A chilly morning in June. Fred Gerard watched the solider struggle to start a campfire for the group. Sadly, it would turn out to be the least of their problems.
They were camped out in the “Crow’s Nest,” a high bluff with an advantageous view of the Little Bighorn River below. Fred and the other scouts had already witnessed the giant cloud of dust, the herd of horses, the hundreds of lodges. They knew what was coming.
But Lieutenant Colonel Custer didn’t want to hear it, his eyes fixated on the now raging campfire.
He knew what he was doing.
The Weekday One Hundred 