Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant
PERSONAL MEMOIRS OF U. S. GRANT
IN TWO VOLUMES.
PREFACE.
"Man proposes and God disposes." There are but few important events in the
affairs of men brought about by their own choice.
Although frequently urged by friends to write my memoirs I had determined never
to do so, nor to write anything for publication. At the age of nearly sixty-two
I received an injury from a fall, which confined me closely to the house while it
did not apparently affect my general health. This made study a pleasant
pastime. Shortly after, the rascality of a business partner developed itself by
the announcement of a failure. This was followed soon after by universal
depression of all securities, which seemed to threaten the extinction of a good
part of the income still retained, and for which I am indebted to the kindly act
of friends. At this juncture the editor of the Century Magazine asked me to
write a few articles for him. I consented for the money it gave me; for at that
moment I was living upon borrowed money. The work I found congenial, and I
determined to continue it. The event is an important one for me, for good or
evil; I hope for the former.
In preparing these volumes for the public, I have entered upon the task with the
sincere desire to avoid doing injustice to any one, whether on the National or
Confederate side, other than the unavoidable injustice of not making mention
often where special mention is due. There must be many errors of omission in
this work, because the subject is too large to be treated of in two volumes in
such way as to do justice to all the officers and men engaged. There were
thousands of instances, during the rebellion, of individual, company, regimental
and brigade deeds of heroism which deserve special mention and are not here
alluded to. The troops engaged in them will have to look to the detailed
reports of their individual commanders for the full history of those deeds.
The first volume, as well as a portion of the second, was written before I had
reason to suppose I was in a critical condition of health. Later I was reduced
almost to the point of death, and it became impossible for me to attend to
anything for weeks. I have, however, somewhat regained my strength, and am able,
often, to devote as many hours a day as a person should devote to such work. I
would have more hope of satisfying the expectation of the public if I could have
allowed myself more time. I have used my best efforts, with the aid of my
eldest son, F. D. Grant, assisted by his brothers, to verify from the records
every statement of fact given. The comments are my own, and show how I saw the
matters treated of whether others saw them in the same light or not.
With these remarks I present these volumes to the public, asking no favor but
hoping they will meet the approval of the reader.
U. S. GRANT.
MOUNT MACGREGOR, NEW YORK, July 1, 1885.
CONTENTS
VOLUME I.
CHAPTER I. ANCESTRY--BIRTH--BOYHOOD.
CHAPTER II. WEST POINT--GRADUATION.
CHAPTER III. ARMY LIFE--CAUSES OF THE MEXICAN WAR--CAMP SALUBRITY.
CHAPTER IV. CORPUS CHRISTI--MEXICAN SMUGGLING--SPANISH RULE IN MEXICO--SUPPLYING
TRANSPORTATION.
CHAPTER V. TRIP TO AUSTIN--PROMOTION TO FULL SECOND-LIEUTENANT--ARMY OF
OCCUPATION.
CHAPTER VI. ADVANCE OF THE ARMY--CROSSING THE COLORADO--THE RIO GRANDE.
CHAPTER VII. THE MEXICAN WAR--THE BATTLE OF PALO ALTO--THE BATTLE OF RESACA DE LA
PALMA--ARMY OF INVASION--GENERAL TAYLOR--MOVEMENT ON CAMARGO.
CHAPTER VIII. ADVANCE ON MONTEREY--THE BLACK FORT--THE BATTLE OF MONTEREY--
SURRENDER OF THE CITY.
CHAPTER IX. POLITICAL INTRIGUE--BUENA VISTA--MOVEMENT AGAINST VERA CRUZ--SIEGE
AND CAPTURE OF VERA CRUZ.
CHAPTER X. MARCH TO JALAPA--BATTLE OF CERRO GORDO--PEROTE--PUEBLA--SCOTT AND
TAYLOR.
CHAPTER XI. ADVANCE ON THE CITY OF MEXICO--BATTLE OF CONTRERAS--ASSAULT AT
CHURUBUSCO--NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE--BATTLE OF MOLINO DEL REY--STORMING OF
CHAPULTEPEC--SAN COSME--EVACUATION OF THE CITY--HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS.
CHAPTER XII. PROMOTION TO FIRST LIEUTENANT--CAPTURE OF THE CITY OF MEXICO--THE
ARMY--MEXICAN SOLDIERS--PEACE NEGOTIATIONS.
CHAPTER XIII. TREATY OF PEACE--MEXICAN BULL FIGHTS--REGIMENTAL QUARTERMASTER--
TRIP TO POPOCATAPETL--TRIP TO THE CAVES OF MEXICO.
CHAPTER XIV. RETURN OF THE ARMY--MARRIAGE--ORDERED TO THE PACIFIC COAST--CROSSING
THE ISTHMUS--ARRIVAL AT SAN FRANCISCO.
CHAPTER XV. SAN FRANCISCO--EARLY CALIFORNIA EXPERIENCES--LIFE ON THE PACIFIC
COAST--PROMOTED CAPTAIN--FLUSH TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.
CHAPTER XVI. RESIGNATION--PRIVATE LIFE--LIFE AT GALENA--THE COMING CRISIS.
CHAPTER XVII. OUTBREAK OF THE REBELLION--PRESIDING AT A UNION MEETING--MUSTERING
OFFICER OF STATE TROOPS--LYON AT CAMP JACKSON--SERVICES TENDERED TO THE
GOVERNMENT.
CHAPTER XVIII. APPOINTED COLONEL OF THE 21ST ILLINOIS--PERSONNEL OF THE REGIMENT--
GENERAL LOGAN--MARCH TO MISSOURI--MOVEMENT AGAINST HARRIS AT FLORIDA, MO.--
GENERAL POPE IN COMMAND--STATIONED AT MEXICO, MO.
CHAPTER XIX. COMMISSIONED BRIGADIER-GENERAL--COMMAND AT IRONTON, MO.--JEFFERSON
CITY--CAPE GIRARDEAU--GENERAL PRENTISS--SEIZURE OF PADUCAH--HEADQUARTERS AT
CAIRO.
CHAPTER XX. GENERAL FREMONT IN COMMAND--MOVEMENT AGAINST BELMONT--BATTLE OF
BELMONT--A NARROW ESCAPE--AFTER THE BATTLE.
CHAPTER XXI. GENERAL HALLECK IN COMMAND--COMMANDING THE DISTRICT OF CAIRO--
MOVEMENT ON FORT HENRY--CAPTURE OF FORT HENRY.
CHAPTER XXII. INVESTMENT OF FORT DONELSON--THE NAVAL OPERATIONS--ATTACK OF THE
ENEMY--ASSAULTING THE WORKS--SURRENDER OF THE FORT.
CHAPTER XXIII. PROMOTED MAJOR-GENERAL OF VOLUNTEERS--UNOCCUPIED TERRITORY--
ADVANCE UPON NASHVILLE--SITUATION OF THE TROOPS--CONFEDERATE RETREAT--RELIEVED
OF THE COMMAND--RESTORED TO THE COMMAND--GENERAL SMITH.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE ARMY AT PITTSBURG LANDING--INJURED BY A FALL--THE CONFEDERATE
ATTACK AT SHILOH--THE FIRST DAY'S FIGHT AT SHILOH--GENERAL SHERMAN--CONDITION OF
THE ARMY--CLOSE OF THE FIRST DAY'S FIGHT--THE SECOND DAY'S FIGHT--RETREAT AND
DEFEAT OF THE CONFEDERATES.
CHAPTER XXV. STRUCK BY A BULLET--PRECIPITATE RETREAT OF THE CONFEDERATES--
INTRENCHMENTS AT SHILOH--GENERAL BUELL--GENERAL JOHNSTON--REMARKS ON SHILOH.
CHAPTER XXVI. HALLECK ASSUMES COMMAND IN THE FIELD--THE ADVANCE UPON CORINTH--
OCCUPATION OF CORINTH--THE ARMY SEPARATED.
CHAPTER XXVII. HEADQUARTERS MOVED TO MEMPHIS--ON THE ROAD TO MEMPHIS--ESCAPING
JACKSON--COMPLAINTS AND REQUESTS--HALLECK APPOINTED COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF--RETURN
TO CORINTH--MOVEMENTS OF BRAGG--SURRENDER OF CLARKSVILLE--THE ADVANCE UPON
CHATTANOOGA--SHERIDAN COLONEL OF A MICHIGAN REGIMENT.
CHAPTER XXVIII. ADVANCE OF VAN DORN AND PRICE--PRICE ENTERS IUKA--BATTLE OF
IUKA.
CHAPTER XXIX. VAN DORN'S MOVEMENTS--BATTLE OF CORINTH--COMMAND OF THE DEPARTMENT
OF THE TENNESSEE.
CHAPTER XXX. THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG--EMPLOYING THE FREEDMEN--OCCUPATION
OF HOLLY SPRINGS--SHERMAN ORDERED TO MEMPHIS--SHERMAN'S MOVEMENTS DOWN THE
MISSISSIPPI--VAN DORN CAPTURES HOLLY SPRINGS--COLLECTING FORAGE AND FOOD.
CHAPTER XXXI. HEADQUARTERS MOVED TO HOLLY SPRINGS--GENERAL MCCLERNAND IN COMMAND--
ASSUMING COMMAND AT YOUNG'S POINT--OPERATIONS ABOVE VICKSBURG--FORTIFICATIONS
ABOUT VICKSBURG--THE CANAL--LAKE PROVIDENCE--OPERATIONS AT YAZOO PASS.
CHAPTER XXXII. THE BAYOUS WEST OF THE MISSISSIPPI--CRITICISMS OF THE NORTHERN
PRESS--RUNNING THE BATTERIES--LOSS OF THE INDIANOLA--DISPOSITION OF THE TROOPS.
CHAPTER XXXIII. ATTACK ON GRAND GULF--OPERATIONS BELOW VICKSBURG.
CHAPTER XXXIV. CAPTURE OF PORT GIBSON--GRIERSON'S RAID--OCCUPATION OF GRAND GULF--
MOVEMENT UP THE BIG BLACK--BATTLE OF RAYMOND.
CHAPTER XXXV. MOVEMENT AGAINST JACKSON--FALL OF JACKSON--INTERCEPTING THE ENEMY--
BATTLE OF CHAMPION'S HILL.
CHAPTER XXXVI. BATTLE OF BLACK RIVER BRIDGE--CROSSING THE BIG BLACK--INVESTMENT
OF VICKSBURG--ASSAULTING THE WORKS.
CHAPTER XXXVII. SIEGE OF VICKSBURG.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. JOHNSTON'S MOVEMENTS--FORTIFICATIONS AT HAINES'S BLUFF--
EXPLOSION OF THE MINE--EXPLOSION OF THE SECOND MINE--PREPARING FOR THE ASSAULT--
THE FLAG OF TRUCE--MEETING WITH PEMBERTON--NEGOTIATIONS FOR SURRENDER--ACCEPTING
THE TERMS--SURRENDER OF VICKSBURG.
CHAPTER XXXIX. RETROSPECT OF THE CAMPAIGN--SHERMAN'S MOVEMENTS--PROPOSED MOVEMENT
UPON MOBILE--A PAINFUL ACCIDENT--ORDERED TO REPORT AT CAIRO.
Volume one begins
CHAPTER I.
ANCESTRY--BIRTH--BOYHOOD.
My family is American, and has been for generations, in all its branches, direct
and collateral.
Mathew Grant, the founder of the branch in America, of which I am a descendant,
reached Dorchester, Massachusetts, in May, 1630. In 1635 he moved to what is
now Windsor, Connecticut, and was the surveyor for that colony for more than
forty years. He was also, for many years of the time, town clerk. He was a
married man when he arrived at Dorchester, but his children were all born in
this country. His eldest son, Samuel, took lands on the east side of the
Connecticut River, opposite Windsor, which have been held and occupied by
descendants of his to this day.
I am of the eighth generation from Mathew Grant, and seventh from Samuel.
Mathew Grant's first wife died a few years after their settlement in Windsor,
and he soon after married the widow Rockwell, who, with her first husband, had
been fellow- passengers with him and his first wife, on the ship Mary and John,
from Dorchester, England, in 1630. Mrs. Rockwell had several children by her
first marriage, and others by her second. By intermarriage, two or three
generations later, I am descended from both the wives of Mathew Grant.
In the fifth descending generation my great grandfather, Noah Grant, and his
younger brother, Solomon, held commissions in the English army, in 1756, in the
war against the French and Indians. Both were killed that year.
My grandfather, also named Noah, was then but nine years old. At the breaking
out of the war of the Revolution, after the battles of Concord and Lexington, he
went with a Connecticut company to join the Continental army, and was present at
the battle of Bunker Hill. He served until the fall of Yorktown, or through the
entire Revolutionary war. He must, however, have been on furlough part of the
time--as I believe most of the soldiers of that period were--for he married in
Connecticut during the war, had two children, and was a widower at the close.
Soon after this he emigrated to Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, and settled
near the town of Greensburg in that county. He took with him the younger of his
two children, Peter Grant. The elder, Solomon, remained with his relatives in
Connecticut until old enough to do for himself, when he emigrated to the British
West Indies.
Not long after his settlement in Pennsylvania, my grandfather, Captain Noah
Grant, married a Miss Kelly, and in 1799 he emigrated again, this time to Ohio,
and settled where the town of Deerfield now stands. He had now five children,
including Peter, a son by his first marriage. My father, Jesse R. Grant, was the
second child--oldest son, by the second marriage.
Peter Grant went early to Maysville, Kentucky, where he was very prosperous,
married, had a family of nine children, and was drowned at the mouth of the
Kanawha River, Virginia, in 1825, being at the time one of the wealthy men of
the West.
My grandmother Grant died in 1805, leaving seven children. This broke up the
family. Captain Noah Grant was not thrifty in the way of "laying up stores on
earth," and, after the death of his second wife, he went, with the two youngest
children, to live with his son Peter, in Maysville. The rest of the family
found homes in the neighborhood of Deerfield, my father in the family of judge
Tod, the father of the late Governor Tod, of Ohio. His industry and
independence of character were such, that I imagine his labor compensated fully
for the expense of his maintenance.
There must have been a cordiality in his welcome into the Tod family, for to the
day of his death he looked upon judge Tod and his wife, with all the reverence
he could have felt if they had been parents instead of benefactors. I have
often heard him speak of Mrs. Tod as the most admirable woman he had ever known.
He remained with the Tod family only a few years, until old enough to learn a
trade. He went first, I believe, with his half-brother, Peter Grant, who,
though not a tanner himself, owned a tannery in Maysville, Kentucky. Here he
learned his trade, and in a few years returned to Deerfield and worked for, and
lived in the family of a Mr. Brown, the father of John Brown--"whose body lies
mouldering in the grave, while his soul goes marching on." I have often heard
my father speak of John Brown, particularly since the events at Harper's Ferry.
Brown was a boy when they lived in the same house, but he knew him afterwards,
and regarded him as a man of great purity of character, of high moral and
physical courage, but a fanatic and extremist in whatever he advocated. It was
certainly the act of an insane man to attempt the invasion of the South, and the
overthrow of slavery, with less than twenty men.
My father set up for himself in business, establishing a tannery at Ravenna, the
county seat of Portage County. In a few years he removed from Ravenna, and set
up the same business at Point Pleasant, Clermont County, Ohio.
During the minority of my father, the West afforded but poor facilities for the
most opulent of the youth to acquire an education, and the majority were
dependent, almost exclusively, upon their own exertions for whatever learning
they obtained. I have often heard him say that his time at school was limited
to six months, when he was very young, too young, indeed, to learn much, or to
appreciate the advantages of an education, and to a "quarter's schooling"
afterwards, probably while living with judge Tod. But his thirst for education
was intense. He learned rapidly, and was a constant reader up to the day of his
death in his eightieth year. Books were scarce in the Western Reserve during
his youth, but he read every book he could borrow in the neighborhood where he
lived. This scarcity gave him the early habit of studying everything he read,
so that when he got through with a book, he knew everything in it. The habit
continued through life. Even after reading the daily papers--which he never
neglected--he could give all the important information they contained. He made
himself an excellent English scholar, and before he was twenty years of age was a
constant contributor to Western newspapers, and was also, from that time until
he was fifty years old, an able debater in the societies for this purpose, which
were common in the West at that time. He always took an active part in
politics, but was never a candidate for office, except, I believe, that he was
the first Mayor of Georgetown. He supported Jackson for the Presidency; but he
was a Whig, a great admirer of Henry Clay, and never voted for any other
democrat for high office after Jackson.
My mother's family lived in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, for several
generations. I have little information about her ancestors. Her family took no
interest in genealogy, so that my grandfather, who died when I was sixteen years
old, knew only back to his grandfather. On the other side, my father took a
great interest in the subject, and in his researches, he found that there was an
entailed estate in Windsor, Connecticut, belonging to the family, to which his
nephew, Lawson Grant--still living--was the heir. He was so much interested in
the subject that he got his nephew to empower him to act in the matter, and in
1832 or 1833, when I was a boy ten or eleven years old, lie went to Windsor,
proved the title beyond dispute, and perfected the claim of the owners for a
consideration--three thousand dollars, I think. I remember the circumstance
well, and remember, too, hearing him say on his return that he found some widows
living on the property, who had little or nothing beyond their homes. From
these he refused to receive any recompense.
My mother's father, John Simpson, moved from Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, to
Clermont County, Ohio, about the year 1819, taking with him his four children,
three daughters and one son. My mother, Hannah Simpson, was the third of these
children, and was then over twenty years of age. Her oldest sister was at that
time married, and had several children. She still lives in Clermont County at
this writing, October 5th, 1884, and is over ninety ears of age. Until her
memory failed her, a few years ago, she thought the country ruined beyond
recovery when the Democratic party lost control in 1860. Her family, which was
large, inherited her views, with the exception of one son who settled in
Kentucky before the war. He was the only one of the children who entered the
volunteer service to suppress the rebellion.
Her brother, next of age and now past eighty-eight, is also still living in
Clermont County, within a few miles of the old homestead, and is as active in
mind as ever. He was a supporter of the Government during the war, and remains
a firm believer, that national success by the Democratic party means
irretrievable ruin.
In June, 1821, my father, Jesse R. Grant, married Hannah Simpson. I was born on
the 27th of April, 1822, at Point Pleasant, Clermont County, Ohio. In the fall
of 1823 we moved to Georgetown, the county seat of Brown, the adjoining county
cast. This place remained my home, until at the age of seventeen, in 1839, I
went to West Point.
The schools, at the time of which I write, were very indifferent. There were no
free schools, and none in which the scholars were classified. They were all
supported by subscription, and a single teacher--who was often a man or a woman
incapable of teaching much, even if they imparted all they knew--would have
thirty or forty scholars, male and female, from the infant learning the A B C's
up to the young lady of eighteen and the boy of twenty, studying the highest
branches taught--the three R's, "Reading, 'Riting, 'Rithmetic." I never saw an
algebra, or other mathematical work higher than the arithmetic, in Georgetown,
until after I was appointed to West Point. I then bought a work on algebra in
Cincinnati; but having no teacher it was Greek to me.
My life in Georgetown was uneventful. From the age of five or six until
seventeen, I attended the subscription schools of the village, except during the
winters of 1836-7 and 1838-9. The former period was spent in Maysville,
Kentucky, attending the school of Richardson and Rand; the latter in Ripley,
Ohio, at a private school. I was not studious in habit, and probably did not
make progress enough to compensate for the outlay for board and tuition. At all
events both winters were spent in going over the same old arithmetic which I
knew every word of before, and repeating: "A noun is the name of a thing,"
which I had also heard my Georgetown teachers repeat, until I had come to believe
it--but I cast no reflections upon my old teacher, Richardson. He turned out
bright scholars from his school, many of whom have filled conspicuous places in
the service of their States. Two of my contemporaries there--who, I believe,
never attended any other institution of learning--have held seats in Congress,
and one, if not both, other high offices; these are Wadsworth and Brewster.
My father was, from my earliest recollection, in comfortable circumstances,
considering the times, his place of residence, and the community in which he
lived. Mindful of his own lack of facilities for acquiring an education, his
greatest desire in maturer years was for the education of his children.
Consequently, as stated before, I never missed a quarter from school from the
time I was old enough to attend till the time of leaving home. This did not
exempt me from labor. In my early days, every one labored more or less, in the
region where my youth was spent, and more in proportion to their private means.
It was only the very poor who were exempt. While my father carried on the
manufacture of leather and worked at the trade himself, he owned and tilled
considerable land. I detested the trade, preferring almost any other labor; but
I was fond of agriculture, and of all employment in which horses were used. We
had, among other lands, fifty acres of forest within a mile of the village. In
the fall of the year choppers were employed to cut enough wood to last a twelve-
month. When I was seven or eight years of age, I began hauling all the wood
used in the house and shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course, at
that time, but I could drive, and the choppers would load, and some one at the
house unload. When about eleven years old, I was strong enough to hold a
plough. From that age until seventeen I did all the work done with horses, such
as breaking up the land, furrowing, ploughing corn and potatoes, bringing in the
crops when harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two or three horses,
a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc., while still attending school.
For this I was compensated by the fact that there was never any scolding or
punishing by my parents; no objection to rational enjoyments, such as fishing,
going to the creek a mile away to swim in summer, taking a horse and visiting my
grandparents in the adjoining county, fifteen miles off, skating on the ice in
winter, or taking a horse and sleigh when there was snow on the ground.
While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five miles away, several
times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky, often, and once Louisville. The journey
to Louisville was a big one for a boy of that day. I had also gone once with a
two-horse carriage to Chilicothe, about seventy miles, with a neighbor's family,
who were removing to Toledo, Ohio, and returned alone; and had gone once, in
like manner, to Flat Rock, Kentucky, about seventy miles away. On this latter
occasion I was fifteen years of age. While at Flat Rock, at the house of a Mr.
Payne, whom I was visiting with his brother, a neighbor of ours in Georgetown, I
saw a very fine saddle horse, which I rather coveted, and proposed to Mr. Payne,
the owner, to trade him for one of the two I was driving. Payne hesitated to
trade with a boy, but asking his brother about it, the latter told him that it
would be all right, that I was allowed to do as I pleased with the horses. I was
seventy miles from home, with a carriage to take back, and Mr. Payne said he did
not know that his horse had ever had a collar on. I asked to have him hitched
to a farm wagon and we would soon see whether he would work. It was soon
evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but he showed no
viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I could manage him. A trade was
at once struck, I receiving ten dollars difference.
The next day Mr. Payne, of Georgetown, and I started on our return. We got
along very well for a few miles, when we encountered a ferocious dog that
frightened the horses and made them run. The new animal kicked at every jump he
made. I got the horses stopped, however, before any damage was done, and without
running into anything. After giving them a little rest, to quiet their fears,
we started again. That instant the new horse kicked, and started to run once
more. The road we were on, struck the turnpike within half a mile of the point
where the second runaway commenced, and there there was an embankment twenty or
more feet deep on the opposite side of the pike. I got the horses stopped on
the very brink of the precipice. My new horse was terribly frightened and
trembled like an aspen; but he was not half so badly frightened as my companion,
Mr. Payne, who deserted me after this last experience, and took passage on a
freight wagon for Maysville. Every time I attempted to start, my new horse
would commence to kick. I was in quite a dilemma for a time. Once in Maysville
I could borrow a horse from an uncle who lived there; but I was more than a day's
travel from that point. Finally I took out my bandanna--the style of
handkerchief in universal use then--and with this blindfolded my horse. In this
way I reached Maysville safely the next day, no doubt much to the surprise of my
friend. Here I borrowed a horse from my uncle, and the following day we
proceeded on our journey.
About half my school-days in Georgetown were spent at the school of John D.
White, a North Carolinian, and the father of Chilton White who represented the
district in Congress for one term during the rebellion. Mr. White was always a
Democrat in politics, and Chilton followed his father. He had two older brothers-
-all three being school-mates of mine at their father's school--who did not go
the same way. The second brother died before the rebellion began; he was a
Whig, and afterwards a Republican. His oldest brother was a Republican and
brave soldier during the rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told of an
earlier horse-trade of mine. As he told the story, there was a Mr. Ralston
living within a few miles of the village, who owned a colt which I very much
wanted. My father had offered twenty dollars for it, but Ralston wanted twenty-
five. I was so anxious to have the colt, that after the owner left, I begged to
be allowed to take him at the price demanded. My father yielded, but said
twenty dollars was all the horse was worth, and told me to offer that price; if
it was not accepted I was to offer twenty-two and a half, and if that would not
get him, to give the twenty-five. I at once mounted a horse and went for the
colt. When I got to Mr. Ralston's house, I said to him: " Papa says I may
offer you twenty dollars for the colt, but if you won't take that, I am to offer
twenty-two and a half, and if you won't take that, to give you twenty-five." It
would not require a Connecticut man to guess the price finally agreed upon.
This story is nearly true. I certainly showed very plainly that I had come for
the colt and meant to have him. I could not have been over eight years old at
the time. This transaction caused me great heart-burning. The story got out
among the boys of the village, and it was a long time before I heard the last of
it. Boys enjoy the misery of their companions, at least village boys in that
day did, and in later life I have found that all adults are not free from the
peculiarity. I kept the horse until he was four years old, when he went blind,
and I sold him for twenty dollars. When I went to Maysville to school, in 1836,
at the age of fourteen, I recognized my colt as one of the blind horses working
on the tread-wheel of the ferry-boat.
I have describes enough of my early life to give an impression of the whole. I
did not like to work; but I did as much of it, while young, as grown men can be
hired to do in these days, and attended school at the same time. I had as many
privileges as any boy in the village, and probably more than most of them. I
have no recollection of ever having been punished at home, either by scolding or
by the rod. But at school the case was different. The rod was freely used
there, and I was not exempt from its influence. I can see John D. White--the
school teacher--now, with his long beech switch always in his hand. It was not
always the same one, either. Switches were brought in bundles, from a beech
wood near the school house, by the boys for whose benefit they were intended.
Often a whole bundle would be used up in a single day. I never had any hard
feelings against my teacher, either while attending the school, or in later years
when reflecting upon my experience. Mr. White was a kindhearted man, and was
much respected by the community in which he lived. He only followed the
universal custom of the period, and that under which he had received his own
education.
CHAPTER II.
WEST POINT--GRADUATION.
In the winter of 1838-9 I was attending school at Ripley, only ten miles distant
from Georgetown, but spent the Christmas holidays at home. During this vacation
my father received a letter from the Honorable Thomas Morris, then United States
Senator from Ohio. When he read it he said to me, Ulysses, I believe you are
going to receive the appointment." "What appointment?" I inquired. To West
Point; I have applied for it." "But I won't go," I said. He said he thought I
would, AND I THOUGHT SO TOO, IF HE DID. I really had no objection to going to
West Point, except that I had a very exalted idea of the acquirements necessary
to get through. I did not believe I possessed them, and could not bear the idea
of failing. There had been four boys from our village, or its immediate
neighborhood, who had been graduated from West Point, and never a failure of any
one appointed from Georgetown, except in the case of the one whose place I was
to take. He was the son of Dr. Bailey, our nearest and most intimate neighbor.
Young Bailey had been appointed in 1837. Finding before the January examination
following, that he could not pass, he resigned and went to a private school, and
remained there until the following year, when he was reappointed. Before the
next examination he was dismissed. Dr. Bailey was a proud and sensitive man,
and felt the failure of his son so keenly that he forbade his return home. There
were no telegraphs in those days to disseminate news rapidly, no railroads west
of the Alleghanies, and but few east; and above ail, there were no reporters
prying into other people's private affairs. Consequently it did not become
generally known that there was a vacancy at West Point from our district until I
was appointed. I presume Mrs. Bailey confided to my mother the fact that
Bartlett had been dismissed, and that the doctor had forbidden his son's return
home.
The Honorable Thomas L. Hamer, one of the ablest men Ohio ever produced, was our
member of Congress at the time, and had the right of nomination. He and my
father had been members of the same debating society (where they were generally
pitted on opposite sides), and intimate personal friends from their early manhood
up to a few years before. In politics they differed. Hamer was a life-long
Democrat, while my father was a Whig. They had a warm discussion, which finally
became angry--over some act of President Jackson, the removal of the deposit of
public moneys, I think--after which they never spoke until after my appointment.
I know both of them felt badly over this estrangement, and would have been glad
at any time to come to a reconciliation; but neither would make the advance.
Under these circumstances my father would not write to Hamer for the appointment,
but he wrote to Thomas Morris, United States Senator from Ohio, informing him
that there was a vacancy at West Point from our district, and that he would be
glad if I could be appointed to fill it. This letter, I presume, was turned over
to Mr. Hamer, and, as there was no other applicant, he cheerfully appointed me.
This healed the breach between the two, never after reopened.
Besides the argument used by my father in favor of my going to West Point--that
"he thought I would go"--there was another very strong inducement. I had always
a great desire to travel. I was already the best travelled boy in Georgetown,
except the sons of one man, John Walker, who had emigrated to Texas with his
family, and immigrated back as soon as he could get the means to do so. In his
short stay in Texas he acquired a very different opinion of the country from
what one would form going there now.
I had been east to Wheeling, Virginia, and north to the Western Reserve, in
Ohio, west to Louisville, and south to Bourbon County, Kentucky, besides having
driven or ridden pretty much over the whole country within fifty miles of home.
Going to West Point would give me the opportunity of visiting the two great
cities of the continent, Philadelphia and New York. This was enough. When
these places were visited I would have been glad to have had a steamboat or
railroad collision, or any other accident happen, by which I might have received
a temporary injury sufficient to make me ineligible, for a time, to enter the
Academy. Nothing of the kind occurred, and I had to face the music.
Georgetown has a remarkable record for a western village. It is, and has been
from its earliest existence, a democratic town. There was probably no time
during the rebellion when, if the opportunity could have been afforded, it would
not have voted for Jefferson Davis for President of the United States, over Mr.
Lincoln, or any other representative of his party; unless it was immediately
after some of John Morgan's men, in his celebrated raid through Ohio, spent a
few hours in the village. The rebels helped themselves to whatever they could
find, horses, boots and shoes, especially horses, and many ordered meals to be
prepared for them by the families. This was no doubt a far pleasanter duty for
some families than it would have been to render a like service for Union
soldiers. The line between the Rebel and Union element in Georgetown was so
marked that it led to divisions even in the churches. There were churches in
that part of Ohio where treason was preached regularly, and where, to secure
membership, hostility to the government, to the war and to the liberation of the
slaves, was far more essential than a belief in the authenticity or credibility
of the Bible. There were men in Georgetown who filled all the requirements for
membership in these churches.
Yet this far-off western village, with a population, including old and young,
male and female, of about one thousand--about enough for the organization of a
single regiment if all had been men capable of bearing arms--furnished the Union
army four general officers and one colonel, West Point graduates, and nine
generals and field officers of Volunteers, that I can think of. Of the graduates
from West Point, all had citizenship elsewhere at the breaking out of the
rebellion, except possibly General A. V. Kautz, who had remained in the army
from his graduation. Two of the colonels also entered the service from other
localities. The other seven, General McGroierty, Colonels White, Fyffe, Loudon
and Marshall, Majors King and Bailey, were all residents of Georgetown when the
war broke out, and all of them, who were alive at the close, returned there.
Major Bailey was the cadet who had preceded me at West Point. He was killed in
West Virginia, in his first engagement. As far as I know, every boy who has
entered West Point from that village since my time has been graduated.
I took passage on a steamer at Ripley, Ohio, for Pittsburg, about the middle of
May, 1839. Western boats at that day did not make regular trips at stated
times, but would stop anywhere, and for any length of time, for passengers or
freight. I have myself been detained two or three days at a place after steam
was up, the gang planks, all but one, drawn in, and after the time advertised
for starting had expired. On this occasion we had no vexatious delays, and in
about three days Pittsburg was reached. From Pittsburg I chose passage by the
canal to Harrisburg, rather than by the more expeditious stage. This gave a
better opportunity of enjoying the fine scenery of Western Pennsylvania, and I
had rather a dread of reaching my destination at all. At that time the canal
was much patronized by travellers, and, with the comfortable packets of the
period, no mode of conveyance could be more pleasant, when time was not an
object. From Harrisburg to Philadelphia there was a railroad, the first I had
ever seen, except the one on which I had just crossed the summit of the
Alleghany Mountains, and over which canal boats were transported. In travelling
by the road from Harrisburg, I thought the perfection of rapid transit had been
reached. We travelled at least eighteen miles an hour, when at full speed, and
made the whole distance averaging probably as much as twelve miles an hour.
This seemed like annihilating space. I stopped five days in Philadelphia, saw
about every street in the city, attended the theatre, visited Girard College
(which was then in course of construction), and got reprimanded from home
afterwards, for dallying by the way so long. My sojourn in New York was
shorter, but long enough to enable me to see the city very well. I reported at
West Point on the 30th or 31st of May, and about two weeks later passed my
examination for admission, without difficulty, very much to my surprise.
A military life had no charms for me, and I had not the faintest idea of staying
in the army even if I should be graduated, which I did not expect. The
encampment which preceded the commence- ment of academic studies was very
wearisome and uninter- esting. When the 28th of August came--the date for
breaking up camp and going into barracks--I felt as though I had been at West
Point always, and that if I staid to graduation, I would have to remain always.
I did not take hold of my studies with avidity, in fact I rarely ever read over
a lesson the second time during my entire cadetship. I could not sit in my room
doing nothing. There is a fine library connected with the Academy from which
cadets can get books to read in their quarters. I devoted more time to these,
than to books relating to the course of studies. Much of the time, I am sorry
to say, was devoted to novels, but not those of a trashy sort. I read all of
Bulwer's then published, Cooper's, Marryat's, Scott's, Washington Irving's
works, Lever's, and many others that I do not now remember. Mathematics was
very easy to me, so that when January came, I passed the examination, taking a
good standing in that branch. In French, the only other study at that time in
the first year's course, my standing was very low. In fact, if the class had
been turned the other end foremost I should have been near head. I never
succeeded in getting squarely at either end of my class, in any one study,
during the four years. I came near it in French, artillery, infantry and
cavalry tactics, and conduct.
Early in the session of the Congress which met in December, 1839, a bill was
discussed abolishing the Military Academy. I saw in this an honorable way to
obtain a discharge, and read the debates with much interest, but with impatience
at the delay in taking action, for I was selfish enough to favor the bill. It
never passed, and a year later, although the time hung drearily with me, I would
have been sorry to have seen it succeed. My idea then was to get through the
course, secure a detail for a few years as assistant professor of mathematics at
the Academy, and afterwards obtain a permanent position as professor in some
respectable college; but circumstances always did shape my course different from
my plans.
At the end of two years the class received the usual furlough, extending from
the close of the June examination to the 28th of August. This I enjoyed beyond
any other period of my life. My father had sold out his business in Georgetown--
where my youth had been spent, and to which my day-dreams carried me back as my
future home, if I should ever be able to retire on a competency. He had moved
to Bethel, only twelve miles away, in the adjoining county of Clermont, and had
bought a young horse that had never been in harness, for my special use under
the saddle during my furlough. Most of my time was spent among my old school-
mates--these ten weeks were shorter than one week at West Point.
Persons acquainted with the Academy know that the corps of cadets is divided
into four companies for the purpose of military exercises. These companies are
officered from the cadets, the superintendent and commandant selecting the
officers for their military bearing and qualifications. The adjutant,
quartermaster, four captains and twelve lieutenants are taken from the first, or
Senior class; the sergeants from the second, or junior class; and the corporals
from the third, or Sophomore class. I had not been "called out" as a corporal,
but when I returned from furlough I found myself the last but one--about my
standing in all the tactics--of eighteen sergeants. The promotion was too much
for me. That year my standing in the class--as shown by the number of demerits
of the year--was about the same as it was among the sergeants, and I was
dropped, and served the fourth year as a private.
During my first year's encampment General Scott visited West Point, and reviewed
the cadets. With his commanding figure, his quite colossal size and showy
uniform, I thought him the finest specimen of manhood my eyes had ever beheld,
and the most to be envied. I could never resemble him in appearance, but I
believe I did have a presentiment for a moment that some day I should occupy his
place on review--although I had no intention then of remaining in the army. My
experience in a horse-trade ten years before, and the ridicule it caused me,
were too fresh in my mind for me to communicate this presentiment to even my
most intimate chum. The next summer Martin Van Buren, then President of the
United States, visited West Point and reviewed the cadets; he did not impress me
with the awe which Scott had inspired. In fact I regarded General Scott and
Captain C. F. Smith, the Commandant of Cadets, as the two men most to be envied
in the nation. I retained a high regard for both up to the day of their death.
The last two years wore away more rapidly than the first two, but they still
seemed about five times as long as Ohio years, to me. At last all the
examinations were passed, and the members of the class were called upon to
record their choice of arms of service and regiments. I was anxious to enter
the cavalry, or dragoons as they were then called, but there was only one
regiment of dragoons in the Army at that time, and attached to that, besides the
full complement of officers, there were at least four brevet second lieutenants.
I recorded therefore my first choice, dragoons; second, 4th infantry; and got
the latter. Again there was a furlough--or, more properly speaking, leave of
absence for the class were now commissioned officers--this time to the end of
September. Again I went to Ohio to spend my vacation among my old school-mates;
and again I found a fine saddle horse purchased for my special use, besides a
horse and buggy that I could drive--but I was not in a physical condition to
enjoy myself quite as well as on the former occasion. For six months before
graduation I had had a desperate cough ("Tyler's grip" it was called), and I was
very much reduced, weighing but one hundred and seventeen pounds, just my weight
at entrance, though I had grown six inches in stature in the mean time. There
was consumption in my father's family, two of his brothers having died of that
disease, which made my symptoms more alarming. The brother and sister next
younger than myself died, during the rebellion, of the same disease, and I
seemed the most promising subject for it of the three in 1843.
Having made alternate choice of two different arms of service with different
uniforms, I could not get a uniform suit until notified of my assignment. I
left my measurement with a tailor, with directions not to make the uniform until
I notified him whether it was to be for infantry or dragoons. Notice did not
reach me for several weeks, and then it took at least a week to get the letter
of instructions to the tailor and two more to make the clothes and have them
sent to me. This was a time of great suspense. I was impatient to get on my
uniform and see how it looked, and probably wanted my old school-mates,
particularly the girls, to see me in it.
The conceit was knocked out of me by two little circumstances that happened soon
after the arrival of the clothes, which gave me a distaste for military uniform
that I never recovered from. Soon after the arrival of the suit I donned it,
and put off for Cincinnati on horseback. While I was riding along a street of
that city, imagining that every one was looking at me, with a feeling akin to
mine when I first saw General Scott, a little urchin, bareheaded, footed, with
dirty and ragged pants held up by bare a single gallows--that's what suspenders
were called then--and a shirt that had not seen a wash-tub for weeks, turned to
me and cried: "Soldier! will you work? No, sir--ee; I'll sell my shirt
first!!" The horse trade and its dire consequences were recalled to mind.
The other circumstance occurred at home. Opposite our house in Bethel stood the
old stage tavern where "man and beast" found accommodation, The stable-man was
rather dissipated, but possessed of some humor. On my return I found him
parading the streets, and attending in the stable, barefooted, but in a pair of
sky-blue nankeen pantaloons--just the color of my uniform trousers--with a strip
of white cotton sheeting sewed down the outside seams in imitation of mine. The
joke was a huge one in the mind of many of the people, and was much enjoyed by
them; but I did not appreciate it so highly.
During the remainder of my leave of absence, my time was spent in visiting
friends in Georgetown and Cincinnati, and occasionally other towns in that part
of the State.
CHAPTER III.
ARMY LIFE--CAUSES OF THE MEXICAN WAR--CAMP SALUBRITY.
On the 30th of September I reported for duty at Jefferson Barracks, St. Louis,
with the 4th United States infantry. It was the largest military post in the
country at that time, being garrisoned by sixteen companies of infantry, eight
of the 3d regiment, the remainder of the 4th. Colonel Steven Kearney, one of the
ablest officers of the day, commanded the post, and under him discipline was
kept at a high standard, but without vexatious rules or regulations. Every
drill and roll-call had to be attended, but in the intervals officers were
permitted to enjoy themselves, leaving the garrison, and going where they
pleased, without making written application to state where they were going for
how long, etc., so that they were back for their next duty. It did seem to me,
in my early army days, that too many of the older officers, when they came to
command posts, made it a study to think what orders they could publish to annoy
their subordinates and render them uncomfortable. I noticed, however, a few
years later, when the Mexican war broke out, that most of this class of officers
discovered they were possessed of disabilities which entirely incapacitated them
for active field service. They had the moral courage to proclaim it, too. They
were right; but they did not always give their disease the right name.
At West Point I had a class-mate--in the last year of our studies he was room-
mate also--F. T. Dent, whose family resided some five miles west of Jefferson
Barracks. Two of his unmarried brothers were living at home at that time, and
as I had taken with me from Ohio, my horse, saddle and bridle, I soon found my
way out to White Haven, the name of the Dent estate. As I found the family
congenial my visits became frequent. There were at home, besides the young men,
two daughters, one a school miss of fifteen, the other a girl of eight or nine.
There was still an older daughter of seventeen, who had been spending several
years at boarding-school in St. Louis, but who, though through school, had not
yet returned home. She was spending the winter in the city with connections,
the family of Colonel John O'Fallon, well known in St. Louis. In February she
returned to her country home. After that I do not know but my visits became more
frequent; they certainly did become more enjoyable. We would often take walks,
or go on horseback to visit the neighbors, until I became quite well acquainted
in that vicinity. Sometimes one of the brothers would accompany us, sometimes
one of the younger sisters. If the 4th infantry had remained at Jefferson
Barracks it is possible, even probable, that this life might have continued for
some years without my finding out that there was anything serious the matter
with me; but in the following May a circumstance occurred which developed my
sentiment so palpably that there was no mistaking it.
The annexation of Texas was at this time the subject of violent discussion in
Congress, in the press, and by individuals. The administration of President
Tyler, then in power, was making the most strenuous efforts to effect the
annexation, which was, indeed, the great and absorbing question of the day.
During these discussions the greater part of the single rifle regiment in the
army--the 2d dragoons, which had been dismounted a year or two before, and
designated "Dismounted Rifles"--was stationed at Fort Jessup, Louisiana, some
twenty-five miles east of the Texas line, to observe the frontier. About the
1st of May the 3d infantry was ordered from Jefferson Barracks to Louisiana, to
go into camp in the neighborhood of Fort Jessup, and there await further orders.
The troops were embarked on steamers and were on their way down the Mississippi
within a few days after the receipt of this order. About the time they started
I obtained a leave of absence for twenty days to go to Ohio to visit my parents.
I was obliged to go to St. Louis to take a steamer for Louisville or Cincinnati,
or the first steamer going up the Ohio River to any point. Before I left St.
Louis orders were received at Jefferson Barracks for the 4th infantry to follow
the 3d. A messenger was sent after me to stop my leaving; but before he could
reach me I was off, totally ignorant of these events. A day or two after my
arrival at Bethel I received a letter from a classmate and fellow lieutenant in
the 4th, informing me of the circumstances related above, and advising me not to
open any letter post marked St. Louis or Jefferson Barracks, until the
expiration of my leave, and saying that he would pack up my things and take them
along for me. His advice was not necessary, for no other letter was sent to me.
I now discovered that I was exceedingly anxious to get back to Jefferson
Barracks, and I understood the reason without explanation from any one. My
leave of absence required me to report for duty, at Jefferson Barracks, at the
end of twenty days. I knew my regiment had gone up the Red River, but I was not
disposed to break the letter of my leave; besides, if I had proceeded to
Louisiana direct, I could not have reached there until after the expiration of
my leave. Accordingly, at the end of the twenty days, I reported for duty to
Lieutenant Ewell, commanding at Jefferson Barracks, handing him at the same time
my leave of absence. After noticing the phraseology of the order--leaves of
absence were generally worded, "at the end of which time he will report for duty
with his proper command"--he said he would give me an order to join my regiment
in Louisiana. I then asked for a few days' leave before starting, which he
readily granted. This was the same Ewell who acquired considerable reputation
as a Confederate general during the rebellion. He was a man much esteemed, and
deservedly so, in the old army, and proved himself a gallant and efficient
officer in two wars--both in my estimation unholy.
I immediately procured a horse and started for the country, taking no baggage
with me, of course. There is an insignificant creek--the Gravois--between
Jefferson Barracks and the place to which I was going, and at that day there was
not a bridge over it from its source to its mouth. There is not water enough in
the creek at ordinary stages to run a coffee mill, and at low water there is
none running whatever. On this occasion it had been raining heavily, and, when
the creek was reached, I found the banks full to overflowing, and the current
rapid. I looked at it a moment to consider what to do. One of my superstitions
had always been when I started to go any where, or to do anything, not to turn
back, or stop until the thing intended was accomplished. I have frequently
started to go to places where I had never been and to which I did not know the
way, depending upon making inquiries on the road, and if I got past the place
without knowing it, instead of turning back, I would go on until a road was
found turning in the right direction, take that, and come in by the other side.
So I struck into the stream, and in an instant the horse was swimming and I
being carried down by the current. I headed the horse towards the other bank
and soon reached it, wet through and without other clothes on that side of the
stream. I went on, however, to my destination and borrowed a dry suit from my--
future--brother-in-law. We were not of the same size, but the clothes answered
every purpose until I got more of my own.
Before I returned I mustered up courage to make known, in the most awkward
manner imaginable, the discovery I had made on learning that the 4th infantry
had been ordered away from Jefferson Barracks. The young lady afterwards
admitted that she too, although until then she had never looked upon me other
than as a visitor whose company was agreeable to her, had experienced a
depression of spirits she could not account for when the regiment left. Before
separating it was definitely understood that at a convenient time we would join
our fortunes, and not let the removal of a regiment trouble us. This was in
May, 1844. It was the 22d of August, 1848, before the fulfilment of this
agreement. My duties kept me on the frontier of Louisiana with the Army of
Observation during the pendency of Annexation; and afterwards I was absent
through the war with Mexico, provoked by the action of the army, if not by the
annexation itself During that time there was a constant correspondence between
Miss Dent and myself, but we only met once in the period of four years and three
months. In May, 1845, I procured a leave for twenty days, visited St. Louis,
and obtained the consent of the parents for the union, which had not been asked
for before.
As already stated, it was never my intention to remain in the army long, but to
prepare myself for a professorship in some college. Accordingly, soon after I
was settled at Jefferson Barracks, I wrote a letter to Professor Church--
Professor of Mathematics at West Point--requesting him to ask my designation as
his assistant, when next a detail had to be made. Assistant professors at West
Point are all officers of the army, supposed to be selected for their special
fitness for the particular branch of study they are assigned to teach. The
answer from Professor Church was entirely satisfactory, and no doubt I should
have been detailed a year or two later but for the Mexican War coming on.
Accordingly I laid out for myself a course of studies to be pursued in garrison,
with regularity, if not persistency. I reviewed my West Point course of
mathematics during the seven months at Jefferson Barracks, and read many valuable
historical works, besides an occasional novel. To help my memory I kept a book
in which I would write up, from time to time, my recollections of all I had read
since last posting it. When the regiment was ordered away, I being absent at
the time, my effects were packed up by Lieutenant Haslett, of the 4th infantry,
and taken along. I never saw my journal after, nor did I ever keep another,
except for a portion of the time while travelling abroad. Often since a fear
has crossed my mind lest that book might turn up yet, and fall into the hands of
some malicious person who would publish it. I know its appearance would cause me
as much heart-burning as my youthful horse-trade, or the later rebuke for
wearing uniform clothes.
The 3d infantry had selected camping grounds on the reservation at Fort Jessup,
about midway between the Red River and the Sabine. Our orders required us to go
into camp in the same neighborhood, and await further instructions. Those
authorized to do so selected a place in the pine woods, between the old town of
Natchitoches and Grand Ecore, about three miles from each, and on high ground
back from the river. The place was given the name of Camp Salubrity, and proved
entitled to it. The camp was on a high, sandy, pine ridge, with spring branches
in the valley, in front and rear. The springs furnished an abundance of cool,
pure water, and the ridge was above the flight of mosquitoes, which abound in
that region in great multitudes and of great voracity. In the valley they
swarmed in myriads, but never came to the summit of the ridge. The regiment
occupied this camp six months before the first death occurred, and that was
caused by an accident.
There was no intimation given that the removal of the 3d and 4th regiments of
infantry to the western border of Louisiana was occasioned in any way by the
prospective annexation of Texas, but it was generally understood that such was
the case. Ostensibly we were intended to prevent filibustering into Texas, but
really as a menace to Mexico in case she appeared to contemplate war. Generally
the officers of the army were indifferent whether the annexation 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, 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 had exercised
jurisdiction over the territory between the Nueces River and the Rio Grande.
Mexico had 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 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.
The 4th infantry went into camp at Salubrity in the month of May, 1844, with
instructions, as I have said, to await further orders. At first, officers and
men occupied ordinary tents. As the summer heat increased these were covered by
sheds to break the rays of the sun. The summer was whiled away in social
enjoyments among the officers, in visiting those stationed at, and near, Fort
Jessup, twenty-five miles away, visiting the planters on the Red River, and the
citizens of Natchitoches and Grand Ecore. There was much pleasant intercourse
between the inhabitants and the officers of the army. I retain very agreeable
recollections of my stay at Camp Salubrity, and of the acquaintances made there,
and no doubt my feeling is shared by the few officers living who were there at
the time. I can call to mind only two officers of the 4th infantry, besides
myself, who were at Camp Salubrity with the regiment, who are now alive.
With a war in prospect, and belonging to a regiment that had an unusual number
of officers detailed on special duty away from the regiment, my hopes of being
ordered to West Point as instructor vanished. At the time of which I now write,
officers in the quartermaster's, commissary's and adjutant--general's departments
were appointed from the line of the army, and did not vacate their regimental
commissions until their regimental and staff commissions were for the same
grades. Generally lieutenants were appointed to captaincies to fill vacancies
in the staff corps. If they should reach a captaincy in the line before they
arrived at a majority in the staff, they would elect which commission they would
retain. In the 4th infantry, in 1844, at least six line officers were on duty
in the staff, and therefore permanently detached from the regiment. Under these
circumstances I gave up everything like a special course of reading, and only
read thereafter for my own amusement, and not very much for that, until the war
was over. I kept a horse and rode, and staid out of doors most of the time by
day, and entirely recovered from the cough which I had carried from West Point,
and from all indications of consumption. I have often thought that my life was
saved, and my health restored, by exercise and exposure, enforced by an
administrative act, and a war, both of which I disapproved.
As summer wore away, and cool days and colder nights came upon us, the tents We
were occupying ceased to afford comfortable quarters; and "further orders" not
reaching us, we began to look about to remedy the hardship. Men were put to
work getting out timber to build huts, and in a very short time all were
comfortably housed--privates as well as officers. The outlay by the government
in accomplishing this was nothing, or nearly nothing. The winter was spent more
agreeably than the summer had been. There were occasional parties given by the
planters along the "coast"--as the bottom lands on the Red River were called.
The climate was delightful.
Near the close of the short session of Congress of 1844-5, the bill for the
annexation of Texas to the United States was passed. It reached President Tyler
on the 1st of March, 1845, and promptly received his approval. When the news
reached us we began to look again for "further orders." They did not arrive
promptly, and on the 1st of May following I asked and obtained a leave of
absence for twenty days, for the purpose of visiting-- St. Louis. The object of
this visit has been before stated.
Early in July the long expected orders were received, but they only took the
regiment to New Orleans Barracks. We reached there before the middle of the
month, and again waited weeks for still further orders. The yellow fever was
raging in New Orleans during the time we remained there, and the streets of the
city had the appearance of a continuous well-observed Sunday. I recollect but
one occasion when this observance seemed to be broken by the inhabitants. One
morning about daylight I happened to be awake, and, hearing the discharge of a
rifle not far off, I looked out to ascertain where the sound came from. I
observed a couple of clusters of men near by, and learned afterwards that "it
was nothing; only a couple of gentlemen deciding a difference of opinion with
rifles, at twenty paces. "I do not remember if either was killed, or even hurt,
but no doubt the question of difference was settled satisfactorily, and
"honorably," in the estimation of the parties engaged. I do not believe I ever
would have the courage to fight a duel. If any man should wrong me to the
extent of my being willing to kill him, I would not be willing to give him the
choice of weapons with which it should be done, and of the time, place and
distance separating us, when I executed him. If I should do another such a
wrong as to justify him in killing me, I would make any reasonable atonement
within my power, if convinced of the wrong done. I place my opposition to
duelling on higher grounds than here stated. No doubt a majority of the duels
fought have been for want of moral courage on the part of those engaged to
decline.
At Camp Salubrity, and when we went to New Orleans Barracks, the 4th infantry
was commanded by Colonel Vose, then an old gentleman who had not commanded on
drill for a number of years. He was not a man to discover infirmity in the
presence of danger. It now appeared that war was imminent, and he felt that it
was his duty to brush up his tactics. Accordingly, when we got settled down at
our new post, he took command of the regiment at a battalion drill. Only two or
three evolutions had been gone through when he dismissed the battalion, and,
turning to go to his own quarters, dropped dead. He had not been complaining of
ill health, but no doubt died of heart disease. He was a most estimable man, of
exemplary habits, and by no means the author of his own disease.
CHAPTER IV.
CORPUS CHRISTI--MEXICAN SMUGGLING--SPANISH RULE IN MEXICO--SUPPLYING
TRANSPORTATION.
Early in September the regiment left New Orleans for Corpus Christi, now in
Texas. Ocean steamers were not then common, and the passage was made in sailing
vessels. At that time there was not more than three feet of water in the
channel at the outlet of Corpus Christi Bay; the debarkation, therefore, had to
take place by small steamers, and at an island in the channel called Shell Is
land, the ships anchoring some miles out from shore. This made the work slow,
and as the army was only supplied with one or two steamers, it took a number of
days to effect the landing of a single regiment with its stores, camp and
garrison equipage, etc. There happened to be pleasant weather while this was
going on, but the land-swell was so great that when the ship and steamer were on
opposite sides of the same wave they would be at considerable distance apart.
The men and baggage were let down to a point higher than the lower deck of the
steamer, and when ship and steamer got into the trough between the waves, and
were close together, the load would be drawn over the steamer and rapidly run
down until it rested on the deck.
After I had gone ashore, and had been on guard several days at Shell Island,
quite six miles from the ship, I had occasion for some reason or other to return
on board. While on the Suviah--I think that was the name of our vessel--I heard
a tremendous racket at the other end of the ship, and much and excited sailor
language, such as "damn your eyes," etc. In a moment or two the captain, who
was an excitable little man, dying with consumption, and not weighing much over
a hundred pounds, came running out, carrying a sabre nearly as large and as
heavy as he was, and cry ing, that his men had mutinied. It was necessary to
sustain the captain without question, and in a few minutes all the sailors
charged with mutiny were in irons. I rather felt for a time a wish that I had
not gone aboard just then. As the men charged with mutiny submitted to being
placed in irons without resistance, I always doubted if they knew that they had
mutinied until they were told.
By the time I was ready to leave the ship again I thought I had learned enough
of the working of the double and single pulley, by which passengers were let
down from the upper deck of the ship to the steamer below, and determined to let
myself down without assistance. Without saying anything of my intentions to any
one, I mounted the railing, and taking hold of the centre rope, just below the
upper block, I put one foot on the hook below the lower block, and stepped off
just as I did so some one called out "hold on." It was too late. I tried to
"hold on" with all my might, but my heels went up, and my head went down so
rapidly that my hold broke, and I plunged head foremost into the water, some
twenty-five feet below, with such velocity that it seemed to me I never would
stop. When I came to the surface again, being a fair swimmer, and not having
lost my presence of mind, I swam around until a bucket was let down for me, and
I was drawn up without a scratch or injury. I do not believe there was a man on
board who sympathized with me in the least when they found me uninjured. I
rather enjoyed the joke myself The captain of the Suviah died of his disease a
few months later, and I believe before the mutineers were tried. I hope they
got clear, because, as before stated, I always thought the mutiny was all in the
brain of a very weak and sick man.
After reaching shore, or Shell Island, the labor of getting to Corpus Christi
was slow and tedious. There was, if my memory serves me, but one small steamer
to transport troops and baggage when the 4th infantry arrived. Others were
procured later. The distance from Shell Island to Corpus Christi was some
sixteen or eighteen miles. The channel to the bay was so shallow that the
steamer, small as it was, had to be dragged over the bottom when loaded. Not
more than one trip a day could be effected. Later this was remedied, by
deepening the channel and increasing the number of vessels suitable to its
navigation.
Corpus Christi is near the head of the bay of the same name, formed by the
entrance of the Nueces River into tide-water, and is on the west bank of that
bay. At the time of its first occupancy by United States troops there was a
small Mexican hamlet there, containing probably less than one hundred souls.
There was, in addition, a small American trading post, at which goods were sold
to Mexican smugglers. All goods were put up in compact packages of about one
hundred pounds each, suitable for loading on pack mules. Two of these packages
made a load for an ordinary Mexican mule, and three for the larger ones. The
bulk of the trade was in leaf tobacco, and domestic cotton-cloths and calicoes.
The Mexicans had, before the arrival of the army, but little to offer in
exchange except silver. The trade in tobacco was enormous, considering the
population to be supplied. Almost every Mexican above the age of ten years, and
many much younger, smoked the cigarette. Nearly every Mexican carried a pouch
of leaf tobacco, powdered by rolling in the hands, and a roll of corn husks to
make wrappers. The cigarettes were made by the smokers as they used them.
Up to the time of which I write, and for years afterwards--I think until the
administration of President Juarez--the cultivation, manufacture and sale of
tobacco constituted a government monopoly, and paid the bulk of the revenue
collected from internal sources. The price was enormously high, and made
successful smuggling very profitable. The difficulty of obtaining tobacco is
probably the reason why everybody, male and female, used it at that time. I
know from my own experience that when I was at West Point, the fact that
tobacco, in every form, was prohibited, and the mere possession of the weed
severely punished, made the majority of the cadets, myself included, try to
acquire the habit of using it. I failed utterly at the time and for many years
afterward; but the majority accomplished the object of their youthful ambition.
Under Spanish rule Mexico was prohibited from producing anything that the mother-
country could supply. This rule excluded the cultivation of the grape, olive
and many other articles to which the soil and climate were well adapted. The
country was governed for "revenue only;" and tobacco, which cannot be raised in
Spain, but is indigenous to Mexico, offered a fine instrumentality for securing
this prime object of government. The native population had been in the habit of
using "the weed" from a period, back of any recorded history of this continent.
Bad habits--if not restrained by law or public opinion--spread more rapidly and
universally than good ones, and the Spanish colonists adopted the use of tobacco
almost as generally as the natives. Spain, therefore, in order to secure the
largest revenue from this source, prohibited the cultivation, except in
specified localities--and in these places farmed out the privilege at a very high
price. The tobacco when raised could only be sold to the government, and the
price to the consumer was limited only by the avarice of the authorities, and
the capacity of the people to pay.
All laws for the government of the country were enacted in Spain, and the
officers for their execution were appointed by the Crown, and sent out to the
New El Dorado. The Mexicans had been brought up ignorant of how to legislate or
how to rule. When they gained their independence, after many years of war, it was
the most natural thing in the world that they should adopt as their own the laws
then in existence. The only change was, that Mexico became her own executor of
the laws and the recipient of the revenues. The tobacco tax, yielding so large
a revenue under the law as it stood, was one of the last, if not the very last,
of the obnoxious imposts to be repealed. Now, the citizens are allowed to
cultivate any crops the soil will yield. Tobacco is cheap, and every quality
can be produced. Its use is by no means so general as when I first visited the
country.
Gradually the "Army of Occupation" assembled at Corpus Christi. When it was all
together it consisted of seven companies of the 2d regiment of dragoons, four
companies of light artillery, five regiments of infantry--the 3d, 4th, 5th, 7th
and 8th--and one regiment of artillery acting as infantry--not more than three
thousand men in all. General Zachary Taylor commanded the whole. There were
troops enough in one body to establish a drill and discipline sufficient to fit
men and officers for all they were capable of in case of battle. The rank and
file were composed of men who had enlisted in time of peace, to serve for seven
dollars a month, and were necessarily inferior as material to the average
volunteers enlisted later in the war expressly to fight, and also to the
volunteers in the war for the preservation of the Union. The men engaged in the
Mexican war were brave, and the officers of the regular army, from highest to
lowest, were educated in their profession. A more efficient army for its number
and armament, I do not believe ever fought a battle than the one commanded by
General Taylor in his first two engagements on Mexican--or Texan soil.
The presence of United States troops on the edge of the disputed territory
furthest from the Mexican settlements, was not sufficient to provoke
hostilities. We were sent to provoke a fight, but it was essential that Mexico
should commence it. It was very doubtful whether Congress would declare war;
but if Mexico should attack our troops, the Executive could announce, "Whereas,
war exists by the acts of, etc.," and prosecute the contest with vigor. Once
initiated there were but few public men who would have the courage to oppose it.
Experience proves that the man who obstructs a war in which his nation is
engaged, no matter whether right or wrong, occupies no enviable place in life or
history. Better for him, individually, to advocate "war, pestilence, and
famine," than to act as obstructionist to a war already begun. The history of
the defeated rebel will be honorable hereafter, compared with that of the
Northern man who aided him by conspiring against his government while protected
by it. The most favorable posthumous history the stay-at-home traitor can hope
for is--oblivion.
Mexico showing no willingness to come to the Nueces to drive the invaders from
her soil, it became necessary for the "invaders" to approach to within a
convenient distance to be struck. Accordingly, preparations were begun for
moving the army to the Rio Grande, to a point near Matamoras. It was desirable
to occupy a position near the largest centre of population possible to reach,
without absolutely invading territory to which we set up no claim whatever.
The distance from Corpus Christi to Matamoras is about one hundred and fifty
miles. The country does not abound in fresh water, and the length of the
marches had to be regulated by the distance between water supplies. Besides the
streams, there were occasional pools, filled during the rainy season, some
probably made by the traders, who travelled constantly between Corpus Christi
and the Rio Grande, and some by the buffalo. There was not at that time a single
habitation, cultivated field, or herd of do mestic animals, between Corpus
Christi and Matamoras. It was necessary, therefore, to have a wagon train
sufficiently large to transport the camp and garrison equipage, officers'
baggage, rations for the army, and part rations of grain for the artillery
horses and all the animals taken from the north, where they had been accustomed
to having their forage furnished them. The army was but indifferently supplied
with transportation. Wagons and harness could easily be supplied from the north
but mules and horses could not so readily be brought. The American traders and
Mexican smugglers came to the relief. Contracts were made for mules at from
eight to eleven dollars each. The smugglers furnished the animals, and took
their pay in goods of the description before mentioned. I doubt whether the
Mexicans received in value from the traders five dollars per head for the
animals they furnished, and still more, whether they paid anything but their own
time in procuring them. Such is trade; such is war. The government paid in
hard cash to the contractor the stipulated price.
Between the Rio Grande and the Nueces there was at that time a large band of
wild horses feeding; as numerous, probably, as the band of buffalo roaming
further north was before its rapid extermination commenced. The Mexicans used
to capture these in large numbers and bring them into the American settlements
and sell them. A picked animal could be purchased at from eight to twelve
dollars, but taken at wholesale, they could be bought for thirty-six dollars a
dozen. Some of these were purchased for the army, and answered a most useful
purpose. The horses were generally very strong, formed much like the Norman
horse, and with very heavy manes and tails. A number of officers supplied
themselves with these, and they generally rendered as useful service as the
northern animal in fact they were much better when grazing was the only means of
supplying forage.
There was no need for haste, and some months were consumed in the necessary
preparations for a move. In the meantime the army was engaged in all the duties
pertaining to the officer and the soldier. Twice, that I remember, small trains
were sent from Corpus Christi, with cavalry escorts, to San Antonio and Austin,
with paymasters and funds to pay off small detachments of troops stationed at
those places. General Taylor encouraged officers to accompany these
expeditions. I accompanied one of them in December, 1845. The distance from
Corpus Christi to San Antonio was then computed at one hundred and fifty miles.
Now that roads exist it is probably less. From San Antonio to Austin we computed
the distance at one hundred and ten miles, and from the latter place back to
Corpus Christi at over two hundred miles. I know the distance now from San
Antonio to Austin is but little over eighty miles, so that our computation was
probably too high.
There was not at the time an individual living between Corpus Christi and San
Antonio until within about thirty miles of the latter point, where there were a
few scattering Mexican settlements along the San Antonio River. The people in
at least one of these hamlets lived underground for protection against the
Indians. The country abounded in game, such as deer and antelope, with
abundance of wild turkeys along the streams and where there were nut-bearing
woods. On the Nueces, about twenty-five miles up from Corpus Christi, were a
few log cabins, the remains of a town called San Patricio, but the inhabitants
had all been massacred by the Indians, or driven away.
San Antonio was about equally divided in population between Americans and
Mexicans. From there to Austin there was not a single residence except at New
Braunfels, on the Guadalupe River. At that point was a settlement of Germans
who had only that year come into the State. At all events they were living in
small huts, about such as soldiers would hastily construct for temporary
occupation. From Austin to Corpus Christi there was only a small settlement at
Bastrop, with a few farms along the Colorado River; but after leaving that,
there were no settlements except the home of one man, with one female slave, at
the old town of Goliad. Some of the houses were still standing. Goliad had
been quite a village for the period and region, but some years before there had
been a Mexican massacre, in which every inhabitant had been killed or driven
away. This, with the massacre of the prisoners in the Alamo, San Antonio, about
the same time, more than three hundred men in all, furnished the strongest
justification the Texans had for carrying on the war with so much cruelty. In
fact, from that time until the Mexican. war, the hostilities between Texans and
Mexicans was so great that neither was safe in the neighborhood of the other who
might be in superior numbers or possessed of superior arms. The man we found
living there seemed like an old friend; he had come from near Fort Jessup,
Louisiana, where the officers of the 3d and 4th infantry and the 2d dragoons had
known him and his family. He had emigrated in advance of his family to build up
a home for them.
CHAPTER V.
TRIP TO AUSTIN--PROMOTION TO FULL SECOND LIEUTENANT--ARMY OF OCCUPATION.
When our party left Corpus Christi it was quite large, including the cavalry
escort, Paymaster, Major Dix, his clerk and the officers who, like myself, were
simply on leave; but all the officers on leave, except Lieutenant Benjamin--
afterwards killed in the valley of Mexico--Lieutenant, now General, Augur, and
myself, concluded to spend their allotted time at San Antonio and return from
there. We were all to be back at Corpus Christi by the end of the month. The
paymaster was detained in Austin so long that, if we had waited for him, we
would have exceeded our leave. We concluded, therefore, to start back at once
with the animals we had, and having to rely principally on grass for their food,
it was a good six days' journey. We had to sleep on the prairie every night,
except at Goliad, and possibly one night on the Colorado, without shelter and
with only such food as we carried with us, and prepared ourselves. The journey
was hazardous on account of Indians, and there were white men in Texas whom I
would not have cared to meet in a secluded place. Lieutenant Augur was taken
seriously sick before we reached Goliad and at a distance from any habitation.
To add to the complication, his horse--a mustang that had probably been captured
from the band of wild horses before alluded to, and of undoubted longevity at
his capture--gave out. It was absolutely necessary to get for ward to Goliad to
find a shelter for our sick companion. By dint of patience and exceedingly slow
movements, Goliad was at last reached, and a shelter and bed secured for our
patient. We remained over a day, hoping that Augur might recover sufficiently
to resume his travels. He did not, however, and knowing that Major Dix would be
along in a few days, with his wagon-train, now empty, and escort, we arranged
with our Louisiana friend to take the best of care of the sick lieutenant until
thus relieved, and went on.
I had never been a sportsman in my life; had scarcely ever gone in search of
game, and rarely seen any when looking for it. On this trip there was no minute
of time while travelling between San Patricio and the settlements on the San
Antonio River, from San Antonio to Austin, and again from the Colorado River
back to San Patricio, when deer or antelope could not be seen in great numbers.
Each officer carried a shot-gun, and every evening, after going into camp, some
would go out and soon return with venison and wild turkeys enough for the entire
camp. I, however, never went out, and had no occasion to fire my gun; except,
being detained over a day at Goliad, Benjamin and I concluded to go down to the
creek--which was fringed with timber, much of it the pecan--and bring back a few
turkeys. We had scarcely reached the edge of the timber when I heard the flutter
of wings overhead, and in an instant I saw two or three turkeys flying away.
These were soon followed by more, then more, and more, until a flock of twenty
or thirty had left from just over my head. All this time I stood watching the
turkeys to see where they flew--with my gun on my shoulder, and never once
thought of levelling it at the birds. When I had time to reflect upon the
matter, I came to the conclusion that as a sportsman I was a failure, and went
back to the house. Benjamin remained out, and got as many turkeys as he wanted
to carry back.
After the second night at Goliad, Benjamin and I started to make the remainder
of the journey alone. We reached Corpus Christi just in time to avoid "absence
without leave." We met no one not even an Indian--during the remainder of our
journey, except at San Patricio. A new settlement had been started there in our
absence of three weeks, induced possibly by the fact that there were houses
already built, while the proximity of troops gave protection against the
Indians. On the evening of the first day out from Goliad we heard the most
unearthly howling of wolves, directly in our front. The prairie grass was tall
and we could not see the beasts, but the sound indicated that they were near. To
my ear it appeared that there must have been enough of them to devour our party,
horses and all, at a single meal. The part of Ohio that I hailed from was not
thickly settled, but wolves had been driven out long before I left. Benjamin
was from Indiana, still less populated, where the wolf yet roamed over the
prairies. He understood the nature of the animal and the capacity of a few to
make believe there was an unlimited number of them. He kept on towards the
noise, unmoved. I followed in his trail, lacking moral courage to turn back and
join our sick companion. I have no doubt that if Benjamin had proposed
returning to Goliad, I would not only have "seconded the motion" but have sug
gested that it was very hard-hearted in us to leave Augur sick there in the
first place; but Benjamin did not propose turning back. When he did speak it
was to ask: "Grant, how many wolves do you think there are in that pack?" Knowing
where he was from, and suspecting that he thought I would over-estimate the
number, I determined to show my acquaintance with the animal by putting the
estimate below what possibly could be correct, and answered: "Oh, about
twenty," very indifferently. He smiled and rode on. In a minute we were close
upon them, and before they saw us. There were just TWO of them. Seated upon
their haunches, with their mouths close together, they had made all the noise we
had been hearing for the past ten minutes. I have often thought of this
incident since when I have heard the noise of a few disappointed politicians who
had deserted their associates. There are always more of them before they are
counted.
A week or two before leaving Corpus Christi on this trip, I had been promoted
from brevet second-lieutenant, 4th infantry, to full second-lieutenant, 7th
infantry. Frank Gardner,(*1) of the 7th, was promoted to the 4th in the same
orders. We immediately made application to be transferred, so as to get back to
our old regiments. On my return, I found that our application had been approved
at Washington. While in the 7th infantry I was in the company of Captain
Holmes, afterwards a Lieutenant-general in the Confederate army. I never came in
contact with him in the war of the Rebellion, nor did he render any very
conspicuous service in his high rank. My transfer carried me to the company of
Captain McCall, who resigned from the army after the Mexican war and settled in
Philadelphia. He was prompt, however, to volunteer when the rebellion broke
out, and soon rose to the rank of major-general in the Union army. I was not
fortunate enough to meet him after he resigned. In the old army he was esteemed
very highly as a soldier and gentleman. Our relations were always most
pleasant.
The preparations at Corpus Christi for an advance progressed as rapidly in the
absence of some twenty or more lieutenants as if we had been there. The
principal business consisted in securing mules, and getting them broken to
harness. The process was slow but amusing. The animals sold to the government
were all young and unbroken, even to the saddle, and were quite as wild as the
wild horses of the prairie. Usually a number would be brought in by a company
of Mexicans, partners in the delivery. The mules were first driven into a
stockade, called a corral, inclosing an acre or more of ground. The Mexicans,--
who were all experienced in throwing the lasso,--would go into the corral on
horseback, with their lassos attached to the pommels of their saddles. Soldiers
detailed as teamsters and black smiths would also enter the corral, the former
with ropes to serve as halters, the latter with branding irons and a fire to
keep the irons heated. A lasso was then thrown over the neck of a mule, when he
would immediately go to the length of his tether, first one end, then the other
in the air. While he was thus plunging and gyrating, another lasso would be
thrown by another Mexican, catching the animal by a fore-foot. This would bring
the mule to the ground, when he was seized and held by the teamsters while the
blacksmith put upon him, with hot irons, the initials "U. S." Ropes were then
put about the neck, with a slipnoose which would tighten around the throat if
pulled. With a man on each side holding these ropes, the mule was released from
his other bindings and allowed to rise. With more or less difficulty he would be
conducted to a picket rope outside and fastened there. The delivery of that
mule was then complete. This process was gone through with every mule and wild
horse with the army of occupation.
The method of breaking them was less cruel and much more amusing. It is a well-
known fact that where domestic animals are used for specific purposes from
generation to generation, the descendants are easily, as a rule, subdued to the
same uses. At that time in Northern Mexico the mule, or his ancestors, the horse
and the ass, was seldom used except for the saddle or pack. At all events the
Corpus Christi mule resisted the new use to which he was being put. The
treatment he was subjected to in order to overcome his prejudices was summary
and effective.
The soldiers were principally foreigners who had enlisted in our large cities,
and, with the exception of a chance drayman among them, it is not probable that
any of the men who reported themselves as competent teamsters had ever driven a
mule-team in their lives, or indeed that many had had any previous experience in
driving any animal whatever to harness. Numbers together can accomplish what
twice their number acting individually could not perform. Five mules were
allotted to each wagon. A teamster would select at the picket rope five animals
of nearly the same color and general appearance for his team. With a full corps
of assistants, other teamsters, he would then proceed to get his mules together.
In two's the men would approach each animal selected, avoiding as far as
possible its heels. Two ropes would be put about the neck of each animal, with
a slip noose, so that he could be choked if too unruly. They were then led out,
harnessed by force and hitched to the wagon in the position they had to keep
ever after. Two men remained on either side of the leader, with the lassos
about its neck, and one man retained the same restraining influence over each of
the others. All being ready, the hold would be slackened and the team started.
The first motion was generally five mules in the air at one time, backs bowed,
hind feet extended to the rear. After repeating this movement a few times the
leaders would start to run. This would bring the breeching tight against the
mules at the wheels, which these last seemed to regard as a most unwarrantable
attempt at coercion and would resist by taking a seat, sometimes going so far as
to lie down. In time all were broken in to do their duty submissively if not
cheerfully, but there never was a time during the war when it was safe to let a
Mexican mule get entirely loose. Their drivers were all teamsters by the time
they got through.
I recollect one case of a mule that had worked in a team under the saddle, not
only for some time at Corpus Christi, where he was broken, but all the way to
the point opposite Matamoras, then to Camargo, where he got loose from his
fastenings during the night. He did not run away at first, but staid in the
neighborhood for a day or two, coming up sometimes to the feed trough even; but
on the approach of the teamster he always got out of the way. At last, growing
tired of the constant effort to catch him, he disappeared altogether. Nothing
short of a Mexican with his lasso could have caught him. Regulations would not
have warranted the expenditure of a dollar in hiring a man with a lasso to catch
that mule; but they did allow the expenditure "of the mule," on a certificate
that he had run away without any fault of the quartermaster on whose returns he
was borne, and also the purchase of another to take his place. am a competent
witness, for I was regimental quartermaster at the time.
While at Corpus Christi all the officers who had a fancy for riding kept horses.
The animals cost but little in the first instance, and when picketed they would
get their living without any cost. I had three not long before the army moved,
but a sad accident bereft me of them all at one time. A colored boy who gave
them all the attention they got--besides looking after my tent and that of a
class-mate and fellow-lieutenant and cooking for us, all for about eight dollars
per month, was riding one to water and leading the other two. The led horses
pulled him from his seat and all three ran away. They never were heard of
afterwards. Shortly after that some one told Captain Bliss, General Taylor's
Adjutant-General, of my misfortune. "Yes; I heard Grant lost five or six
dollars' worth of horses the other day," he replied. That was a slander; they
were broken to the saddle when I got them and cost nearly twenty dollars. I
never suspected the colored boy of malicious intent in letting them get away,
because, if they had not escaped, he could have had one of them to ride on the
long march then in prospect.
CHAPTER VI.
ADVANCE OF THE ARMY--CROSSING THE COLORADO--THE RIO GRANDE.
At last the preparations were complete and orders were issued for the advance to
begin on the 8th of March. General Taylor had an army of not more than three
thousand men. One battery, the siege guns and all the convalescent troops were
sent on by water to Brazos Santiago, at the mouth of the Rio Grande. A guard was
left back at Corpus Christi to look after public property and to take care of
those who were too sick to be removed. The remainder of the army, probably not
more than twenty five hundred men, was divided into three brigades, with the
cavalry independent. Colonel Twiggs, with seven companies of dragoons and a
battery of light artillery, moved on the 8th. He was followed by the three
infantry brigades, with a day's interval between the commands. Thus the rear
brigade did not move from Corpus Christi until the 11th of March. In view of the
immense bodies of men moved on the same day over narrow roads, through dense
forests and across large streams, in our late war, it seems strange now that a
body of less than three thousand men should have been broken into four columns,
separated by a day's march.
General Taylor was opposed to anything like plundering by the troops, and in
this instance, I doubt not, he looked upon the enemy as the aggrieved party and
was not willing to injure them further than his instructions from Washington
demanded. His orders to the troops enjoined scrupulous regard for the rights of
all peaceable persons and the payment of the highest price for all supplies
taken for the use of the army.
All officers of foot regiments who had horses were permitted to ride them on the
march when it did not interfere with their military duties. As already related,
having lost my "five or six dollars' worth of horses " but a short time before I
determined not to get another, but to make the journey on foot. My company
commander, Captain McCall, had two good American horses, of considerably more
value in that country, where native horses were cheap, than they were in the
States. He used one himself and wanted the other for his servant. He was quite
anxious to know whether I did not intend to get me another horse before the
march began. I told him No; I belonged to a foot regiment. I did not
understand the object of his solicitude at the time, but, when we were about to
start, he said: "There, Grant, is a horse for you." I found that he could not
bear the idea of his servant riding on a long march while his lieutenant went a-
foot. He had found a mustang, a three-year old colt only recently captured,
which had been purchased by one of the colored servants with the regiment for the
sum of three dollars. It was probably the only horse at Corpus Christi that
could have been purchased just then for any reasonable price. Five dollars,
sixty-six and two-thirds per cent. advance, induced the owner to part with the
mustang. I was sorry to take him, because I really felt that, belonging to a
foot regiment, it was my duty to march with the men. But I saw the Captain's
earnestness in the matter, and accepted the horse for the trip. The day we
started was the first time the horse had ever been under saddle. I had, however,
but little difficulty in breaking him, though for the first day there were
frequent disagreements between us as to which way we should go, and sometimes
whether we should go at all. At no time during the day could I choose exactly
the part of the column I would march with; but after that, I had as tractable a
horse as any with the army, and there was none that stood the trip better. He
never ate a mouthful of food on the journey except the grass he could pick
within the length of his picket rope.
A few days out from Corpus Christi, the immense herd of wild horses that ranged
at that time between the Nueces and the Rio Grande was seen directly in advance
of the head of the column and but a few miles off. It was the very band from
which the horse I was riding had been captured but a few weeks before. The column
was halted for a rest, and a number of officers, myself among them, rode out two
or three miles to the right to see the extent of the herd. The country was a
rolling prairie, and, from the higher ground, the vision was obstructed only by
the earth's curvature. As far as the eye could reach to our right, the herd
extended. To the left, it extended equally. There was no estimating the number
of animals in it; I have no idea that they could all have been corralled in the
State of Rhode Island, or Delaware, at one time. If they had been, they would
have been so thick that the pasturage would have given out the first day. People
who saw the Southern herd of buffalo, fifteen or twenty years ago, can
appreciate the size of the Texas band of wild horses in 1846.
At the point where the army struck the Little Colorado River, the stream was
quite wide and of sufficient depth for navigation. The water was brackish and
the banks were fringed with timber. Here the whole army concentrated before
attempting to cross. The army was not accompanied by a pontoon train, and at that
time the troops were not instructed in bridge building. To add to the
embarrassment of the situation, the army was here, for the first time,
threatened with opposition. Buglers, concealed from our view by the brush on
the opposite side, sounded the "assembly," and other military calls. Like the
wolves before spoken of, they gave the impression that there was a large number
of them and that, if the troops were in proportion to the noise, they were
sufficient to devour General Taylor and his army. There were probably but few
troops, and those engaged principally in watching the movements of the "invader."
A few of our cavalry dashed in, and forded and swam the stream, and all
opposition was soon dispersed. I do not remember that a single shot was fired.
The troops waded the stream, which was up to their necks in the deepest part.
Teams were crossed by attaching a long rope to the end of the wagon tongue
passing it between the two swing mules and by the side of the leader, hitching
his bridle as well as the bridle of the mules in rear to it, and carrying the
end to men on the opposite shore. The bank down to the water was steep on both
sides. A rope long enough to cross the river, therefore, was attached to the
back axle of the wagon, and men behind would hold the rope to prevent the wagon
"beating" the mules into the water. This latter rope also served the purpose of
bringing the end of the forward one back, to be used over again. The water was
deep enough for a short distance to swim the little Mexican mules which the army
was then using, but they, and the wagons, were pulled through so fast by the men
at the end of the rope ahead, that no time was left them to show their obstinacy.
In this manner the artillery and transportation of the "army of occupation"
crossed the Colorado River.
About the middle of the month of March the advance of the army reached the Rio
Grande and went into camp near the banks of the river, opposite the city of
Matamoras and almost under the guns of a small fort at the lower end of the
town. There was not at that time a single habitation from Corpus Christi until
the Rio Grande was reached.
The work of fortifying was commenced at once. The fort was laid out by the
engineers, but the work was done by the soldiers under the supervision of their
officers, the chief engineer retaining general directions. The Mexicans now
became so incensed at our near approach that some of their troops crossed the
river above us, and made it unsafe for small bodies of men to go far beyond the
limits of camp. They captured two companies of dragoons, commanded by Captains
Thornton and Hardee. The latter figured as a general in the late war, on the
Confederate side, and was author of the tactics first used by both armies.
Lieutenant Theodric Porter, of the 4th infantry, was killed while out with a
small detachment; and Major Cross, the assistant quartermaster-general, had also
been killed not far from camp.
There was no base of supplies nearer than Point Isabel, on the coast, north of
the mouth of the Rio Grande and twenty-five miles away. The enemy, if the
Mexicans could be called such at this time when no war had been declared,
hovered about in such numbers that it was not safe to send a wagon train after
supplies with any escort that could be spared. I have already said that General
Taylor's whole command on the Rio Grande numbered less than three thousand men.
He had, however, a few more troops at Point Isabel or Brazos Santiago. The
supplies brought from Corpus Christi in wagons were running short. Work was
therefore pushed with great vigor on the defences, to enable the minimum number
of troops to hold the fort. All the men who could be employed, were kept at
work from early dawn until darkness closed the labors of the day. With all this
the fort was not completed until the supplies grew so short that further delay in
obtaining more could not be thought of. By the latter part of April the work
was in a partially defensible condition, and the 7th infantry, Major Jacob Brown
commanding, was marched in to garrison it, with some few pieces of artillery.
All the supplies on hand, with the exception of enough to carry the rest of the
army to Point Isabel, were left with the garrison, and the march was commenced
with the remainder of the command, every wagon being taken with the army. Early
on the second day after starting the force reached its destination, without
opposition from the Mexicans. There was some delay in getting supplies ashore
from vessels at anchor in the open roadstead.
CHAPTER VII.
THE MEXICAN WAR--THE BATTLE OF PALO ALTO--THE BATTLE OF RESACA DE LA PALMA--ARMY
OF INVASION--GENERAL TAYLOR--MOVEMENT ON CAMARGO.
While General Taylor was away with the bulk of his army, the little garrison up
the river was besieged. As we lay in our tents upon the sea-shore, the
artillery at the fort on the Rio Grande could be distinctly heard.
The war had begun.
There were no possible means of obtaining news from the garrison, and
information from outside could not be otherwise than unfavorable. What General
Taylor's feelings were during this suspense I do not know; but for myself, a
young second-lieutenant who had never heard a hostile gun before, I felt sorry
that I had enlisted. A great many men, when they smell battle afar off, chafe
to get into the fray. When they say so themselves they generally fail to
convince their hearers that they are as anxious as they would like to make
believe, and as they approach danger they become more subdued. This rule is not
universal, for I have known a few men who were always aching for a fight when
there was no enemy near, who were as good as their word when the battle did
come. But the number of such men is small.
On the 7th of May the wagons were all loaded and General Taylor started on his
return, with his army reinforced at Point Isabel, but still less than three
thousand strong, to relieve the garrison on the Rio Grande. The road from Point
Isabel to Matamoras is over an open, rolling, treeless prairie, until the timber
that borders the bank of the Rio Grande is reached. This river, like the
Mississippi, flows through a rich alluvial valley in the most meandering manner,
running towards all points of the compass at times within a few miles. Formerly
the river ran by Resaca de la Palma, some four or five miles east of the present
channel. The old bed of the river at Resaca had become filled at places,
leaving a succession of little lakes. The timber that had formerly grown upon
both banks, and for a considerable distance out, was still standing. This
timber was struck six or eight miles out from the besieged garrison, at a point
known as Palo Alto--"Tall trees" or "woods."
Early in the forenoon of the 8th of May as Palo Alto was approached, an army,
certainly outnumbering our little force, was seen, drawn up in line of battle
just in front of the timber. Their bayonets and spearheads glistened in the
sunlight formidably. The force was composed largely of cavalry armed with
lances. Where we were the grass was tall, reaching nearly to the shoulders of
the men, very stiff, and each stock was pointed at the top, and hard and almost
as sharp as a darning-needle. General Taylor halted his army before the head of
column came in range of the artillery of the Mexicans. He then formed a line of
battle, facing the enemy. His artillery, two batteries and two eighteen-pounder
iron guns, drawn by oxen, were placed in position at intervals along the line.
A battalion was thrown to the rear, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Childs, of
the artillery, as reserves. These preparations completed, orders were given for
a platoon of each company to stack arms and go to a stream off to the right of
the command, to fill their canteens and also those of the rest of their
respective companies. When the men were all back in their places in line, the
command to advance was given. As I looked down that long line of about three
thousand armed men, advancing towards a larger force also armed, I thought what
a fearful responsibility General Taylor must feel, commanding such a host and so
far away from friends. The Mexicans immediately opened fire upon us, first with
artillery and then with infantry. At first their shots did not reach us, and
the advance was continued. As we got nearer, the cannon balls commenced going
through the ranks. They hurt no one, however, during this advance, because they
would strike the ground long before they reached our line, and ricochetted
through the tall grass so slowly that the men would see them and open ranks and
let them pass. When we got to a point where the artillery could be used with
effect, a halt was called, and the battle opened on both sides.
The infantry under General Taylor was armed with flint-lock muskets, and paper
cartridges charged with powder, buck-shot and ball. At the distance of a few
hundred yards a man might fire at you all day without your finding it out. The
artillery was generally six-pounder brass guns throwing only solid shot; but
General Taylor had with him three or four twelve-pounder howitzers throwing
shell, besides his eighteen-pounders before spoken of, that had a long range.
This made a powerful armament. The Mexicans were armed about as we were so far
as their infantry was concerned, but their artillery only fired solid shot. We
had greatly the advantage in this arm.
The artillery was advanced a rod or two in front of the line, and opened fire.
The infantry stood at order arms as spectators, watching the effect of our shots
upon the enemy, and watching his shots so as to step out of their way. It could
be seen that the eighteen-pounders and the howitzers did a great deal of
execution. On our side there was little or no loss while we occupied this
position. During the battle Major Ringgold, an accomplished and brave artillery
officer, was mortally wounded, and Lieutenant Luther, also of the artillery, was
struck. During the day several advances were made, and just at dusk it became
evident that the Mexicans were falling back. We again advanced, and occupied at
the close of the battle substantially the ground held by the enemy at the
beginning. In this last move there was a brisk fire upon our troops, and some
execution was done. One cannon-ball passed through our ranks, not far from me.
It took off the head of an enlisted man, and the under jaw of Captain Page of my
regiment, while the splinters from the musket of the killed soldier, and his
brains and bones, knocked down two or three others, including one officer,
Lieutenant Wallen,--hurting them more or less. Our casualties for the day were
nine killed and forty-seven wounded.
At the break of day on the 9th, the army under Taylor was ready to renew the
battle ; but an advance showed that the enemy had entirely left our front during
the night. The chaparral before us was impenetrable except where there were
roads or trails, with occasionally clear or bare spots of small dimensions. A
body of men penetrating it might easily be ambushed. It was better to have a
few men caught in this way than the whole army, yet it was necessary that the
garrison at the river should be relieved. To get to them the chaparral had to
be passed. Thus I assume General Taylor reasoned. He halted the army not far
in advance of the ground occupied by the Mexicans the day before, and selected
Captain C. F. Smith, of the artillery, and Captain McCall, of my company, to
take one hundred and fifty picked men each and find where the enemy had gone.
This left me in command of the company, an honor and responsibility I thought
very great.
Smith and McCall found no obstruction in the way of their advance until they
came up to the succession of ponds, before describes, at Resaca. The Mexicans
had passed them and formed their lines on the opposite bank. This position they
had strengthened a little by throwing up dead trees and brush in their front, and
by placing artillery to cover the approaches and open places. Smith and McCall
deployed on each side of the road as well as they could, and engaged the enemy
at long range. Word was sent back, and the advance of the whole army was at once
commenced. As we came up we were deployed in like manner. I was with the right
wing, and led my company through the thicket wherever a penetrable place could
be found, taking advantage of any clear spot that would carry me towards the
enemy. At last I got pretty close up without knowing it. The balls commenced
to whistle very thick overhead, cutting the limbs of the chaparral right and
left. We could not see the enemy, so I ordered my men to lie down, an order
that did not have to be enforced. We kept our position until it became evident
that the enemy were not firing at us, and then withdrew to find better ground to
advance upon.
By this time some progress had been made on our left. A section of artillery
had been captured by the cavalry, and some prisoners had been taken. The
Mexicans were giving way all along the line, and many of them had, no doubt,
left early. I at last found a clear space separating two ponds. There seemed
to be a few men in front and I charged upon them with my company.
There was no resistance, and we captured a Mexican colonel, who had been
wounded, and a few men. Just as I was sending them to the rear with a guard of
two or three men, a private came from the front bringing back one of our
officers, who had been badly wounded in advance of where I was. The ground had
been charged over before. My exploit was equal to that of the soldier who
boasted that he had cut off the leg of one of the enemy. When asked why he did
not cut off his head, he replied: "Some one had done that before." This left
no doubt in my mind but that the battle of Resaca de la Palma would have been
won, just as it was, if I had not been there. There was no further resistance.
The evening of the 9th the army was encamped on its old ground near the Fort,
and the garrison was relieved. The siege had lasted a number of days, but the
casualties were few in number. Major Jacob Brown, of the 7th infantry, the
commanding officer, had been killed, and in his honor the fort was named. Since
then a town of considerable importance has sprung up on the ground occupied by
the fort and troops, which has also taken his name.
The battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma seemed to us engaged, as pretty
important affairs; but we had only a faint conception of their magnitude until
they were fought over in the North by the Press and the reports came back to us.
At the same time, or about the same time, we learned that war existed between the
United States and Mexico, by the acts of the latter country. On learning this
fact General Taylor transferred our camps to the south or west bank of the
river, and Matamoras was occupied. We then became the "Army of Invasion."
Up to this time Taylor had none but regular troops in his command; but now that
invasion had already taken place, volunteers for one year commenced arriving.
The army remained at Matamoras until sufficiently reinforced to warrant a
movement into the interior. General Taylor was not an officer to trouble the
administration much with his demands, but was inclined to do the best he could
with the means given him. He felt his responsibility as going no further. If
he had thought that he was sent to perform an impossibility with the means given
him, he would probably have informed the authorities of his opinion and left them
to determine what should be done. If the judgment was against him he would have
gone on and done the best he could with the means at hand without parading his
grievance before the public. No soldier could face either danger or
responsibility more calmly than he. These are qualities more rarely found than
genius or physical courage.
General Taylor never made any great show or parade, either of uniform or
retinue. In dress he was possibly too plain, rarely wearing anything in the
field to indicate his rank, or even that he was an officer; but he was known to
every soldier in his army, and was respected by all. I can call to mind only
one instance when I saw him in uniform, and one other when I heard of his wearing
it, On both occasions he was unfortunate. The first was at Corpus Christi. He
had concluded to review his army before starting on the march and gave orders
accordingly. Colonel Twiggs was then second in rank with the army, and to him
was given the command of the review. Colonel and Brevet Brigadier-General Worth,
a far different soldier from Taylor in the use of the uniform, was next to
Twiggs in rank, and claimed superiority by virtue of his brevet rank when the
accidents of service threw them where one or the other had to command. Worth
declined to attend the review as subordinate to Twiggs until the question was
settled by the highest authority. This broke up the review, and the question
was referred to Washington for final decision.
General Taylor was himself only a colonel, in real rank, at that time, and a
brigadier-general by brevet. He was assigned to duty, however, by the
President, with the rank which his brevet gave him. Worth was not so assigned,
but by virtue of commanding a division he must, under the army regulations of
that day, have drawn the pay of his brevet rank. The question was submitted to
Washington, and no response was received until after the army had reached the
Rio Grande. It was decided against General Worth, who at once tendered his
resignation and left the army, going north, no doubt, by the same vessel that
carried it. This kept him out of the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la
Palma. Either the resignation was not accepted, or General Worth withdrew it
before action had been taken. At all events he returned to the army in time to
command his division in the battle of Monterey, and served with it to the end of
the war.
The second occasion on which General Taylor was said to have donned his uniform,
was in order to receive a visit from the Flag Officer of the naval squadron off
the mouth of the Rio Grande. While the army was on that river the Flag Officer
sent word that he would call on the General to pay his respects on a certain day.
General Taylor, knowing that naval officers habitually wore all the uniform the
"law allowed" on all occasions of ceremony, thought it would be only civil to
receive his guest in the same style. His uniform was therefore got out, brushed
up, and put on, in advance of the visit. The Flag Officer, knowing General
Taylor's aversion to the wearing of the uniform, and feeling that it would be
regarded as a compliment should he meet him in civilian's dress, left off his
uniform for this occasion. The meeting was said to have been embarrassing to
both, and the conversation was principally apologetic.
The time was whiled away pleasantly enough at Matamoras, while we were waiting
for volunteers. It is probable that all the most important people of the
territory occupied by our army left their homes before we got there, but with
those remaining the best of relations apparently existed. It was the policy of
the Commanding General to allow no pillaging, no taking of private property for
public or individual use without satisfactory compensation, so that a better
market was afforded than the people had ever known before.
Among the troops that joined us at Matamoras was an Ohio regiment, of which
Thomas L. Hamer, the Member of Congress who had given me my appointment to West
Point, was major. He told me then that he could have had the colonelcy, but
that as he knew he was to be appointed a brigadier-general, he preferred at first
to take the lower grade. I have said before that Hamer was one of the ablest
men Ohio ever produced. At that time he was in the prime of life, being less
than fifty years of age, and possessed an admirable physique, promising long
life. But he was taken sick before Monterey, and died within a few days. I have
always believed that had his life been spared, he would have been President of
the United States during the term filled by President Pierce. Had Hamer filled
that office his partiality for me was such, there is but little doubt I should
have been appointed to one of the staff corps of the army--the Pay Department
probably--and would therefore now be preparing to retire. Neither of these
speculations is unreasonable, and they are mentioned to show how little men
control their own destiny.
Reinforcements having arrived, in the month of August the movement commenced
from Matamoras to Camargo, the head of navigation on the Rio Grande. The line
of the Rio Grande was all that was necessary to hold, unless it was intended to
invade Mexico from the North. In that case the most natural route to take was
the one which General Taylor selected. It entered a pass in the Sierra Madre
Mountains, at Monterey, through which the main road runs to the City of Mexico.
Monterey itself was a good point to hold, even if the line of the Rio Grande
covered all the territory we desired to occupy at that time. It is built on a
plain two thousand feet above tide water, where the air is bracing and the
situation healthy.
On the 19th of August the army started for Monterey, leaving a small garrison at
Matamoras. The troops, with the exception of the artillery, cavalry, and the
brigade to which I belonged, were moved up the river to Camargo on steamers. As
there were but two or three of these, the boats had to make a number of trips
before the last of the troops were up. Those who marched did so by the south
side of the river. Lieutenant-Colonel Garland, of the 4th infantry, was the
brigade commander, and on this occasion commanded the entire marching force.
One day out convinced him that marching by day in that latitude, in the month of
August, was not a beneficial sanitary measure, particularly for Northern men.
The order of marching was changed and night marches were substituted with the
best results.
When Camargo was reached, we found a city of tents outside the Mexican hamlet.
I was detailed to act as quartermaster and commissary to the regiment. The
teams that had proven abundantly sufficient to transport all supplies from
Corpus Christi to the Rio Grande over the level prairies of Texas, were entirely
inadequate to the needs of the reinforced army in a mountainous country. To
obviate the deficiency, pack mules were hired, with Mexicans to pack and drive
them. I had charge of the few wagons allotted to the 4th infantry and of the
pack train to supplement them. There were not men enough in the army to manage
that train without the help of Mexicans who had learned how. As it was the
difficulty was great enough. The troops would take up their march at an early
hour each day. After they had started, the tents and cooking utensils had to be
made into packages, so that they could be lashed to the backs of the mules.
Sheet-iron kettles, tent-poles and mess chests were inconvenient articles to
transport in that way. It took several hours to get ready to start each
morning, and by the time we were ready some of the mules first loaded would be
tired of standing so long with their loads on their backs. Sometimes one would
start to run, bowing his back and kicking up until he scattered his load; others
would lie down and try to disarrange their loads by attempting to get on the top
of them by rolling on them; others with tent-poles for part of their loads would
manage to run a tent-pole on one side of a sapling while they would take the
other. I am not aware of ever having used a profane expletive in my life; but I
would have the charity to excuse those who may have done so, if they were in
charge of a train of Mexican pack mules at the time.
CHAPTER VIII.
ADVANCE ON MONTEREY--THE BLACK FORT--THE BATTLE OF MONTEREY--SURRENDER OF THE
CITY.
The advance from Camargo was commenced on the 5th of September. The army was
divided into four columns, separated from each other by one day's march. The
advance reached Cerralvo in four days and halted for the remainder of the troops
to come up. By the 13th the rear-guard had arrived, and the same day the advance
resumed its march, followed as before, a day separating the