Two Paths into the Valley of the Little Big Horn: The Stories of Lieutenant Donald McIntosh and Private Walter O. Taylor
By Skeeter Wesinger
May 25, 2025
In June of 1876, the U.S. 7th Cavalry rode out from Fort Abraham Lincoln on a campaign that would end in blood, confusion, and legend. Among those troopers were Lieutenant Donald McIntosh, an officer with deep roots in both American and Native heritage, and Private Walter O. Taylor, a young blacksmith from Rhode Island. Both served in Company G—one as its commander, the other as a soldier in the ranks. Their fates diverged sharply on the banks of the Little Big Horn River.
Lieutenant Donald McIntosh
Born in Montreal in 1838, McIntosh was the son of a Hudson’s Bay Company trader and Charlotte Robinson, a direct descendant of Red Jacket, a famed Seneca chief of the Six Nations. His father was killed by Native warriors when Donald was just 14, a loss that shaped much of his early life as he moved between fur posts and western settlements before settling in Oregon.
During the Civil War, McIntosh served as chief clerk to Brigadier General Daniel Rucker—more ledger than saber—but by 1867, he was commissioned in the 7th Cavalry. Promoted to first lieutenant in 1870, he was tapped by Custer to command Company G during the 1876 campaign.
At Little Big Horn, Company G was one of three companies under Major Marcus Reno ordered to cross the river and assault the southern edge of a vast Indian village. McIntosh’s men dismounted and formed a skirmish line, holding it for perhaps fifteen minutes before being driven back into a stand of timber near the river. When Reno’s Arikara scout Bloody Knife was killed, splattering blood across Reno’s face, the major lost control. He ordered an immediate retreat up a nearby coulee toward the high bluffs.
McIntosh was among the last to leave the timber. He never made it out. Knocked from his horse in the chaos, he was killed and later found horribly mutilated. He was initially buried where he fell, later moved to Fort Leavenworth, and eventually reinterred at Arlington National Cemetery in 1909. His widow, Mary, who received a pension of $30 a month until her death in 1910, was buried beside him. A ring bearing their initials and wedding date—a wedding band lost at the scene—was unearthed in 1995 near McIntosh’s memorial marker and now rests in a private museum in Garryowen, Montana.
Private Walter O. Taylor
In contrast, Walter Taylor was just 21 years old—a blacksmith by trade, not birthright—when he joined McIntosh’s Company G. He rode into the Little Big Horn not as a commander, but as one of the many enlisted men whose names often slip through the cracks of history. Taylor was there on the valley floor when Reno’s advance stalled and then crumbled. He took part in the brief, bitter fight along the skirmish line, and the frantic pullback to the timber. And when Reno ordered the retreat, Taylor was among those who made it out.
He survived the chaos of the withdrawal, survived Reno Hill, and lived to see the relief column under General Terry arrive. He witnessed what remained of Custer’s five companies—gone. Nearly 270 of his fellow soldiers would not return, including his own company commander.
Taylor went home to Rhode Island after the war. He married Emma King and together they raised eight children. In his later years, he moved to Rockland, Massachusetts, to live with family. He died in 1931 at the age of 75 and is buried in a family plot in East Bridgewater.