by F. M. Parker
Lee peered out a rear door of the Molino and watched the day break clear, bright, and silent. The air, warm and growing warmer, lay dead on the land. A small flock of gray, dove-size birds sat in one of the big cypress trees beyond the thick stone wall and looked at Lee.
The signal gun broke the stillness and the American batteries opened fire. For two hours they shook the ground and rattled the walls of the Molino as the hurled solid shot and exploding shell up at the Castle and the fortifications on the hillsides. Then all guns ceased their growling. An eerie silence held for a minute. Then the guns began to roar again, hurling canister, shells, and grape into the park of cypress trees to try and clear it of the enemy for Pillow’s advance.
Lee stood with Pillow just inside the Molino as the shells devastated the huge, ancient cypresses, blasting limbs free and sending them flying, bursting tree trunks, plowing the ground.
Pillow spoke in a low voice that Lee barely caught through the boom of cannon. “We shall be defeated.”
Lee didn’t like hearing such words from a general. Should a commanding officer think such thoughts, he most surely keep them to himself.
“It’s time,” Lee said and looking at his watch. As he spoke, the American cannons fell quiet.
“I recommend we advance at the double,” Lee said.
Giving no sign he heard Lee, Pillow shouted out to his bugler standing close by. The man raised his bright silver instrument and blew the call to advance.
The battalion of stormers with bayonets fixed burst from the center of the Molino. Yelling shrill cries the men ran toward the cypress trees in the park. The remainder of Pillow’s division poured from other openings in the Molino and raced after their comrades. A ragged volley of musket fire met them from among the battered trees. Half a score men fell. The rest ran on, scrambled over the wall, and pushed in among the ancient trees. The Mexicans gave way grudgingly and shooting to the rear as they went.
Lee stayed by Pillow’s side as they pushed though the wide cypress grove and struck the hill, where all the trees had been cut by the Mexicans, and started to climb. Above them the men of the division were swiftly mounting the slope, driving before them hundreds of Mexicans that had been chased from the cypress grove. Halfway up the hill was the redoubt to which the Mexicans were retreating. Above that another hundred yards was the great retaining wall of the Castle terrace. Lee cast a look to the right where some quarter mile away, Clarke’s brigade of Worth’s division were in sight advancing up the lower slope of the boulder strewn hill.
Shooting from the redoubt and the terrace and over the heads of their fellow soldiers, the Mexicans rained a murderous fire of canister and grapeshot down on the Americans. Men fell wounded and dead by the droves among the rocks and tree stumps. The men threw themselves down on the ground to get out of the hail of bullets, and returned the fire as best they could from a prone position. This went on for minute after minute, and then Lee saw Joe Johnston leap up into the face of the intense fire and gave a wild yell. His men surged to their feet behind him and he led them in a run up the hill. They struck the redoubt and after a minute of fierce fighting, swept over the defenders and chased the surviving enemy upward toward the tall retaining wall at the base of the Castle.
The Americans were now close and fully exposed to the enemy guns on top of the wall and the Mexicans let go with a furious hail of grapeshot and musket balls. Many Americans were knocked off their feet. The remaining Americans dropped to the ground and sought shelter behind rocks and tree stumps. From there they fired up at the foe on the high ground.
A packet of Mexican grapeshot struck the rocks close by Lee and Pillow. Pillow’s feet were blown from under him and he cried out as he fell to the ground.
Lee felt a tug on his upper right arm, followed instantly by a sharp slash of pain. He looked at the torn tunic and the blood that showed. The wound would soon need a bandage. First the general had to be gotten to safety. He jumped to Pillow and scooped him up and slung him over a shoulder. Bent low, Lee hustled them both into shelter behind a boulder.
Pillow stifled his cries of pain and looked at his right foot where the boot had been torn away at the ankle and blood was flowing. Lee knelt beside him and taking his neckerchief, fastened a tourniquet above the wound.
Pillow motioned his orderly to him. “Go to General Worth and tell him we are in a bad way and need his men to press hard ahead. Make great haste or it’ll be too late.”
The Americans gunners that had been firing over the heads of their advancing comrades could no longer do so safely and ceased their cannonading. At that, a group of men leapt to their feet and ran forward and jammed up against the base of the retaining wall and under the parapet. Crouched low and pressed tightly to the stone wall, they were safe for the moment. A few feet above their heads the Mexican muskets and cannons cast a sheet of flame as they fired at the Americans farther down the hill.
Lee looked for the scaling ladders that should have been close behind the storming party. His heart began to thump angrily. Somebody had made a costly mistake. There were no ladders in sight.
Time passed, five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes with the Mexicans pouring fire down upon the Americans and taking a heavy toll.
Clark’s brigade was closer now and Lee saw Pickett and Longstreet out in front, with Longstreet carrying the regimental banner. He was hit by a bullet and fell. He handed the banner up to Pickett, who seized it and led on.
Lee looked again for the scaling ladders and saw they were being brought at a swift pace. Beauregard had seen the problem and was in among the company of ladder bearers shouting and cursing them and whipping the laggards with the flat of his sword.
The Mexicans on the retaining wall, realizing the significance of the ladders, turn their guns on the ladder bearers. Men fell and three ladders were lost. Beauregard drove the crew onward up the hill through the zipping bullets and in under the lip of the retaining wall.
Two ladders were quickly placed at a slant against the wall. The boldest Americans leapt upon them and climbed swiftly upward. Mexicans blew them off the ladder with muskets balls, and threw the ladders down.
Clarke’s men came running in from the right and merged with Pillow’s in a brilliant mix of regimental flags. Now with hundreds of willing hands more ladders were speedily set side by side upon the wall and men swarmed up them. The Mexicans increased their fire and mowed down the wave of Americans as they came over the top of the wall. Then there were enough ladders set that fifty Americans could climb abreast. Men were shot and bayoneted and fell, but men came over the wall faster than the Mexican could kill them.
The Mexicans fell back as the number of Americans inside the wall swelled. With a loud shout of triumph and shooting and yielding their bayonets with a savage fury upon the defenders, the Americans swept into the castle. To the right, other Americans broke through the main gate and into the castle.
Some Mexicans fought strongly, the cadets among the bravest. Hundreds of others began to flee the castle to the west. Some soldiers running in wild fright and cut off from escape leapt over the walls regardless of its height. The fighting died and the castle belonged to the Americans.
Pickett and two of Pillow’s volunteers climbed to the top of the Castle, jerked down the tri-color Mexican flag, and hoisted Old Glory to the top of the flagpole. A mighty shout of victory rolled out from the hilltop. It was quickly picked up and added to by Worth’s men and Quitman’s men into a roaring ocean of American voices.
Pillow listened until the shouting ended and then spoke to Lee. “Major, it’s time we reported to General Scott that Chapultepec Castle has been taken.”
Lee looked to the east. The rising of the flag was the signal for the hanging of thirty of the San Patricio Battalion. The condemned men and their executioners were visible skylined on the crown of a hill near the Church of San Angel. Colonel Harney a strict disciplinarian was directing the hangings. Ten of the condemned men with their hands tied behind t
heir backs and with nooses around their necks stood upon mule carts. The ends of the ten ropes were fastened in a row overhead to a gibbet made of a long pole supported at both ends by strong posts.
Lee heard a roll of drums, Harney’s arm rose and fell, and the mules were whacked on the rump and lurched forward dragging the carts out from under the men’s feet. The men hung dangling, choking, and kicking. Three long minutes passed, the limp bodies were taken down and another ten men were placed upon the carts. The mules went forward and left the men hanging. And yet another ten men were lifted upon the carts and hung. The executions ended. The lashing and branding began of those men spared being hung, each receiving fifty lashes and the letter D branded on their cheeks, and the grim job of digging the graves of those hanged. Lee was much saddened by such severe punishment. Still he couldn’t find fault with Scott for discipline must be enforced or an army couldn’t be held together and commanded.
CHAPTER 41
Grant moved with a double-quick pace with Hazlitt and his Fourth Infantry of Garland’s brigade that was in formation just behind the horse drawn artillery leading the way. From around Grant came the heavy, rasping breathing of men moving fast and the clatter of their boots on the pavement of the road. It felt good to be going into battle with these stalwart fighters that he knew from other battles.
As the brigade turned north onto the arrow straight San Cosme Road leading to Mexico City, Huger and his siege cannons came into view behind. The enlarged force of men and artillery divided into two columns and marched down both sides of the aqueduct toward the Garita San Cosme lying half a mile away.
Grant saw Worth looking to the east and measuring Quitman’s progress driving down the Belen Road. Quitman was suppose to only make a feint, but in reality a race was being run and Worth wanted to be first into the city. Quitman had the shorter distance, however Grant heard heavy firing coming from the Belen Road and knew Quitman was having a tough time of it.
Grant’s brigade pressed on and came within range of tremendous fire from the barricade at the garita. The only safety from the enemy’s guns was the small areas behind the arches of the aqueduct. Houses clung to both sides of the roadway all the way to the garita with enemy soldiers occupying every one and shooting from windows and rooftops. The buildings penned the Americans into a narrow lane hot with exploding canister, grapeshot, and musket balls. Losses mounted swiftly.
Garland looked to the rear and motioned for Grant and Hazlitt to come to him. “Hazlitt, give Grant half your men,” Garland ordered.
To Grant he said, “Bust through the houses like we did at Monterrey. Go as close as you can to the garita. Clear the houses and the rooftops of gunmen.”
Grant speedily had his platoon of men equipped with pickaxes and sledgehammers borrowed from those carried by the artillery for entrenching their guns. With him leading, the men kicked in the door of the nearest house and vanished inside and began to break through the walls, tunneling from one house to the next. With hand-to-hand fighting they killed or drove the enemy soldiers out. In the taller houses they went to the windows or climbed to a roof and fired their muskets and pelted the enemy blocking the way ahead. Gradually they drew close to the barricade.
From the rooftop of a three-story house, Grant surveyed the buildings ahead for a way to flank the enemy and bring fire onto the enemy barricade and the redoubts of the garita. Looking forward past the garita, he saw a church with a high belfry that would command the ground behind the Mexican barricade. He thought there might be space in the church belfry for a gun. Leaving his men to continue to fire upon the enemy, he dropped down to the floor and ran back through the houses to the main American force.
Lieutenant Lendrum of the artillery saw Grant pop out of the house. “What in the hell have you been up to?”
“I believe I’ve found a place where we can put a gun and catch the Mexicans from the rear. I need a gun and help getting it there.”
“I’ll give you a gun and crew,” Lendrum said without hesitation.
“I’ll need some muscle power and guards,” Grant said. He glanced around and saw a company of Marines. “I’ll ask Captain Simmes if he’s game to help.”
Grant approached the captain standing with his Marines. “Captain Simmes, can I borrow a squad of your men to help me take a gun to that church you can see over the top of the garita?”
Simmes looked where Grant pointed. “That’d be a good place for one. Sure, take a squad.”
“First let me see if there’s room in the belfry,” Grant said.
“Right.” Simmes motioned at a dozen of his men and they gathered around him. “Go with the lieutenant,” he ordered the Marines.
Using the cover of a low wall and ducking among the stone pillars of the arches, the men slipped forward a short distance. Then watching their chance, they darted across the road between grapeshot and stole forward on the right side of the causeway. Working past silent houses, stone walls and trees, and unseen by the Mexican riflemen and gunners, they came to the back side of the garita. To Grant’s surprise the rear portion of the garita was unguarded.
He led his men to the church and banged on the heavy door. The door opened a crack and a priest, his eyes fearful, peered out at Grant. In Spanish, Grant asked to be let in. The priest shook his head and made to shut the door.
Grant blocked the door with a foot. “If you don’t open the door, I‘ll have my men break it down and make you a prisoner.”
The priest’s expression changed at those words and he hastily opened the door wide.
“Watch the priest and keep him here,” Grant ordered the Marines. “I’ll take a look upstairs.”
He ran up the stairs and found the belfry had a floor large enough for a gun. If he could get a howitzer up here, he could shoot the hell out of the enemy in the barricade and its redoubts not but a hundred yards away and below him.
Grant hurried down to the floor, and leaving the priest under guard by two Marines, stole back to his lines on the causeway. There he obtained a mountain howitzer from Lendrum, disassembled it, and distributed its parts and ammunition among the men.
Grant hoisted a wheel to hang on a shoulder and led the crew toward the church. Because of the bulky loads the men carried, the previous path wouldn’t do and so they dropped off the causeway and sloshed through the ditches filled with mud and water reaching to Grant’s chest. Undiscovered by the enemy, they again reached the church and climbed to the belfry. There they swiftly reassembled the gun and loaded it with canister. With Grant calling directions, they hurled shot down upon the enemy below, wounding and killing men and throwing the rest into confusion.
As Grant worked with his crew, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Lieutenant Pemberton one of Worth’s staff officers standing behind him.
“General Worth wants to see the officer manning the gun here,” Pemberton said. “It seems that’s you.”
“Tell him that I’ll report to him in a little while that I’m busy right now.”
“I don’t think that’ll do,” Pemberton said. “When a general says to report, it’s best that a lieutenant does it promptly.”
“That’s probably good advice,” Grant said. He called out to his gunners, “Keep firing.”
The two officers went down to the ground and stole past the walls and houses to Worth.
Grant saluted. “Lieutenant Grant reporting, sir.”
Worth returned the salute of the wet, muddy, young man stained with gunpowder smoke. “You must be the one with the gun in the church belfry?” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s mighty fine work getting the gun up there. Your shots are telling on the Mexicans. I’ll send you another gun.”
“Thank you, general,” Grant replied. There wasn’t enough room for another gun in the belfry, but it wasn’t smart to contradict a general.
Grant returned to the church with a squad of men and the second howitzer. He let the gun set by the church door and took his
men to the belfry to relieve the first gun crew. As he began to call out direction for sighting the gun, an American horse drawn gun came charging up the road toward the barricade.
One of Colonel Duncan’s lieutenants rode horseback beside the cannon. Nine gunners rode astride the teams, or clung to the caisson seats. For one hundred and fifty yards the men breasted the enemy fire. Then the horses and five of the men were hit by a pair of exploding shells and fell crashing to the pavement. The lieutenant and his remaining four men cut the writhing and screaming horses loose from the guns and swung them around and standing unprotected, naked to the shells whipping down the road, dueled with the guns behind the barricade.
As part of a coordinated assault, platoons of Americans had gone off both sides of the causeway and stolen along through the water as Grant had done. Now they pulled themselves upon the causeway and struck behind the garita. A company of men rushed forward along the road from the main body of Americans toward the garita. They made it half the distance before a devastating fire from the garita forced them to take cover behind the stone arches.
Grant and his men, and Clarke’s men on the opposite side of the barricade, continued to fire down on the Mexicans. The volleys had now mangled or killed almost every Mexican gunner and artillery mule. The remaining enemy soldiers had deserted the garita and were dragging one of their guns with them toward a large building that appeared to be a barracks.
The American artillery lieutenant on the road fired a ball that splintered and weakened the garita gate. Seeing this fine shot, the Americans that had come in from the sides now quickly converged and sprang forward and crashed open the city’s mighty defensive gate. The men were met by a barrage of canister fire from several cannons firing from the barracks. They pulled back and found shelter behind the garita walls. The two young lieutenants that had led the charge called out to their men and they sank down to sit on the pavement to rest.