Soldiers of Conquest (13 page)

General Scott with his staff officers and escort of thirty mounted Dragoons rode in quietly after all the fanfare was over.

*

Grant accompanied by Valere entered Veracruz. Under the sun's harsh eye the cannon battered city stood revealed, and he was astonished at the extent of the devastation. Scores of houses and businesses had been totally destroyed and lay in a jumble of stone and boards, and hundreds of others had been damaged but still stood. Mounds of ashes marked where buildings had once been. Pandemonium must have reined among the frightened people as exploding shells rained from the sky and men and women and children died. Now and again he caught sight of people watching with hostile eyes from shadowed windows.

Grant and Valere came upon a cemetery where at least a hundred freshly dug graves lay open and caskets were placed for lowering into the earth. With the cessation of the bombardment, the burial of the dead could be carried out. Several ceremonies were in progress with people dressed in black standing with bowed heads and priests intoning the rites.

“Lieutenant Grant, we sure killed a lot of them,” Valere said in a mournful voice.

“War is hard on the civilians when towns are defended.”

“I hope all the rest of our fights are just with their army.”

“That sounds good on the face of it. But I'd bet the complaints of the civilians to General Morales to do something to stop our shelling had a lot to do with the Mexicans surrendering when they did. Which saved some of our men too.”

Grant had come into the city to find quarters for Hazlitt and himself so they could vacate their tent in the sand dunes and escape the voracious sand fleas and mosquitoes. Scores of other officers were moving with a brisk step along the shell-cratered streets. They had been given permission by Scott to occupy any residence found abandoned by their owners. Knowing few homes had been struck by cannon fire near the waterfront, and wanting to be on the seashore with its cooling breeze, most of the men were hurrying directly there.

Just off the waterfront Grant found a three-bedroom house with all its plush furnishings in place. He staked claim to the residence by writing Hazlitt's and his names on a sheet of paper and tacking it to the door. He set Valere to the task of transferring all their belongings from the tents to the new quarters, and then went off to examine Ulua and its defenses.

*

“We are lacking in nearly everything needed to outfit us for the march inland and fight our way to Mexico City,” Scott said. “And yet march we must and within the next few days.” The euphoria of having captured Veracruz and Ulua had worn off over the past two days and the general was in a foul mood.

Lee was assembled with the generals, staff officers and chief quartermaster in Scott's headquarters established in the mansion of a wealthy merchant who had fled Veracruz for Mexico City. He was now in charge of the army's half hundred engineers due to Colonel Totten having left with Admiral Conner to carry Scott's report of the capture of Veracruz and Ulua to Secretary Of War Marcy and President Polk.

Scott continued to speak. “Shipwrecks from storms have killed many horses and lost essential supplies. That's in addition to having arrived here not fully equipped in the first place. We have less than half of the troops requested. Wagons must come from the States and we need eight hundred, but only one hundred and eighty are on hand. Six thousand horses and mules are required to pull the wagons and siege train. Eleven hundred are available.” Scott gave an angry snort. “The wagons and troops must come from the States and we can do nothing except wait for them. However we can do something about the horses and mules. We shall send forces out and strip the land bare of them.”

*

“From the information we have, the best chance of finding draft horses and mules would be the big ranchos up the Alvarado River and to the north around La Antigua,” Colonel Garland said to Grant. “General Quitman will take a sizeable force, including artillery to the river, while Colonel Harney with the same size force will go to La Antigua. However we can't neglect the areas closer to Veracruz. Your task is to make a five day expedition out to the north and west and taking possession of every horse and mule you can lay your hands on.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant replied. The time was well into the afternoon when he had been summoned to Garland's office at army headquarters.

“Do your best to find draft animals with enough size to them pull the loaded wagons and heavy guns.”

”Do I use force to get what we want?”

“Commandeer all suitable animals, that's the general's orders, but pay a fair price for them. Lieutenant Chilton has been ordered to escort you with fifty Dragoons, and Lieutenant Hodding with a hundred infantry.”

“Sir, that's a small force of men considering we don't know how much of the Mexicans army is out there waiting to jump us. And neither one of those officers has every been in a fight.”

“Scott has learned that Santa-Anna is at Jalapa and calling in all the troops stationed at the various outposts between there and Veracruz. So your expedition is not expected to encounter sizeable enemy forces, certainly not Mexican regulars. Now regarding those two lieutenants, they both are junior to you. Use them as you see best.”

“Yes, sir.” Grant didn't like the arrangement. Still there wasn't any gain in worrying when there was nothing he could do about it.

From the bell tower of the church at the village of Vergara, Grant watched the gray dawn rise up from the wet horizon of the eastern sea. The color had reached a shade of gray that brought to mind the dream about his gray-headed grandfather and the words spoken by the old man of fear and death. He still wondered what the dream about Noah meant.

Below him in the church courtyard, Sergeant O'Doyle and thirty teamsters talked quietly among themselves. Twenty of the men carried muskets and haversacks and would act as infantry until horses were purchased, and then they would become drovers. The remaining men were drivers of the ten horse drawn wagons being taking along to haul food rations, tents, and extra ammunition in the event the detachment got into a fight. The men had been with Grant in northern Mexico and he knew them to be gutsy fighters.

The tromp of marching soldiers and the clatter of iron shod hooves came to Grant and he saw Mathew Chilton's Dragoons followed by Calvin Hodding and his foot soldiers entering the town. They were right on schedule, a good beginning for the foraging expedition. The two men's lack of battle experience concerned Grant. Hopefully luck would favor them and there would be no fighting with battle-hardened units of the Mexican Army.

Grant came down from the bell tower and met Chilton as he halted his Dragoons. Hodding stopped his men just behind the Dragoons and galloped his horse up and reined in beside Chilton.

“Good morning,” Grant greeted the men. He had met Mathew Chilton at Brazos. He was a Vermonter and freshly graduated from West Point. He was six feet tall with a lean build, and quite handsome with blond hair and clean-cut features, and though twenty-two years of age, appeared to be a large, overgrown boy.

“And to you,” Chilton said.

“I agree it's a good morning, but a little early for me,” Hodding said in a lighthearted tone. “But I'm ready.” Hodding was strongly built, broad faced, with a high brow above large brown eyes.

“I want to say something before we start out,” Grant said. “I've been on these foraging expeditions several times before. You never know what you might run into. It could be regular army units, or maybe militia. Mostly the civilians don't cause trouble. But you got to keep a sharp eye out for ambushes and snipers. One thing for sure, if we run into a company of Mexican soldiers and they outnumber us, we'll have a real fight on our hands.”

Grant watched the men's faces. “We should come to an understanding right off that. I'm the senior lieutenant and in charge. Once we're jumped and the fighting starts, then it's too late to hash that out, and I have no intention to risk the safety of the men and the success of the expedition. Do either of you have an argument with that?” He held back from mentioning their inexperience.

Chilton and Hodding looked at each other and Grant saw a look pass between them that he recognized as an acceptance of his authority. They looked back at him.

“We both know you've done this before, and have had some hard fighting too,” Chilton said. “So I put my men and me under your orders.”

“Same here,” Hodding added.

“Fair enough. Let's get moving. Chilton your men will lead. Then comes yours Hodding. Mine will come next with the wagons last. Move out and take position.”

The two lieutenants reined their steeds away and returned to their men.

Grant went to his mount, borrowed from Hazlitt who was on foot patrol in the city, tethered to one of the tie posts in front of the church and swung astride.

The three officers led the detachment from Vergara and north on the Tampico road with the sea three miles off on the right and the first of the sun's rays peeking above the horizon. The cavalcade stretched a quarter-mile with dust boiling up from the pounding of leather boots and iron-shod hooves and hanging in the air behind like a long brown tail. The land was flat with well-tended farms growing grain and vegetables, orchards of oranges, lime, and lemons. No cattle, horses, or mules were in sight, which meant the animals had been driven away to prevent the Americans from taking them. That wasn't a good sign that Grant would be successful.

Grant had mapped out the route for the foraging. It would consist of two days or so north toward Tampico, but never coming anywhere near that city lying one hundred and twenty-five miles distant, then a day or so march west inland, and lastly a turn southward to forage new territory for animals during the return to Veracruz.

They tramped steadily on through growing heat. The land became rolling with the road twisting and dipping into the shallow valleys where every stream ran down to the sea now about five miles away. The farms and orchards had been left behind and they traveled across grassland with narrow strips of trees along the streams. On every hilltop, Grant glassed the land ahead for horses and mules and for congregations of men that could mean trouble, and checked behind to see if Mexican riders were spying upon them.

In mid-morning, they reached the fair size village of San Julian setting on the near side of a moderately large stream running down from the inland mountains. On the upper edge of the town a gristmill sat astride the stream and the big waterwheel was turning and grinding grain. The town was picturesque with brightly colored homes on streets laid out in neat squares, everything clean and with a prosperous appearance. This would be their first chance to find out if the people would bring their horses out of hiding and sell them to the invading Americans. After a scrutiny of the village from its border, and a look behind, Grant led his men along the main street with the few people out and about giving way before them and watching with sharp, wary eyes from the sidewalks and doorways of the buildings.

He halted his detachment on the street at the border of the town's plaza that consisted of two town blocks shaded by many large trees, mostly eucalyptus, and a bandstand and bleachers. Businesses of various types from a general store to a saddle shop to a bakery lined the cobblestone streets surrounding the plaza.

Grant spoke to Chilton and Hodding, “Go to your men and stay with them. Keep them quiet and under control. Watch everything, the streets, windows, rooftops.”

The two officers, their faces taut, rode back along the cavalcade.

”O'Doyle,” Grant called. “We'll do this just like we did up north. Send five men to each corner of the plaza to watch for trouble. Then set up the folding table and chair. Put it under that big tree.” Grant pointed at the largest eucalyptus throwing a dense shade.

“Yes, sir,” said O'Doyle and hastened to carry out the order.

“Hackett, bring my money box.” Grant called. Hackett was tall, chesty, with a heavy jaw covered with a bushy bearded, a formidable appearing fellow and was just as tough as he looked. He helped Grant with the lingo.

Hackett broke rank, went to the lead wagon and extracted the steel box from under the canvas covering. Carrying his rifle over a shoulder, he brought the box to Grant and walked beside him to the eucalyptus.

“Watch for trouble,” Grant warned Hackett.

“I'll be ready if it comes, lieutenant,” Hackett said. “I haven't shot a Mexican since we left Old Zach Taylor and it's about time.”

“We want to avoid a fight,” Grant said firmly.

“Yes, sir, I know that. But they just might start one.”

With exaggerated movements, Grant placed the box on the table, fished a key from his pocket, opened the box, and put stacks of shiny, Mexican silver dollars on top of the table. He picked up a handful of the coins and shook them above his head to make a bell-like, musical sound.

With no threatening actions from the heavily armed Americans, and now this officer jingling coins playfully, the people's curiosity overcame their fear and they began to draw closer. Other citizens came from the side streets and out of the businesses places to see what the Americans were up to. In but a few minutes, more than a hundred men, women, and children had gathered to view the American soldiers.

The larger boys had pushed out into the forefront of the other townsfolk and Grant called to them and motioned to come closer. They approached, their eyes wide with suspicion and muscles coiled to dash away.

Grant extracted several pennies, large copper coins nearly an inch in diameter, from the moneybox. He spoke to the boys in Spanish. “I'll give each of you one of these if you'll run through the town and call out to everybody that there is a gringo in the plaza who will pay many silver pesos for horses and mules.”

Grant looked quickly at Hackett. “Did I say that right?”