Mexico to Sumter Read online

  Mexico to Sumter

  Book I in the Duty, Honor, Country Trilogy

  by

  Bob Mayer

  Who commanded the major battles of the Civil War? ------ There were 60 important battles of the War. In 55 of them, graduates commanded on both sides; in the remaining 5, a graduate commanded one of the opposing sides.

  Required Plebe knowledge at West Point.

  Dedication

  Dedicated to the men and women of The Long Gray Line.

  Memoirs: Ulysses Grant

  Military Academy

  West Point, NY

  Sept U.S. Grant,

  "Causes of the Mexican War"

  Generally the officers of the army were indifferent whether the annexation [of Texas] was consummated or not; but not so all of them. For myself, I was bitterly opposed to the measure, and to this day regard the war [with Mexico] which resulted as one of the most unjust ever waged by a stronger against a weaker nation. It was an instance of a republic following the bad example of European monarchies, in not considering justice in their desire to acquire additional territory.

  Texas was originally a state belonging to the republic of Mexico. It extended from the Sabine River on the east to the Rio Grande on the west, and from the Gulf of Mexico on the south and east to the territory of the United States and New Mexico -- another Mexican state at that time -- on the north and west. An empire in territory, it had but a very sparse population, until settled by Americans who had received authority from Mexico to colonize. These colonists paid very little attention to the supreme government, and introduced slavery into the state almost from the start, though the constitution of Mexico did not, nor does it now, sanction that institution. Soon they set up an independent government of their own, and war existed, between Texas and Mexico, in name from that time until 1836, when active hostilities very nearly ceased upon the capture of Santa Anna, the Mexican President. Before long, however, the same people -- who with permission of Mexico had colonized Texas, and afterwards set up slavery there, and then seceded as soon as they felt strong enough to do so -- offered themselves and the State to the United States, and in 1845 their offer was accepted. The occupation, separation and annexation were, from the inception of the movement to its final consummation, a conspiracy to acquire territory out of which slave states might be formed for the American Union.

  Even if the annexation itself could be justified, the manner in which the subsequent war was forced upon Mexico cannot. The fact is, annexationists wanted more territory than they could possibly lay any claim to, as part of the new acquisition. Texas, as an independent State, never exercised jurisdiction over the territory between the Nueces River and the Rio Grande. Mexico never recognized the independence of Texas, and maintained that, even if independent, the State had no claim south of the Nueces. I am aware that a treaty, made by the Texans with Santa Anna while he was under duress, ceded all the territory between the Nueces and the Rio Grande; but he was a prisoner of war when the treaty was made, and his life was in jeopardy. He knew, too, that he deserved execution at the hands of the Texans, if they should ever capture him. The Texans, if they had taken his life, would have only followed the example set by Santa Anna himself a few years before, when he executed the entire garrison of the Alamo and the villagers of Goliad.

  In taking military possession of Texas after annexation, the army of occupation, under General [Zachary] Taylor, was directed to occupy the disputed territory. The army did not stop at the Nueces and offer to negotiate for a settlement of the boundary question, but went beyond, apparently in order to force Mexico to initiate war. It is to the credit of the American nation, however, that after conquering Mexico, and while practically holding the country in our possession, so that we could have retained the whole of it, or made any terms we chose, we paid a round sum for the additional territory taken; more than it was worth, or was likely to be, to Mexico. To us it was an empire and of incalculable value; but it might have been obtained by other means. The Southern rebellion was largely the outgrowth of the Mexican war. Nations, like individuals, are punished for their transgressions. We got our punishment in the most sanguinary and expensive war of modern times.

  Letter from Sidney Albert Johnston in 1862

  Vicinity Shiloh, TN 23 years later

  Regarding Grant’s invading Army of the Tennessee

  5 April 1862

  To The Soldiers of the Army of the Mississippi:

  I have put into motion to offer battle to the invaders of your country. With the resolution and discipline and valor becoming men fighting, as you are, for all worth living or dying for, you can but march to decisive victory over the agrarian mercenaries sent to subjugate and despoil you of your liberties, property and honor. Remember the dependence of your mothers, your wives, your sisters, and your children on the result; remember the fair, broad, abounding land, the happy homes and the ties that would be desolated by your defeat. The eyes and hopes of eight millions of people rest upon you; you are expected to show yourselves worthy of your lineage, worthy of the women of the South, whose noble devotion in this war has never been exceeded in any time. With such incentives to brave deeds, and with the trust that God is with us, your generals will lead you confidently to the combat—assured of success.

  C.S.A. General Sidney Albert Johnston

  (West Point class of 1826)

  WAR: 1844-1848

  Camp Salubrity, LA

  Near Nachitoches

  July 28th 1844

  To Julia Dent from U. Grant

  My Dear Julia,

  Mr. Higgins has just arrived from Jefferson Barracks and brings word that he saw you well on the 4th. He delivered your message and says he promised to bring some letters from you but supposes that you expected him out at the house to receive them. You can hardly imagine how acceptable your message was, but when I found that I might have expected a letter from you by his calling on it, I took the Blues so badly that I could resort to no other means of expelling the dire feeling than by writing to My Dear Julia. It has been but few days since I wrote to you but I must write again. Be as punctual in writing to me Julia and then I will be compensated in a slight degree—nothing could fully compensate—for your absence.

  In my mind I am constantly turning over plans to get back to Missouri, and until today there has been strong grounds for hoping that the whole of the 4th Regiment would be ordered back there; but that hope is blasted now. Orders have arrived from Washington City that no troops on the frontier will be removed. Fred’s regiment as well as mine will have to remain. We are to remain here to preserve neutrality between the United States and the belligerent parties. Who knows but Fred and me may have something to do yet? Though it may be something short of the conquest of Mexico.

  Many a pleasant hour have I spent at Camp Salubrity thinking over my last visit to Mo. And its results. Never before was I satisfied that my love for you was returned, but you then assured me that it was. Does Mrs. Dent know of the engagement between us? I believe from Fred’s letter that he half suspects it, although he mentions nothing of the kind.

  We have big plans laid for visiting Mexico and Texas this winter.

  Give my love to Ellen and the rest of the family. Again, be sure and write soon and relieve from suspense your most Devoted and Constant L

  U.S.G

  P.S. I have carefully preserved the lock of hair you gave me. Recollect when you write to seal with the ring I used to wear; I am anxious to see an impression of it once more.

  u.s.g

  Chapter One

  8 May 1846, Palo Alto, Mexico

  No person, under any pretense whatsoever, will interfere in any manner with the civil rights or religious privileges of the people, but will pay the utmost respec
t to both.

  General Zachary Taylor, Commanding

  Grant refolded the order and put it back into his knapsack. It had been issued before the 4th Infantry departed Corpus Christi en route to Mexico. Grant looked up and saw Rumble staring at the drawing from Kosciuszko’s garden. Since the 4th Infantry had moved into drier and warmer climes, Grant’s health had steadily improved, his body finally beginning to fill out and the cough that had troubled him for so long, now absent for months. Grant sometimes joked that going off to war had seemed to save his life so far.

  “Why do you keep a copy of that?” Rumble asked as he slid the drawing of Lidia into his breast pocket where he kept it over his heart. “We all heard it.”

  Grant pretended it wasn’t important. “For future reference. Some day I might actually command something instead of a bunch of teamsters, wagons and cattle.”

  Rumble agreed. “Some day you might. Why do you think old Zach issued it? Most armies are generally free to plunder when in enemy territory as long as they stop short of murder and rape.”

  It was early May and the full heat of the Mexican summer had not yet arrived to blast the soldiers. It was warm though, and the bright sun shimmered down on friend and foe.

  Taylor had crossed the border after a patrol of dragoons had been ambushed by the Mexicans and sixteen men killed while the rest were captured. The fact this ambush occurred on the southern side of the Nueces River, in Mexican territory, didn’t stop Taylor from sending a message to President Polk that hostilities had commenced at the hands of the Mexicans. The word among the troops was that Taylor had been secretly ordered by the President to cross the Nueces and instigate the bloodletting to get the long-simmering feud to explode into war.

  Now, Grant and Rumble were with Taylor’s main body of troops on the plain at Palo Alto, having finally run into the Mexican Army after marching south and relieving the siege of Fort Texas.

  “I believe,” Grant said, “that General Taylor realizes the Mexicans are the aggrieved party in this war and he has no desire to injure them any more than needed as directed from Washington.”

  “The Mexicans did a lot more than injure those dragoons,” Rumble pointed out. “And why do you believe it’s unjust?”

  “We’re acting like a European monarchy rather than a republic,” Grant said. “Our government desires territory, so we start a war upon false premises against a weaker foe. There is such a thing as justice. Nations are eventually punished for their transgressions and I fear this one will cost us dearly in the future.”

  “I’d worry about getting through today,” Rumble said as he checked the load in the double-barreled shotgun.

  “I’ve read the news from Washington,” Grant said, eyeing the Mexican line. “As we’ve marched into Mexico, it appears the Whigs have marched on Capitol Hill. There’s a young Congressman from Illinois named Lincoln who’s demanding that President Polk ‘show me the spot’ where the dragoons’ blood was spilled.”

  “We know where that was,” Rumble allowed. “And it was in Mexican territory.”

  “I don’t see much of a future for this Lincoln fellow,” Grant said. “A man who obstructs a war in which his nation is engaged occupies no enviable place.”

  “I don’t envy us this place,” Rumble said, hefting the shotgun.

  Then he checked out the potential victims of the weapon: the Mexican army, over seven thousand strong, was drawn up across the road to Matamoros. It was well after noon, and the sun glinted on the Mexicans’ bayonets and lances. Rumble remembered old Master of the Horse Herschberger’s remonstrations in the riding hall about what the cadets would face some day.

  Heavy artillery pieces were positioned all along the enemy’s front line and General Taylor had halted his three thousand men out of range of the guns. They were on a plain of grass reaching as high as the men’s shoulders. The tops of the grass were pointy and hard, almost weapons themselves.

  “Here he comes,” Grant said, pointing at a figure riding along the American line.

  Zachary Taylor was unpretentious for a general, dressed in blue linen pants, a long linen duster and sporting a large palmetto hat. Old ‘Rough and Ready’ halted his horse in front of the center of the American line and lifted one leg over the saddle, sitting sideways on Old Whitey.

  In a voice that carried easily, he issued an order: “Commanders, have one platoon per company stack arms, collect canteens from the rest, and go to that waterhole—” he pointed to his right—“and fill them.”

  As the company commanders issued the appropriate orders, Rumble quickly drained what was left in his canteen before handing it to a soldier. “The general seems pretty calm,” he noted to Grant.

  “I imagine battle might be thirsty work,” Grant said. “The general would know. He’s been in a few hot spots over the years.”

  Taylor pushed back his hat and stuck a large wad of tobacco in his mouth. The entire American army watched mesmerized as he chewed and then spit. The water platoons hastened back with their precious cargo and redistributed the canteens to the ranks.

  With one last spit of tobacco juice, Taylor looped his leg back over the saddle and turned his horse toward the enemy. With a slight flick of his hand, he gave the order to advance. There was no drama, no fanciful speech or exhortation. It was the business of war.

  Grant looked left and right, along the line of troops stepping forward. “A fearful responsibility, commanding men in combat.”

  “I’d be a bit more concerned about the combat for now,” Rumble reminded his friend, marching at Grant’s shoulder.

  Grant was a bit surprised. “Where is the Lucius Rumble who desired nothing more than to bridle York and ride him?”

  “What would happen to the children if I didn’t return to them?” Rumble asked.

  “What about Elijah?”

  Rumble snorted. “Cord is undependable.”

  “He might surprise you someday,” Grant said. “And—” he paused.

  “Yes?”

  “I promised Lidia that if there were war, I would look out for you and keep you safe.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “When I was sketching her and Lil’ Ben in Kosciuszko’s garden,” Grant said. “She was quite insistent.”

  “She could be when she wanted something for someone other than herself,” Rumble said. “But in war there’s only so much you can do to protect yourself, never mind another.”

  “Regardless,” Grant said, “I will do my best to look after you.”

  “And I you,” Rumble said.

  At a thousand yards, the roar of artillery firing was matched by puffs of smoke along the Mexican line as they let loose with their cannon.

  “We’re out of range,” Rumble said to Grant. “Why are they firing?”

  “Perhaps the sound makes them braver,” Grant said as the cannon shot fell well short of the American lines.

  As the Americans got closer, the Mexican cannons were still ineffectual not only due to their age and design, but also because they fired solid shot and the trajectory of the heavy rounds was so slow, the men could see each one come bouncing through the tall grass and step out of the way.

  At five hundred yards, still out of musket range, Taylor gave the order to halt. The American ‘flying’ artillery came galloping up. The guns were quickly unhitched and deployed just in front of the Infantry.

  “Canister and grape, Major Ringgold,” General Taylor ordered, as if asking for a cup of coffee. “Give them a taste of canister and grape, if you please.”

  The ‘flying’ artillery, a concept the United States Army had just developed, light, modern guns that were moved quickly by horses, went into action. Grape was a cluster of small iron balls wrapped in canvas, thus looking like a bunch of grapes in a bag. Canister was similar, but the iron balls were encased in a tin can. Both canvas and tin disintegrated as the rounds left the barrel, spreading the balls out and spraying the target. With devastating effect on personnel in the path.<
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  Rumble and Grant, spectators to the carnage, could see bloody paths ripped through the Mexican line where the blasts hit. The battlefield began to be covered with smoke. The screams and cries of the wounded were clearly audible in between the roar of cannon firing.

  “Why don’t they charge?” Rumble asked Grant.

  “See—“ Grant pointed to mounted men among the Mexican line swinging their sabers about and yelling—“the officers are trying. But the men won’t follow.”

  “Then why don’t they retreat?” Rumble said. “They’re just standing there getting killed. It makes no sense. It’s slaughter.”

  Just as Rumble said that, an erratically bouncing Mexican cannon ball hit a soldier standing near them, taking his head off, then ripping away the jaw of an officer right behind him. Brains and bone from the decapitated man sprayed all those in range.

  Rumble dashed to the officer, Captain Page, tearing the cravat from around his neck and pressing it against the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood gurgling out of what had once been the bottom of his face.

  Grant yelled for stretcher-bearers as he stood over the two of them, to warn if another ball came bounding through. Rumble looked into Page’s eyes, a man he barely knew, and saw fear and pain. He leaned closer. “You’ll be all right, sir. Help is on the way.”

  The captain was trying to speak, a difficult task given the lack of a jaw. He gripped Rumble’s arm tightly with shaking fingers. With the other hand, Page pointed at his breast pocket. Rumble reached into the pocket and retrieved a blood-stained letter. It was addressed to Page’s wife. Shaking his head, Rumble put the letter back into the officer’s pocket with a re-assuring smile.

  “You’ll live, sir, and deliver that yourself.” Page’s eyes widened in question and Rumble nodded. “I’ve seen hurt worse than you’ve received and you’ll make it. I promise.”