by F. M. Parker
Grant felt a powerful itch to go along. Without a conscious decision to act upon the urge, he reversed course and walked up to Garland still watching after the men marching off.
Grant saluted. “Colonel Garland, I request permission to go with Major Horton to San Antonio. I’m free for the next few hours from my duties.”
“Lieutenant, there’s enough of the men if there’s no fighting, and too many if they should all be killed,” Garland replied. He pivoted about and went off across the camp in the direction of the artillery company.
Grant stared after the colonel and thinking that hadn’t been much of an answer to his request. Did the colonel say no? Not directly, merely saying that the number of men was large enough. Well, since he hadn’t forbidden Grant going along, then he’d interpret the words as it suited him.
He saddled his horse and galloped up the Acapulco Road after the men now some half-mile away. The road ran on a raised causeway flanked by the waters of Lake Xochimilco on the right and on the left the Pedregal, an ancient lava field about five miles wide of volcanic rock and scoria broken into every possible form of jagged, sharp ridges and deep fissures. Both the lake and the Pedregal would be quite difficult for men to cross, and most certainly impassable for cavalry or artillery.
Grant overtook the Americans and worked his steed up through the marching infantry to ride beside Major Horton. Grant knew Horton from having fought beside him when both were with General Taylor on the Rio Grande, and liked the fellow.
Horton lifted his hand in greeting to Grant. “Maybe we’ll get to see a little fighting after all these weeks of just drilling, or sitting on our butts,” he said with a look of anticipation.
“Yes, sir. It’s bound to happen soon now.”
They marched along the causeway and a few minutes later San Antonio came into clear view ahead. From maps he had acquired in his foraging, Grant knew that the road continued straight ahead to Churubusco and onward to the capital.
Horton halted his Dragoons a few hundred yards from San Antonio, and Branham’s infantry came to a stop behind them. Sitting side by side, Horton and Grant lifted their glasses. San Antonio was a great feudal hacienda lying astride the road and standing on flat land which was only a little above the water level of Lake Xochimico. It consisted of several solidly built stone buildings on about three acres of ground with everything surrounded by a strong wall made of large pieces of lava rock. The two main buildings were two stories and the remainder single story. Tall pepper trees and silver leafed poplars shaded most every building.
The hacienda had been built as a major defense to block the Acapulco Road against invaders, and as Grant studied it though his glasses, judged it had been well constructed. A large Mexican flag floated from the top of the main building. He saw enemy riflemen lining the walls and the parapets on top of the two, long main buildings. The snouts of many cannon were visible pointing along the road toward the Americans.
Smoke jetted out from the top of the walls of the hacienda as heavy artillery began to fire. The first ball struck Horton full in the chest, crushing his ribs and breaking his spine. He was lifted from the saddle, carried backward off the horse, and dropped on the ground in two pieces, the body divided just below the rib cage. More solid shot came shrieking at the Americans and another seven men fell, and as many horses.
With Horton dead, the Dragoons were without an officer. Grant spun his horse to face them and shouted to reverse course. Captain Branham yelled at his foot soldiers. The full force of Americans, the Dragoons hard on the heels of the foot soldiers, beat a hasty retreat with cannon balls bouncing along the road after them and mangling the legs of men and horses and dropping them onto the roadway. Grant knew the Mexicans had pre-aimed their guns on the road and that was responsible for so much damage being done so quickly to the Americans. If the Mexican gunners had been wiser and used exploding canisters or grapeshot instead of solid shot, they could have decimated their enemy. As for poor Horton, he had wanted a fight and a little excitement. He had found a gruesome death instead. A man should be careful what he wished for.
Branham halted the Americans when out of cannon range and ordered men to bring back the wounded and dead. The chosen men stacked their arms. One of them tied a piece of white cloth to a limb he broke from a bush growing beside the road. Then holding the flag high and hoping the Mexicans didn’t fire upon them, the men went warily along the causeway. The Mexicans held their fire.
Grant along with the three engineers and the line officers raised their glasses to complete their inspection of the heavily defended hacienda. He knew that with the lava field on one side and the lake waters on the opposite, San Antonio could not be flanked. If it were to be taken, it would have to be done by frontal assault. Worse yet, with no space for cavalry to maneuver, the attack would have to be made by infantry alone, and their movement must be along a narrow, level causeway with every inch covered by Mexican artillery and musket fire. He believed the hacienda should be by-passed and another route to the city found.
CHAPTER 32
The Pedregal lay in front of Lee as a contorted black sea with its waves of frozen lava cracked and shattered into sword sharp rock slabs, and crevasses twice as deep as the height of a tall man. The strong odor of volcanic ash riding on the west wind came to him. From his viewpoint the fearsome lava flow seemed impassable to man and weapons. But he must be certain of that.
Captain Branham and Lieutenant Grant had returned from probing the defenses of San Antonio and reported the strength of the fortress hacienda and the impossibility of turning it because of Lake Xochimilco and the Pedregal. Lee had requested Scott to allow him to search for a route across the southern end of the lava to the San Angel Road. If he could find a way, they could strike San Antonio by surprise from the rear.
He called out to the lieutenant commanding the escort of infantry and led slowly onto the lava. In the distance some two miles away, the volcanic hill Zacatepec rose about three hundred feet above the lava. The hill would be his first objective. From its top, he should be able to see to the far side of the lava field.
By avoiding the gaping fissures too wide to jump, and circling around the worst of the jagged mounds of rock, the men picked a way across the lava. Now and again a slab slid under a foot and threw a man, or a sharp edge tripped him and he fell. The men cursed the lava. Still Lee saw that infantrymen on foot and carrying hand weapons could navigate the Pedregal.
The lava field rose gradually to the base of Zacatepec and there Lee stopped with his escort. The hill was cone shaped, made of volcanic cinders and larger chunks of hardened lava, and quite steep. He directed the escort to wait for him, and set out to climb the hill.
The going was tortuous with the loose cinders sliding away from beneath his boots. At times he had to bend forward and make his way up by using both hands and feet. The exertion was worthwhile for as he rose higher, more and more of the lava flow came into view. He halted to catch his breath and look around.
A bullet came at Lee with a savage whine, landing with a splatter of lead against a rock by his feet. A second ball struck and glanced away with a whirring sound. Another sang by close to his ear. He ducked and scrambled to the side around the hill and out of the line of fire. Below him, his men leveled their muskets and returned the gunfire of the Mexicans who had seemed to appear magically out of the rocks a couple of hundred yards farther west.
Lee hurried to the top of the hill. He hadn’t expected the presence of the Mexicans so far out on the lava. From the high point he saw them moving away west across the lava to escape the American musket fire. Some one and one-half miles farther away, the San Angel Road was in sight. To his dismay, infantry and artillery were visible moving south from the direction of the capital. Wily Santa-Anna had anticipated Scott’s effort to turn San Antonio by shifting his army west and was staying one step ahead by marching part of his army to block the action.
Lee tracked the movement of men and weapons and determined the
enemy was establishing a defensive position beyond the lava field on a hill between the villages of San Geronimo to the north and Contreras on the south. He checked his map and saw the name of the hill was Padierna. From what he could see, the hill stood alone and exposed and could possibly be taken. Scott must be quickly made aware of the situation and the enemy struck before they became strongly entrenched.
Lee swung his glass back to follow the Mexicans retreating before the fire of his escort, and to examine the lava they crossed. One thing was obvious, if Mexican soldiers could come so deeply into the lava and move so easily over it, then with work to fill in the crevices and flatten the lava piles, the Pedregal could be crossed not only with men but also artillery. He hurried down from the hill.
*
“Since the Mexican infantrymen can make their way over the lava from the San Angel Road to Zacatepec and we can cross from the Acapulco Road to the same hill, then we can cross the entire width of it,” Lee said in winding up his report of exploring the Pedregal and observing the hill near Contreras being fortified by the Mexicans.
Upon Lee’s return to headquarters, Scott had called a council of war with the generals of his four divisions and his staff officers. Twiggs was present due to Scott having called his division to San Augustin to consolidate the army.
“I’m certain that I can build a road suitable for moving both men and artillery,” Lee added.
“Artillery?” Scott said, liking what he heard.
“Yes, sir,” Lee replied. “With enough men, I can get it built before Santa-Anna can become too strongly entrenched in his new position near Contreras.” Scott’s keen military mind had immediately recognized the several possibilities that artillery meant as to how Santa-Anna could be assaulted. Lee knew Scott’s tactics had been flawless so far, and on a personal basis, he liked the old general ever more as he had led the army into the mountains of the enemy.
“Then do it,” Scott said with a warrior’s gleam in his eyes. “How many men do you need?”
“Five hundred added to my engineers.”
“You’ll have them,” Scott said. “Now some information that I’ve received from Dominguez of our Mexican Spy Company that agrees with the major’s findings. He has reported that Santa-Anna is moving a major part of his army to the west. And further he has brought two hundred or so of our Irish deserters with him. Catch those bastard deserters if you can.”
Scott focused on his generals. “As Major Lee said, the time to strike an enemy is before he erects his fortifications. Our objective is to drive up both the Acapulco Road and San Angel Road and occupy Tacubaya.” He touched the location of the town on the map spread before them. “That will be out staging area for the final drive to crush the defenses of the Mexican Capital.” He pressed the palm of his hand down on the map to cover the capital. “Unless you see a flaw in my reasoning, this is how we shall proceed.”
Scott paused, and when no voice was raised, spoke with his voice quickening. “General Pillow, turn five hundred of your infantry into road builders for a time and place them at the disposal of Major Lee. Use the rest of your division to protect the workers.”
“General Twiggs, follow General Pillow and his road builders and stand ready to assist them should they be attacked in strength. General Worth, place your division to threaten San Antonio and hold its defenders in place and prevent them from reinforcing the enemy near Contreras. When that fortification is taken, then move against San Antonio. General Quitman, you are to remain here at San Augustin and guard our rear. Now if there’s discussion needed about these movements, let’s hear it, and that includes anything the staff officers wish to say.”
Silence held total sway in the war room and Lee knew why; the strategy seemed sound from the information available. And further, the officers saw the fire in Scott’s flashing eyes and knew this wasn’t a time to discuss minor tactics for they would depend upon what happened in the field once the action began.
“Excellent. You all are released to perform your duties.”
*
Lee and his road builders hammered and hand-laid slabs of lava to build a narrow roadbed over the Pedregal. Two rifle companies were out in advance of the road builders, and the horse drawn artillery followed close behind them. The ambulance wagons that would haul wounded men to the hospital at San Augustin came last. By early afternoon, and driving a picket line of Mexican riflemen before them, the Americans reached the edge of the lava field. They halted on the border of a deep ravine full of swiftly running water lying a thousand yards from the enemy entrenchments on Padierna.
The batteries of artillery were brought up and Lee chose sites for them sheltered as much as possible from the cannons on the hill. The gunners began to pepper the Mexican position, throwing shells up at the entrenchments on the hillside, and receiving plunging fire from the big Mexican guns in return. The dueling was brisk, the Americans getting the worst of it with cannon balls pounding the lava rock and sending slivers of lead and rock fragments flying to cut and pierce the gunners.
Lee went to stand by the gun where Preston Johnston was one of the powder boys. Preston was the fourteen-year-old nephew of Lee’s friend Joe Johnston, who had recovered from the wounds received at Cerro Gordo and now was an acting lieutenant colonel of a regiment. Preston, a brown-headed blue-eyed boy, had joined the army to come to Mexico with the uncle he idolized.
As Lee stood watching the bombardment, a Mexican solid ball struck Preston, knocking him down by his gun and ripping off his left leg just above the knee. Bright red blood spurted in great pulses from the torn, stub end of the leg.
Lee sprang to Preston and knelt by his side. Equally quick was the gunnery sergeant to come to help.
“Goddamn! Goddamn!” cursed the sergeant as he ripped off his neckerchief and speedily tied it around the stump of the severed leg.
Lee grabbed up a short piece of stick from a cannon ball shattered bush and twisted the cloth into a tight tourniquet to stop the spurting blood.
“Come here!” Lee shouted at two large infantrymen, part of the squad guarding the battery. “Carry him fast as you can to the ambulances,” Lee ordered. The wagons were out of cannon range some quarter-mile back on the lava.
The men gathered up the limp and unconscious boy and hastened away. The last Lee saw of Preston was his pasty face, the tan from the sun gone with the draining away of his blood.
“Goddamn Mexicans,” the sergeant yelled above the howling of the cannon to his men. “Give them hell, boys. I think they’ve killed poor Preston.”
Lee thought the same thing for the wound was most grave. Joe would be heartbroken for Preston was his favorite nephew, and further Joe would feel responsible for having permitted the boy to join the army.
Lee went again to examine the ravine with its fast flowing water, and knew it would be slaughter to try to cross it in a frontal assault on the hill beyond, also it was obvious they were out-gunned by the heavier Mexican artillery and couldn’t remain here much longer under the deadly pounding. He looked at the San Angel Road and saw a flood of men and weapons coming from the direction of the capital. Santa-Anna was bringing in reinforcements. Some other way had to be found to get at the Mexicans before they became too strong to rout.
As Lee considered the situation growing ever more hazardous, an aid of General Pillow came up and called out above the boom of the cannons. “Major Lee, General Pillow wants to see you immediately at the rear.”
Lee followed the lieutenant to General Pillow sitting on a mound of lava in front of his tent. He was studying one of the maps that Lee had prepared.
Pillow spoke, ”Major, I’m considering sending two brigades under Riley and Cadwalader to turn the enemy’s left flank by veering off to the right through the edge of the lava and westward across the San Angel Road. That would cut the men at Contreras off from retreat to Mexico City and give us a better place from which to launch an assault on his fortifications. What are your thoughts on this?”
&nb
sp; “I like the plan, sir. Lieutenants McClellan and Tower can scout a route for them. The action should begin as soon as possible for our artillery and infantrymen up front are taking a heavy beating.”
“Then we shall do it,” Pillow said. “Report our plans to General Scott.”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER 33
Lee met Scott, with an escort of infantrymen and troopers, at the base of Zacatepec. The sound of the dueling artillery had brought the general from San Augustin and onto the lava. Lee gave his report of the situation and Pillow’s plan for action. The general climbed a few yards up the side of the hill so as to be able to see over the ridges of lava and turned his field glasses onto the fortified hill near Contreras and the San Angel Road. After a few minutes he came down to Lee.
“I think it’s the best we can do under the current circumstances. Return to General Pillow and inform him that I agree with his proposed action to take the Mexican fortification at Contreras. As always, watch what is happening, advise the general, and report developments to me so that I can give direction for co-operation of the other units.
*
Lee returned to Pillow’s headquarters and informed the general of Scott’s approval of their plans and to proceed with action against the Contreras fortification. In turn he was told that Persifor Smith’s brigade of Twiggs division had been sent forward to join with Riley and Cadwalader.
Lee left Pillow, and climbing a high mound of lava, turned his field glasses to the northwest at the Americans, numbering some three thousand, west of San Angel Road. The brigades were in and around the small Indian village of San Geronimo one-half mile north of the fortified hill. The approach to the hill was across a ravine and up through orchards, standing corn and thick underbrush. Then as Lee rotated his glasses to look to the north toward Mexico City, his pulse rose to a rapid beat for the Americans were in growing danger from an army of Mexican infantry and cavalry mustering less than a mile distant on high ground. He estimated the enemy force at something near ten thousand men. The small force of Americans was caught between that strong enemy and the four thousand or more soldiers on Padierna.