For the Common Defense
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The final option was to mobilize the volunteer militia, and on May 13, 1846, Congress called for 50,000 volunteers to serve for twelve months or the duration of the war at the president’s discretion. The War Department understood that it was to enlist volunteer militia units under the call for 50,000 volunteers. The president erred when he delegated to the states, or even to the units, the decision of whether the newly raised troops would serve for a year or the duration; states and volunteer units almost unanimously chose the former. The mass infusion of volunteers led to traditional problems associated with citizen-soldiers. Ill-disciplined, they murdered, robbed, rioted, and raped with such abandon that Mexicans considered them “Vandals vomited from Hell.” Regulars and volunteers viewed each other with contempt. A regular described Louisiana volunteers as “lawless drunken rabble” who emulated “each other in making beasts of themselves.” In turn, a volunteer complained that even if he captured the entire enemy army single-handedly, “it would not be deemed a deed worthy of remark, being done as it would be, by a man not a graduate of West Point.” Volunteer regiments drained recruits from the regulars. Finally, volunteers were expensive since, invariably, land and monetary bounties had to be offered in order to entice them to enlist.
It became harder to fill the ranks as the war progressed. Antiwar criticism dissuaded some potential recruits, but increased knowledge of conditions in Mexico did more to dampen enthusiasm. Said one young man:
No sir-ee! As long as I can work, beg, or go to the poor house, I won’t go to Mexico, to be lodged on the damp ground, half starved, half roasted, bitten by mosquetoes and centipedes, stung by scorpions and tarantulas—marched, drilled, and flogged, and then stuck up to be shot at, for eight dollars a month and putrid rations.
Compensating for the lack of quantity was the troops’ fighting quality, which resulted primarily from competent officers, especially West Pointers. Academy graduates did not dominate the regular Army high command but served brilliantly in the junior ranks as skillful troop instructors, combat leaders, and military engineers. Professionally educated officers also served with the volunteers. Many West Point graduates who had resigned received volunteer commissions, as did men who had attended the Academy but never graduated. Mexican War volunteers occasionally performed badly, but normally they fought as tenaciously as regulars, demonstrating anew what Scott had proved at Chippewa and Lundy’s Lane: that good leaders could quickly transform ordinary citizens into excellent soldiers.
No matter how brave and well led, troops need logistical support to fight effectively. Three staff departments shared logistics responsibility. The Ordnance Department provided weapons, the Subsistence Department rations, and the Quartermaster Department clothing, equipment, and transportation. No one (except staff officers) thought the supply bureaus worked efficiently. Polk believed staff officers had become too accustomed to easy living, displayed little energy but great extravagance, and were “Federalists.” He held numerous conferences with staff officers, maintaining that he and Secretary of War William L. Marcy had to “look after them, even in the performance of the ordinary routine details in their offices.” Taylor and Scott agreed with Polk about the staff’s incompetence. Both generals complained about inadequate logistical support, as did nearly every private. Suppliers joined in the critical chorus because staff officers sliced profit margins too thin.
Most of the complainants hindered rather than helped the supply bureaus. Polk, who wanted to conquer an enormous empire at small cost, followed a parsimonious policy that crippled procurement and transportation. Taylor was usually tardy in submitting requisitions, and Scott demanded more of everything no matter how much he already had. Wastefulness characterized the troops, and contractors engaged in unscrupulous price gouging, made doubly criminal by the shoddy goods they often supplied. In truth, logistical support excelled that of any previous war. Steamships and railroads helped make the logistical effort reasonably successful. Wherever possible the railroads moved supplies and troops to ports, and steamboats ferried them to Mexico. Although room for improvement existed, the bureaus performed creditably considering the vast distances and difficult geographic and climatic conditions.
Initial strategy, which Polk discussed with his cabinet and Scott, was obvious: blockade Mexico’s east coast and seize the provinces west and south of Texas, including Nuevo Leon, Coahuila, Chihuahua, New Mexico, and California. Economic pressure and conquest, Polk hoped, would force Mexico to yield to his territorial demands. The Home Squadron, commanded by David Conner and his successor, Matthew C. Perry, conducted the blockade. From a strictly military viewpoint blockade duty was not dangerous, since the United States enjoyed unchallenged naval superiority. Not a single enemy warship entered the Gulf, and the privateering threat never materialized. Yet the duty was not easy. Men and ships were in short supply, scurvy struck many sailors, vicious northerly gales appeared between October and April, and yellow fever raged from April to October. Boredom reigned most of the time, except during infrequent moments when lookouts spotted a strange sail or when naval forces attacked enemy ports in an effort to make the blockade more effective. The Navy unsuccessfully assaulted Alvarado twice but captured Frontera and Tampico.
Taylor’s army invaded Nuevo Leon after occupying Matamoros without a fight. Old Rough and Ready’s objective was the capital of Monterrey, but he advanced slowly, not arriving there until September 19. Monterrey stood on high ground on the north bank of the Rio Santa Catarina, which effectively guarded its rear. To the west were two fortified hills. The citadel, an uncompleted cathedral surrounded by bastioned walls, protected the city from the north, and two smaller fortifications anchored the defenses on the east. The stone houses were loopholed, the streets barricaded, and General Pedro de Ampudia, who had replaced Arista, had 7,500 men and forty-two artillery pieces to defend the city.
Monterrey’s defenses would have given pause to a less resolute commander than Taylor, who had only 6,200 men and lacked proper siege guns. But Taylor, displaying serene confidence, ordered a daring double envelopment. He sent Colonel William J. Worth’s division around the city to the west; the army’s other two divisions would batter into Monterrey from the east. Aside from the problem of coordinating the two wings, Taylor’s plan invited defeat in detail. But the Mexican commander failed to grasp the opportunity, and between September 21 and 24 Taylor’s forces fought their way into the city. Ampudia and Taylor then signed an eight-week armistice, allowing the Mexican army to withdraw intact and giving the Americans Monterrey without further bloodshed.
When Polk learned of the armistice, he was irate. Had Taylor persevered, captured Ampudia’s army, and pushed farther into the country, “it would have probably ended the war with Mexico.” He obviously did not understand Taylor’s critical situation. The enemy army could not be captured without vicious street fighting and heavy casualties. Taylor’s army had already suffered more than 500 casualties and was tired and demoralized, barely capable of further combat. Ammunition was in short supply, and Taylor had no plans for restocking. In any event, convinced of Taylor’s ineptitude, Polk ordered the armistice abrogated. Old Rough and Ready wondered whether Polk was trying to discredit him for political reasons, but he followed the order and marched to Saltillo, the capital of Coahuila. Taylor had no desire to advance farther, since San Luis Potosí, the next potential target, was 300 miles to the south across rugged terrain.
In both New Mexico and California the pattern was one of conquest, revolt, and reconquest. Commanding the Army of the West, Stephen W. Kearny departed Fort Leavenworth in June, marched 850 miles in less than two months, and took Santa Fe without firing a shot. Kearny then continued westward with 300 men to aid in California’s conquest. En route he met Kit Carson, who reported that California was already in American hands. The conquest involved American settlers engaged in the Bear Flag Revolt, the navy’s Pacific Squadron, and John C. Fremont’s “exploring” party of sixty-two heavily armed men. Kearny sent most of his c
ommand back to Santa Fe and marched westward with a mere hundred men. Unbeknownst to Carson or Kearny, Californians loyal to Mexico revolted against the American conquerors in late September, as did loyal New Mexicans in mid-December. Kearny’s weary troopers arrived in California just in time to help Fremont and the Pacific Squadron quell the rebellion in late December and early January. Colonel Sterling Price, Kearny’s successor at Santa Fe, defeated the New Mexicans at Taos in early February 1847, ending their uprising. In neither province was American authority challenged again.
Meanwhile, two columns advanced on Chihuahua, the capital of Chihuahua Province. Commanding three volunteer regiments and a few regulars, John E. Wool departed San Antonio in late September, and Alexander W Doniphan’s 850-man 1st Missouri Mounted Volunteers left Valverde, New Mexico, in mid-December. Wool occupied Monclova, where he received reports that Chihuahua’s garrison had fled. Since he believed it made little sense to continue toward Chihuahua, Wool asked for and received permission to advance farther south. When Wool’s men eventually joined Old Rough and Ready in late December 1846, they had marched 900 miles and not fired a shot. Doniphan’s horsemen traveled more than twice as far and won two battles: El Brazito, just north of El Paso; and Rio Sacramento, fifteen miles from Chihuahua. Upon entering the city they found themselves isolated in a hostile community. Doniphan wrote Wool asking for instructions and received orders to join the main army. The Missourians reached Taylor in mid-May; thus they had missed the Battle of Buena Vista. Wool’s men had not been so lucky.
Buena Vista resulted from Polk’s new strategic approach. During the summer and fall of 1846 he received good news from the war zones. The blockade grew tighter, Taylor was deep into enemy territory, and initially New Mexico and California easily succumbed. Yet Mexico rebuffed peace initiatives. Successful on the battlefield, the initial strategy failed because it did not bring Mexico to terms. Polk and his advisers rethought their strategy and in October 1846 decided to capture Veracruz and send an expedition from there to Mexico City.
Designed to force Mexico to the negotiating table, the new strategy raised two difficult questions: Who should command the expedition, and where could the troops be found? The invasion of the enemy heartland would make the commander a war hero and a presidential prospect. Polk considered five men for the position. Congress prevented Democratic Senator Thomas H. Benton from being named the commander when it refused to establish the rank of lieutenant general. Major Generals Robert Patterson and William O. Butler were Democrats and thus potentially excellent choices; but Patterson was ineligible for the presidency because of foreign birth, and Polk did not know Butler very well. Taylor was a winning general, but the cabinet agreed with Polk “that he was unfit for the chief command, that he had not mind enough for the station, that he was a bitter political partisan and had no sympathies with the administration.” By process of elimination the command devolved on Scott, who at least would keep all the glory from Taylor.
Scott was an excellent choice. Since the war began he had argued that only a repetition of Cortes’s march to the Valley of Mexico would end the war. When the administration first contemplated the expedition, Scott wrote the planning papers detailing the military requirements and establishing the operation’s feasibility. He estimated that 4,000 regulars and 10,000 volunteers would be needed and insisted that the Veracruz assault had to take place before the yellow fever season began. Since little time remained to raise new regiments, Scott took more than half Taylor’s men, including almost all his regulars, and prudently ordered Old Rough and Ready to remain on the defensive. The expedition was a double blow to Taylor. Denied the opportunity to command it, he also lost most of his army. Polk and Scott, he fumed, had conspired to cut short his military career and deprive him of the 1848 Whig nomination.
A copy of Scott’s order listing the troops withdrawn from Taylor fell into enemy hands. Santa Anna, the new Mexican commander, decided to attack the weakened army at Saltillo; he massed an army at San Luis Potosí and trekked across the desert wastelands. Taylor did not believe Santa Anna would attempt such an arduous march, and to demonstrate his confidence he advanced to Agua Nueva, disobeying Scott’s defensive orders. By February 20 Santa Anna’s 15,000-man army reached Encarnacion, thirty-five miles from Taylor’s army. Major Ben McCulloch of the Texas Rangers infiltrated the Mexican encampment, accurately estimated enemy numbers, and hastened to Taylor with the bad news. Taylor immediately retreated from Agua Nueva to a strong defensive site just south of Buena Vista. He had only 4,500 men, almost 90 percent of them volunteers who had never been in battle.
On February 22 Santa Anna sent Taylor a message inviting him to surrender, since he could “not in any human probability avoid suffering a rout, and being cut to pieces.” When Taylor declined, the Mexicans attacked late in the afternoon and some inconclusive skirmishing resulted. Santa Anna renewed the attack early the next morning, and by nine o’clock the American situation was critical. Taylor assumed a conspicuous position near the center of the battlefield, while Bliss reconnoitered the deteriorating American lines. The battle, Bliss reported, was lost. “I know it,” replied Taylor, “but the volunteers don’t know it. Let them alone, we’ll see what they do.” What they did was fight like veteran regulars. Everywhere the Mexicans outflanked or staved in the defenses, but the volunteers repeatedly rallied, oftentimes behind regular artillery batteries that heroically supported the citizen-soldiers throughout the day. By nightfall Taylor’s army had not been routed, but it had been cut to pieces. About 14 percent of his men were dead, wounded, or missing. Although Mexican losses had been severe and Santa Anna retreated, Old Rough and Ready took little joy in the victory. “The great loss on both sides,” he wrote, “has deprived me of everything like pleasure.”
The day before Buena Vista began, Old Fuss and Feathers arrived at Lobos Island, staging area for the Veracruz assault. By early March enough troops, transports, and naval vessels had reached the island, and the expedition commenced. On March 9 Scott made the first major amphibious landing in American history, the troops going ashore in surfboats specially requested by Scott. The Mexicans did not contest the landing, and 10,000 troops came ashore without loss of life. In less than a week siege lines spanned the city’s landward side, while the Home Squadron maintained a sea blockade. Isolated and defended by only 4,500 men, Veracruz capitulated on March 29. The surrender was not a day too soon, as Scott expected the dreaded vomito (yellow fever) to strike soon. He had the bulk of his men heading inland on the national highway during early April.
Fifty miles from the coast the highway ran through a rocky defile at Cerro Gordo. Here Santa Anna, who had traveled a thousand miles and raised a new army since Buena Vista, established defenses manned by 12,000 soldiers. If he stopped the advance, the Yankees would have to remain in the vomito-ridden lowlands. For the Americans to attack the fortifications head-on would be bloody business. Captain Robert E. Lee found a path skirting the Mexican left flank, and on April 18 the Americans attacked it. After three hours of tough fighting the Mexicans fled, and the next day the Americans entered picturesque Jalapa above the yellow fever zone.
At Jalapa the enlistment of 3,700 twelve-month volunteers expired. Apparently without a qualm about leaving a depleted army deep inside enemy territory, they refused to reenlist and marched back to the transports at Veracruz. Scott now had only 7,100 men left, but he continued to Puebla, where he paused to await reinforcements. By early August he had 10,700 effectives, and the advance toward Mexico City began. Resolving “to render my little army a self-sustaining machine,” Scott abandoned his supply and communication lines, a sensible though risky solution to a difficult situation. Guerrillas infested the region between Veracruz and Puebla, and Scott did not have spare manpower to guard the road. Following the war from afar, the Duke of Wellington said that “Scott is lost. . . . He can’t take the city, and he can’t fall back upon his base.”
The indefatigable Santa Anna raised 30,000 men to defend
the capital and built strong fortifications facing eastward, assuming Scott would attack along the road from Puebla. Scott reconnoitered the city’s various approaches and, as at Cerro Gordo, executed a flanking maneuver that promised success without an all-out battle. He avoided Santa Anna’s prepared defenses by assaulting Mexico City from the south. The Mexican commander rushed troops into new positions, resulting in the Battles of Contreras and Churubusco. The Mexicans lost 10,000 men; Scott’s casualties were a tenth that many.
Having twice battered the enemy, Scott agreed to an armistice, believing Mexico would negotiate a favorable peace rather than allow the invaders into the capital. But Santa Anna used the cessation of hostilities to revitalize his shattered army. Realizing he had been duped, Scott renewed his offensive in September, defeating the Mexicans at Molino del Rey and Chapultepec. Molino del Rey was particularly costly for Scott, who had received reports that it contained a cannon foundry. Contrary to his normal flanking tactics, he ordered a headlong assault by Worth’s division. Two hours and 781 casualties later, Worth captured Molino del Rey only to learn that Scott’s intelligence about a cannon foundry was erroneous. Chapultepec fell after an artillery bombardment on September 12 and a well-planned hour-long attack on the 13th. Seeing the American flag flying over Chapultepec, Santa Anna exclaimed that “if we were to plant our batteries in Hell the damned Yankees would take them from us.” Meanwhile, American troops rushed down two narrow causeways toward Mexico City and captured the Belen and San Cosme Garitas (gates), thereby gaining access to the city. The next day Scott’s army, numbering fewer than 7,000 effectives, occupied the Mexican capital.