Gone for Soldiers

  Scott looked at Lee. “You hear that, Captain? My judgment, the President has full confidence. I just wish …” He paused again. “There’s a flaw in this plan, Captain. Any military commander would understand this. There has to be accountability, there’s always accountability. But the President is saying here, I’m on my own. Polk has detached himself from the strategy, from the consequences, from the responsibility. I’m supposed to be happy about that. And damn it, I’m not. Why?”

  Lee thought a moment, said, “Sir, you asked me if I knew what we were fighting for. A better answer might be … that we’re fighting for the good of the country. We’re carrying out the instructions of the President.”

  Scott nodded, held the paper out toward Lee. “Well, Captain, you heard the instructions. I’m to handle it. No moralizing, no flag-waving, no hurrahs for our grand old Constitution. Mr. Polk has made a war, and now he’s handed it to me. And, I’m not supposed to be concerned about why.”

  Lee stared at the big mountain, thought a moment, said, “It’s still duty, sir. We’re here because God has put us here. If the President has given you discretion, then that is the hand of God as well. We can’t … I’m sorry, sir, but the duty is clear. You have a responsibility to carry out your instructions. If the instructions are … vague, then you must use the judgment that the President has granted you.” Lee seemed suddenly embarrassed, awkward, said, “Forgive me, sir. This is not my place.”

  Scott sniffed, rubbed his neck, trying to massage the headache away. “I asked for your opinion, Captain. You might find it interesting that my wife would agree with you. She’d see the hand of God in all of this. We’re put here just like that big damned mountain, just another piece of God’s plan. I wish I could just … accept that, Mr. Lee. If my duty is just to fight this war, then how I fight it is how I will be judged. I’m not supposed to care why I’m fighting, or just what the hell we’re really doing here. If you and my wife are correct, then in the end I’ll just have to answer to God and nothing else will matter. Problem is, in the meantime I’m answering to the government, and the American people. I suspect God is more forgiving.”

  They rode in silence now, and Lee let his horse slowly back away, resumed his place in line. Scott still looked at the big mountain, thought of the delicious misery of the old war. At Niagara, leading the men through the heavy snow, the raw beauty pushed aside by the duty, the job at hand, move the men, find the enemy. When this is over, he thought, then I can worry about what this was all about, whether this was a good war. He glanced to the side, expected to see Lee still, but no one rode beside him, and he thought, Does Captain Lee ever have fear? Is he so comfortable in God’s hands that he is not concerned with mistakes, or pain … or death? I should ask him, he thought, I would like to know.

  He could see a horseman, moving toward him down the long hill. The dragoons stopped, moved aside as the man came close. The man rode up quickly, saluted, said, “General Scott, a message for you, from General Twiggs. Sir, General Twiggs is preparing to assault the enemy.”

  Scott leaned forward, close to the man’s face. “What enemy?”

  The courier leaned back, wide-eyed, said, “Uh … the Mexicans, sir. There’s a whole bunch of ’em.”

  Scott felt the headache erupt into a wave of fire in his neck, felt as if his face was exploding, the anger boiling through him completely. He shut his eyes, clenched them hard, thought, We should kill Twiggs now, save countless lives. And it would feel so damned good.

  “Son, did General Twiggs give you any further message for me, any specifics on just what he is facing? Does the general know how many of the enemy he has found? What about General Patterson?”

  The courier seemed genuinely scared now, shook his head slowly. “No, sir. General Twiggs had some words with General Patterson. There is disagreement, sir. General Patterson was angry too, sir. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Scott nodded, the heat now controlled, a hard, manageable simmer. Thank God Patterson’s closer. He outranks Twiggs. He can pull rank, stop him from making some damned stupid mistake. Surely he knows that.

  He looked toward the dragoons, said, “Let’s move. We have a new urgency. It seems General Twiggs would rather fight this war by himself.”

  THE DRAGOONS LINED QUICKLY OUT ON THE ROAD, SITTING stiffly on their mounts, saluting him as he passed. He ignored them, focused on the flag, a small flutter over the heads of the men in charge. He saw Twiggs now, and Patterson, the two men waiting for him with a wide gap between them, a symbol of their obvious disagreement. Scott clenched his fists on the straps of leather, glanced at Twiggs, thought, There he sits, proud of this, as though whatever happens here is all his responsibility, the man with the good idea.

  Scott rode close to Twiggs, who did not move, stayed tall in the saddle, hard and gray, silent, the only expression coming through the man’s eyes, a grim stare, defiant. Patterson dismounted now, and Scott nodded toward him, polite, held up a hand, said quietly, “Excuse us, General Patterson. I would like a word with General Twiggs alone, if you don’t object.”

  It was not a request, and Patterson nodded quietly, backed away. Scott climbed down from the horse, did not look at Twiggs, knew Twiggs would carry through the performance, would not dismount just yet, would maintain the annoying posture, the man’s stubbornness filling the air, choking away any disagreement.

  Scott’s head still pounded, the pain hammering behind his eyes. His body stiff from the long day’s ride, he eased out of the saddle, moved away from the horses, noticed for the first time the amazing ground out to the west. He put a hand on his forehead, still did not look up at Twiggs, said, “General Twiggs, walk with me. Alone. Now.”

  Twiggs climbed down from the horse, and Scott was already moving away, thought, If he has so damned much energy, he can catch up to me.

  He walked out through low brush, short green plants, climbed a slight bare rise, thick dirt giving way to his boots. He reached the crest, stopped, remained focused out to the west. The anger was boiling beneath the headache, and he tried to sort through the thoughts, what he would say now, felt weary from fighting the headache. He knew that was probably a good thing.

  I have no patience, no energy for this. So watch what you say. You know how this goes, what happens next. You lose control, shout at him, and his pride makes him resign, and we start a feud that lasts for years. Washington gets involved, reputations are damaged, careers end. Good God, we cannot afford this, not here. I need all of them, but I need them to understand that we will do this my way.

  He stared at the prominent peak to the west, realized now it was farther away than he had thought, was much larger, tall, ragged rocks, deep ravines of thick green stretching out toward him, toward the place where Twiggs had halted his troops. Scott began to scan the land carefully, saw a straight wide river to the left, winding gently past the large hill, guessed now at the height of the hill, four, five hundred feet above the river. The main road stretched forward right into the base of the hill, began to turn, disappearing into the smaller rises. He began to see detail, bits of color on the hill itself, high up, and down, near the base, smaller rolling hills, the deep cuts, ravines, thick brush broken by small clearings and rocky outcroppings. Twiggs was beside him now, breathing heavily, and Scott ignored him, stared at the sight in front of him, more details now, small clusters of motion. My God, he thought, that’s one big rock. And it’s covered with an army. And cannon. A great many cannon. He felt a sudden odd respect, a surprise, thought, It’s them. It’s the Mexicans. They’re right in front of us, and they have very good ground.

  He looked at Twiggs, saw the grim old man watching him, still angry, defiant, ready with the hot argument. Scott felt the headache suddenly drifting away, his mind clearing, and he looked again at the Mexican position, the great fat hill, said, “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

  Twiggs’s face contorted in confusion. A low mumble of sounds, hardly words, came from his lips. Scott felt the tension and the an
ger easing away, replaced by the sheer spectacle in front of him. He pointed to the hill, said, “Up there, that high knoll in front of the larger hill. Must be ten, maybe fifteen big guns dug in there. Over there, two more strong batteries, nearly hidden by that brush. They control the road, that’s for sure. Anybody tries to push through there gets an artillery barrage from three sides. Amazing.”

  He felt for his field glasses, but they were in the saddlebag, and he turned to Twiggs for the first time, said, “Give me your glasses, let me have a look at those troops up there.”

  Twiggs handed him the glasses numbly, and Scott held them up, focused. “Just as I thought. How many men in a Mexican division, General? Three thousand, maybe more? There’s pockets of men all over that hill, all along the base. Could be three or four divisions, and God knows how many are behind this big damned hill. Let’s see, a division the size of ours, say, one like yours. Maybe the same size. And they’re up high, on the hill. Wonder who’s in charge? This large a force, good chance it’s Santa Anna himself.”

  Scott began to feel a strange humor, thought, No, there will be no shouting. He just doesn’t see it like I see it. I will explain it to him.

  “General Twiggs, I received a report of what you intended to do here. I certainly misunderstood, or the courier had it all wrong.”

  Twiggs began to speak, and Scott held up a hand, said firmly, “I’m not through, General. Let’s see, you’re down here, all this low ground, not much good cover. If you use the road to move up close … well, no, that’s no good. Can’t forget about all that artillery up there. So, it seems pretty clear that if we launch some kind of straight-ahead point-blank assault, it would be more than a disaster, might lose every damned man we have. No one would suggest that as a good idea, I’m certain of that. Not under my command. Of course, that’s just my opinion.”

  He handed the glasses to Twiggs, stared out quietly for a long moment, could feel Twiggs slowly deflate beside him, the stiff defiance flowing away. After a long moment Scott said, “Now, General, you were going to tell me something about a plan?”

  He could hear Twiggs let out a long breath, and Twiggs said quietly, “I have reconsidered, sir. Perhaps the commanding general would offer a plan of his own.”

  Scott turned, looked at him, hard, straight in the eyes. Twiggs looked down, and Scott felt the humor gone now, thought, Enough of this. His jaw tightened, his voice a low growl, he said slowly, “I will not mock you, General. I will not embarrass you in front of anyone else. But I will not tolerate bullheadedness.”

  Twiggs said nothing, nodded slightly.

  “The President has given me absolute command of this operation,” Scott went on. “I expect my generals to accept that. You’re a veteran, General, you’ve earned your rank, your command. You may not agree with my strategy. But you will respect it.”

  Twiggs looked at him now, the defiance gone, replaced by his old tired eyes. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

  Scott turned, stepped back off the rise, waited for Twiggs, the thin man feeling his way down through the soft dirt. Scott said, “General, the rest of the army is right behind us. I believe it’s time we come up with a way to get those people off that big damned hill.”

  5. LEE

  APRIL FOURTEENTH

  THE CHAIRS WERE SET OUT IN THE USUAL HALF CIRCLE IN FRONT of the tent, the commanders making their way in from their camps, the general’s staff already seated in their usual places. The chair beside Lee was empty, and no one had yet been assigned to fill it. Colonel Totten had returned to Washington, had gone north on the Princeton, the same ship that had carried Commodore Conner. Lee glanced at the chair, thought, He will be missed. He is missed now. It was a comfort having him there to back up his engineers. Lee was now the second ranking engineer with the army, and his only senior, Major John L. Smith, had been ill for weeks, had stayed behind in Vera Cruz.

  The commanders finally settled into the chairs, some still carrying a piece of their supper. Lee could still smell the marvelous smoke from cooking beef, had already filled himself, a great pile of meat and some strange vegetable he had never seen before. He felt the pressure, the hard pull from his belt, thought, No, this will not do. I cannot return to Mary and claim that going to war has made me obese.

  He saw Johnston now, eyeing Totten’s chair, and Lee smiled, motioned with a tilt of his head, but there was motion from behind, and quickly someone else moved into the chair. Lee saw that it was Beauregard, and the young man seemed to inflate, his chest puffed up. He leaned in and whispered to Lee, “Good evening, Captain. It seems I will be part of the meeting tonight.”

  Lee nodded. He had never seen Beauregard at a staff meeting before, thought, He has been out here for a while, probably done some scouting. Good, maybe we’ll find out what General Twiggs’s plan was, what he was going to attack.

  Scott emerged from the tent, faced the seated officers, and Lee saw he was chewing something, Scott’s face a mask of determination. Scott moved to his chair, sat behind the small table, did not speak, still worked his jaw against something stubborn. He stood up, glanced at the others, stepped back around the tent and made a harsh hacking sound as he expelled the unforgiving mass of food. There were stifled laughs from the men, and Lee could not help a smile. Scott returned, his mouth empty, and sat, saying to no one in particular, “Damnedest strange food in this place.”

  Scott looked at the faces as though he noticed them for the first time, said, “Anybody try those little green things? Thought they were like some kind of fruit, a berry or something. Won’t make that mistake again. Never chewed on something that chewed back. Felt like I was cooking from the inside out.”

  There was more laughter, unbridled this time, and Pillow stood up, said, “Quite, General. It’s the indigenous produce. I believe you are referring to the rather aggressive pepper they have here. It’s called the jalapeño, I believe. Nasty little creature.” Pillow laughed, and no one joined him. He sat, and Lee saw how smug Pillow was, nodding slowly to himself, so proud at having cleared up any mystery for the commanding general.

  Scott stared at Pillow, said, “We are grateful for your keen insight into the local agriculture, General. If this command requires a food taster, I shall call on you.”

  There were more laughs, and Pillow nodded, serious, said, “Certainly, at your service, sir.”

  Scott ignored him now, put his hands on the table, paused for a moment, then scanned the circle of men, said, “Gentlemen, up there, on that high ground to our west, General Santa Anna has maybe thirty-five cannon dug in, and a best estimate of twelve, maybe fifteen thousand troops. They are firmly entrenched, and completely control the main road. Any advance into that position would be … costly.” Scott glanced at Twiggs, but Twiggs ignored him, staring hard at the ground. Beside Lee, Beauregard began moving, twitching, and Lee glanced at him, saw Beauregard’s fingers nervously tapping his leg, moving faster now. Lee thought, It’s like … we’re in school. Yes, Mr. Beauregard, you may speak. Lee raised the back of his hand to shield his mouth hiding his smile.

  Scott noticing Beauregard’s fidgeting, said, “Lieutenant Beauregard, please give us your report.”

  Beauregard jumped to his feet, the chair beneath him knocked backward, a clatter that produced small laughs around the circle. Beauregard tried not to notice, said, “Thank you, General Scott. Per the orders I received, dated the thirteenth of April, signed by the commanding general himself, and sanctioned by Major General Patterson—”

  “Lieutenant, save all the lawyer talk for your court-martial. Just give us the damned report.”

  The men laughed again, and Scott sat back, ignored the response to his attempt at humor. Beauregard seemed to stagger, and Lee heard a small, high groan. Then Beauregard tried to speak again, coughed, cleared his throat.

  “Sorry, General. My apologies. Sir, the enemy is in position as you indicated. It is a very strong position, and cannot be carried by a frontal assault. The enemy’s right is firmly an
chored by the river, the Rio del Plan, and his center controls an area of deep ravines and steep rocky hills that our troops could not assault in any kind of organized strength. To the enemy’s left and rear are two hills, El Telégrafo, the larger, upon which he has constructed batteries and fortified heavily, and the smaller hill, Atalaya, which is occupied by an unknown number of troops as well. These hills completely control the main road. I have scouted the only possible avenue which we may use to attack effectively. If we can locate a route through the deep ravines to the enemy’s left, our right flank, it is possible we can fight our way through and thus turn the enemy’s flank.”

  Beauregard stopped, sat down, and there was a silence, the commanders all absorbing the report. Scott leaned forward, said quietly, “That’s a report, Lieutenant. Fine work.” Scott looked at Twiggs, who still stared at the ground in front of him. Scott said, “Do you have any questions, General Twiggs? Is our situation … clear?”

  Twiggs looked up, nodded slowly, did not look at Beauregard, said, “Quite clear, sir.”

  “Good. Now, Lieutenant, have you found a way through that rough ground? How can we reach the enemy’s rear by that route?”

  Beauregard stood, the swagger now gone. “Uh, well, I’m not sure, sir. But I can make another survey of the area, penetrate farther this time.”

  Scott held up a hand, said, “No, that will be all. Fine work. You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”

  Beauregard glanced at Lee, looked at the faces watching him, said quietly, “Dismissed, sir?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant, fine work. That will be all.”

  Lee watched Beauregard slink away, with his shoulders hunched down, the small man’s pride damaged. Lee thought, He looks almost like a child. He suddenly felt sorry for the young man. Give it time, Lieutenant. You are after all a good engineer. There will be a place for you here.