A Gallant Little Army

by Timothy D Johnson

  Later that evening, new information prompted Scott to change his mind about an attack from the south—at least for the time being. The day’s reconnaissance activity along the southern roads had likely attracted the attention of the Mexicans, but the minor clash between Beauregard and the Mexican patrol after nightfall caused the Mexicans immediate concern. The enemy sounded the alarm, and that evening, Santa Anna began to move men from the southwest side of town to the south side. This unwelcome intelligence reached Scott immediately, and that same night, he received more disconcerting news. Fresh reports indicated that the Mexicans were melting church bells into cannon in a foundry near the Chapultepec castle—that the process was ongoing, and bells were currently being removed from cupolas and steeples within the city for recasting into cannon. This cannon factory was supposedly located in a cluster of buildings where a flour mill operated known as King’s Mill, or Molino del Rey. Armed with this information, Scott shifted his attention away from attacking the city and began to consider the necessity of capturing the foundry. Knowing the number of cannon that the Americans had captured during the course of the campaign, it seemed logical to him that the Mexicans would be engaged in efforts to replenish their numbers. If they were indeed casting cannon, then capturing the mill was a sound decision.17

  Gideon Pillow opposed the attack and tried to get Scott to reconsider. He had reliable information indicating that Santa Anna had moved the machinery for casting and boring cannon into the city weeks earlier. Apparently, numerous residents of Tacubaya attested to the fact. However, Scott had decided to attack the mill and he resolved to stay with his decision. Next, Pillow tried to persuade him to simply cut off the water source that supplied power to the machinery, but still the commanding general remained obstinate.18 It is conceivable that having realized the mistake of granting the armistice and being angry over what he perceived to be Mexican duplicity, Scott simply wanted to strike a blow at the most readily available target. Or perhaps he was simply looking for additional targets outside the city to seize and hold in the hope of gaining sufficient advantage to win a peace without the danger that would accompany an assault on the city itself. It is doubtful that any of Scott’s generals could have persuaded him to reconsider, but certainly he would not do so on Pillow’s recommendation. Scott tolerated Pillow, even tried to accommodate him, but he did not trust Pillow’s military ability, nor did he value his judgment. He simply refused to consider Pillow’s advice. On this occasion, he should have.

  This group of sturdy, stone structures was situated a thousand yards west of the castle, and the line of buildings ran north to south for three hundred yards. Santa Anna had posted two brigades to defend the complex, which added weight to the reports that something important was going on there. Sandbags and parapeted roofs added defensive strength to the buildings. A drainage ditch ran north across the front of the buildings, then turned due west for five hundred yards until it crossed the southern face of another large stone building called Casa Mata. Behind the ditch was a row of prickly maguey plants, and in front, the Mexicans had thrown dirt to form an earthwork. A third brigade lined the ditch in support of a four-gun battery, and an additional 1,500 Mexican infantry had been posted at Casa Mata. Altogether it was a formidable position, made even more imposing by almost four thousand cavalry lurking a mile farther west, waiting to pounce on the flank of an attacking American force. The number of Mexicans defending this line is unknown. American officers estimated their strength at 12,000 to 14,000, but the actual number was probably closer to 8,000 or 9,000. The area in front of the Mexican line was clear for six hundred yards except for a cornfield located front and center of their position. Looking south, the ground gently sloped up, thus putting the Mexican line at a lower elevation than an attacking enemy force. This would ordinarily put defenders at a disadvantage, but given the Mexican soldiers’ tendency to shoot high, the sloping terrain became an advantage.19

  At 3:00 A.M. on September 8, Worth got his men up, and after standing in the road at Tacubaya for what seemed like hours, they began to move to their designated position in preparation for the attack. Although other units participated in support, Captain Simon H. Drum’s two-gun battery borrowed from Twiggs’s division, George Cadwalader’s brigade from Pillow’s division, and 270 mounted troops under Major Edwin V. Sumner, the Battle of Molino del Rey was principally fought by Worth’s division. They moved quietly, trying not to attract attention from the strongly held Chapultepec castle, which was slightly farther back and to the right of the Molino del Rey. It was still dark when they arrived on the high ground several hundred yards south of the Mexican position.

  In all, Worth had about 3,450 men arranged in three attacking columns. The main attack on the mill complex would be executed by Brevet Major George Wright and five hundred handpicked veterans chosen from all six regiments of Worth’s division. Captain Benjamin Huger’s two 24-pound siege guns supported Wright’s spearhead, which was also supported on both sides by additional infantry. Five hundred yards to the west, Colonel James S. McIntosh, commanding in the place of the ill Newman Clarke, held his brigade ready to attack Casa Mata supported by James Duncan’s battery. On the American right flank and four hundred yards directly south of the Molino del Rey buildings, Colonel John Garland posted his brigade next to Drum’s pair of six-pounders. Worth placed supporting units farther back and in position to assist while Sumner’s dragoons kept an eye on the American left flank.20

  When they were in position the officers instructed their men to lie down so that the rising sun would not reveal their location. As the gray sky became lighter, the stone buildings of the mill complex gradually appeared out of the darkness seven hundred yards away. As their objective came into view, the Americans saw that they would be attacking down a gentle slope until they reached the cluster of buildings. Looking beyond and slightly to the right toward the brightening eastern sky, Chapultepec, perched on a tall, steep hill, loomed ominously. There was that eery silence that is unique to dawn, and one wonders what Captain Ephraim Kirby Smith, brother of the more famous Confederate General Edmund Kirby Smith, thought as he prepared to lead the Fifth Infantry against the Mexican right at Casa Mata. Upon learning of the assignment the previous evening, he became depressed and spent the night thinking about his wife and family. In his sleeplessness, he wrote his wife a letter in which he referred to the next day’s mission as a “forlorn hope” and asserted his premonition that the morrow would be “a day of slaughter.” He closed this, the last letter he ever wrote, by telling his wife, “I am thankful that you do not know the peril we are in. Good night.”21

  Battle of Molino del Rey. From Donald S. Frazier, ed., The United States and Mexico at War (New York: Macmillan, 1998). Reprinted by permission of The Gale Group.

  The battle commenced just before 6 o’clock, when Huger’s big guns shattered the quiet dawn. As the artillery boomed, two engineers, James Mason and John Foster, moved forward three hundred yards to observe the effect of the bombardment. They saw no activity and quickly surmised that the Mexicans had abandoned the position, whereupon they instructed Wright to advance with his five-hundred-man assault column. However, the Mexicans had not vacated the position, and now the main attack was underway prematurely after only a few rounds of artillery support. When they got to within two hundred yards, the enemy opened with grapeshot that tore holes in the American lines. Wright immediately ordered his men to the double quick so as to close on the enemy works rapidly, but within seconds, the entire Mexican line came alive with musketry. Firing from windows, rooftops, and the fortified ditch, they delivered a devastating fire on the advancing Americans. The effectiveness of the enemy fire only intensified the deeper Wright’s men advanced into the concave configuration of the defenses, and within minutes, the rapidly rising casualty rate included more than 75 percent of the officers, including Wright. Their momentum carried them far enough to briefly seize the Mexican guns, but a ferocious defense coupled with reinforcements that arrived
from Chapultepec forced the attackers to retreat, leaving the ground strewn with bodies.22

  To the left, the going had been equally difficult for McIntosh’s column. Soon after Wright’s initial advance, and after an all too brief artillery bombardment, McIntosh’s (Clarke’s) brigade attacked Casa Mata. The men advanced in battle line, and when they were a hundred yards away, a sheet of musket fire poured into their ranks from the strongly fortified stone structure and the ditch that ran across the front of it. The brigade halted to fire a volley before rushing forward with bayonets fixed. As they charged, their casualties rapidly mounted, and according to George Kendall of the New Orleans Picayune, who witnessed the battle, losses were heaviest on this part of the battlefield. Ralph Kirkham described the Mexican fire as “continuous, like the roll of drums.” McIntosh fell, mortally wounded. He was first shot in the thigh, then while lying on the ground another musket ball hit him in the leg and traveled up and lodged in his groin. Major Martin Scott, a respected veteran of thirty years, assumed command, but he was instantly killed. Third in line of succession was Major Carlos A. Waite, but he was also wounded. As in Wright’s column, officers suffered a heavy toll. Among those killed leading their units were Captain Moses E. Merrill of the Fifth Infantry, Lieutenant Colonel William Graham of the Eleventh Infantry, and Captain Ephraim Kirby Smith, also of the Fifth. Smith, who had spent the night worrying about his fate, was shot in the left eye, the musket ball exiting his left ear. “I tried to do it. I tried to push ahead, but they almost killed me.” These were among his last words before slipping into a coma and dying three days later.23

  The brigade got to within thirty yards of Casa Mata before it recoiled and the men began to fall back. Lieutenant William T. Burwell had been shot in the leg just above the knee during the charge. His friend, Lieutenant Kirkham, was next to him when he went down, but judging that his wound was not serious, Kirkham continued forward. When the attacked stalled and the men pulled back, Burwell, like many other wounded, was left on the field. Then, to the outrage of the Americans, the Mexicans came out from their defenses to kill and rob the wounded. One Mexican split Burwell’s skull open with a lance, leaving a gash four inches long. Another stabbed him three times with his bayonet before taking his ring, sword, and other valuables from his pockets. George W. Ayres of the Third Artillery was, according to a fellow artilleryman, “one of the bravest and noblest fellows living.” He had been breveted captain for gallantry in the Battle of Monterey the previous year, but had been unfortunate enough to be among those wounded in the initial assault and then left behind. He was killed, his body “horribly mangled,” and his equipment taken after the Americans retreated. McIntosh, who lay helpless with two painful wounds, escaped mutilation because two of his men dragged him off the field.24

  Back on the American right, Garland brought his brigade forward to support Wright’s beleaguered attackers, and the Americans pushed forward again, this time driving against the front and the southeast end of the Mexican line. Again they met a withering fire that stymied their advance. On the extreme right, along the Tacubaya Road where Garland’s men were fighting, Captain Robert Anderson had advanced on the Mexican flank but found a relatively safe place to hunker down with the rest of his men. However, when he saw Captain Drum and his men pushing their two guns forward by hand in an effort to offer close support, he jumped from his concealed position and put a shoulder to one of the cannon wheels. Just as Drum was preparing his guns for action, Anderson felt “a severe blow” to his right shoulder. It was a musket ball that lodged in his body. Minutes later, a spent round hit him in the left arm wounding him again, but only slightly.

  Slowly the Americans fought their way past the fortified ditch and up to the outer wall that surrounded the buildings. The Mexicans continued to pour heavy musket fire from every building; the maze of windows and rooftops remained alive with activity. To gain access to the complex, the Americans needed to force open gates that had been barricaded with dirt, rocks, and timber. Once that was accomplished, they poured into the grounds, and in small groups, they began a process of successive close encounters as they fought an urban-style building-to-building contest. Anderson, after being twice wounded in the attack, continued with his men into the labyrinth of buildings, and as he went through one passageway, he was wounded a third time by a musket ball that grazed his leg. In some of the structures, the Mexicans fought to the end, but others began to fall back or surrender.25

  Lieutenant Ulysses S. Grant was among the first troops to enter the mill. After doing so late in the battle, he noticed some enemy soldiers on the roof of a nearby building. He and a few others stood a cart on its back end and up against the building with the wheels scotched to prevent it from rolling back. They climbed up the cart’s shafts and onto the roof, only to discover that the soldiers they had seen, and they were “quite a number,” were already prisoners. An American private had surrounded them “all by himself” and captured them, and when Grant and his friends arrived, the lone sentinel was standing guard over them. The private had not bothered to disarm them, so Grant and company took the swords from the officers and the muskets from the soldiers, and the latter they broke by hitting them against the wall before throwing them to the ground.26

  On the American left, eventual victory came only as a result of artillery and cavalry support. After the infantry withdrew, Duncan’s battery unleashed a heavy pounding on Casa Mata, which, along with a renewed attack and the collapse of the Mexican position down the line at Molino del Rey, eventually forced the enemy to abandon the structure. The Second Dragoons provided valuable service on the left flank by keeping Mexican lancers at bay. When the enemy troopers attempted to attack the American flank, General Cadwalader, who commanded the reserves, called his mounted troops forward to block their advance. Twice Edwin Sumner’s dragoons charged the lancers and forced them back. On one occasion, when the opposing forces were arrayed against each other and the dragoons were preparing to attack, a lone Mexican lancer rode out from his lines in a way that the Americans interpreted to be an invitation to individual combat. An American sergeant accepted the challenge by riding forward to face his opponent, and when a trumpet sounded, the two men charged each other at full speed. At the last instant, the dragoon veered left, dodged the lance, and, with the swing of his sword, almost decapitated the Mexican. Then with a coolness that drew the admiration of his comrades, the sergeant grabbed the reins of the lancer’s horse and took it back with him to his own lines. Moses Barnard of the Voltigeur Regiment witnessed the deadly affair and later described it as a “romantic incident.”27

  By midmorning the battle gradually subsided as the enemy abandoned what had been a powerful defensive position. The determined fight of the enemy soldiers and the near-impregnable nature of their line caught the Americans by surprise. “No one knew or even surmised the strength of the place,” wrote Kendall, who thought it a “wonder” that anyone survived the tremendous enemy fire. However, after more than two hours, and after suffering their own rising toll of casualties, the Mexican troops melted away and struck out for the safety of the castle a few hundred yards away. As they filtered away, the grim task of caring for the injured began immediately as ambulances arrived on the field. As the process of collecting the dead and wounded got underway, the Mexicans lobbed a few shells from Chapultepec at the wagons, an act that fostered a certain bitterness among the Americans. About that time, Scott and Trist also arrived, and an officer sarcastically asked the diplomat if he had another peace proposal in his pocket.28

  The price for this hard-fought victory was high—Worth lost almost 25 percent of his force. Out of a total of 789 casualties, 116 men had been killed, and the result was a melancholy gloom that fell over the army in the aftermath of the battle. Anger, sorrow, and indignation all aptly described soldiers’ sentiments, and their emotions were made the more distressing by the painful realization that such carnage might have been avoided if only Scott had not allowed Santa Anna to regain his
balance by giving him a nineteen-day grace period after Churubusco. And worse, a search of the buildings revealed some cannon molds, but no cannon and no cannon production. The heavy cost of blood had purchased nothing significant. Pennsylvanian Richard Coulter did not participate in the fight; nevertheless, he asserted that the Battle of Molino del Rey “is condemned by the entire army and reflects anything but credit upon General Scott.” It was not just the heavy loss that so disheartened the army—they had suffered heavy losses before. Rather, it was the fact that they gained so little from it. Ethan Allen Hitchcock called the battle “a sad mistake.” It was the second bad decision that Scott had made in less than three weeks.29

  Yet according to Lieutenant Grant, the army could have achieved real success on this day. He believed that the Americans could have pursued the retreating Mexicans to the castle and beyond without additional loss of life. The enemy guns from the castle could not have fired on them without hitting their own men. Recalling the battle in his Memoirs, he asserted that “It is always . . . in order to follow a retreating foe.” Grant, that Civil War general who, according to historian Russell F. Weigley, ushered into the later war a strategy of annihilation, found Scott’s deliberate approach technically sound but fraught with moderation. Thomas Barclay believed that during the entire campaign Scott had displayed a want of aggressiveness, especially during his long stay in Puebla. “How much bloodshed would have been spared had Gen. Scott only had a little more of the go-ahead Napoleon spirit about him.”30