The American Military

by Brad D. Lookingbill

  Langley, Harold D. Social Reform in the United States Navy, 1798–1862. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1967.

  Mahon, John K. History of the Second Seminole War, 1839–1842. Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 1985.

  Melton, Buckner F. A Hanging Offense: The Affair of the Warship Somers. New York: Free Press, 2003.

  Prucha, Francis P. The Sword of the Republic: The United States Army on the Frontier, 1783–1846. New York: Macmillan, 1969.

  Remini, Robert. Andrew Jackson and His Indian Wars. New York: Penguin, 2001.

  Skelton, William B. An American Profession of Arms: The Officer Corps, 1784–1861. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1999.

  6

  The Forces of Manifest Destiny (1846–1860)

  Introduction

  An armada of U.S. warships floated in the choppy waters near Veracruz, a bustling port on the Gulf of Mexico. General Winfield Scott, the aging commander of U.S. forces in 1847, stood at the prow of the steamer, the U.S.S. Massachusetts. He gazed upon the city spires and mountain peaks, as he pondered his plans to “conquer a peace.” The sounds of the thundering surf and the blustering winds gave warning of an impending “norther.” After riding out the storm, he issued the order to commence landing his troops on Good Friday.

  The morning of March 9 dawned bright and clear, while Scott's flagship steered toward the shorefront. The decks of the transports thronged with soldiers preparing to disembark. The officers ordered the enlisted men to pour fresh water into their canteens. Each carried rations for two days in a haversack, along with blankets and overcoats. Some packed an elocution primer titled the United States Speaker, which contained patriotic oratory by great Americans. Their smoothbore muskets and shiny bayonets flashed in the sunlight. The sounds of jingling spurs and rattling sabers filled the air. With the roar of a cannon shot at 2:00 p.m., the regimental bands struck up “Yankee Doodle,” “Hail Columbia,” and “The Star-Spangled Banner.” After climbing down the sides of the transports, the landing parties rowed surfboats to the beach.

  Bobbing in the surfboats, the nauseous men told jokes to pass the time. One compared the experience to “seeing the elephant.” The euphemism referred to an old farmer, who heard that a circus was coming to town. Intrigued by the “humbug,” he loaded wagons with goods and hitched a team of horses. When he neared a parade led by an elephant, his team bolted, his wagon capsized, and his goods spilled everywhere. “I don't give a hang,” the American howled in the punch line, “for I have seen the elephant!”

  The Americans rowed their surfboats through the waves that afternoon. They jumped into the knee-deep water near the beach and dashed toward the sand hills, which stretched a few hundred yards inland. Without a single loss of life, more than 5,500 landed safely by 5:30 p.m. A day later, the number ashore had escalated to 12,000.

  Figure 6.1 Nathaniel Currier, Landing of the American Forces under General Scott, 1847. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

  Throughout the antebellum period, an ideological compulsion for national expansion placed the armed forces of the U.S. in harm's way. John O'Sullivan, the editor of a New York magazine called the Democratic Review, extolled “our Manifest Destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions.” The rhetoric gave voice to the notion that God chose the American people to extend their dominion from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean. The Mexican government, which controlled vast stretches of territory west of the Rocky Mountains, stood in opposition to America's professed mission.

  American proponents of Manifest Destiny viewed transcontinental growth as a panacea for national security. Southern politicians demanded Texas annexation to extend the sphere of the slaveholding states, while northern leaders wanted to reduce the claims of the British Empire in the Oregon Territory. Democrats rallied in 1844 behind the presidential candidacy of James K. Polk, a former Speaker of the House and governor of Tennessee. On the road to the White House, he declared: “Fifty-four Forty or Fight!” The new commander-in-chief vowed to reassert the core principles of the Monroe Doctrine “with greatly increased force.”

  Whereas the Monroe Doctrine warned the European powers not to intervene in the western hemisphere, the Americans distinguished themselves for years with their insatiable appetite for more land. They long deemed the Indian nations of North America as obstacles to the march of freedom, while boundaries meant little to an armed citizenry moving westward. Most foreign observers agreed with the London Times, however, that the American military represented no match for the armed forces of Mexico. Almost no one imagined the prospect of the U.S. flag flying over the capital city of another country.

  American Blood

  By the early 1840s, the chief concern of American policymakers had become the acquisition of Texas. The Lone Star Republic established relations with Great Britain and France, which raised concerns about national security in Washington D.C. Even though the Senate decisively rejected an annexation treaty with Texas, both chambers of Congress passed a joint resolution in favor of adding the state. Texas formally entered the Union on December 29, 1845.

  The annexation of Texas prompted Mexico to cease diplomatic relations with the U.S. The government in Mexico City deemed the extension of American borders as nothing less than an act of war. Although Texans preferred the Rio Grande River as a southern boundary, the Mexican state of Coahuilla claimed a 90-mile strip of land stretching northward to the Nueces River. Leaders on both sides also claimed the valley of the Rio Grande north of El Paso, where no Anglo-American settlements existed. Polk offered to settle the boundary dispute, but he privately vowed to acquire more territory as far west as California.

  Meanwhile, Polk favored negotiations with Great Britain concerning the permanent boundary of the Pacific Northwest. In spite of his combative rhetoric regarding the British, he decided to focus on securing Puget Sound and the Columbia River. During 1846, London offered to extend the U.S.–Canadian border along the 49th parallel to the Pacific Ocean. Secretary of State James Buchanan quickly negotiated the Oregon Treaty, which the Senate ratified on June 18. The handling of the Oregon controversy alienated many northerners, who grew wary of southern schemes for the acquisition of territory from Mexico.

  By the spring of 1846, negotiations between the U.S. and Mexico had failed to resolve their boundary dispute. The Polk administration sent former Louisiana congressman, John Slidell, on a mission to Mexico City to offer millions of dollars for a territorial cession that included California. However, he returned to Washington D.C. without a deal. As war fever rose that year, the Mexican presidency changed hands four times. General Mariano Paredes y Arrillaga seized power and insisted upon Mexico's claim to Texas. Thomas O. Larkin, the American consul in Monterey, leaked word that the people of California “would be received as brethren” by their eastern neighbors. The U.S. Navy's Pacific Squadron received fore­warning to seize West Coast ports if war with Mexico erupted. Polk intended to achieve his expansionist aims one way or another.

  At the urging of Polk, Secretary of War William Marcy sent American troops into the disputed border area of Texas. Known as “Old Rough and Ready,” General Zachary Taylor led a force that he named the Army of Occupation to the Nueces strip. His career spanned nearly four decades of military service, which earned him due respect. Stories circulated about his coolness in the Texas heat, as he sat atop his beloved horse, Old Whitey, with a tattered straw hat upon his head. He camped on a sandy plain near the hamlet of Corpus Christi, where their numbers eventually swelled to 4,000. While reveling in the debauchery of the town, U.S. forces paraded and drilled. Taylor's command included almost half of the regular Army by early 1846.

  That March, Taylor led them to the east bank of the Rio Grande. Across the river from Matamoras, he erected Fort Texas and mounted siege guns. He also ordered a blockade at the mouth of the river. General Pedro de Ampudia delivered an ultimatum for the Americans to
leave, but the Mexican government dispatched the more aggressive General Mariano Arista to replace him. The latter commander sent 1,600 cavalrymen across the river on April 25, when they ambushed a patrol of 63 dragoons under the command of Captain Seth Thornton. They killed 11 Americans while wounding five more. They captured Thornton along with the rest of his men. A few days later, Taylor wrote the War Department with the news: “Hostilities may now be considered as commenced.”

  While Taylor called upon the governor of Texas to raise four regiments of volunteers, he marched the bulk of the Army regulars to Point Isabel for resupply. He left Major Jacob Brown behind with the 7th Infantry to defend Fort Texas from a possible siege. Arista led his army of 4,000 across the Rio Grande, while the guns at Matamoras opened fire on the American outpost the next morning. Taylor attempted to return to Fort Texas by road, but Arista intercepted him on May 8 at a pond called Palo Alto.

  In the Battle of Palo Alto, the Mexicans outnumbered the Americans nearly three to one. With a chaw of tobacco in his cheek, Taylor sat sidesaddle on Old Whitey to watch the fight unfold. Major Samuel Ringgold directed the “flying artillery,” which represented an innovative use of light 18-pounders transported on carriages. Artillerymen rode horses swiftly into the chaparral and dismounted to unlimber their guns. They fired barrages of shell, shot, and canister on the enemy's infantry and cavalry, including their mounted lancers. Before sunset, Arista withdrew from the burning field. Taylor claimed victory, though he lost Ringgold that day.

  The next day, Taylor pursued Arista 6 miles down the road to a dry riverbed called Resaca de la Palma. Owing to the narrow ponds and thick chaparral, he doubted the effectiveness of the “flying artillery” against the entrenched Mexican lines. That afternoon, the fighting evolved into a collection of small-unit actions. A detachment of dragoons under Captain Charles A. May galloped forward to confront the Mexican artillery. Taylor turned to Lieutenant Colonel William G. Belknap of the 8th Infantry Regiment and demanded: “Take those guns and by God keep them!” The Americans charged the battery with ferocity and defeated their foes in hand-to-hand combat. During the Battle of Resaca de la Palma, the Mexican soldiers panicked in the battlefield and fled to Matamoras in a rout.

  Figure 6.2 The U.S.–Mexico War

  The success of Taylor's forces brought relief to the defenders of Fort Texas, although Brown died during the siege. Consequently, General Order 62 renamed the outpost Fort Brown in his memory and gave birth eventually to an American town named Brownsville. As a result of the fighting at Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, the Americans reported 34 deaths and 113 wounded. In contrast, their foes suffered as many as 1,200 killed and wounded in action. In the high chaparral, the wolves and the vultures feasted before the gravediggers buried the corpses. Many Americans witnessed the horrors of war for the first time.

  With Americans engaged in battle, the Polk administration approved the draft of a war message in early May. Taylor's report about the Mexican attack on Thornton's patrol arrived after the cabinet had already decided to seek a formal declaration of war. On May 11, Polk's written message to Congress asserted that a state of war existed between the U.S. and Mexico. His justifications included the “grievous wrongs perpetrated upon our citizens” over the years by “reiterated menaces.” The most recent attack by the Mexican army, he declared, “shed American blood upon the American soil.” He asked for the “immediate appearance in arms of a large and overpowering force,” which he intended to use to bring “the existing collision with Mexico to a speedy and successful termination.”

  Two days later, Congress effectively declared war. The war bill passed the House 173 to 14, although the debate lasted only a half-hour. Among the “Immortal Fourteen” in opposition, ex-president John Quincy Adams, now a Whig congressman, denounced the decision of the Democratic majority. The Senate took a bit longer but gave approval with a 40 to 2 vote. Senator John C. Calhoun, a former Secretary of War, abstained from voting, saying that he would not agree to make war on Mexico “by making war on the Constitution.” Claims that the commander-in-chief misled Congress eventually gave rise to the nickname, “Polk the Mendacious.”

  On to Mexico

  Polk entered the war with one object clearly in view – to seize all of Mexico north of the Rio Grande and the Gila River while extending the U.S. border to the Pacific. Congress authorized him to call for 50,000 volunteers and immediately appropriated $10 million for national defense. Though he envisaged a limited war of short duration, he kept numerous options on the table. On May 13, 1846, he discussed his military objectives with Secretary of War Marcy and General in Chief Scott during a meeting at the White House. Polk offered Scott “command of the army to be raised,” which he accepted.

  After the meeting with Scott and Marcy ended, Polk turned to Senator Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri for military advice. Benton, a Democrat, wanted to put Scott, a Whig, on the shelf. Accordingly, he attached an amendment to a pending military bill allowing the commander-in-chief to appoint two new major generals to the regular Army. Despite not having worn the uniform for over three decades, the senator wanted one of the appointments for himself. However, the House of Representatives reduced the authorization of commissions to only one major general. Whatever Benton's ambitions, Polk felt obligated to promote Taylor to the senior rank while commanding U.S. forces in Mexico. The War Department expected the old soldiers to just fade away in time, but Scott remained in Washington D.C. to make arrangements and preparations for the military campaigns.

  With the military campaigns in motion, Polk and Secretary of the Navy George Bancroft considered a secret plan to end the war as quickly as possible. They sent instructions to Commodore David E. Conner, commander of the Home Squadron patrolling the Gulf of Mexico. That summer, he allowed General Antonio López de Santa Anna, a former president of Mexico, to return from exile in Cuba. The “Napoleon of the West” previously sent a message through an associate to the White House, saying that “a treaty can be made.” Owing to the back-channel communications, he disembarked at Veracruz “without molestation” by the Navy. However, he decided to renege on any promises made to the gringos. Eventually resuming power in Mexico, Santa Anna raised an army of 20,000 men and marched toward San Luis Potosí.

  Entering Mexico from the north, Taylor crossed the Rio Grande with small boats and heavy mortars. Arista withdrew from Matamoras on May 18, as Taylor took control of the town. The Americans provided medical care for the patients in the hospitals and avoided disrupting civilian affairs. To avoid clashes between U.S. soldiers and the townspeople, Taylor maintained his headquarters and his units outside Matamoras.

  American volunteers arrived in mass at Point Isabel and quickly joined Taylor's army on the Rio Grande. Although the Mexican army in the field outnumbered them, U.S. forces possessed a superior arsenal. For example, Samuel Colt of Hartford, Connecticut, devised firearms with a revolving cylinder that locked into alignment with a fixed barrel. The mounted troops often wielded percussion rifles, while most infantrymen carried flintlock smoothbore muskets. Noted for their contempt of Mexicans and Indians in the borderlands, a special regiment known as the Texas Rangers wore a belt of pistols around their waists. The states of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee, Maryland, and Ohio raised thousands of better-armed soldiers, who filed across the border into Mexico.

  At the age of 24, Lieutenant Rankin Dilworth of Ohio deployed to Mexico that summer. A graduate of West Point, he began keeping a diary shortly before arriving on the Rio Grande. Like many of his comrades, he wanted to “see the elephant” on the other side. He waxed romantic about the strange and exotic landscape, which looked nothing like the places he knew back home. His passages referred to a girl he left behind, but they also took note of beautiful senoritas near the Army camp outside Matamoras.

  That August, the Army moved hundreds of miles downriver to camp at Camargo. On the journey, the troops occasionally went ashore to gather wood. The banks teemed with snakes, ta
rantulas, ants, and scorpions at almost every turn. To their surprise, the Mexicans greeted them with a fandango – an open-air dance marked by fiddling, gambling, smoking, and drinking. However, tempers flared after one American volunteer stole another's catfish. Misery followed the Army to Camargo, where one out of every eight perished from disease.

  Marching overland from Camargo to Cerralvo, U.S. soldiers anticipated “mucho fandango” in Monterrey. In mid-September, Taylor divided nearly 6,220 troops into two wings to attack the fortified city from opposite sides. General William J. Worth led a division from the west to sever the city's road to Saltillo, while Taylor ordered the main body to attack from the east. Under the command of Ampudia, more than 7,000 Mexican soldiers opposed the assault. A citadel dubbed the “Black Fort” belched cannonballs from the north side of the city. Under a hail of Mexican artillery and musket fire, the Americans entered the city's outskirts and maneuvered through the narrow streets. They fought house to house, battering down doors with planks. Eventually, General John Quitman's brigade captured the Mexican batteries at El Teneria redoubt and turned the guns on the fleeing enemy. Mexican forces rallied in the central plaza, where U.S. howitzers blasted them with indirect fire. On the morning of September 25, Ampudia agreed to an eight-week armistice and to evacuate the defenses. As the Mexican divisions marched out of Monterrey, they left behind a “vast cemetery” of unburied corpses.

  The Battle of Monterrey produced 561 American casualties, including Lieutenant Dilworth from Ohio. The last entry of his diary appeared shortly before he experienced his first action, when a cannonball tore off one of his legs. He perished a few days later. Because his family lacked the money to pay for the return of his body, the Army buried him in Monterrey.