Jefferson Davis, American

by William J. Cooper

  At Camargo, Davis was pleased with his reunion with Zachary Taylor, who had been promoted to major general because of his victories on the lower Rio Grande. Not all the troops, however, had full confidence in the plain-looking and stocky Taylor, who often, even in his mode of dress, seemed more like a farmer than a military chieftain. On one occasion a young regular officer found the commanding general attired “in a big straw sombrero, a pair of enlisted men’s trousers, which were too short for him, a loose linen coat, and a pair of ‘soldier shoes.’ ” Seeing Taylor for the first time, a company commander in the Rifles described him as “a rough looking man and I do not think he has the appearance of a great man.” These depictions help explain Taylor’s famous sobriquet, “Old Rough-and-Ready,” which dated from the Second Seminole War and reflected both his self-identification with his soldiers and his basic disinterest in military pomp.25

  Finally the drills and preparations ended; in mid-August, Taylor ordered his army to plunge into Mexico. Because of a shortage of animals and wagons for transportation, he decided to lead a lean strike force of around 6,500 men to Monterrey, leaving the remainder to guard the base at Camargo and the Rio Grande supply line. Commanding an army made up of both regulars and volunteers, Taylor divided his invading legions into three divisions—two of regulars, the first under Brigadier General William J. Worth and the second under Colonel David E. Twiggs; and a volunteer division under Major General William O. Butler. The division of volunteers was further separated into two brigades, with the First Mississippi and the First Tennessee making up one led by Davis’s friend Brigadier General John A. Quitman from Natchez. Troops had been moving out of Camargo for three weeks when the Rifles took up the march on September 7, cutting striking figures in their uniforms of red shirts worn outside white duck pants and their black slouch hats.26

  As Taylor’s column wound its way southward, the climate and the topography changed, even though the heat and humidity of Camargo were not shaken off quickly. For the initial portion of the trek basically similar conditions obtained, but by the time the army reached the handsome town of Cerralvo, sixty miles from Camargo, the increasing elevation made for notable changes. A green countryside, cooler temperatures, and good water greeted the invaders, who could also make out the Sierra Madre Mountains. In his journal, a Mississippian recorded, “The mountains all the time in the distance, Oh beautiful! How beautiful!” From there on to Monterrey the marching conditions were ideal for infantrymen.27

  Finally, on September 19, Taylor and his divisions arrived before Monterrey. There Governor J. Pinckney Henderson of Texas with two regiments from his state joined the American force. While the commanding general decided how to approach the city, the First Mississippi along with other units went into camp under circumstances far different from those at the mouth of the Rio Grande or at Camargo. The encampment was situated in a beautiful park, known as San Domingo, covered with pecan and walnut trees and well watered by a large, bubbling spring. The Americans named their hospitable place Walnut Springs. En route to Monterrey, General Taylor did not know whether the Mexicans would defend the city or withdraw deeper into the interior. The cannon shot that saluted his initial reconnaissance provided a quick and harsh answer. If he wanted Monterrey, he would have to take it by force.28

  Monterrey seemingly provided a strong position for General Pedro de Ampudía and his 10,300 defenders, 7,300 regulars and 3,000 local conscripts. The city was nestled between mountains on the east and west, with the Santa Catarina River flowing at its rear and turning north at the eastern end of the town. A plain to the north made for an open front, and, of course, from that direction the Americans approached. If Taylor undertook a frontal assault, he confronted substantial defensive works anchored on the Citadel, a fortified former church just north of the center of the city. The Americans called it the Black Fort because of the massive walls darkened by weather and neglect. On the western edge of Monterrey, two peaks—Independencía north of the river and Federación on the south bank—dominated approaches from that direction. On the opposite, or eastern, end stood three strongpoints; the redoubt El Diablo and the stone fort La Tenería (so called because the basic structure had once been a tannery) on either side of a deep ravine, along with the fortified Purísima Bridge across it, blocked any enemy.

  To capture Monterrey, Taylor would have to attack. Investing the city was not an option because he had left behind in Camargo the heavy artillery, which he thought too difficult to haul through the countryside. The general’s plan of assault derived from information brought in by engineer officers who had reconnoitered the Mexican defenses. Their report indicated that the two western guardians, Independencía and Federación, could be turned and then seized from the rear. They were not heavily defended to stop such an attack because the Mexicans did not consider such an action possible. To accomplish this turning mission Taylor assigned Worth’s division of regulars. To prevent the Mexicans from reinforcing their threatened western positions, the rest of the army would demonstrate against the eastern defenses. On Sunday, September 20, Worth set out from the American camp, and on Monday launched his assault.

  Battle of Monterrey.

  From Papers of Jefferson Davis, III, with permission of the LSU Press

  For the demonstration promised Worth, Taylor directed Twiggs’s division of regulars to move against the Tenería and other installations on the Mexican right. At 8 a.m. on Monday, the twenty-first, Twiggs’s division left Walnut Springs and maneuvered through cornfields and across stone walls toward the enemy works, all the while trying to stay out of range of the guns in the Citadel. As the troops approached the line from which they would commence their attack, they came under heavy shelling to their front and right. The formation broke, with some men heading toward the rear, others toward the city, but west of where they should have been. Most of these soldiers entered Monterrey, becoming trapped and even lost in the patchwork of narrow streets.

  On Monday, September 21, the Mississippi Rifles and their colonel went into battle for the first time—or “saw the elephant,” as the American soldiers termed combat. With his diversionary tactic failing almost as soon as it started, Taylor ordered Butler’s volunteer division forward in support of the battered Second Division. Quitman’s brigade was pitted against the Tenería, the First Tennessee facing the northern ramparts and the Rifles fronting the northwestern wall. Moving at double-quick, both regiments soon came in range for the cannon firing from El Diablo and the Tenería. About 300 yards from their target and receiving a torrent of lead from musket balls and solid shot, the Tennesseans and the Mississippians formed in lines and opened fire. Unhappy at the range from which his riflemen were engaging, Colonel Davis complained to one of his officers, “Damn it, why do not the men get nearer to the fort? Why waste ammunition at such distance?” The Rifles then advanced to only about 180 yards from the fort, but at that moment the Mexican guns grew silent.29

  During this lull both regiments awaited instructions from General Quitman, with Colonel Davis fuming at the delay. What happened next cannot be precisely reconstructed because there are so many different versions of events. Although a directive never came from the brigade commander, each regiment, almost simultaneously, decided to carry the fight forward. On the brigade left, Colonel William Campbell called upon his First Tennessee to rush the fort, while on his right identical cries came from Lieutenant Colonel McClung on the extreme left of the Rifles and from Davis in their center. The red-shirted soldiers responded enthusiastically. “Away we went like so many devils hooting and yelling,” exclaimed a participant, “with nothing but naked rifles no bayonets even.” Surging forward, the Rifles breached the walls, with McClung the first man on the parapet, and drove into the fort. The First Tennessee did likewise. Throughout the action Davis was in the thick of the fight with his men. On Tartar, then on foot, always waving his sword, he exhorted his troops onward and entered the fort with them. The Tenería was in American hands.30

  Afte
r the capture of the Tenería, the American attack ground to a halt. Because no one above regimental level, from Quitman to Taylor, had carefully thought through the battle, no plans existed to take advantage of the opportunity presented by the sudden fall of the Tenería. Losing cohesion and without direction, soldiers from both regiments were milling around inside the fort. At this moment, Davis organized a small group of Tennesseans and Mississippians, “cheered [it] to the charge,” plunging into the ravine behind the Tenería and crossing the creek to strike at El Diablo. But from this position Davis received orders to pull back as part of a general withdrawal from the city directed by Taylor. During this movement some Mexican lancers came out from the Citadel to hit the Americans, many of whom were falling back in disarray. Quick reactions by Davis and his old West Point chum, Albert S. Johnston, an aide to General Butler, rallied enough men into line to beat off the lancers. Nightfall brought to a close a long day of hard fighting in which the First Mississippi and its colonel had been baptized in the stern ordeal of combat.

  In the Rifles’ sector, Tuesday the twenty-second was quiet. That morning the regiment was moved into the Tenería, where it remained inactive through the day. But at the other end of the American front, significant events were taking place. General Worth’s troops, who had successfully stormed both Federación and Independencía, captured the Bishop’s Palace, the strongpoint on the former. With the Stars and Stripes flying over the two prominences, the Americans had secured the western side of Monterrey. Back in the Tenería, the Rifles had to cope with the elements—a norther blew through, dropping temperatures and bringing a cold rain. Davis’s men had no blankets and no food because the regimental quartermaster had been unable to get an escort to bring his supply wagons forward. The hungry and weary Mississippians spent a cold, wet night.

  Wednesday, September 23, brought another day of tough fighting, but of a very different kind. Early in the morning Quitman directed Davis to take a patrol of several companies, including one Tennessean, across the ravine to reconnoiter El Diablo. To their surprise, the Americans discovered that formidable work abandoned because General Ampudía was bringing all of his troops, except those in the Citadel, back to the main plaza in the center of the city. Davis led his detachment forward until it came under heavy fire, when he stopped to await reinforcements. Shortly thereafter the rest of the Rifles came up and once more the advance began. Their attack was taking place in the far eastern part of the city, bypassing and isolating the Citadel.

  Davis and his men fought in a deadly maze. Densely packed in close streets, masonry houses with large iron and wooden grates and heavy shutters that opened from inside out as well as rooftop parapets made for ideal defensive positions. Musket balls poured in from every direction upon the volunteers totally unfamiliar with street warfare. The arrival of some Texas soldiers helped immensely, for they understood the construction of the houses. With guidance from the Texans, the Mississippians and Tennesseans with axes and crowbars tunneled their way through the adobe walls of houses, raced through courtyards, and mounted stairs to fire from rooftops. They fought the Mexicans on their own terms, from house to house, and would not be denied. Engaged in this bloody work, the men were cheered by the presence not only of their own colonel but also of their commanding general, who had ridden into the city and actually directed some troops in their assaults on individual houses. As the Rifles neared the central plaza, they found all the streets barricaded and swept by a severe fire. To continue their progress, the soldiers had to construct a defense across a street, which they could use as a shield. For this purpose they employed baggage and pack saddles found in houses, but the shooting stopped before they could put the shield to use. At nightfall the lead elements occupied a two-story stone house overlooking the cathedral that dominated the square. Once again the Rifles and their colonel had acquitted themselves well under desperate conditions.31

  As Generals Taylor and Ampudía assessed the events of the day, they had different perspectives. With Worth, acting on his own initiative, as successful on the right as the force under his own eye had been on the left, Taylor stood poised once again to hammer the Mexicans from two directions and drive them into the Santa Catarina, though such an assault through the center of Monterrey would surely demand a high price in American blood. Ampudía faced a much more difficult situation. Despite outnumbering his enemy and holding strong defensive positions as well as interior lines, he had not been able to thwart the American advance. To continue the battle could decimate his army and result in terrible damage to the city. As a result, at 11 p.m. Ampudía sent a message to Taylor offering to abandon the city and the Citadel, which he still held, provided he could march away with his army and remaining equipment. On the morning of the twenty-fourth, Taylor responded negatively, demanding a surrender without terms and an answer by noon. Before that hour, Ampudía requested a personal meeting with his opponent. The commanders met at 1 p.m. and agreed to form a joint commission to draw up arrangements for a capitulation.

  General Taylor appointed three negotiators: General Worth, his senior regular officer; Governor Henderson; and Colonel Jefferson Davis, who served as secretary for the Americans. They met with Ampudía’s three appointees during the afternoon. By that evening they had drawn up articles for a formal capitulation, which each side signed. Generally they followed the form suggested by Taylor. Ampudía agreed to surrender the city and all public property except the personal belongings of his officers and men plus one artillery battery. He would also give up the Citadel and within one week retreat to an agreed-upon line running from thirty-five miles west of Monterrey to around fifty miles south of it. For his part, with the city in his hands, General Taylor agreed to honor an eight-week armistice.

  From its signing, the armistice stirred considerable discussion. General Taylor believed that he was following his original orders to achieve an early peace and occupy much of northern Mexico, which the administration could then use as a lever in its attempt to pry New Mexico and especially California from the Mexican government. Taylor’s timing was a bit off, however, for, as yet unbeknownst to the general, President Polk had decided that only additional campaigning would prod Mexico into serious negotiations. Three weeks later when the documents stipulating the terms reached Washington, the Polk administration repudiated the agreement and instructed General Taylor to rescind the armistice. On the battlefield itself, Taylor surely had the upper hand, but his troops had experienced three days of hard fighting. To pursue the battle within the town would undoubtedly have been costly and possibly hazardous, for supplies of food and ammunition were running low, with resupply difficult. All in all, given Taylor’s comprehension of his instructions and the situation of his army, his decision to accept evacuation of Monterrey with the armistice is both understandable and defensible. Not surprisingly, Jefferson Davis, who became a great champion of Taylor, certainly thought so. From his participation as a member of the negotiating team until the end of his life, he insisted that Taylor had acted wisely and for the best.32

  Thinking about his regiment, Colonel Davis swelled with pride. Writing Joseph just after the battle, he praised the “brilliant” conduct of his men in the “severe conflict.” In his official report to his brigade commander, Davis spoke about “the duty we had to perform [being] both difficult & perilous.” Even so, among his troops, “I saw no exhibition of fear, no want of confidence, but on every side the men who stood around me were prompt and willing to execute my orders.” In truth, the Rifles had fought well in two tough, bitter days that had been expensive in blood—nine killed and fifty-two wounded. Davis understood one cause and effect of this performance when from Monterrey he told Secretary Walker, “If any moral effect could be produced by military achievement enough has been done at this place to produce it.” The Mississippians, like the other American soldiers, never believed they could be stopped, and that conviction was central to their success, as was the performance of certain line officers. The Americans won des
pite Taylor’s lack of planning and poor coordination because individual commanders like General Worth and Colonels Campbell and Davis exhibited initiative and daring in leading determined, enthusiastic troops to victory.33

  Jefferson Davis came out of this battle with an enhanced reputation. His commanding general obviously thought extremely highly of him. From Davis’s arrival in the war theater, Taylor had looked favorably upon him by moving the Rifles relatively promptly to Camargo and ensuring that the regiment became part of the invading force. Then Davis’s joining a senior regular officer and a governor on the commission to arrange the surrender of Monterrey clearly indicated Taylor’s confidence in him and his influence with his commander. The men he commanded also approved of him and his conduct. Though surely a partisan, young Joseph Howell, as a private in the Rifles, did not venture far off the mark when telling his father about the confidence Davis’s troops had in him: “I verily believe that if he should tell his men to jump into a cannon’s mouth they would think it all right & would all say Col. Jeff as they call him knows best so hurra boys lets go ahead.” In their battle reports, prepared almost immediately afterwards, his officers often noted Davis’s effectiveness as a combat commander and his leadership qualities. They found him cool, decisive, and always in their midst taking every risk every other soldier took.34

  In the exultation following the American triumph, the colonel informed his brother Joseph that although he had no privileged information, he believed the war might soon be over and the regiment disbanded. On the return of peace Davis was much too optimistic; the war would last almost two more years. Not long after writing that letter, however, Davis found himself on the way back to Mississippi. On October 18 he was granted a sixty-day furlough on the grounds of his wife’s illness. With Jim Green, he promptly left Monterrey for Camargo and then the mouth of the Rio Grande and a ship. He reached New Orleans on November 1, and shortly thereafter arrived at Davis Bend.35