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Last in Their Class. James Robbins
Читать онлайн.Название Last in Their Class
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781594039249
Автор произведения James Robbins
Издательство Ingram
The Fifth Infantry was in the advance of Taylor’s column, led by Lieutenant Colonel James Simmons McIntosh. A native of Georgia, McIntosh was a tough old Army regular, a veteran of the War of 1812 who had been bayoneted in the neck and left for dead on the battlefield at Black Rock, New York, in 1814. He had seen service in Florida, at one time commanding Fort Brooks in Tampa, where he was a previous owner of Luis Pacheco, the guide who had led Dade’s column to its unhappy destiny. McIntosh was one of the four officers in Taylor’s war council who had voted to attack. The American troops moved forward steadily, all carrying twenty-six pounds of weapons and ammunition, their packs left behind with the baggage train and the wounded.
Arista had drawn up his forces at Resaca de la Palma, a marshy former riverbed eight miles from Palo Alto. The resaca, or ravine, was two hundred feet wide and ten feet deep, bisected by the main road to Matamoros, and on either side grew dense thorny brush called chaparral. The Mexicans had long used the spot as a camping and training ground—they knew every ditch. They had thrown up earthworks behind the ravine and established a mile-long triple line of defenses, with skirmishers positioned in ambush in the chaparral, men in the riverbed, and reinforcements behind the berm on the far side. Their flanks were anchored in stands of water and heavy brush. Artillery batteries were positioned at the right and left, and seven pieces were placed astride the road. The Mexican forces were veteran infantry regiments, and the Tampico Battalion, which was famed for bravery, supported the center. It was an imposing defensive position, and Arista was so confident it would hold that he left battlefield command to Brigadier General Rómulo Díaz de La Vega and retired to his tent in the rear.
Kirby heard the sound of musket fire as the American skirmishers made first contact. His men moved off the road as Ridgely rushed his light battery forward, then Kirby plunged into the thickets to the left side of the road, followed by his company. Second Lieutenant William Logan Crittenden, also of the Fifth Infantry, followed close behind. Other regiments moved into the brush on the right, and James Longstreet and Sam Grant led their small commands into the fray. The thick, thorny bushes made movement difficult, tearing clothes and scratching hands and faces. Men literally pushed each other through the bracken. Units became disorganized, breaking down into squad-sized groups, and Mexican ambush parties began engaging the men in desperate hand-to-hand combat. Kirby and his brother Edmund fought alongside each other “in the thickest of the fight—men falling around us on all sides.” Reloading was difficult, and the struggle in the chaparral was reduced to bayonet, sword and knife. Kirby eventually tired of swinging his sword and resorted to his fists.
Colonel McIntosh boldly rode his horse into the brambles, exhorting his men to advance, but was waylaid by a squad of Mexican infantry. They killed his horse, and he was thrown to the ground. A Mexican rammed his bayonet down towards the colonel, shoving the spike into his mouth, knocking out some teeth, the point emerging behind his ear, pinning him to the ground. McIntosh grabbed the musket with his left hand for leverage and hacked at his attacker with his sword. Two more enemy set upon McIntosh, shoving bayonets through his arm and hip, fastening him down like an insect. At that moment American soldiers came upon the scene and drove off the attackers, rescuing McIntosh, who was still alive but bleeding profusely and out of the fight. James Duncan, who was pressing forward with his artillery battery and had not seen McIntosh go down, called on him for assistance. The colonel spat through his bloody mouth, “Show me my regiment, and I will give you the support you need.”16
As the infantry pressed forward towards the Mexican line, enemy artillery fire intensified. “The enemy’s grape and canister from ten pieces, nines and sixes, were whipping the bushes about our ears,” Kirby wrote, “the small shot falling thickly among us.”17 From the start, Ridgely had been raining fire down on the Mexican batteries from his position at the center of the road, suffering few casualties from the counterfire that went over his head. But the force of the Mexican barrage stalled the advance. Taylor, watching from a position on the road behind Ridgely’s batteries, knew the Mexican guns had to be taken out of action. He beckoned to May, who was sitting mounted with his men farther back down the road. When May trotted up, Taylor said, “Charley, your regiment has never done anything yet—you must take that battery.”
May turned to his men. “We must take that battery,” he said. “Remember your regiment and follow your officers. Forward!” May and Zeb Inge led the squadron of eighty dragoons towards the enemy in a column of fours, sabers drawn. Ahead was Ridgely’s battery; the gunners were bare-chested, working their guns furiously a scant 150 yards from the enemy positions. Ridgely saw the horsemen approaching and understood what was about to happen. He bade the dragoons stop.
“Hold on Charley, while I draw their fire!” he shouted. The American cannon boomed and were answered by the seven Mexican guns, at which point May gave the order to charge. The dragoons gave a terrific yell, spurred their mounts and shot down the road. It was a spectacle that some on the field watched in disbelief. Cavalry charging artillery was reckless; it verged on the suicidal. It was the kind of charge that would take place eight years later on the field of Balaklava when the Light Brigade was cut to pieces in a tragedy immortalized in verse. It was a race against time, the speed of the horses and their riders against the skill of the Mexican gunners, furiously attempting to reload their weapons, as the dragoons crossed the shrinking space separating them. The infantry mêlée continued in the thickets to the right and left of the road as the cavalry thundered by, hair and beards flying in the wind, and the soldiers began cheering the riders on.
May and Inge raced side by side, jockeying for the lead position. May pulled slightly ahead at one point, and Zeb called out, “Hold back Charley, ’tisn’t fair!” Zeb spurred his horse forward and overtook May, as moments later the two bore down on the Mexican tubes, nearly ready to fire, their gunners frantically shoving in powder and grape. Several cannon sounded on the flank; some dragoons went down. But the forward edge of the column was already among the main body of Mexican gunners, slashing at them with their sabers, leaping over the guns, scattering the crews, and crashing through the position to the Mexican works beyond. Some horses balked at the breastwork and threw their riders into the ravine. Corporal James McCauley, a former riding master at West Point, and a half dozen other men broke entirely through the Mexican lines and continued down the road to Matamoros, killing the officer of a platoon of lancers who tried to stop them and putting the rest to flight.18
Zeb surmounted the berm and reined his horse, turning back towards the battery. At that moment, a small group of Mexican infantrymen popped up from behind the earthworks, leveled their weapons and fired a volley. Zeb was blown from his saddle, landing in a shallow pool in the ravine, his body pierced by nine balls. He died instantly.19
May attempted to rally his scattered force and returned to the guns, where he found a Mexican officer swinging his sword, imploring his men to fight. May approached the officer with weapon drawn and ordered him to surrender.
“Are you an officer?” he asked.
“I am,” said May.
The Mexican presented his sword. “You receive General La Vega a prisoner of war,” he said.20
Longstreet, who was rushing to assist, said that May’s “appearance as he sat on his black horse Tom, his heavy saber over General La Vega, was grand and picturesque.”21
With the pressure of the guns removed, the American infantry surged forward, jumping into the ravine and overwhelming the center of the Mexican line. “The enemy here fought like devils,” Kirby wrote. “Our men, however, knew that if conquered they would get no quarter and there was no possibility of a retreat, and though surrounded by vastly superior number fought with desperation.”22 American troops found a weak point on the right flank, and the Mexican position began to collapse. Kirby and Edmund rushed up the opposite slope of the ravine and in amongst the Mexican guns, Edmund leaping atop one of the pieces, slashing at the defending infantrymen, jumping down and dragging the piece back towards the American lines. Mexican lancers counterattacked