by F. M. Parker
Farther along the street in front of the row of buildings commandeered by the medical corps for hospital use, several wagons were drawn up. Three officers sat their mounts close by the wagons and watched hospital orderlies unload wounded men and place them upon stretchers and carry them inside for treatment by the surgeons.
Lee recognized Grant, Chilton and Hodding. He was aware that the men had been on a foraging expedition, and wanting to know their success, he lengthened his stride to draw nearer and speak with them. Before he could call out to the three, they galloped off along the street.
Lee arrived at army headquarters just behind Generals Twiggs and Patterson. He fell in silently behind the two and followed them past the armed guards stationed at the entrance and went into the building and along the wide hallway to Scott’s office. The door stood open and Lee could see the big man at his desk, his ponderous brow creased with thought as he studied maps spread before him.
Scott, looking up and seeing the generals and Lee, called to them. “Gentlemen, come in.”
The three entered and after saluting took seats as directed by Scott beside the officers already there, Henry Scott, Army Secretary, Colonel Banks, Chief Of Artillery, Captain Huger, Chief Of Ordnance, and Colonel Harney, Chief Of Cavalry.
“Since we’re all assembled, let’s get down to business,” Scott said. He nodded to Henry Scott who had taken out a pad of paper and was prepared to record the meeting.
Lee was surprised at the absence of Worth, for never had an important matter, and obviously by the attendees this indeed was one, been discussed without his presence. Lee knew Scott and Worth were long time friends, and that Scott had been instrumental in getting the man promoted to major general.
“As you are all aware we’ve received reinforcements and provisions today, a brigade of 1300 volunteers, our long awaited siege guns, and 1200 horses and mules. We require another 13,500 men to reach our full complement of 25,000 men. We’re still short of wagons and draft and pack animals. Further we have more than a thousand men in the hospital, with forty of them down with yellow fever. The chief surgeon estimates that one in ten of our sick will die.”
Scott swept the men with a penetrating look, telling them to pay attention for he was going to say something important. “Time has run out for us. We must make a thoughtful and deliberate choice between waiting here in the lowlands for more reinforcements to arrive, with our men dying all the while, or striking out for Mexico City with the force of men and arms that we have on hand. Should we march inland it would be impossible to keep the road open behind us for all the two hundred and sixty miles to Mexico City. So we’d be cutting ourselves off from our supply depot here in Veracruz and must live totally off the land.”
Lee listened intently. Over the past weeks he had grown to understand Scott and knew the man had already made his decision of which alternative would be chosen. The reality of the matter was plain, to stand still meant the ruin of the American army, and Scott was a realist of the first order.
Scott continued to speak. “What we must do is as clear as day to me. We will cut ourselves off from the coast and march our men into the mountains. Our first objective is Jalapa seventy miles distant on the inland plateau. At an elevation of 4,000 feet it’s above the vomito zone. I have information that Santa-Anna is there with an army of 20,000 men.”
Scott focused on Twiggs. “General, reinforce your division with the volunteers that have just arrived. Have it ready to march, infantry, cavalry, and field artillery at first light day after tomorrow. Add the heavy siege guns we’ve just received to your artillery.”
He spoke to Patterson. “General, be ready in all aspects to march with your division and the Marines the navy has loaned us the following morning. Stay close behind General Twiggs at all times and when he meets resistance from Santa-Anna, you must quickly move your men forward to support him. This should occur at some strong defensive position below Jalapa for Santa-Anna will want to hold us in the vomito zone.
“Now as to your duties,” Scott said to Banks, Harney, and Huger. ”Your task is to assist the generals in every possible way to be fully equipped and ready to move by the time stated.”
Scott spoke to Lee. “Captain, send Beauregard and four other engineers with General Twiggs. They will do his reconnoitering.
Scott turned back to Twiggs and Patterson. “We are short of wagons and draft animals so you’ll have only five hundred. Divide the wagons as you see fit among your commissary, ordnance, and medical supplies. Your men will carry their weapons and sixty rounds of ammunition and rations of hard bread and cooked beef for three days, and hard bread alone for another three. After those rations are used up, you must live off the land. Drive your quartermasters hard to find what you need to survive.”
“Yes, sir,” Twiggs said in a hardy voice and smiling hugely through his thick white beard.
“Gladly, sir,” Patterson said in his gentlemanly manner. “I’m anxious to see Mexico City.”
“There’ll be much hard fighting before that happens. Santa-Anna will make every effort to destroy us and he can choose the place of battle that gives him the greatest advantage. I believe he’ll fight a defensive war astride the National Highway for he’ll know that’s the only route we can take with our heavy artillery. The odds are high that we will be greatly outnumbered in every battle. I charge you to conserve the lives of your men. Do nothing rash, reconnoiter thoroughly before advancing and don’t allow yourself to be drawn into a trap. Keep me informed of your progress by messenger and I will come at once when you meet resistance.”
CHAPTER 18
A broad expanse of the sand plain outside the west wall of Veracruz was crowded with the several contingents of General Twiggs’s division assembling for the advance into the distant mountains. More than 3,000 infantrymen stood in ranks as they waited the order to march. Three companies of Dragoons sat the backs of their mounts. Two companies of artillerymen stood by their limbered cannons drawn by two teams of horses, with the big siege guns drawn by three teams of mules positioned at the end of the lineup. Teamsters with long whips sat upon the high seats of three hundred heavily loaded wagons, with each drawn by a double team of horses.
Grant with his right leg thrown around the pommel of the saddle, rested upon the back of his new horse, and watched the final gathering of Twiggs’s army. Beside him Chilton and Hazlitt sat slouched upon the backs of their mounts. General Scott with a gaggle of half his staff, all mounted, was off on Grant’s right and also observing Twiggs’s doings. Twiggs himself was riding his big sorrel horse from one company of men to another and speaking to the senior officer. From the way Twiggs’s sat his horse and the jaunty way he returned his officers’ salutes, Grant thought the general was having a grand time.
General Patterson with a portion of his staff was present viewing the show. Worth was absent which was odd and Grant wondered what the reason might be.
Twiggs finished the inspection of the several components of his army and rode to take a position beside the colonel of the Dragoons. His arm rose and motioned at the faraway mountains and his army began to uncoil from their compressed mass near the city. The companies of Dragoons stretched out along the National Highway. The infantry broke ranks, formed into a double column and followed. The artillery came next with its several different size guns drawn by laboring horses and mules. The powder boys rode upon the caissons. The three hundred supply wagons, new and Cincinnati built with white canvass cinched taut over hickory ribs, rolled next. A squad of Dragoons brought up the rear.
The scene was a familiar one to Grant; the soldiers in clean blue uniforms that would soon be sweaty and dust covered, regimental flags snapping in the breeze, rifle barrels and cannon barrels glinting in the sunlight, the creak of wheels on axles, shouts and curses and crack of whips by the teamsters, the rumble of horses hooves, and the muffled tread of marching infantrymen.
Grant rolled a cigarette and then extracted from a pocket a small silver tinderbox
. From it he took flint and steel and a short coil of fuse. Striking the flint upon the steel, he dropped a spark on the end of the fuse, which ignited instantly and began to glow. He pressed the red coal against his cigarette and drew it into life, and crushed the fire of the fuse out on the pommel of his saddle.
He sat smoking and watching the men and weapons drawing away in a serpentine column stretching for more than six miles across the sandy plain. The Dragoons located at the front of the army were already lost to view in the moist haze of the coastal lowlands. In four to five days, Twiggs could be upon the high inland plateau. In something over two weeks he could march his army to Mexico City, if Santa-Anna didn’t stop him. The Mexican general would most certainly try to do that.
Grant felt let down from remaining behind with Worth who was stranded at Veracruz until more wagons and draft animals arrived from the States. He thought the war wasn’t necessary, but even so he wanted to get in on the fighting.
“Well, Twiggs is on his way,” Chilton said. “Patterson leaves tomorrow and I’ll be with him.”
“I wish I was going with you,” Grant said. “I like to see new country.”
“Not me,” said Hazlitt. “I can wait for we’ve got it pretty good here in Veracruz.”
“What would you fellows like to do?” Chilton said.
“What’s most important, right next to a pretty woman?” Hazlitt said.
“Whiskey,“ Chilton said.
“Right,” said Hazlitt. He turned to Grant. “Want to join us?”
“Just for a sip,” Grant said. “Then I’ve got some letters to write”.
*
Scott led his staff officers and squad of escorting Dragoons at a grueling pace along the National Highway toward Jalapa. Like his men, the general carried his bedroll, food, and canteen of water tied on the saddle behind him. He wore a broad brimmed straw hat with his blue field uniform to keep off the rays of the blazing sun. In the shade of the hat, his face was creased with worry for his army.
Lee knew the general had a very good reason for his worry. After four days of silence from General Twiggs, a Dragoon riding at top speed had delivered a message from him. The general had encountered Santa-Anna’s army in a strongly fortified position in the mountain canyon south of Jalapa near the town of Cerro Gordo. In the message Twiggs informed Scott that he would attack Santa-Anna the following morning. That would have been the day just past and the battle could have already been fought, and lost. Upon reading the message Scott had spoken in a tone of frustration. “Where is Patterson? There’s no mention of Patterson and he should be there with Twiggs.” The thoughtful, experienced Patterson was senior to Twiggs and could assume command and bring caution to the two armies.
Scott at once directed his staff to prepare for a swift journey to Cerro Gordo. He issued orders for Worth to scrounge up what wagons and horses he could and follow as soon as possible. Worth’s division had been reduced in size to 1600 men because of illness and having to leave a company of 500 infantrymen to prevent Veracruz from being retaken by the enemy, and to protect the supply depot and the 1000 ill and wounded men in the hospital,
Within a few hours after receiving Twiggs’s message, Scott, riding a big, strong horse to carry his husky body, struck out with his entourage of staff and Dragoon escort for Cerro Gordo sitting nearly half a mile high in the mountains behind the coast. They left the sand plain behind and Scott picked up the pace with the iron-shod hooves of the men’s horses rattling on the road Cortez had built up through the mountains to Mexico City.
With a touch of spurs to his horse, Lee held position on Scott. He pondered the situation in which the general found himself. The success of a campaign depended mostly upon the skill and experience of the senior officer present when the enemy was met. Scott, not Twiggs, should have headed the army advancing inland to meet Santa-Anna. However Scott had matters to finish in Veracruz, a last flurry of correspondence with Washington and completion of the negotiations with the city merchants to continue to cash army drafts and supply provisions for his army. Also there were the agreements with the foreign consuls to finalize in which he would protect their possessions if they would use their influence to keep the city officials friendly to the Americans.
Lee thought it a good thing that he personally had left Veracruz, more specifically that he was now separated from Marie Dupois. For a married man, he was becoming much too fond of the lovely woman, though she had in a most delightful way forestalled the loneliness that always came upon him when gone for weeks and months from his wife and children.
*
It was near midnight as Scott and his attendant officers and escort rode along the narrow, dark road tunneling through the dense jungle. The Dragoons held their carbines ready across the saddles in front of them and the officers had their pistols drawn. According to Lee’s calculations, they were within five or six miles of the pass below Cerro Gordo where Twiggs had encountered Santa-Anna. Patterson would surely be with Twiggs by now. If Santa-Anna had defeated the two generals, he would have his army positioned to intercept the arrival of American reinforcements.
The Americans broke free of the forest on the brow of a hill and halted their jaded, sweat lathered horses. Below them in a valley at the base of a range of mountains that blanked out a goodly quarter of the night sky to the west in front of them, hundreds of bivouac fires floated in a lake of darkness. There was no crack of rifles, no boom of cannons. The only sounds were the chittering of the night insects and the distant call of a night bird.
Scott spoke from beside Lee. “Captain, what do you make of that down there?”
“I’d say there’s enough fires for the men of both Twiggs’s and Patterson’s divisions.” He was swiftly evaluating the possibilities of what it all might mean. “Sir, I don’t believe there was a fight. Everything looks too quiet, too orderly.”
“My thoughts exactly, and I don’t think Santa-Anna would think to stage something that elaborate for our benefit. But still we won’t ride down without seeing what’s the truth of it.”
Scott called out just loud enough for all to hear. “Make camp. Quietly now. Keep you guns and horses close. We’ll take a look at first light and see what’s what.”
Lee rode into a small clearing just off the road and dismounted. He dug a picket pen and tethering rope from a saddlebag and staked out his weary horse in a grassy place. Slacking his thirst from his canteen, he studied the lights below and thinking it all looked peaceful. However there was a problem, the hot breath of the coast on his face and the mosquitoes singing vampirial arias told him that Santa-Anna had penned the Americans in the vomito zone below the plateau. He spread his bedroll, and with his pistol and saber within easy reach, lay resting and eating a piece of hard bread.
CHAPTER 19
When first daylight defeated late night, Lee stood looking down from Scott’s camp on the height and onto the Plan Del Rio where the American army was encamped with its hundreds of canvas tents and covered wagons just visible in the dusk still lingering on the lower land. Part way up the grade of the National Highway to Lee a squad of Dragoons riding picket had halted and sat their horses and watching him. He raised his hand and waved and the rider in the lead lifted his hat in a return salute. The Dragoons wheeled their mounts and hastened down toward the camp.
*
The 7,000 men of Patterson’s and Twiggs’s combined divisions parted to allow General Scott and his staff officers and Dragoon escort to ride through them. The presence of Scott had spread swiftly through the camp and the men had gathered to welcome him. Several of the closest men reached out and petted Scott’s horse as it passed. One of Patterson’s young volunteers brushed the general’s leg with a reverent touch.
“By God, the real general has come to lead us,” a sergeant of Twiggs’s division shouted out in a stentorian voice.
“Scott! Scott! Scott!” A thunderous chanting began and swept the entire camp of soldiers. Shrill whistles joined the chant. The cheering ended
and a buzz of pleased comments of men to nearby comrades began. Scott doffed his big straw hat and waved it left and right to the men as he rode through them.
Lee knew full well the reason for the tumultuous welcome that had risen from every corner of the camp. Scott had taken Veracruz and Ulua by cannon and siege instead of by bloody musket and bayonet assault that Twiggs and Worth had advocated. In so doing he had spared the lives of hundreds of the men now looking up at him, and they knew it. The men acted as it the coming battle with Santa-Anna had been already won now that Scott was here.
Scott led on and as he drew near the cluster of the large tents of army headquarters, his attention left the upturned faces of the men and focused on Twiggs and Patterson standing and waiting for him to approach.
Lee tried to read Patterson and Twiggs thoughts about the welcome Scott had received, but their expressions showed only unreadable military. He reined his horse off to the right and swung down beside Beauregard standing alone and watching the goings-on.
“I don’t see any signs of the fight that Twiggs’s message to Scott said was ready to start,” Lee said. ”What’s the story?”
Beauregard shifted his feet uncomfortably. “Captain, I would prefer not to talk about the reason, if it’s all the same to you.”
“It’s not all the same to me, lieutenant,” Lee said firmly. There was something here that he needed to know. “Speak up.”