work what it was like to be behind the lines during the Civil War. As did Michael Shaara’s Pulitzer winning The Killer Angels. (Red Badge is said to detail the Chancellorsville battle; Shaara’s explicitly describes the Gettysburg fight.) And, of course, Shaara’s son Jeff makes a living following in his dad’s shoes with historical novels: Gods and Generals and The Last Full Measure. He’s expanded into other American conflicts, though of those I’ve only read his books on World War II.

But those are all non-alternative historical fiction. Alternative historical fiction always begins its premise with the words: “What if?”

The only alternative historical fiction I’ve read was Worldwar: In the Balance. That book began with the delightful phrase, “What if aliens invaded the earth right as World War II was heating up all over the globe?” It was okay. I tried another one, Agent of Byzantium, whose premise was, “What if the Byzantine Empire never declined?” That was a little too removed from reality, and I couldn’t really get into it.

And that was it.

By an absolute random chance of a glance, I spotted Jones’s ancient and gnarled book in a discount bin at a used book store for a buck, and was immediately smitten by the thought of Lady Providence gazing down upon me. For had I not just read two nonfiction works on General Custer and his ill-fated battle, seven hundred pages or so, and authored a rather lengthy blog post on the subject? I’d know this material inside and out. The “What if” was – “What if Custer had survived Little Bighorn, and was put on trial for the disaster?” I had to pick it up, and it bumped all the other books clamoring amongst themselves in the On Deck Circle.

I breezed through the 375-page paperback in a week, with the bulk being read over two days. So it has the “readability” box checked off in bold.

There’s inherent drama in the court room tale: the protagonist and the antagonist, facing off, sparring, life and death on the line, all refereed by a man in black. Or in this case, a military tribunal, upon which sits such Civil War luminaries (well, perhaps “luminary” does not quite apply considering the results they obtained) as John Pope, Irwin McDowall, and John Schofield. And the “what really happened” is pieced out, teased out, or forcibly drawn out as they case may be, and it is up to not only the jury (or the military tribunal) but to you, dear reader, to draw conclusions for yourself.

The novel begins with a couple of short introductory higher-level chapters. General Sherman, in command of the Army, is trying to wrangle a court martial against lone survivor Custer in an attempt to forestall negative publicity and the threat of cut funding from a hostile Congress. He has but convince President Grant – no fan of Custer, who has testified hearsay against him and his brother on the stand and in the newspapers. Sheridan is along for the ride, gruff, explosive Philip Sheridan, another who despises the Golden Boy but has too often grudgingly admitted he gets results.

From there were go to a wintry Manhattan, November 1877, Governor’s Island, where the trial, er, court martial, is to be held. We meet the 40-year-old Major Gardiner, selected as the de facto “prosecutor,” keenly aware that he has never led men in the field nor fired a weapon at another human being. Then Custer’s defense attorney, Mr. Jacobson, lame, and older, a self-assured legal whiz trying his first military case, doing this pro bono as he works for the firm in which one partner is Custer’s father-in-law.

And right from page 50 or so to the very end, 325 more pages, it is mostly court room fireworks. To lesser or greater degrees.

The novel tested me, in a good way. It was extremely beneficial to listen to the characters on the stand – kind of like a pop quiz of sorts, forcing me to recall the factual declarations the historian-authors of the previous two books I read. I’d be parsing witness testimonies to see what agreed with what, uh, had now over the past century been agreed upon. Plus Jones does a real nice job giving these names personalities and pulling out emotions of all sorts under interrogation. All except one, which I’ll get to in a moment.

Though I forget the exact wording (the novel has Gardiner recite the exact terms for court martial in all its splendid legalese), Custer is basically charged with the militant equivalent of gross negligence. Disobeying the letter (if not the spirit) of his orders. Dereliction of duty by failing to take in all available intelligence, dividing his forces into three groups, and recklessly charging in with full abandon.

In other words, the technique that has previously won him glory in half a dozen other battles and skirmishes.

All the historical stuff was great. If I had to quibble, I’d say that though Jacobson is very well fleshed out, the real protagonist, Gardiner, doesn’t seem so. Or maybe he’s not the “real” protagonist, because we do experience events through Jacobson’s eyes at times. But Gardiner’s is presented first, and more often. I’d have liked twenty or so pages-worth of backstory for the Major. Both men had assistants, too, which I was surprised were not given larger roles. Today we’re used to the “team” of quirky helpers and researchers, from the Grisham novels to the movie A Few Good Men. I think Jones wasted an opportunity here.

As far as historical figures go, all the enlisted men became human to me. For officers, Reno and Benteen seemed to have been given kid-glove treatment by the author. Not sure why. Potential for a lot of drama there, as each man despised Custer. Yet each appeared on the stand relatively early in the novel and stayed up there not as long as I expected. Sheridan also makes an appearance, which kinda confused me as he seemed to be testifying for Custer, and eventually neither prosecution nor defense benefits by his testimony. But maybe I missed something.

There was one person whose appearance on the stand was anticlimactic. Yep. Custer. Now, Custer is suffering from debilitating wounds (or is he? It’s hinted that he’s out partying and machinating when court is in recess). Gardiner has the opportunity to go after him and win a conviction. Er, a court martial. Custer did make mistakes. It is up to Gardiner to convince the tribunal those are worthy of being cashiered out of the service and possibly further prosecuted. But perhaps I’m expecting too much. Perhaps I’m just a product of my time. We’re used to Tom Cruise demanding Generals admit they gave the order. Gardiner is calculating based on getting five of the nine men to rule in his favor. He needn’t be so over the top.

I won’t spoil the ending by revealing the verdict. I was neither happy nor unhappy. But the real ending of the book, a few pages later, the fate of Custer in particular, was unexpectedly poignant for me. Indeed, it brought the book up immensely in my estimation and redeemed it beyond the point of a simple academic exercise.

Do I personally think Custer should have been court martialed had he lived? No. No, for the same reason some character in the novel mentions: Bad precedent. The country can’t court martial every general every time he fails. Both Grant and Lee failed, too, at various points in their campaigns.

But I think the mental exercise, and this book, should be read by those who have an interest in this field.

Grade: B-plus.