“The ‘old man’ ’s coming!”
It was now May 27. The First Division and the Quitman Volunteers had
been holding Puebla for more than a week and a half. There had been
alarms. One day all the troops had stood under arms, from morning
until night, with guns loaded and with three days’ rations in their
haversacks, expecting an attack by Santa Anna; but Santa Anna had not
appeared. General Worth seemed nervous――and little wonder.
Word had arrived at last from General Scott that he would be here
to-morrow at noon. This was his custom: to send a warning ahead
whenever he rode up the line, so that the regiments might be ready to
turn out and receive him in proper style.
The Eighth Regiment (General Worth’s “own”) was selected to do the
honors. This peeved Hannibal, but it let Jerry and the Fourth out to
see things as they occurred. Luckily, the Fourth was quartered near
the east gateway of the National Road from Vera Cruz and Jalapa, and a
fellow could climb the wall here and look right down upon the road.
First, about half-past eleven, General Worth and General Quitman with
their staffs, a-glitter in their full-dress uniforms of blue cloth
and gold trappings, white plumes floating from their chapeaus, went
trotting to meet the chief.
All came back together: General Scott, tall and massive, upon his
prancing horse, in full uniform complete from his plume to his shining
boots; General Worth on his right, General Quitman on his left, the
staffs following; Captain Phil Kearny’s company of the First Dragoons
and a detachment of the Second Dragoons in column of fours as escort.
With only these two hundred and fifty dragoons General Scott had ridden
ahead of the Twiggs division, clear from La Joya, one hundred and
twenty miles.
The soldiers upon the wall at either side of the gate gave Fuss and
Feathers a rousing cheer. That pleased him. He took off his chapeau and
bowed right and left to his “boys.”
Commander-in-chief’s headquarters were to be at the palace on the
plaza. On the way to it there was a square of trees, the Alameda. The
Eighth Infantry had been drawn up on parade, in two ranks, in front of
the church San José, opposite the Alameda. Colonel Clarke himself, of
the Second Brigade, commanded.
“Present――arms!”
The drums beat a roll, every musket came to a rigid present, every
sword to a salute, the colors dipped, and General Scott, looking like
the old hero that he was, rode proudly along the line, his hand at his
hat, his eyes a little misty. The regimental band played “Hail to the
Chief.”
The Second Division of Regulars did not get in for a couple of days.
General Childs, of the Third Artillery, had been left at Jalapa with
about one thousand men, mainly Regulars of all the arms. Colonel
Wynkoop and most of his First Pennsylvanians were still at Perote.
Having only five thousand eight hundred active troops, General Scott
was obliged to mark time at Puebla while awaiting reinforcements.
This was hard, for it gave General Santa Anna plenty of leisure in
which to gather another army and complete his fortifications. And while
Puebla was a pleasant place, there seemed to be a discouraging amount
of sickness caused by the fruits and the water. One-fourth of the
soldiers were in the hospital and many died.
The well were kept busy, for General Scott believed in exercise and
drill. The army had its first opportunity since leaving Vera Cruz to
drill together. Every day one or another of the brigades was manœuvred
out upon the Puebla military drill grounds near the city walls; and
three times a week there was a full division review, under the eyes of
the commander-in-chief.
The Pueblans always crowded to witness the drills, and after watching
they were free to admit that the Americans knew how to soldier.
It was no slouch of a job to be a drummer, as Jerry found out all over
again. He himself had a lot to learn, if he would obey the drum major’s
signals made with the tasseled staff. The drummer’s especial drill,
for instance: Put up――drumsticks! Unsling――drums! Ground――drums! Take
up――drums! Suspend――drums! Draw out――drumsticks! The marching signals:
By the right flank, by the left flank, wheel to change direction, right
oblique, left oblique, and so forth. The beats: The marching taps,
ninety steps to the minute; the flam, or double beat, in pairs, at one
hundred and ten steps to the minute, used in the evening retreat; the
rolls, eighty beats to the minute for the troop call, and one hundred
and ten to the minute for quick time and the salutes; the drag, one
hundred and forty beats to the minute, for double-quick time, and the
long roll, in sections as fast as one could work the drumsticks, for
alarms.
Then there were the many calls: The general, for the whole camp to
prepare to break up; the assembly, for the companies to fall in; to
the color, for the companies to form regiments; the reveille, or first
call, in the early morning, to wake the camp up; the tattoo, or last
call, in the evening, to send the camp to bed; the drummers’ call, or
musicians’ call; come for orders, and the call to the sergeants or
corporals; the retreat call, for evening parade; and in the field the
halt, the recall, the march in retreat, the run or charge, and the
commence firing.
A drummer boy had to have a good ear and lots of constant practice
to do all these things, with the drum major or some of the veteran
drummers criticizing.
There were one drummer and one fifer in each company of infantry and
artillery, although the battery sections usually had a bugler. The
dragoons had trumpeters. Drummers and fifers of each regiment formed
the field music and marched with the band, when the regiment had a
band. The Fourth did not have a band, which was lucky. The Eighth had
theirs, and Hannibal claimed that it was a nuisance, always getting in
the way of the field music.
The music was under the drum major. He acted as first sergeant and
received his orders from the regimental adjutant. He called the roll
at music assembly, gave the signals with his staff, and saw that the
musicians knew how to play. If there was any instrument, from the drum
even to the horn, that “Old Brown,” the drum major of the Fourth, could
not play, nobody had yet discovered it.
In regimental camp and manœuvres all the company drummers and fifers
generally played and marched together――say ten drummers and ten
fifers. They assembled at the guard house for reveille, and beating
and tooting paraded around through the camp, paying especial attention
to the officers’ quarters! The regimental calls were preceded by the
regimental march to draw attention, in case that more than the one
regiment was present. When marching in column, the field music was
at the head of the regiment, the drummers behind the fifers. But the
drummer and fifer of each company messed and camped with the company,
and stayed with it when it was detached.
The drummers served each in turn at being posted at the guard house
to march with the guard on tour and relief and to sound any signal
that might be required. The drummers, too, were used as markers in the
drills to indicate where the lines were to be formed and dressed; and
might be summoned for orderlies or messengers.
In fact, a drummer was an important personage. The drummer boys got the
pay and rations of a private; wore a better uniform and a short sword.
But not all the drummers were boys. There was a sprinkling of boys
and a sprinkling of grown men; and when the field music had formed it
made rather a funny sight with a six-foot lath like Bill Sykes in the
same short rank with a dumpy, strutty little “rascal” like young Tommy
Jones, aged only fourteen.
The fifers were mainly men. Jerry’s partner, Fifer O’Toole, outreached
him by a foot.
At rest intervals the troops were now given chances to see the city and
nearby country. Puebla far surpassed Vera Cruz. The saying ran: “Puebla
is the first heaven, Mexico (the City of Mexico) is the second.” The
paved streets were many and broad, flanked by splendid stone buildings
and traversed by the rattling coaches of the wealthy. There were one
hundred churches, and innumerable fine stores; the markets teemed with
fruits and vegetables. The houses were thrown open to the officers and
men; General Worth had started in by not interfering with the city
government as long as it did not interfere with him; General Scott
continued the system. He permitted the city watchmen to patrol with
their arms as before, so that at night there were two sets of guards.
The Mexican watchmen would chant:
“Ave Maria! Son las doce de la noche, y sereno,” which meant: “Hail,
Mary! It is eleven o’clock and quiet.”
While the American sentries growled:
“Post Number One (or Two, or Three). All’s well.”
Six miles out from the city were the ruins of the ancient Aztec Indian
town of Cholula, with a pyramid of clay and stone blocks two hundred
feet high, mounted by one hundred and forty steps. When Cortez, the
conquerer, came through here in 1520 the pyramid was used for human
sacrifices, and the never-dying fire to the Aztec gods was kept alive
on top by the priests. But Cortez destroyed the city and killed six
thousand of the people. Now there was no city, and no fire, and on top
of the pyramid a church had been erected.
This was such a historic place that the troops were marched out to it,
a brigade at a time, for an excursion. The Fourth Infantry with the
First Brigade of the First Division, under General Worth and Colonel
Garland, made the trip, one clear day, when old Popocatepetl and
Iztaccihuatl seemed to be within musket shot instead of seventy-five
miles away. Beyond those two mountains lay the City of Mexico, the goal.
“We are the ones to get there,” thought Jerry. The Regulars themselves
were no discouraging sight――fifteen hundred well-trained soldiers
marching at ease, bearing their veteran flags; the artillery officers
brilliant in red trappings, the infantry marked by white, and the
general staff gold-braided and gold-epauletted.
To be sure, whenever the troops started for anywhere spies in Puebla
immediately galloped into the country to carry the news to Mexican
lancers. But who feared the lancers?
General Scott came from behind. He and his staff swept along the column
of platoons, and slackened to ride abreast half way.
The officers there had been discussing the scenery. Some gave the
palm to glistening Popocatepetl, some to Iztaccihuatl, some to the
red-roofed city, some to the fields of green, and some to the great
pyramid surmounted by the church. But General Scott said, in his loud
voice, so that the drummers and fifers of the Fourth heard plainly:
“Gentlemen, I differ with you all. My greatest delight is in this
fine body of troops, without whom we can never sleep in the Halls of
Montezuma, or in our own homes again.”
The speech traveled up and down the column and everybody cheered. Old
Fuss and Feathers certainly appreciated good soldiers.
It had been hoped that the army would “sleep in the Halls of Montezuma”
on July 4. But although plenty of provisions had been collected the
reinforcements were still slow. So the Fourth of July was passed at
Puebla, with celebrations by the rank and file, and in the evening
a grand reception by General Scott at the palace for officers and
townspeople.
Then, on July 8, General Pillow, who had been promoted to a
major-generalcy in the Regulars, arrived from Vera Cruz with forty-five
hundred men, under Colonel McIntosh of the Fifth Infantry and General
George Cadwalader, a new brigadier, of Pennsylvania. They had started
in three detachments and had had several skirmishes with guerillas on
the way; had lost fifty men in killed and wounded, and a great deal of
baggage.
They brought up the Palmettos, the Mounted Rifles, some of the Second
and new Third Dragoons, Company F of the Fourth Infantry, B of the
Fifth Infantry, parts of the Ninth, Eleventh and Fifteenth Infantry
(new Regular regiments), a few companies of Voltigeurs or scouting
riflemen, and a batch of recruits for all arms.
General Franklin Pierce (another new brigadier), of New Hampshire,
arrived next, on August 6, with twenty-four hundred men out of three
thousand. He had dropped six hundred by reason of sicknesses, and had
had six fights. His troops were the famous Marine Corps of the navy,
the remainder of the new Regular regiments――Ninth, Eleventh, Twelfth,
Fourteenth and Fifteenth――and more recruits.
The new regiments were rather raw yet; had been mustered in only a few
months, and only six out of the four hundred officers had seen service.
The others were civilian appointees――many were greener than Jerry. They
made an odd sight as they rode or walked about trying to act like old
hands, but bothered by their swords and spurs. The Marines, however,
were a snappy lot, officers and all, and took no back talk from anybody.
General Scott had called in the garrison from Jalapa. It looked as
though he was almost ready to march on. He now commanded fourteen
thousand men in Puebla, but the sick list was tremendous. Two thousand
men were in the hospital, five hundred others were just getting well.
Nevertheless, the time had come. For several days before the arrival
of the last reinforcements under General Pierce all signs had pointed
to an early break up. A council of war had been held at headquarters,
attended by Generals Worth, Twiggs, Quitman and Pillow; aides and
orderlies had been racing through the streets, equipments had been
overhauled and wagons loaded.
Reports said that General Santa Anna had gathered an army again of
thirty thousand and more, and had fortified all the approaches to the
capital.
That made no difference to the army. The Regulars were eager to start.
The Volunteers――the Second Pennsylvanians, the New Yorkers and the
South Carolinans――gallantly proclaimed that they wished to “see the
elephant” beyond those next mountains. These fighting Mohawks were
bound to go through, and compared with the new Regulars, they were
veterans.
Colonel Childs, from Jalapa, was to remain in Puebla with the sick and
a garrison of five hundred. The majority of the First Pennsylvanians
stayed at Perote to hold that. Counting out teamsters and the like
General Scott had, after all, only about ten thousand seven hundred
officers and men, with whom to advance against General Santa Anna’s
thirty thousand.
“We might better have chased right along with what we had after the
battle of Cerro Gordo, and reached Mexico as soon as Santa Anna,”
Hannibal complained. “He’s had time to make ready for us, and we’re cut
loose from our base――haven’t men enough to garrison a single place,
except Perote, between here and Vera Cruz, and the whole road is
worried by guerillas. Old Fuss and Feathers says he’s thrown away the
scabbard and is advancing with the naked sword. It’s do or die. Well,
anyhow, the Second Division starts to-morrow. Those fellows have the
luck again. Hope we aren’t far behind.”
This was August 6, the day of General Pierce’s arrival. The army had
been re-apportioned into four divisions instead of three.
The First Division was about the same as before: Second Artillery,
Third Artillery, Fourth Infantry, in the First Brigade; Fifth
Infantry, Sixth Infantry, Eighth Infantry, in the Second Brigade.
The Second Division (General Twiggs’) was about the same also: First
Artillery, Third Infantry, and the Rifles, in the First Brigade; Fourth
Artillery, Second Infantry, Seventh Infantry, with the Engineer company
and Ordnance company, in the Second Brigade.
Major-General Pillow, who ranked next to General Scott, now, as full
major-general, commanded the Third Regular Division. This contained
the new regiments. The First Brigade, General Cadwalader, had the
Voltigeurs or light riflemen, the Eleventh Infantry, the Fourteenth
Infantry, and Captain John Magruder’s Light Battery I of the First
Artillery. The Second Brigade, under the handsome General Franklin
Pierce, had the Ninth, Twelfth and Fifteenth Infantry.
General Quitman commanded the Fourth Division. This was the Volunteers
and the Marines. General Shields, who had recovered from his terrible
wound received at Cerro Gordo, had, of course, been given the Volunteer
brigade, composed of the Palmettos under Colonel P. M. Butler, and the
Second New Yorkers under Colonel Ward B. Burnett. Lieutenant-Colonel E.
S. Watson, of the Marines, had the Second Brigade――the Marines under
Major Levi Twiggs and the Second Pennsylvania (a fine regiment equal to
the Regulars) under Colonel W. B. Roberts, with Light Battery H of the
Third Artillery under Lieutenant E. J. Steptoe, and Company C, Third
Dragoons.
Then there was the cavalry brigade, commanded by the fire-eater,
Colonel Harney, and containing Company F of the First Dragoons, under
Captain Phil Kearny, nephew of General Stephen W. Kearny who had
marched the First to California; six companies of the Second Dragoons,
under Major E. V. Sumner, who also had recovered from his Cerro
Gordo wound; and three companies of the new Third Dragoons, under
Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas P. Moore.
The Twiggs Second Division was to lead the way, with Harney’s dragoons
clearing the advance.
Everybody turned out early the next morning, Tuesday, August 7, to see
the Second start for the Halls of Montezuma. The dragoons were already
a short distance upon the road. A great throng of soldiers, sick and
well, and of the townspeople, pressed around the plaza where General
Twiggs drew up his regiments on parade before the government palace to
be inspected by General Scott.
Inspection over with, he faced the long lines and raised his hat――and
what a burly fighter he looked to be, with his short neck and his
sunburned red face and his mane of white hair.
“Now, my lads, give them a Cerro Gordo shout!” he bellowed. “One, two,
three――huzzah!”
“Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!” The twenty-five hundred cheered with one
voice in a deafening burst. Jerry, Hannibal, and every comrade in the
crowd joined wildly. The bands blared, the drums rolled, the fifes
squeaked.
“By company, right wheel! Quick――march!”
The division broke into column of companies.
“Columns, forward――march! Guide――right!”
“Break into platoons――march!”
Away tramped the Second Division, bands playing, drums beating, cannon
rumbling, flags flying.
“Hi!” Pompey chuckled, having squirmed up beside Jerry and Hannibal.
“Santy Annie, he done heah dat shout, an’ he’s a-sayin’: ‘Dem Yankees
is comin’! Now where I gwine?’”