by B. TRAVEN
In the bars there was endless and enthusiastic merriment.
“We’ll soon teach these cursed, lousy swine of rebellious Indians who is master in this country and who’s in command of Chiilum District.”
“We’ll drink again to that!”
“Spoken like a good man. Salud, compadre!”
“Of course we’ll have another, Don Clementino.”
“Of course, Don Cesar.”
“Viva El Caudillo!”
“Long live the great leader of our glorious people!”
“Salud, compadre!”
“Viva la patria!”
The day’s march had been a terribly hard one. The route the army followed was no more than a miserable, ill-trodden mule track. It rose and fell over rocky, stony heights. There were swamps, morasses, and boggy stretches where man and beast could no longer march or walk, but only crawl, dragging one leg after another out of the slime, to sink again with the next step into the muck and filth.
Toward noon, after a river had been crossed, the way broadened. Once more the flat country began.
The day before, another finca, the Santa Brigida, had been visited. Here, too, the master’s family, so the remaining peons averred, had ridden off somewhere to a wedding. That the gentry had left a finca for fear of Indian rebels would never have been admitted by a finquero, his wife or daughter, not even on their deathbeds. In the eyes of his neighbors and friends, and especially of his peons, a finquero would have lost the last vestige of respect had he let a living soul—even his horse or favorite hound—believe that he and his whole family had ridden off to a wedding or a betrothal because Indian rebels were marching on the finca. Should it prove impossible to celebrate a marriage at such short notice, because the happy couple wanted a say in the matter and had not yet had time to make up their minds, then there was always a saint available whose name day provided one of the neighboring finqueros, or his wife, or his daughters or sons, or his mother, with the opportunity for a celebration at which all the finqueros and their families were expected.
At the Finca Santa Brigida, too, only the peons had been left behind, and just as at the other fincas that had hitherto been visited by the rebels, here also Professor granted all the finca lands to the peons and declared all debts due to the finquero canceled, null and void.
Here, too, the finca buildings went up in flames before the rebels were two hours on the march. Whether it was the last company of rebels who had had the pleasure of igniting the buildings, or whether it was the first independent action of the peons themselves, was never established. Nor did anyone care. Whatever the case, each finca destroyed meant one stronghold less in their rear.
When the troop emerged from the bush and the high country, and once more regained the open terrain, the leading muchachos saw before them, at a distance of some ten miles, the great finca of Santa Cecilia. The finca estates covered an area of about fifty thousand acres. Most of it was grazing land for herds of cattle, which were raised rather for their hides than for their meat. Other important sources of income to the finca were sugar, alcohol, aguardiente, and henequen fiber. In addition, considerable tracts of the finca were under corn and beans, while in the lower-lying fields grew sugar cane and pineapples. Naturally, the finca also raised considerable numbers of pigs, horses, and mules. If the finca had had roads fit for wheeled vehicles to connect it with a railway station, its yearly productivity would have been capable of realizing about a quarter of a million pesos. But like all other fincas in the region, this one’s means of communication with the nearest towns were but miserable mule tracks, virtually impassable for three or four months of the year. Santa Cecilia ranked, undoubtedly, as one of the wealthiest and most beautiful estates in the district of Chiilum.
It, too, was built like a great fortress, its patio surrounded by high strong walls inside of which all buildings of importance lay. While the majority of other fincas considered themselves rich to possess a chapel, Santa Cecilia could boast a cathedral, having a bell tower visible from four miles away. The majority of paths in this region led past Santa Cecilia, and it was regarded as an important halting place for all caravans, where mule trains could rest for the night and replenish their provisions for the journey. This yielded a substantial additional income to the finca.
The estate, at a conservative reckoning, possessed 130 peon families, who were housed in a good-sized village not far outside the walls of the finca.
“We could easily reach Santa Cecilia today,” said Colonel, as he observed the position of the sun.
“We could, easily,” agreed General. “But the muchachos are damned tired, and it will be nearly sundown by the time we have marched to the finca. I don’t want that. We don’t know what’s up there, and we might easily slip into a trap. In any event, we’d do better to spend the night here and start off very early, while it’s still dark, so that we shall have the whole day before us by the time we get near the finca. What do you say, compañeros?”
“All right. We’ll stay here. Whether we reach Santa Cecilia today, tomorrow, or in two days’ time won’t matter much to the rebellion,” said Andreu. “And besides, I don’t think this revolution is likely to be over in four weeks; in fact, we’ll be lucky if it lasts only four years.”
“That’s what I think, too.” Professor nodded in agreement. “A dictatorship that has existed for more than thirty years has suckled too many good-for-nothings ready to defend not only the dictatorship but their bellies as well. And when it’s a question of defending bellies, the going is a good deal tougher than when only a superannuated dictator is trying to stick to his throne.”
“In other words,” General interrupted the political harangue, “we camp for the night here.” He gave the bugler the order to blow “Halt.” El corneta did it as well and as badly as was within his power. But the weary army understood the signal far better than it would have any other.
It turned out that considerable stretches of the terrain were unsuitable for camping because there had been heavy rain and large pools had formed.
“That suits me well,” said General. “I never intended to have the whole army camp in one place. It would be too dangerous.”
He divided the rebels into three sections. The first and best he ordered to camp on the spot, because here the ground was higher and thus afforded a better strategic position. The second division he sent off two-and-a-half miles to the southwest, to find a dry spot. The third portion of the army he dispatched about three miles to the northwest.
The finca lay to the west, as viewed from the central part of the army.
The plan was good. It took into consideration the possibility that the finca might be occupied by Rurales. General decided that the two troops on either side should march off long before sunrise, in order that one troop could attack the finca from the south and the other from the north, while he and his forces would spend the night eastward of the finca. The two wings of his forces were instructed that as soon as they had marched off, while it was still dark, twenty of their best infantry, together with a few mounted men, should proceed far ahead in line so that the extreme flanks of the two flanking armies would meet to the west of the finca and thus encircle the place completely. This western group, composed of about forty men from the two wing armies, would be, admittedly, very thin and in no event strong enough to prevent a westward breakout of the Rurales as soon as they saw that the battle was lost. General knew well enough that these positions to the west of the finca were the most dangerous of all, yet at the same time they were the most coveted, and the muchachos fought one another to be assigned to these perilous posts. For there would be the best booty in weapons, should the Rurales and Federals flee in confusion. It was by design that General allowed the enemy that escape route. To invest the finca sufficiently strongly on all sides would have been a mistake, because such a disposition would have had to be made during that very day, and the troops were too exhausted to stand a protracted fight should the Rurales attemp
t to avoid encirclement. Moreover, had General tried to surround the finca in equal strength at all points, he would have made another mistake, since the individual troops would all have been too weak in depth. For less than a fifth of the muchachos were armed, and, furthermore, the muchachos, being all inexperienced in military matters, would scarcely be able to prevent breakthroughs if these occurred simultaneously at several points, and the fronts where these breakthroughs and attacks were to be expected could not be sufficiently strongly manned to ensure numerical superiority.
Should the Rurales attempt to break out and escape to the west, the troops in that dangerous sector would have little or no hope of survival. Yet not one of the muchachos assigned to this duty gave a thought to himself. All they worried about was capturing rifles with their full complement of ammunition, and perhaps fine horses with handsome saddles. The capture of a rifle was the highest reward that General, who was unarmed, could promise. But none expected a higher reward, and not one of the rebels hoped for one while the revolution lasted.
Whether Santa Cecilia was occupied at all by soldiers or mounted State police was admittedly known to no one in the army. The muchachos had not encountered a single peon from the finca. For one thing, they were still too far away to be likely to meet any who might be going to work in the bush; for another, they were marching along a path that was never used by the peons on their way to market.
But that morning General had had a remarkable feeling, and he had thought to himself that it was very strange that not a single Rurales patrol had shown itself for days, although probably half a battalion must have been dispatched against the rebels. He estimated correctly when he told himself that, skillfully as he might try to entice the Federals to fall into a trap or to allow themselves to be caught in a pincer movement, these Rurales and Federals were by no means so stupid. It was certainly to be expected that they had the same or similar plans. No commander can work out a plan that the other side is not equally likely to have thought of; it all depends on who first formulates a particular plan, first uses it and exploits it most adroitly, and so acts that his opponents do not guess his plan prematurely. It was more than probable that a troop of Rurales or Federals had been sent southward from Hucutsin in order that the rebels, who, the authorities in Hucutsin assumed, would first attack that town, could be attacked in the flank or the rear, thus cutting off their road to Achlumal in case they should decide to move in that direction. Santa Cecilia was the only stronghold where such a force could be concealed and take up a powerful strategic position unperceived by the approaching rebels.
The leadership of the north army—so vitally important to his plan—was entrusted by General to his most experienced officer, Colonel. Colonel took with him one machine gun for his troop; the second machine gun remained with the central army.
The assembly point of the three armies was to be Santa Cecilia itself, irrespective of whether the place was occupied or not.
The central army camped behind a low chain of hills and could not be seen from Santa Cecilia.
The south army was given a route that took it partly through bush country and partly behind hills that covered their movement. The camping place assigned to it was behind hills covered with low scrub, so that it could pass the night unperceived from the finca, awaiting the order to attack at early dawn.
General had expressly ordered that campfires were not to be lit during the day because the columns of smoke would betray their position. At night the fires were to be so situated that they remained hidden behind the hills or burned in newly dug fire trenches. They were not to be allowed to blaze, in order to avoid any reflection in the overcast sky.
The north army, under the leadership of Colonel, had the most difficult task to fulfill. It could not march to its camping place through the bush. Covering hills were equally lacking on its route. It had to march across open ground. Thus, throughout the whole course of its march until its final destination, it would be under observation from the finca.
The north army marched off.
Professor followed it with his glasses, to see whether it would be attacked. But nothing happened. Finally, it reached the place General had appointed for it to spend the night. But it did not halt there. Professor offered as an explanation that there the land lay too low and was probably too swampy to offer a suitable camping place. The army marched farther, much farther than was good for defending it from the center in the event of its falling into a trap. It marched so far that it finally had gone far past the finca and now must have been due west of it, so that now the finca was surrounded from west, south, and east, leaving only the road north, toward Hucutsin, open.
“Hell!” said General when Professor reported this to him. “Colonel has thought out a damned good plan. He certainly hasn’t done what I thought best. He should have stayed nearer to us. But what he has done is excellent. In the event of the Federals advancing from Hucutsin to Santa Cecilia, we shall have them in our clutches.”
“Perhaps Colonel marched so far around the finca because he’d seen soldiers approaching from the direction of Hucutsin, and he, clever as he is, did not wish to retreat here, thereby betraying the position of our army and so letting the enemy get between our forces; whereas now they believe they have only to deal with a troop on their western flank.” It was Andreu who expressed this opinion.
General and Professor admitted that this interpretation was probably the correct one. Anyhow, they couldn’t alter what Colonel was doing or had already done, and each said, with justification, that Colonel knew what he was doing, and if he was carrying out the plan of campaign otherwise than he had been instructed, he must certainly have very good reasons for this.
In fact, Colonel had the very best of reasons for changing his troop’s plan of movement. He would have been behaving stupidly and irresponsibly had he not altered that plan as soon as he saw that the conditions determining that plan had also changed. The master scheme of the attack was not affected by his deviation from the prearranged plan, for this master scheme was based on having the finca completely surrounded by daybreak and thus assailable from all sides simultaneously.
The north army had, as Professor correctly guessed, encountered such wet ground that Colonel could say, “If we were to camp here from this afternoon and until next dawn, none of us would be able to move an arm or leg before tomorrow noon.”
So in spite of the weariness of the muchachos, they marched on in search of a dry place. During this march, one of the muchachos saw that a Federal patrol was approaching Santa Cecilia along the road from Hucutsin.
The muchachos wanted to attack this patrol, but Colonel forbade it. He said that if these Federals spent the night in Santa Cecilia, then next morning all who were in Santa Cecilia would fall into the hands of the muchachos, and it would be foolish to betray the presence of the rebel army before the finca was attacked.
He immediately ordered all his men to lie down and hide in the tall grass, in order not to be seen by the patrol, which was riding carelessly along. The muchachos who were mounted, like Colonel, remained on their horses and rode lazily onward in the same direction, without taking any notice of the patrol. The patrol plainly saw these riders, but they were too far away to be discerned clearly, and because they rode quietly and without any sign of haste, the men of the patrol could assume that these were vaqueros from the finca going to look for lost cattle. Soon the patrol had vanished from the sight of the troop, and the advance continued.
After another half hour’s march, Colonel noticed a broad gully across the landscape, in which there were densely packed trees and bushes, differing from the solitary trees and bushes of the rest of the countryside.
“Down there, in that hollow, is a stream,” said Colonel to the two captains riding beside him. “That’s the place for our camp. We shall have good water, and if anything should happen during the night, we’ll have the undergrowth for cover.”
However, the patrol had been by no means so unobservant as
Colonel believed. They had indeed seen the little army led by Colonel, even before the muchachos had seen the patrol. But the patrol intentionally behaved as if they had noticed nothing of interest in the landscape.
The patrol reached the finca and there reported that they had discovered the camping place of those stinking swine.
Santa Cecilia was, as General had guessed from instinct without being certain of the fact, strongly manned, being occupied by about fifty Rurales, seventy Federal soldiers, and about twenty finqueros who had gathered there, together with their sons, sons-in-law, major-domos, and capataces—making an armed force of more than two hundred men.
The garrison of the finca had received news of the approach of the rebel army from peons who had been out hunting or working in the bush. But they could obtain no more certain or definite information as to whether the rebels were making for Hucutsin or Achlumal, for the peons, as soon as they had seen the muchachos advancing in the distance, had fled in terror to the finca with their news without waiting to discover the precise direction of the army’s march. That was the last thing the terrified peons worried about.
The soldiers were in no hurry to send out scouts, because they knew that in all events the muchachos would attack Santa Cecilia, and there was no better place than the finca for welcoming the rebel army with a devastating fire from a secure position.
The garrison of the finca possessed, all told, two machine guns, 110 rifles, sixty sporting guns of all sorts, including two dozen repeaters of heavy caliber, and in addition about 120 revolvers. Against such superiority of armament, it was unthinkable that the rebels could advance to within three hundred paces of the walls of the finca without losing three quarters of their force. And were they to come a hundred paces closer, it was certain that not a man of them would survive. Under these circumstances, the garrison could well afford to let the rebels march against the finca and to desist from attacking them in the open field.