A Gallant Little Army

by Timothy D Johnson

  By the end of Monday, March 25, as Patterson’s men returned to their camps, the situation inside the city was becoming critical. The heavy U.S. ordnance had pounded the city for four days, with devastating effect. According to Colonel Hitchcock, the shelling “was very destructive—perfectly terific—nothing can exceed its horrors.” Houses and shops had been demolished. Buildings burned from the exploding shells. At times the ground shook so much that church bells rang. One shell went through the roof of a church and killed a woman and her son while they prayed. On the previous day, a shell had hit a powder magazine, igniting three powder kegs and killing the men who were at work inside. According to another account, a shell had hit a hospital and killed nineteen people. A story was later told of the wives of two Mexican officers who left their homes and took refuge in a seventeenth-century church. The church was heavily damaged and both women killed, but their houses were untouched. The fifteen-year-old daughter of the British consul was also killed, and the proprietor of a “French store” lost a limb when a shell came through the roof of the establishment. Debris made some streets impassable while panicked and confused citizens roamed about.38

  After such destruction, and with growing hunger and chaos among the people, Morales began to seriously consider surrender. It seemed clear to everyone that no help was coming, and both soldiers and civilians began to talk of raising the white flag. Even the foreign consuls, thwarted in their attempt to leave the city on March 24, began to press for surrender, as did a group of Mexican officers who met during the night. Accordingly, the next day, as Americans were preparing to open with additional batteries, Morales, not wanting to be the one to surrender and receive Santa Anna’s wrath, turned command over to Brigadier General José Landero. The new commander sent a message under a flag of truce to Scott requesting that he appoint commissioners to discuss surrender terms. Scott suspended fire on the city at 8:00 A.M. and appointed Worth, Totten, and Pillow as peace commissioners. He also honored the navy’s role by allowing one of its captains, John H. Aulick, to participate as a negotiator.39

  The U.S. commissioners met with three Mexican colonels, José Guiterrez Villanueva, Pedro Miguel Herrera, and Manuel Robles, to work out the terms of the surrender. Negotiations began in the midst of a roaring norther that had blown in the previous night. Meeting later in the day in a lime kiln near the beach, the opposing sides presented very different sets of demands. The Americans demanded the surrender of the city, the castle garrison, and all war matériel. However, their counterparts responded with a demand that the garrison be allowed to march out of the city with their weapons and repair to the interior of the country, and that their national flag not be taken down until they were gone. Furthermore, national guard troops who had participated in the defense of the city should be allowed to remain at home unmolested. Such terms were reminiscent of Taylor’s lenient and imprudent agreement at Monterey the previous year and were wholly rejected. Worth, who had been spoiling for a fight from the beginning, advised that the talks cease and the infantry assault that Scott had contemplated be executed immediately. Scott, however, understood that victory was in reach without further bloodshed, and that Landero was likely searching for a way to save face. On March 27, Scott proposed and Landero accepted the following terms. The entire garrison must surrender but would be allowed to march out of the city with full military honors before being paroled. Officers could keep their guns, horses, and other personal effects. The property and safety of the civilians left behind would be respected. Both parties signed the terms on March 28, and the Mexican army evacuated the city and the castle the next day.40

  Two aspects of the surrender terms warrant further notice. First, the capitulation of the castle in addition to the city was significant. Scott had concerns about the prospects of occupying Veracruz with hostile forces still in San Juan de Ulúa, but that potential problem was eliminated. Also, the agreement to parole the Mexican troops was an issue because under the laws of war, the term means that paroled Mexican soldiers pledge not to fight against the Americans again unless formally exchanged. This was a dubious understanding; many of the American soldiers did not like the provision, and it soon became obvious that countless Mexican soldiers did not consider it binding.

  The bombardment lasted from 4:00 P.M. on Monday, March 22, until 8:00 A.M. Friday, a total of eighty-eight hours. In all, the American guns, both land and sea, fired about 6,700 rounds of shot and shell at the city, for a total of 463,600 pounds of ordnance. The 10-inch mortars that fired ninety pound shells were responsible for three thousand rounds, while the heavy Naval Battery accounted for 1,800 of the total. American casualty reports vary. Scott placed the number of killed and wounded at sixty-four, while the number reported in other sources ranges from sixty-eight to eighty-two. The most likely estimate would place the number at sixty-eight: thirteen killed and fifty-five wounded. Casualties inside the city are more difficult to ascertain. Mexican sources put their numbers at about a thousand, with the total somewhat equally divided between soldiers and civilians, depending on the source consulted. However, it was in their best interest to inflate the number so as to better justify the decision to surrender. A neutral British observer estimated the number killed at a hundred civilians and eighty soldiers. However, a more recent Mexican source offered the following breakdown: 350 soldiers killed, 400 civilians killed, 250 people injured. Property damage in Veracruz amounted to between $5 million and $6 million, with the heaviest toll falling on the southwest quadrant of the city. “Your battery has smashed that side of the town,” wrote Captain Lee to his brother Smith Lee.41

  Light American casualties did not mean an absence of gruesome scenes. Near the end of the bombardment, a lieutenant named Thomas Williams wrote to his father that “a man must be an eyewitness to realize what are called the horrors of war.” The young subaltern recounted how a wounded man was in the process of having his leg amputated when he received a second wound, presumably from a shell fragment, that killed him. “To see these bodies,” he lamented, “as they are picked up by surviving comrades drop their shattered heads upon the sand,—brains falling out, & their gore pouring out in a thick stream.” Capturing the city may have been the result of a slow, scientific process, but it was also, as Kirby Smith described it, “a horrid business.” 42

  The official surrender and evacuation of Veracruz occurred on the morning of March 29. American troops occupied an open plain in front of the city. They formed two lines a mile long and two hundred feet apart on either side of the Alvarado Road, Worth’s men on one side and Patterson’s on the other. A navy contingent, including some marines, took part in the ceremony, and one soldier noted that they were the neatest and cleanest dressed of the bunch. At the head of this gauntlet through which the Mexicans were to march was Talcott’s rocket company, with its howitzers loaded and matches lit as a form of insurance against mischief. Harney’s dragoons were positioned off to the side, and the rest of the army occupied nearby sand hills. A gun from the castle fired a signal shot for the procession to begin, and the city gates opened. Out came the enemy army, some dressed in bright green, some in bright blue, and others in white, all trimmed in red. The officers “were fine-looking men, of light complexion, and exceedingly polite in their manners; saluting our generals with their drawn swords, as they passed.”43

  Bombardment of Veracruz. Courtesy of Special Collections Division, University of Texas at Arlington Libraries.

  Once outside the city, the procession stopped for about an hour, and the Mexican soldiers, by previous arrangement, stacked their muskets, filed to the right, and submitted their regimental rolls to be checked by American officers. While looking to be sure that the number of troops leaving the city matched the tallies on the regimental rolls, Lieutenant Roswell Ripley detected a variety of expressions on the faces of the Mexican soldiers: “Some indifferent or apparently so, others trying to look dignified & unconcerned, but with the traces of mortification too distinctly visible to be hidden, othe
rs giving way to their grief. One Commandante de Battalon could not restrain his tears.” But Ripley’s view was up close; from a distance “it was the most glorious & splendid sight I ever beheld,” thought another American. George Kendall thought that their evacuation reminded him of the “‘Departure of the Israelites’ . . . the long procession of soldiers, national militia, & people of all classes & sexes as they poured out of the walls” of the city.44

  The camp followers who came out after the soldiers attracted much attention and comment. One volunteer simply noted the “women and children following with great loads on their backs.” Another witness marveled at the “throng of camp women, carrying every conceivable implement of ornament & use, . . . to say nothing of the innumerable parrots, poodle dogs, & absurdities of a kindred nature. It is a singular fact that the poorer the people in every country, the greater number of dogs they must have about them.” After wives and families came the lancers, dismounted, who laid down their lances and escopetas before following the crowd. The long procession, accompanied by Mexican bands, took two hours. The numbers associated with the Mexican surrender were approximately five thousand soldiers, five generals, eighteen colonels, and over 350 cannon.45

  The Veracruz siege made a lasting impression on young American officers. Lieutenant George McClellan, who described the bombardment as “superb,” would later choose to begin his 1862 Peninsula Campaign in Virginia in the same fashion. As a Union general, he decided not to assault General John Magruder’s fortified position at Yorktown, opting instead to take time to place his batteries before bombarding the town. The Veracruz experience gave Captain Robert E. Lee opportunity to hone his considerable engineering skills while he helped place the American batteries. Lieutenant Ulysses S. Grant, who was more of the Zachary Taylor mold, nevertheless was just beginning to see that wars are more often won as a result of campaigns rather than battles. Veracruz was just the first step of a process that would not end until the enemy capital was captured and its government agreed to terms. No advance, fight, and retreat here. This would be a sustained, ongoing operation with the army either maintaining its ground or advancing until the enemy capitulated. It was Grant who became the master strategist and victor of the Civil War, and he succeeded because of a bulldog tenacity that was developed from an understanding of sustained campaigning. His willingness to think beyond a single battle is best epitomized by his famous statement in May 1864 that he would “fight it out on this line if it takes all summer.” In 1864, Grant knew from experience—it had taken him months to capture Richmond and Petersburg, just as it would take Scott months to capture Mexico City—that success would not come with a single engagement.

  chapter three

  The Army Advances

  Olive Branch and Sword

  The whole of the southwest side of the city was most exposed to the storm of destructive missiles, and was a scene of desolation calculated to make the most strenuous advocates of physical force pause and reflect.

  —George Ballentine, Englishman in U.S. First Artillery

  As the Mexican army marched into the distance, American troops filed into Veracruz, field guns and naval vessels fired a national salute, and the stars and stripes were raised over the city. General Scott rode into Veracruz to the customary cannon salute that greeted the commanding general and set up his headquarters in the governor’s palace. Scott’s methods had resulted in a stunning victory, but as news traveled north, many people were dumbfounded by the low casualty figures. A few days earlier, as the Mexican commissioners were negotiating the surrender of the city, back in the United States, the Niles’ National Register had expressed with certainty that news from Scott’s army would arrive soon. It cautioned the public that whether the news would be of victory or defeat, it would certainly be a tale of blood and death. It was not. Because of its scant death toll, Veracruz was overshadowed by the bloody and dramatic battle at Buena Vista, where Taylor had lost 665 men just the previous month. The slow, scientific process did not satisfy the martial appetite of people back home—not like the account of two armies entangled in a deadly struggle. Society favors a direct approach and straight-on solutions, and it often frowns on indirect methods. Military professionals are often the same, but great leaders know how to resist the temptation to rush into battle. Others did not appreciate Scott’s accomplishment. The British criticized the siege and its accompanying bombardment as cruel and unnecessary, as if a frontal assault would have been a more humane approach. Mexicans naturally censured the invaders as cowards. They called the bombardment a barbaric act because the “first victims were women and children.”1

  But Scott’s men appreciated the results. A Tennessee volunteer named Samuel Lauderdale wrote to his brother that “a more splendid nor bloodless victory ever adorned the historic page,” while Edmund Kirby Smith called it “a glorious consummation to reduce works of such strength with so little loss.” Barna Upton of the Third Infantry wrote to his brother that had Veracruz “been taken by storm (which was generally expected) it must have cost thousands of life.” William S. Johnson, of South Carolina’s Palmetto Regiment, wrote in his diary about the light American casualties and he described the victory as “Dog cheap to the living.” Other soldiers tried to describe the nature of the fighting at Veracruz, characterizing it as the “science of dodgeing” and “an affair of trenches and artillery.” Thomas Jackson wrote that the capture of Veracruz and the army’s performance around the city “excell any military operations known in the history of our country.” The young artillery officer came to regard Scott as “the most talented and scientific” general in the army, but Jackson was quick to add that he was also the “most vain and conceited.” The only aspect of the operation in which he disapproved was Scott’s decision to parole the Mexican troops rather than take them unconditionally as prisoners. William B. Campbell of Tennessee proclaimed Scott “an intelligent and accomplished man,” but unlike Taylor, who made everyone feel like an equal, Scott was always intent that people feel his superiority.2 Many of the soldiers who had transferred from Taylor’s army with disappointment and regret began to show respect and admiration for Old Fuss and Feathers, who, despite his arrogant and peculiar ways, had shown unexpected care for the lives of his men.

  Scott’s accomplishment was indeed impressive, and his friends hoped that he would receive the credit he deserved. However, others wanted to share in the accolades. Low casualties among the artillery crews were due to the skill of the engineers who constructed the battery emplacements, and Totten wanted the work of his engineers acknowledged. Hitchcock agreed that the engineers deserved much of the credit, and in a letter home, he stated, “Our approach and our entire proceedings have been conducted under the direction of scientific Engineers & everything has proceeded according to the known rules of the art of war. Hence the loss has been very slight.” Commodore Perry wanted his share of the glory too. It did not sit well with some in the army when Perry informed Scott that he wanted to join in the signing of the surrender document—a request that Scott approved.3

  And then there was Gideon Pillow, who, after the fall of Veracruz, began to speculate about his future and fortune with the army. He knew that Congress would soon authorize ten new volunteer regiments, if it had not already done so, and he hoped that the need for new officers would provide him with an opportunity for promotion. Knowing the Democrats needed a major general in the army “to counter-act that . . . which is exclusively whig,” and believing that other top candidates lacked his qualifications, he saw himself as the best person to hold such a title in a successful and growing army. In addition, he had a powerful friend in the White House who could facilitate his rise. Pillow likely felt a growing sense of self-importance because of the deference that Scott showed him. The commanding general was “putting forward Pillow on all occasions,” wrote Colonel William Campbell, who referred to Scott, Worth, and Pillow as “a sort of triumvirate” because they were seen together so often. In giving Pillow a prominent role
, “Scott is paying Polk for letting him come here,” Campbell concluded.4

  Upon entering Veracruz, some soldiers, like Thomas Jackson and his former West Point instructor, Daniel Frost, were surprised to find so little damage, and D. H. Hill saw sparse firsthand evidence of destruction caused by the bombardment. Conversely, other soldiers commented on the widespread damage. Arthur Manigault, a South Carolinian and future Confederate general, wrote a letter to his brother describing the “great havoc amongst the houses, scarce one that does not show some bullet hole or other damage.” Another soldier estimated that the bombardment had affected a fourth of the city. Barna Upton, an enlisted man from Massachusetts, “was surprised at the almost entire destruction of a considerable part of the town.” He went on to surmise that the devastation “reminded me of the description I have read of cities destroyed by earthquakes.”5

  The curious Americans also observed that the city had been well fortified. When he first entered the city, Hill was impressed with the twelve-foot wall around it, the loopholes for muskets, and the periodic forts that ringed it with their scores of cannon. In some of these forts, the destructive effect of the bombardment remained evident—holes in the fortifications that had been filled with sandbags, damaged artillery pieces, and bloodstained walls. Then there was the mighty fortress of San Juan de Ulúa, with all of its guns. When Americans entered the castle, they found over 7,500 artillery shells and 900 barrels of powder. They had never seen such a fortress, with its “thick walls, solid roofs, and its excellent adaptation for defence, and its durability, . . . [all of which] excite wonder and astonishment in the mind of the beholder,” wrote Lee to his fifteen-year-old son. Lieutenant Edmund Kirby Smith boasted with an air of superiority that if such a strong bastion had been in American hands, no army in the world could have taken it. Another soldier, in a statement that demonstrated a similar vein of thought, asserted with confidence that “now, with an American garrison in it, it would bid successful defiance to the navies of the world.”6