by F. M. Parker
“I’ll be ready.” Scott’s senior general was making an ass out of himself. His order of occupation for Puebla had allowed men who had stabbed and robbed Americans to be dismissed by the Mexican courts. He had continued his nervous, unsettling habit of calling his men to arms. Once on unsubstantiated rumors, he had kept the men in ranks all day with their weapons, and haversacks holding three days rations of food. The men were calling the false alarms “Worth’s Scarecrows”. He had issued a circular accusing the Mexicans of plotting to poison his troops, claiming they had inherited from the Spanish the habit of cowards to poison men whom they wouldn’t fight. The Puebla officials and the priests complained strenuously to Scott, pointing out that they were doing everything that had agreed to. Scott sent Worth a letter of reprimand. Worth screamed he was being unfairly condemned and demanded a court of enquiry. Scott selected Twiggs, Quitman, and Persifor Smith for the court. They found Worth’s terms of occupation harmful to public service, and the poison plot circular to be highly improper and the reprimand justified. To which Worth complained even louder and wrote Washington demanding they clear his name. That’s where the matter stood.
“What’s the plan for the rest of the army?” Lee said. “Tactically it’s in a bad situation, being divided into parts as it is at Veracruz, Jalapa, Perote, and Puebla. Such long distances separate them that one part can’t come to help another in the event of an attack.”
“He’s going to pull them together at Puebla. Those at Veracruz will remain there to protect the main stores depot and keep the port open for us.”
CHAPTER 27
“The army keeps getting smaller day by day,” said Chilton. “We’ve had a hundred and thirty men desert since we’ve been in Puebla, and that’s in less than a month.”
“That’s on top of the three hundred that deserted at Jalapa,” Hazlitt said. “That’s what happens if you don’t pay your men. But besides the money, if we knew the religion of the deserters, we’d probably find that most are Irish Catholics. Isn’t that what we found up north, Sam?”
“From what we knew about their religion, that’s the way it seemed,” Grant replied. “Some Catholic men think were going to tear down all the Catholic Temples, kill the priests, and make the country Protestant. That’s what the Mexican newspapers keep drumming into their heads.”
Grant and the other two lieutenants had returned a short time before from a successful foraging expedition and were at the Aztec Club located in a large building near the Plaza. The Americans had started the club since they had arrived in the city. He felt genuine pleasure at being here with his comrades, drinking a beer, and drawing on a smooth cigar.
Grant was growing to like the boyish Chilton. He was a brave fighter and was learning quickly how to lead men. Perhaps he was overly concerned about their safety, not fully considering a soldier’s life was naturally dangerous.
“General Scott’s here!” a cry sounded from the door.
“About damn time,” said Hazlitt and rising to his feet. “Let’s go meet the general.”
“Right,” said Chilton.
Grant followed the others outside.
*
Scott and his retinue of staff officers and escort of a troop of Dragoons had covered the ninety miles from Jalapa to Puebla in two and one half days. They made the journey without incident. Just inside the gate of the city, he sent McClellan ahead to inform Generals Worth and Quitman of his arrival. As McClellan dashed off, Scott continued on at a leisurely pace and commenting upon the fine buildings and the colorful clothing of the people. Lee thought Puebla a grand city, making Veracruz and Jalapa seem but small villages in comparison.
Reaching the plaza they found soldiers gathering by the hundreds. Pueblans were there in an even larger number and wanting to see the commander of all the American soldiers. The troopers quickly formed a ring to hold the civilians away from Scott. The people gawked up at the big, blue uniformed general sitting upon the big gray horse, while he with an expression of amusement, looked out over the townsfolk and his soldiers. This was a change from the past days when he had been silent and withdrawn, anxious about the safety of his men and dreading the encounter with Worth.
General Quitman came pushing through the Dragoons. He saluted the general. “Welcome, general, it’s good to see you here.”
“Thank you. Where’s General Worth?”
“At headquarters,” Quitman said and not liking the message.
Lee was saddened by Worth’s absence for it showed disrespect for his commander and chief. The rift between the two men could not but hurt the fighting ability of the army.
Scott’s jaws clenched as if to say, so that’s the way he’s going to play it. His face relaxed and he spoke to Quitman. “General, have one of your people show Colonel Hitchcock the way to the Governors Palace.”
He turned to Hitchcock. “Colonel, ride to the governor and ask him to call on me at headquarters later today for we have important matters to discuss. Impress upon him that I want to see him and not a subordinate.” Scott was getting straight to the matter of who ruled Puebla.
“Now, General Quitman, lead the way to headquarters.”
Quitman called out to the major of Dragoons. “Make a way for us through them.” He pointed at the compact mass of soldiers and civilians who had gathered to view Scott.
The major rolled his spurs along his horse’s flank and set it prancing and its iron-shod hooves pounding a tattoo on the cobblestones. The mass of people gave way reluctantly from in front of the beast. Scott and his entourage fell into the trooper’s wake.
“This is it,” Quitman said to Scott as he halted the group in front of a large brick building with a sign over the main entrance identifying it as “American Army Headquarters”.
“The governor provided the building for our use. General Worth’s office is at the end of the hall.”
Scott stared at the sign for a long minute, detesting the task that lay before him. Finally he pivoted around to the men with him.
“General Quitman, you may go on about your duties.”
“Yes, sir,” Quitman said and his face showing relief. He saluted and walked away.
Scott spoke to his staff officers. “Gentlemen, I will see General Worth alone. You are released to find quarters for yourself.”
Without waiting for an acknowledgement or salute, Scott faced away. He dismounted. With a heavy step, he went into the building.
Lee was as glad as Quitman had been not to be a witness to the meeting between Scott and Worth. He felt deeply saddened by the conflict between the two generals. He laid the blame on Worth who seemed to act from shallow thinking and baseless resentment of Scott’s intentions.
*
In the wagon park the Americans had set up just outside the walls of Puebla, Grant had his teamsters working diligently to harness the hundreds of horses and mules and hook them to the wagons. He watched the men, listened to them curse the stubborn animals, and waited for the Texas Rangers to appear. The yellow ball of the sun was already above the horizon and he wanted to be off on his foraging to Toluca a town some thirty miles away to the northwest.
He had never been as busy as during the past two weeks, not even enough time to go to the Aztec Club and catch up on the latest news and gossip. General Scott had ordered a supply depot be established in preparation for the advance on Mexico City, and every army quartermaster was working full time to fill it with foodstuffs for the men and grain for the thousands of horses and mules. In further preparation for the march upon Mexico capital, Scott now had his entire army, except for the garrison at Veracruz, concentrated at Puebla. General Twiggs had marched in with his division, and the five hundred man garrison from Perote that he had been ordered to pick up along the way. All the camp followers had trailed close behind Twiggs.
For escort Grant would have his Fourth Infantry Regiment, a hundred Dragoons, and a company of some fifty Texas Rangers. Colonel Hays had arrived the day before with five companies of Rang
ers, 285 men. Grant believed their presence here was due to his suggestion to Lee to have Scott request them from Governor Henderson. The Rangers had been assigned to escort the foragers of the various brigades. The large escort would be needed for as the army had advanced closer to the Mexican capital, the guerrilla bands had become larger in size, numbering in the hundreds, and more aggressive in their attacks on the American wagon trains.
As Grant watched the city gate, a group of Rangers came out and wheeled to come in his direction. The leader, a rawboned six-footer with a freckled face and red hair brought his band to a stop in front of Grant and dismounted.
“Well, Sam, we meet again,” he said and smiled with pleasure.
“Tom Cavallin, it’s good to see you.” Grant said.
The Rangers were wild looking riders with long, raggedy beards. They were clad in a hodgepodge of leather boots, flannel shirts, cottons trousers and hats or caps. No two were dressed alike except for their shirts that were either blue or red. The Rangers were made up of men with a variety of backgrounds and a wide range of education. Some of them had little or no formal education while others were doctors or lawyers or businessmen who had put their professions on hold to join the renowned group of men to fight in Mexico. Each was armed with a short-barreled carbine in a scabbard under his right leg, a bowie knife, one or two cap and ball pistols, and a pair of Paterson Colts, .36-caliber and each holding five shots. The Paterson guns were worn in holsters strapped to the men’s waists, while the holsters for the cap and balls were fastened to the saddles. Grant had fought with Cavallin and his band of rangers at Monterrey and on foraging expedition, some as long as a hundred and fifty miles. He knew first hand that this band of men was the toughest of fighters. Every one of them hated the Mexicans. Many of them had lost a relative at the Mexican massacre of the Americans at the Alamo or Goliad. Cavallin had lost an uncle and an older brother at Goliad. Grant never knew of a Ranger taking a prisoner, unless ordered to do so for questioning.
“Good to see you too,” Cavallin said. “In fact I asked to be assigned to escort you.”
“I’m glad that you did. But why’re you here? I’d think Taylor would’ve kept you experienced Rangers for his work and the governor would’ve sent a new company.”
“Taylor knows you fellows down here are the ones that’ll win this war. So he’s settled down at Monterrey and just waiting for you to get the job done. And besides, he’s going to run for president and is saving his strength for that. Wouldn’t it be something for our old general to become president?”
“He just might get it,” Grant said. “Let me introduce these two men who’ll be with us. This is Bob Hazlitt, he’s boss of the infantry. This other one is Mat Chilton boss of the Dragoons. Meet Tom Cavallin Lieutenant of Rangers.”
“Glad to meet both of you,” Cavallin said.
Hazlitt and Chilton stepped up and shook Cavallin’s hand, and spoke their greeting.
“Let’s decide how we’re going to do this,” Grant said.
The officers settled upon a plan and, with the road sufficiently wide, the wagons rolled two abreast. Grant thought their arrangement was as good as could be made. Half the infantry marched at the front of the wagon trains and half at the rear. Ten Dragoons were riding as wide flankers with the rest riding close in at intervals along the length of the train. Tom would keep his Rangers together and take them wherever he thought the danger spot might be depending upon the terrain the train was passing through. Even rolling double file, the wagon train would stretch for nearly two miles and would be a tempting target for a guerrilla band.
Grant stopped the train to buy provisions at the big ranchos. By nightfall, they had filled about forty of his two hundred and eighty wagons. They made camp in a flat, grassy meadow beside the road. The wagons were positioned in a square with an open center. The horses were watered and fed grain and corralled in the open space surrounded by the wagons. Mounted patrols began to circle the train, and stationary sentries were posted.
On the second day, the wagon train drew close to Toluca nicely situated on a piece of tableland surrounded by mountains. As Grant with Cavallin, Chilton, and Hazlitt rode down to the Rio Xopanae that lay on the near side of the town, they saw a group of young women bathing in the clear mountain water. The girls smiled shyly at the Americans, and went on swimming with much ease and grace.
“One or two of them are pretty,” Cavallin said to Grant.
“Most of them are,” Grant replied.
“You’ve been away from home too long.”
“True enough, but even so, I see some lovely girls there.”
The Americans crossed on a ford below the girls and continued on to the town. Grant thought the town quite nice with several handsome buildings, and a church made of white free-stone with a slender white steeple contrasting with the fine cornices and turrets that were tipped with red.
Town officials had observed the approach of the wagon train and had come with a score of businessmen to the plaza. Grant introduced himself to the Alcalde, Pedro Calderon, and explained he was there to buy provisions. The mood of the Mexicans improved dramatically at that news. Grant told them what items he wanted, then brought out his moneybox. By evening his wagons were full. As he prepared to leave, Calderon came to him.
“Senor Grant, we appreciate your fairness with us in buying our goods. I know that with your men and weapons you could have taken what you wanted and paid nothing. As a token of our thanks, please come with your officers to my hacienda for food and drink and dancing.”
“With pleasure,” Grant replied.
*
The food was delicious, the wine fine, and Grant was enjoying one of Calderon’s cigars. The rhythm of the music meant little to his tone-deaf ear. He sat near the dance floor in the big patio of Calderon’s hacienda, a striking structure located beside the Rio Xopanae flowing down from a range of the Sierra Madre Mountains that he could see outlined against the star-studded sky to the west.
On the dance floor illuminated by several glass lamps placed in delicate iron holders on the patio perimeter wall, Cavallin, Chilton, Hazlitt, and twenty or so young Mexican men swung and promenaded with pretty senoritas. The music was that of a violin, delightfully played by a little hump-backed dwarf seated in a chair. The violin was nearly as large as the dwarf, however that harmed his playing not at all, and with his sharp black eyes twinkling in the lamp light, he sawed out quadrilles and waltzes and break-downs with wonderful ease.
The young women were dressed in gaily colored full-length dresses trimmed with lace, pendants about their slender necks, and bracelets and earrings made of silver or gold. Their heeled slippers beat out a lively tattoo on the wooden floor as they spun about with their partners.
The Mexican gallants wore white or black jackets with black pants with buttons down the sides. Around their waists were tied sashes of blue or black. Their hats were high crowned with silver bands. Grant saw the men shone brightly compared with the travel stained Americans.
At tables surrounding the dance floor on all sides were seated older men and women and the chaperones of some of the girls. The people seemed much interested in the Americans merrily swinging their young women.
Grant knew the steps of various dances, but because of his tone-deafness the rhythm of music escaped him and he was awkward on the floor. Still the beauty of one particular girl that had been giving him bright-eyed looks over the top of her tiny fan drew him. She was small and slender with brown hair and gray eyes and a heart-shaped face. Her skin was light in color indicating her Spanish ancestry had been preserved down through the generations residing in Mexico. Her mouth was of a generous size and seemed almost always to be curved up in a smile. As their eyes touched again he felt his courage building to ask her for a dance. The quadrilles and the break-downs were fairly fast and he had doubt about handling one of them. The waltzes, however, were slower with more of a gliding step and some spinning. When the music began for one, he came to his feet
and marched across the floor and held out his hand to the girl. She placed her soft hand into his and came close with a heart-stopping smile. Bravery had been rewarded. Now to carry it off without making a fool of himself.
He followed the beat of the music as best he could. The girl was a willing partner and covered nicely when he missed a step. Now and again he felt the gentle guiding pressure of her hand on his shoulder to speed his step or slow it down to bring him back to the rhythm of the music. She smiled and he smiled, both recognizing what she was doing. A second waltz followed the first and Grant had another two minutes of holding the pretty, smiling girl in his arms.
The waltz ended and the musician struck up a fast stepping piece and Grant had to surrender the girl. He felt sad about his lack of skill and dejected by the loss of the girl as he walked back to his seat on the sidelines.
Finally the dwarf ceased to play and tenderly put his violin away in a much-worn case. Everyone came to their feet and gave the little man a loud round of applause for his music. Grant thanked the girl who had danced with him. She offered her hand, which he was pleased to take and gently hold it for a few seconds before propriety forced him to release it. The other Americans gave the girls broad smiles and their thanks, which were returned in equal measure. Grant thought the girls found as much sadness in the parting as did the Americans. He joined with his comrades and they went to Calderon and thanked him for the grand evening.
CHAPTER 28
A pistol fired near mid-length of the long wagon train. A moment later, the bang of hundreds of carbines and pistols erupted. To Grant riding in the lead of the train with Chilton and Hazlitt, the volume of gunfire meant a strong force was attacking the train. The wagons were moving across an open sweep of grassland with no obvious hiding place for guerrillas for at least two miles on all directions so how had they struck without the flanking troopers sounding an earlier alarm?