The Dragoons 3

by Patrick E. Andrews

  Grant took a breath and hollered in a voice so loud that every dragoon could hear him:

  “On my command! First and Second Squads! Fire!”

  A volley burst out from the dragoon ranks, smashing into the first rank of horsemen. Men were blown from their saddles while horses whirled and crashed to the ground.

  “First and Second Squads! Load!” Grant bellowed. “Third and Fourth Squads! Aim! Fire!”

  The second group of Mexican riders suffered the same fate. Obeying orders from their sergeants, the survivors wheeled to the side and galloped off to safety.

  “Cease fire!” Grant said. “Third and Fourth Squads! Load! Detachment! Stand fast!”

  Once more an eerie sort of silence settled over the area. Only the groaning of wounded men could be heard as the sun continued to climb, its heat increasing with each passing minute.

  Sergeant Clooney left the rifle pits and hurried over to join Grant and Eruditus.

  The sergeant reported, “They are forming up again, sir. But taking their time.”

  “How many casualties have we taken, Sergeant?” Grant asked.

  “We got a total of five kilt, no wounded,” the sergeant answered. He spat. “Y’know, I think those bastards out there is soldiers. They sure as hell fight like disciplined men.”

  “They are soldiers, Sergeant,” Grant assured him. “They’re under the command of General De La Nobleza. Or at least, at this moment, being led by one of his trusted subordinates.”

  “Ain’t that the gen’ral you and Mr. Fletcher went to see?” Clooney asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” Grant replied. “It’s not too hard to figure out he’s behind the scalphunters and wants to continue the activity. So, in truth, we’re being attacked by the Mexican Army.”

  “They are dressed as civilians to hide their illegal excursion into Arizona,” Eruditus said.

  “But they’re still Mexican soldiers, eh?” Clooney wanted to know.

  “They are troops of the Mexican Republic,” Grant said. “Of that, there is absolutely no doubt.”

  “Fighting the Mexicans is like old times, eh, sir?” Clooney said. “I tried to figger out how many of ’em there is, but I can’t see ’em all. They ain’t hit us in a big group yet.”

  “They will,” Grant said.

  “I reckon ye’re right, sir,” Clooney allowed. “I hope that dispatch rider gets through to headquarters in Santa Fe. We’re gonna be needing all the help we can get.”

  “Santa Fe offers our only chance,” Grant said. “But let’s keep that between us, right, Sergeant? I don’t want any loose talk causing unnecessary worry among the men.”

  “Yes, sir,” Clooney said. “Well, by yer leave, I’ll be getting back to my post.”

  “Dismissed, Sergeant,” Grant said. After exchanging salutes with the departing sergeant, the captain looked at Eruditus. “It’s going to be a long day, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m afraid it might be rather short, Grant,” Eruditus said. He pointed outward. “Look!”

  A couple of hundred yards beyond the camp, the sight distorted by dancing heat waves, what appeared to be two entire troops of cavalry had formed up. Distant, barely audible shouts of officers and noncommissioned officers could be heard as a bugle sounded.

  “Now they’ve become serious,” Grant said. “They want to end this fight here and now.”

  “I’m not a professional military man,” Eruditus said. “What are their chances of fulfilling that intention?”

  “If I were their commander, I would be feeling quite confident about now,” Grant said.

  “Don’t give up hope, my friend,” Eruditus said. “Evenunt posse miraculi.”

  “Miracles can happen, huh?” Grant said. “We shall see, friend Eruditus. We shall indeed see.”

  Across the way, the Mexicans were in orderly ranks, now silent as well-disciplined men can be. This quiet lasted for a minute before a sudden shout sounded that was followed by the blaring of the enemy’s bugle.

  They charged!

  “Steady! Stand steady!” Grant yelled as loud as he could. The dragoons, grim-faced and powder-stained, manned their positions without wavering.

  “First and Second Squads! Ready!” Grant said after the incoming horsemen had halved the distance. He waited a couple of more moments. “Aim!”

  Eruditus fretted. “I am afraid this habit of facing charging horses is going to wear on my nerves.”

  “Fire!” Grant ordered. “First and Second Squads! Load! Third and Fourth Squads! Aim!”

  Spurts of flame and thick smoke rolled out of the First and Second Squads. The front rank of the enemy went down but there were plenty behind them.

  “Fire!” Grant hollered.

  Another fusillade roared outward, knocking more Mexicans from their saddles.

  “Fire at will!” Grant yelled.

  Now individual shots were exchanged between the two sides. The dragoons in the rifle pits held firm because of their protected position. The other squads gave in a bit to the pressure of the enemy horsemen, causing the defensive line to bend. The Mexicans, hoping to take advantage of the situation pushed into the emptying area. But rather than create an advantage for them, it inadvertently resulted in a murderous crossfire smashing their ranks from the entrenched dragoons in combination with the other troopers.

  The enemy began tumbling from their saddles in twos and threes. Suddenly the Mexican bugler began sounding retreat. The attackers withdrew in a quick, orderly manner leaving dead sprawled around the front of the camp.

  Once again the fighting eased down into a lull. The heavy smoke from the fierce firing drifted out into the desert, gently propelled by an easy but persistent west wind.

  Sergeant Clooney wasted no time in scrambling from the pits and finding his commanding officer. “Sir, we took one hit and the squads outside took two. Three men total kilt in that last charge.”

  “Eight out of a total of twenty-four now,” Grant said. “That leaves us with a grand total of sixteen effectives.”

  “At this moment, sir,” Clooney reminded him. “They’ll keep whittling us away with more attacks ’til our detachment is wiped out.”

  “That leaves us little time to plan an elaborate scheme to escape,” Grant said. He smiled wryly. “But it does relieve any pressure on me for coming up with any grand tactics to turn the day in our favor. That makes a reasonable excuse for any blunders on my part.”

  “Remember what I said about miracles, Grant,” Eruditus reminded him.

  “I am more concerned with escape at the moment,” Grant said. “If any miracles take place in the next couple of hours, then I shall be grateful to the Almighty for them. But we must leave this place. Even if we have plenty of water, we are simply hemmed in for the final slaughter.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” Clooney said. “But we won’t stand much more of a chance out there on that desert. In fact, it might be a hell of a lot worse for us.”

  “I agree,” Grant said. “But I believe I’ve come up with our only solution.”

  “Thank God!” Eruditus exclaimed.

  “A solution in this case, doesn’t necessarily guarantee success,” Grant admitted. “It is more accurate to describe it as an attempt.”

  “Then you don’t think it’ll work, sir?” Clooney asked. “No,” Grant answered in a frank tone. “But I’m all set to give it a try.”

  “Aerumna nos est,” Eruditus said. “Woe is us!”

  Clooney shrugged. “When I took up soldiering I never figgered to live forever anyhow.” He stood up straighter and pulled his shoulders back. “Orders, sir?”

  Eighteen

  Preparing for the breakout had been one hell of an undertaking for the beleaguered dragoons.

  The activity necessary to put Captain Grant Drummond’s escape plan into effect was interrupted twice when the Mexican commander decided to launch attacks. These assaults were pressed to the limits, but the enemy had grown more cautious. Their conduct of the assault
s showed a changed attitude in the fighting.

  The Mexicans’ present leader, unlike the one who had attacked Grant and Eruditus out on the desert, was not going to spill any more of his men’s blood than necessary in this fight against an outnumbered enemy. He took more time between sending his men storming at the thin blue line of U.S. soldiers, and he pulled them out quicker. Yet his men did manage to kill two more dragoons in their latest assaults.

  The dragoons’ fighting spirit, buoyed by sheer desperation, was a fierceness not to be denied as their shallow line of defense blasted volley after volley at the attackers during the fierce latest attempts to overpower the camp. Weary and powder-grimed, the American soldiers well appreciated the fact that the battle had evolved into a slower pace. Particularly since their already sparse ranks had been thinned at a slow, but alarmingly steady rate.

  In spite of this lessening of fighting, the threat of further assaults continued to cause anxious feelings in the dragoon camp as the noncommissioned officers made sure Captain Grant Drummond’s instructions were carried out as quickly and efficiently as possible.

  A small, but most important part of this effort was under the personal command of Corporal Charlie Rush. Following his frantic orders, a detail of men had retired to the horse picket lines to begin saddling as many mounts needed for the survivors of the dragoon detachment. When the job was done, Charlie, urging his men to hurry, led them in a rapid dash back to the defensive perimeter. He left them there and went to find Grant Drummond and Eruditus Fletcher where they had positioned themselves.

  “The horses is ready, sir,” Charlie Rush reported with a salute to the captain. “All saddled and bridled and waiting for riders.”

  “And in good time, Corporal,” Grant said. “Well done. You may return to your places in the rifle pits. When you get there, tell Sergeant Clooney I wish to speak to him.”

  “Yes, sir,” Charlie said.

  Eruditus loaded his musket. “The barrel of this old blaster is growing fouled after so many shots, Grant.”

  “I’m sure my men are beginning to face that dilemma with their carbines,” Grant said. “Another damned good reason for a move on our part, no matter how desperate. We cannot simply remain situated here and fire away until the bores of the weapons become so encrusted that ramrods can’t be forced down them, much less musket balls.”

  “No matter the reason, it is a shame we’ll all have to leave personal possessions behind,” Eruditus said. “The Mexicans will enjoy the loot.”

  “As long as there is nothing to aid them in their fight, I’ll not worry about that,” Grant said. “All the powder and shot have been issued out.”

  “Yes,” Eruditus said. “Along with some of that disgusting hardtack and salt pork.” He forced a grin and a wink. “It will serve those blackguards right if they eat some of it.”

  Grant winked back. “Well, friend Eruditus, with luck, we’ll not have to endure that diet long before we can add some fresh meat to it,” Grant said.

  “With bad luck, we’ll not be consuming those victuals too many times either,” Eruditus pointed out. “We’ll be corpses spread around the desert.”

  Further conversation was interrupted when Clooney reported to his commanding officer. “It looks like the Mexicans is growing even more cautious, sir,” he remarked. “They’ve galloped off out of sight. But that sure as hell don’t mean they won’t be back.”

  “They know we’re pinned in and can’t get out,” Grant said. “At least that’s what I’m counting on.”

  “The enemy’ll keep pressing though, sir,” Clooney said. “Them Mexicans can see that waterfall so they know they can’t just wait us out to die o’ thirst. If they try to starve us out, it could take weeks.” He ruefully shook his head. “And I ain’t sure how many more rounds we’re gonna be blasting outta these dirty carbines.”

  “Mr. Fletcher and I have discussed that problem,” Grant said. “I’m sure it has occurred to the Mexican commander as well.”

  Eruditus slipped a cap in place on his musket. “Therefore, we can count on continuous attacks even if the Mexican commander wants to conserve his men’s lives. Our only hope is that help will arrive from Santa Fe.”

  “We can’t depend on that,” Grant said. “So well put my plan into effect immediately.”

  “It might work, sir,” Clooney said. Then he added, “Or we could end up buzzard bait out there.”

  “That’s something else Mr. Fletcher just brought up,” Grant said. He looked at both of them. “You two are not the jolliest of companions, are you?”

  Clooney missed the point. “This ain’t exactly a funny situation, sir.”

  Eruditus again winked at Grant. “Let’s see if something happens to lighten our moods.”

  “I’ll issue orders right now,” Grant said.

  “We’re all ready, sir,” Clooney assured him.

  “Have all the men equipped themselves with pistols and sabers?” Grant asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Clooney said. “They’re ready to hop into the saddle for any horseback battling they may be called on to do.”

  “Very well,” Grant said. “Now I want you to send one man back to the picket lines for every three horses. That means they’ll ride one and lead two others up to the line. Counting Eruditus and me, gives us a need for a total of sixteen animals. Detail Trumpeter Lundari to ride with us. He can take care of our mounts.”

  “That means how many men, sir?” Clooney asked. “I ain’t real fast with figures.”

  “Five horse handlers plus Lundari,” Grant answered. “One of them will only have to take care of his own horse and only one other. Tell them to stay back there ready to mount up and lead the extra horses forward when I give the order. At that time the handlers are to come as fast as possible to the line, but under control. Everyone gets a horse and mounts up without further orders.”

  “I understand, sir,” Clooney said.

  “The horses that will have no riders will also be set free,” Grant said. “They will follow us through habit and training.”

  Eruditus nodded. “The extra animals will help us out even if they don’t mean to.”

  “Right,” Grant said. “When the detachment is mounted, they are to follow me out into the desert.”

  “I’ve explained what’s to happen once we’ve left the camp, sir,” Clooney said. “Ever’ man jack in the detachment understands.”

  “Excellent, Sergeant,” Grant said. “Detail the men to the horses.”

  “Right away, sir,” Clooney said.

  Eruditus shaded his eyes and looked toward the enemy, studying the empty terrain. “No sign of the Mexicans.”

  “I wonder what they’re up to,” Grant said.

  “I would say our antagonists are treating themselves to some refreshments before making another attempt to murder us,” Eruditus answered.

  “Then there is no better time like the present to try something risky but necessary,” Grant said. He waved toward the horse picket line and yelled, “Horse handlers! Bring the mounts! Now! Move!”

  The soldiers responded quickly, galloping toward the waiting troops. Those horses without riders, now loose, milled around a bit then immediately took off after the others in a loose formation of bareback animals.

  Trumpeter Lundari, an Italian immigrant who had joined the U.S. Army less than a month after arriving in the country, rode up to Grant and Eruditus, leading their mounts.

  “Here are your horses, sirs,” he said.

  Grant leaped into the saddle. “Very well. Are you ready for a wild and dangerous ride, Lundari?”

  “Oh, yes, Captain,” the trumpeter answered. “But I could use a long drink of grappa first.”

  “What is grappa?” Grant asked.

  Eruditus interjected, “A wonderful distilled drink that is certainly called for on this perilous occasion.”

  “You have had it before, eh, Signor Fletcher?” Lundari asked.

  “Molte volte,” Eruditus said. “Many ti
mes when I was back East.”

  “At this moment I would be pleased to have anything to drink,” Grant said. “But we’ll talk about liquor later. It is time to do or die.”

  “An unfortunate choice of words, yet true,” Eruditus said. He now sat in his own saddle, ready for the plan to be put into effect.

  Grant shouted, “Follow me!” He kicked his horse into a run, heading for the dragoons who were now mounted and waiting for him.

  “Hurrah the Captain!” someone shouted.

  The tension in the ranks was high. The men responded with another, louder, “Hurrah!”

  “Let’s go, Dragoons!” Grant shouted.

  The entire detachment led by Grant, Eruditus, and Trumpeter Lundari thundered out of the camp into the desert. The loose horses accompanied them, confused but eager to tag along in what appeared to be a strange game to them.

  Grant hoped to find the Mexicans pulled back a good distance in order to give him and his men plenty of maneuvering room. Instead, the moment he’d chosen to break out was the exact time the Mexican cavalry had formed up for another charge. Instead of wide-open space, the dragoons had ridden straight into a well-prepared enemy force of great numerical superiority.

  “I’ve killed us all with bad timing!” Grant shouted over to Eruditus. “Damn me to hell!”

  Eruditus shouted the Latin phrase about miracles. “Eve-nunt posse miraculi!”

  The Mexicans immediately took off after the dragoons. Their formation now included the dreaded lancers—lanceros—those elite horsemen riding at the head of their pursuit. The dragoons noting this, loosened their single shot pistols in the leather holsters. They knew well that their sabers were far out-reached by the long stabbing weapons now bearing down on them.

  The loose dragoon mounts caused some initial confusion among the Mexicans by galloping in an ignorant lack of fear straight at them. This allowed the Americans to add a bit of distance in their run for safety. But eventually, the riderless animals worked their way out of the group and the pursuers were left unmolested to continue the chase.