Lieutenant Jenness had just cautioned me not to expose my person, and to hold my fire until I was sure of getting an Indian at each shot. He had moved a few feet from my box when he was shot through the head. I think he died instantly. He was a grand, good man, and a fearless officer. I told him to keep under cover. He stated he was compelled to expose himself in order to look after his men. I got a slight wound in my left hand; a bullet came in through my porthole, which I thought was close shooting for a Sioux. This fight lasted about four hours, and was very hot from the start. I had been in several Indian fights prior to this time, but never saw the Indians make such a determined effort to clean us up before. They should have killed the entire party. They certainly had force enough to ride over us, but our fire was so steady and severe that they could not stand the punishment. Our men stood the strain well, held their fire until the bullets would count. In fact, shooting into such a mass of Indians as charged on us the first time, it would be nearly impossible for many bullets to go astray. In all my experience in fighting Indians prior to this time, I never saw them stand punishment so well as they did at this time; they certainly brought all their sand with them. In charging on our little corral they rode up very close to the wagon boxes, and here is where they failed. Had they pushed home on the first charge, the fight would not have lasted ten minutes after they got over the corral. Many dead and wounded Indians lay within a few feet of the wagon boxes. The wounded Indians did not live long after the charge was over. They would watch and try to get a bullet in on some of our men. We had to kill them for self-protection. Anyway, it was evening up the Fetterman deal. They never showed mercy to a wounded white man, and should not expect any different treatment. I had a canteen of water when the fight commenced, and used most of it to cool my guns. You state that all of our loss occurred at time of the first charge. This is an error, as the man in my box was shot after he had been fighting nearly an hour. I think that his name was Boyle. Up to the time that he was shot he certainly filled the bill and did his duty, dying with his face to the foe as a soldier should. I do not try to estimate the number of the Indians, but, as my partner said, “The woods were full of them.” This was the largest gathering of Indians that I ever saw, and the hardest fighting lot that I ever encountered. When the reinforcements came in sight we took on a new lease of life, and when they dropped a shell over the Indians we knew that the fight was won. Indians will not stand artillery fire. They call it the “wagon gun.” The reinforcements came just in time. One hour more of such fighting would have exhausted our men and ammunition.