Soldiers of Conquest (9 page)

“Where should we build the siege line?” Scott asked. “You have now ridden it,” he flung his hand out to indicate the land they had crossed over, “and from here can see all of it at one time. Give me your recommendations.”

Lee studied the terrain spread out before him under the warm afternoon sun. Veracruz, where five columns of smoke rose from fires started by the American cannonading, was to the northeast. Inland from the city's walls lay a plain approximately one-half mile wide. Beyond the plain were sand hills rising gradually to an elevation of three hundred feet some three miles inland. Then came dense forests cut here and there by roads and open areas of cultivated land and orchards.

The chaparral was not continuous; being absent on the crest of the dunes where the wind kept the sand too active to allow for growth, and also missing where the land was low and stands of water glistened. The water areas would shorten the time needed to remove the chaparral to construct the siege line, but increase the effort to place the cannon. He would worry about the cannon later.

Now where should the siege line run? As the possibilities ran through his mind, a wonderful sensation came over him and his spirits soared. The weight of family responsibilities, of being a husband, a father, and worrying about his children's training and education, of being the son of Light Horse Harry Lee, was lifted off him and he felt sublimely free. He was freer now than ever before, even when but a small boy. He should have a sense of guilt for this, but hadn't the slightest. Now he could apply all his strength of mind and body to simply doing his duties as an engineer and soldier. Did all soldiers feel freedom from personal cares when far from home and preparing for battle?

He controlled the urge to laugh out loud from the sense of freedom for Scott and the other officers would think they had a crazy captain of engineers. Instead he smiled a little and focused on the land lying before him and evaluated the topography for the best place to construct the siege line. During his years improving the American fortifications along the Atlantic coast, he had participated in the firing of every type of cannon, mortar, and howitzer and could picture the arcing parabola of the balls from each one. The answer as to where the siege line around Veracruz should be was as obvious to him as knowing water would run downhill.

Should he be the first to make a recommendation? Would that be too presumptuous for a captain to do in the presence of generals? To the devil with it, he wanted to be noticed. He spoke to Scott. ”General, I believe that ridge of sand dunes some quarter mile closer to Veracruz should be the location of the siege line. It stretches from the beach on the south to Vergara on the north.” Lee pointed both directions as he spoke. “Vergara should be the northern terminus. The ridge bends and twists some, but overall it runs in a half circle that parallels the city's walls.”

Scott didn't respond for a full minute as his eyes roamed the area Lee had pointed out. Then he spoke. “Any agreement, or disagreement with the captain's recommendation?”

“It appears quite plain that's the correct location,” Worth said. His tone showed annoyance.

“Anyone have a different suggestion?” Scott asked.

“Captain Lee has recommended the best place,” Totten said. He nodded his approval at Lee.

“Captain, another question for you, where would you put our cannons?” Scott said.

“To do the most damage, they should be placed nearer the city, within a quarter mile or even closer. I'd recommend just behind the crest of those hills”, again he pointed, “where the cannon balls from the Mexican artillery can't easily strike our men.”

Scott nodded. “The Mexican strong points outside the walls will have to be taken so that the batteries won't be in danger of being overrun.”

Scott led the group of horsemen down from the crest of the dune.

At the last moment the wave tossed sea relented from its efforts to sink Grant's surfboat heavily laden with army stores. A large watery roller ran in under the boat and lifted and shoved and deposited it half its length upon the beach. He sprang onto the shore, caught hold of the craft and steadied it against the large breaking surf. His men already on the beach hastened up and swarmed over the boat and started manhandling the cargo onto the sand.

“Get out and help them,” the boat's coxswain ordered his oarsmen.

The men put down their oars and scrambled out and fell in beside the laboring quartermasters.

Grant and the other quartermaster officers and all their men had ferried supplies from the ships to the shore from daylight to dark whenever the conditions of the sea permitted. Now in mid-afternoon of the third day after the landing of the army, approximately one-quarter of the provisions had been brought ashore. Once on the shore the goods were being carried on the backs of men along the beach to the central stores depot at the near end of the siege line.

His brigade of infantry was under tents along their section of the siege line and their personal effects had been delivered to them. He had helped the brigade commissary officer get the kitchen up and hot meals served. He was pleased by his accomplishment considering the almost endless wind and blowing sand and rough sea conditions.

None of the artillery had made it off the ships for it was far too valuable to risk on the turbulent sea. As for the unloading of the horses, several had been hoisted from the holds of the ships by a windlass and boom, swung outboard to be lowered near the water, and dropped into the sea. One in five horses had drowned trying to swim through the waves and the attempt to bring them to land was halted until the sea would become less deadly.

The surfboat was soon unloaded and Grant called out to the coxswain. “The sea's too rough for another trip. Let's call it off until the wind weakens and the waves die down.”

The coxswain cut Grant a hard look. “'Bout time you saw that,” he said in a surly tone. Because of the rough sea, the other quartermasters had ceased efforts to bring supplies ashore an hour earlier. The small army officer was dangerous to work with.

“Watch the shore for my signal early tomorrow. If conditions have improved, we'll start again.”

“Right,” said the coxswain. He motioned at his crew and they hastened aboard the boat.

“Grab a load and let's get it to stores,” Grant said to his men.

He hoisted a sack of beans, settled it on his shoulder, and headed along the sandy beach to central stores some quarter mile distant.

*

“I estimate a sixty man garrison,” Lee said in a low voice to Beauregard lying in the hot sand beside him. “How many do you think?”

“That's a good guess, unless some men are inside the church,” Beauregard whispered back.

The two engineers lay on top of a sand hill beyond the American lines and half of a mile from the walls of Veracruz. A Mexican outpost was less than a hundred yards in front of them. The Mexicans had chosen the front yard of a small, whitewashed church with a cemetery surrounded by a low stone wall at its rear. The voices of the Mexican soldiers could be plainly heard.

The siege line had been constructed and Scott had directed the two men to locate the Mexican outposts between the American lines and the city's walls, and make an estimate of the size of the garrisons, and of any roving patrols. Once the outposts had been destroyed and the Mexicans captured or driven back, the engineers would begin placing the artillery where it could inflict the heaviest damage on Veracruz.

The two engineers had been slogging up and down the sand hills since dawn and it was now the middle of a sweltering day with the fiery orb of the sun directly overhead. Twice they had almost run into squads of roving Mexican patrols and barely escaped being spotted by plunging into the thorny chaparral. Both had received painful stab wounds.

The Mexican outpost consisted of several tents protected by a sandbag breastwork encircling an area of about a quarter acre. A shade had been made of canvass under which several soldiers lounged. Other soldiers were lying about in the shade cast by the front wall of the church. Two soldiers were on lookout in the bell tower. From that elevated position, the lookouts had a clear view of the surrounding sand hills and the chaparral. Lee and Beauregard were most careful not to be seen.

“We'll call it sixty men,” Lee said.

“That makes six outposts and the last one and about time too,” Beauregard said. He skimmed beads of perspiration off his forehead with a hooked finger and flicked it away onto the sand.

“This looks like a good site for our artillery,” Lee said. “What do you think?”

“The eastern walls are within easy range from here,” Beauregard said. “To hit the west walls will require us to place other cannon off in that direction a mile or so.”

“I agree,” Lee said. On the map he had constructed during the reconnoitering, he quickly sketched the church and the surrounding terrain and recorded estimated distances and compass bearings to points on the city's walls.

He took up his field glasses and focused it on Veracruz standing out brilliantly white in the bright sunlight. Beyond the city, many boats were coming and going to the neutral ships anchored on the bay. It was well known that the ships were taking under their protection large quantities of property belonging to influential Mexicans.

“It's a shame to use cannon on such a beautiful city and its people,” Lee said with a gloomy feeling at the prospect.

“Maybe they'll surrender the city before we start bombardment.”

“I doubt it. Let's make our report to General Scott.”

They stole down from the hilltop and away, winding a course through the dunes and chaparral and speedily crossing the openings visible to the artillerymen in Veracruz.

*

Grant could feel the tenseness, the girding for battle of the men of his brigade as he moved along the siege line. Scott had issued orders for a detachment from each brigade to advance and drive the Mexican's from their forward outposts. This would be the first serious engagement since the Americans had landed.

Grant continued on along the siege line that climbed up and down the dunes and circled about to avoid the boggy stands of water. He reached the beginning of the section manned by Clarke's Fifth Infantry, and a short distance farther along, saw Lieutenant Fred Dent forming up a company of troopers. Dent was the brother of Julia Dent, Grant's betrothed. Dent and Grant had been roommates at West point. Grant had met Julia when he had visited Dent at his parents' home near St. Louis, Missouri. Dent was twenty-four years old, the same age as Grant, slightly above average height, with brown hair and eyes and a short full beard. Like Grant, Dent had fought with General Taylor in northern Mexico.

“Fred, what's with the men? You planning to go somewhere?”

“You know damn well we're to move out and force the Mexicans to abandon their outposts.”

“I heard something about that,” Grant said and holding a straight face with an effort. He liked to josh Fred.

“What're you up to?” Dent asked.

Turning serious, Grant said, “I just came to see you off and wish you good luck.”

“I kind'a thought you came to go with me.”

“I'd like to but can't. The sea's calm and I got to get our supplies ashore as fast as possible.”

“Tend to duty and you'll stay out of trouble. And anyway, I'd not like for my future brother-in-law get killed while with me for Julia would never forgive me for letting it happen.”

Grant started to reply when a mountain howitzer boomed at headquarters and cut him off.

“That's the signal,” Dent said.

“Don't let the Mexican cannonballs find you,” Grant said.

“I'll duck fast. And we're advancing in fairly heavy numbers so it shouldn't take long to drive their outposts into the city.”

Dent motioned with his sword to his two sergeants standing and waiting for his signal to move out. The sergeants shouted at their platoons and led them off.

The long blue line of Americans, single rank deep, left the siege line and moved at the double-quick step toward Veracruz lying two and one-half miles distant. Sunlight glinted from fixed bayonets. The only sounds were the pounding of the men's booted feet, and the shrill, angry cries of the flocks of green and blue parrots flushing out of the chaparral and hastening away. The noise ended as the men disappeared from view into the sand dunes and chaparral.

Lee came into the headquarters tent, tied the flap shut to keep out the wind and blowing sand, hurriedly slapped some of the dust off his uniform, and found a seat with the other men present. General Scott had called a meeting of his aids, staff officers, and generals. This was the seventh day since the landing.

Glancing around, Lee found he was the last to arrive. When the orders reached him to appear at headquarters, he had been making his final selection of the site for the placement of the American cannons.

“Glad you could make it, Captain Lee,” Scott said.

“The messenger found me out in the dunes, sir,” Lee said explaining his tardiness.

Scott nodded. He took up a sheet of paper, and without looking at it began to speak. “Gentlemen, we've been hearing for the past few days that General Taylor and Santa-Anna fought a large battle at Buena Vista on February twenty second and twenty-third. So far the accounts have all been from the Mexican side of things and have given a great victory to Santa-Anna. Now I have General Taylor's report just in from the Rio Grande on the mail packet.

“The size of the armies was very uneven with Santa-Anna having seventeen thousand men against Taylor's six thousand. The battle lasted nearly two days. Now as to who won.”

Scott paused and looked around at the men all listening attentively. “I ask you, in what circumstances does the victorious army desert the battlefield secretly and in the dark of the night? Well that's what happened. Santa-Anna left the field to General Taylor. Further Taylor lost but six hundred men to Santa-Anna's four thousand. He has now won four victories and against great odds in a foreign land. We must applaud our brave comrades in the north for their victory.”