by Drew McGunn
As the three officers watched the soldiers at the firing line, Will saw pride on Johnston’s face as the paper targets at four hundred yards were torn to shreds. He slapped the other man on the back and said, “Your men are doing well, Sid. That’s some of the finest shooting I’ve seen.”
Johnston pointed to his men, and said, “They’re good men, Buck. But you should know we’re finding that when we get out much further than three hundred yards, the amount of gas escaping the breech reduces the bullet’s power.”
From the firing range, Johnston led them over to a field southeast of the fort, where another company was simulating an advance over broken ground common across the Great Plains. As they watched the company go through open order drill tactics, Will watched the quartet of soldiers closest to them and observed as the rifle team split into two, 2-man teams. The first two men dashed forward twenty or more feet before seeking the meager shelter behind thistle bushes. The two men behind them raced forward, rifles at the ready as they too sought out a place from which they could fire from cover. While the exercise was “dry fire” it was clear the idea behind the fire team was working.
Will and Johnston followed Seguin back to the Alamo where they climbed to the top of the chapel, where they were able to watch the two companies of troopers skirmishing against each other, east of the fort. Seguin was quick to point out, “We’re not able to exactly imitate the four-man teams on the firing line, as we need horse handlers, but other than that, my troopers are turning into some good dragoons.”
As was Seguin’s habit, he talked about the tactics his troopers were using, while Will and Johnston watched and occasionally made notes or asked questions. After the skirmish ended, the officers climbed back down to the ground and escaped to above the hospital, to Will’s office. “Sid, I’m impressed with what you’ve done with the infantry. I’m going to leave it in your hands which four companies will accompany the cavalry and Rangers into the Comancheria next week.”
Johnston smiled broadly and said, “I think I can manage. Much of the credit belongs to you, Buck. I can’t help but wonder what they would say at West Point about our tactics. With them, it was always about mustering your infantry into line of battle and throwing as much lead at the enemy’s line. Can you imagine a line of Comanche infantry?” He laughed at the image.
Will found the image equally ridiculous and smiled. “It begs the question, I wonder how these tactics would fare against the US or even a European army.”
Johnston shrugged, “I couldn’t rightly say for sure. But in a lot of ways these tactics are an evolutionary development building on the tactics you and President Crockett used on the Rio Grande last year. We saw how well Santa Anna’s army managed against them.”
“Fair enough Sid. But we had them at a severe disadvantage. They were charging across a couple of hundred yards of river. I don’t think it would have been as nearly as one-sided if the river hadn’t been in the way.” Will paused, thinking about what he was trying to say and then looked between Johnston and Seguin, continued, “I don’t want us to become complacent or think that because we’re Texians and have repeatedly defeated Santa Anna and his famous army that we’ll always be able to do it. I also don’t want us falling into the conceit just because the Comanche aren’t civilized they can’t beat us.
“If you have any question about that, I have a mountain of reports over the past half year from Major Caldwell and his Ranger companies about how the Comanche have reacted to his forts.”
Both the other officers swallowed hard. They had read the reports from the Ranger companies. There were several large raids attempted on the Ranger forts, and it was only the arrival of the revolvers which had allowed the Rangers to keep the Comanche on one side of the walls of the forts and the Rangers on the other. Even so, Johnston said, with an air of informality, “When it comes to comparing our soldiers against the US or even against Europe, you have nothing to worry about here, Buck. I served in the United States Army for seven years before coming to Texas and you have developed the most demanding and rigorous training regimen I could ever have imagined. It’s not the hours on the firing range or the frequent war games pitting company against company that we’ve waged over the past six months. No, it’s these long marches, carrying full packs that we’ve been doing almost weekly. Hell, if you’d told me two months ago we would be able to take these companies here and rouse them before the sun was up and march them up the north to that little town on the Colorado River. Waterloo, I think. Eighty miles away! I’d have laughed and said it couldn’t be done.”
Will’s feet tingled painfully as he recalled the memory of the march. There was no regret in the decision, however, they had taken no horses with them, and every officer joined in every bone-jarring step along the way, both directions in less than six days.
Johnston continued, “It’s not something I enjoyed, but the ability to move our infantry across country quickly will come in handy soon, I suspect.”
Will said, “Sid, if memory serves me correctly, wasn’t it George Washington who said, ‘To be prepared for War is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace?’ I know peace can only be had with the Comanche when they agree to our terms, but when peace has been achieved, I believe a well-trained and well-equipped army will keep the peace. At least I hope so.”
***
As was typical of Texas weather in the winter, the morning of the 6th of March dawned with temperatures hovering a few degrees above freezing. But by mid-morning, it was twenty degrees warmer as the column of infantry snaked along the road heading north, kicking up dust as six hundred feet trod steadily forward, followed by two horse-drawn field guns. Seguin’s cavalry and a couple of dozen Lipan Apache warriors ranged ahead of the column and to either side.
Thinking back to the early morning, before leaving the Alamo, Will replayed the image in his head. As was becoming the norm, there was little fanfare as wives, sweethearts, and children bade husbands, lovers, and fathers goodbye in the predawn darkness that was punctured by lamps hung around interior walls of the Alamo. The lamps cast a gloomy glow as Charlie grabbed Will by the hand and pulled him down to the child’s level and gave him a fierce hug. The boy’s lips trembled as he tried to keep the tears from flowing down his cheeks. “Pa, please come back. I don’t want to be alone again.”
Will returned the hug with his own bear hug and then held the boy at arm’s length, willing his words to be true, “I’ll be back soon, son.”
As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, the prospect of leaving his son in the company of the Seguin children didn’t seem fair, but, as he kept his horse moving forward in the center of the trail, he couldn’t keep the thought out of his mind that there was never a good time for a parent to ride off to war, leaving a child to face an uncertain future.
When the little army stopped for lunch, about twelve miles north of San Antonio, Will climbed down from his horse and grabbed a meal with several officers. As they talked, one mentioned the date was the 6th of March 1837. Will was struck by the fact it was a year to the day after the Alamo had fallen in the history he remembered, but would never be here. He looked at the well-equipped and uniformed men around him and compared them to the ragtag force which had defended the Rio Grande and Nueces Rivers from Santa Anna’s professional army. “We have come a long way,” Will said to no one. With lunch over, he mounted his horse and led his command northward.
If things went according to plan, Major Caldwell would meet Will’s column at the Ranger compound, Fort Bee, on the Brazos River, where the Bosque flowed into it, with 120 of his Rangers. A battalion of militia cavalry had been assembled at Columbus a week earlier and should be waiting for his command at the bend in the Colorado River, where the army’s quartermaster company had stationed a half dozen heavy-laden supply wagons.
The plan was simple. The militia battalion’s purpose was to secure the army’s supply line. Even though supplies had been pre-positioned at Fort Bee, Will was under no
illusion that more supplies would be needed to keep his army in the field. The militia would hold a few locations between the Colorado River and the Comancheria, and would also provide mounted escorts for supply wagons moving behind his column.
Any doubt Will may have harbored about the army’s ability to quickly cover ground, fell away as it marched north. The army’s training was paying dividends. Three days after leaving the Alamo, the army was camped along the Colorado river, eighty miles to the north. Six days after that, on the 15th of March, Will’s column arrived at Fort Bee, where they met Major Caldwell’s command of Rangers. Each Texas Ranger carried one of the new revolver pistols and from looking at their weaponry, the pistols had already seen plenty of action. Additionally, Sam Houston came through, and roused the Cherokee to field a Ranger company too, and they came with another thirty men.
While waiting for some of the supplies to arrive, Will held a council of war. Attending were the executive officer for the infantry battalion, Major Payton Wyatt, Major Caldwell, and Captain Seguin. During the earlier planning stages, Will decided to leave Johnston in command of the Alamo, and bring his second in command, Wyatt. They decided to spend the next few days integrating Caldwell’s Rangers into several tactical scenarios, to allow the Rangers to adjust to Will’s force.
When he was satisfied the mixed command was ready, on the morning of the 21st of March, Will led his army of more than five hundred men back into the Comancheria.
Chapter 8
By the eighth night, Will was getting used to the long, nightly marches. Since leaving Fort Bee, Will’s force followed the meandering path of the Brazos River to the northwest. Caldwell’s Ranger companies, working in tandem with the Apache scouts and the Cherokee Rangers, scouted ahead of Will’s Infantry, while Seguin’s cavalry covered the column’s flanks as they snaked along the river each night. According to Flacco, who had returned to lead the Apaches despite his permanent limp, most Comanche bands camped along the many rivers crisscrossing the Comancheria. As the sun rose on the morning of the ninth day, with the command more than 120 miles into the Comancheria, Will called a meeting with Majors Caldwell and Wyatt, as well as Captain Seguin and Flacco.
Will was effusive in his praise. “I can’t say enough good things about our Apache allies and Cherokee Rangers. Both have impressed the hell out of me by the way they have aided your Rangers, Matt, in screening our main column.”
Caldwell smiled wanly, stifling a yawn. “General, I know the Cherokee ain’t plains Indians, like the Comanche or Flacco’s people, but I want you to know that as scouts go, a fair number of them are better than many of my Rangers. Once we’ve done whipped the Comanche, I’d think mighty kindly on you if you was to ask Congress to expand the Frontier Battalion to include a full company of Cherokees.”
Will spread his hands, “From your lips to God’s ears, Matt. Getting Congress to authorize another company of Rangers may be a sticking point. You’ve got no idea how hard I had to fight to get Congress to authorize the supplies we needed for our present campaign. What about spreading thirty or forty through your existing companies, though?”
Caldwell scratched at his week-old beard, scowling as he considered Will’s idea. As he pondered it, his features softened, and he replied, “It might could be a good idea, General. I got me some excellent men under my command, but I do believe they might learn a thing or three from adding a few Cherokee into each of the companies.” He paused and gave Flacco a long, hard stare, which the Apache returned in equal measure. Eventually he continued, “Might be, some of Flacco’s braves might want to join too.”
Flacco’s stare remained fixed on the Ranger, but he replied in Spanish. With a twinkle in his eye, Seguin quickly translated, “Flacco says his braves might be able to teach Caldwell’s women how to be warriors.”
Caldwell’s eyes grew wide with surprise before he burst out laughing, doubling up with mirth. Will wasn’t sure he saw the hard-bitten Ranger wipe a tear away when he said, “Like as not, Flacco, your boys could. The offer still stands.”
He turned his attention back to Will and said, “I know a few of my boys will throw Texas-sized conniption fits, because the Indians ain’t white enough, but hell, I already got me a few Mexicans serving in my companies what can outride and outshoot most of my other boys. When it comes to the Ranger whose got my back, General, I’d rather have the best. When I scratch a Ranger’s skin, what I expect to see is the mettle of his courage.” Caldwell yawned again and took his leave. Part of his Rangers acted as mounted pickets throughout the day, and he still needed to make sure they were in place before he could rest.
As Caldwell moved off, Juan Seguin smirked and said, “General, you are the sly one, you are.”
Will looked at Seguin quizzically, “What do you mean, Juan?”
“If you get your way, the Rangers, they’ll be the frog in cool water, not noticing the fire under the pot, as it warms the water, until its eventually boiling.”
Will wasn’t sure where Seguin was going with it, but the captain continued, “In a couple of years you’ll have the Rangers completely mixed, with Anglos, Tejanos, and Indians serving next to each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn all of us into abolitionists.”
Will wasn’t sure he saw the connection and asked about it. Seguin happily explained, “On the surface, there’s no evident connection, but below it, I see where you’re going. During the Revolution, at the Rio Grande and Nueces battles, all of the infantry were white men, while my company of cavalry were all Tejano. You’ve already done it with my cavalry, when you reorganized the army last fall, and half of both companies are Tejano and the other half is Anglo. I have no doubt you’d have done the same with the infantry, except there aren’t many Tejano volunteers who want to serve. But that’ll change, and I’ve no doubt, you’ll slide them into the existing companies.”
Will finally realized where Seguin was taking the conversation and smiled coyly at the captain. “Juan, you of all people should understand how Texians like yourself benefit from such an arrangement.”
Seguin snorted, “Texian now? When did I go from being a Tejano to a Texian?”
Will patted him on the back as he spread his blanket roll on the ground, “To me, they’re not exclusive of each other.”
Will wasn’t sure if Seguin bought his argument, but as the Tejano captain went to check on his men, Will heard him whistling a merry tune.
Will thought, “This is good. When we expand our infantry I’ll make sure we recruit from all of our immigrant communities, whether they’re originally from Mexico, Ireland, or Germany. Hell, maybe even go out of my way to recruit from among the Cherokee, too.”
***
Will stood before a group of students, spinning the classroom’s globe. “Can anyone find Iraq on the globe here?”
He was halfway through his semester of student teaching history. Few of the students in his class could have found the country on the globe. Despite his love for history, he felt a real frustration with the lack of interest on the students’ part.
With no takers, he lowered the world map from its spring roller and pointed to the middle east. “Next to Iraq is Iran. Can anyone tell me the ancient name for Iran?” Still, no takers.
He heard what sounded like a firecracker, and he turned his head searching for the sound. More firecrackers exploded.
Will was shaken awake, with the image of the classroom fading into the recesses of his memories. His wide brimmed hat fell from covering his face, revealing an agitated Major Wyatt standing over him. Although the Major’s body was blocking the direct sunlight, Will could tell the sun was at its apex in the sky. He heard a distant crack of a gunshot shatter the stifling silence of the prairie. Wyatt said, “There’s trouble behind us. It’s some of our supply wagons, a few miles back. One of our Apache scouts saw the Comanche riding toward them.”
Major Caldwell ran over to where they stood. He was strapping his gun belt around his waist as he ran. “General, I’ve got
a company ready to ride. I’ll lead ‘em out!”
Will waved him along as the Ranger ran to his horse. Turning around he saw Major Wyatt who had collared the battalion’s bugler. He called out, “Major, sound assembly. Get the men into a defensive perimeter!”
The Infantry formed a loose perimeter, each company defending a side of the square, in the open order skirmish tactics in which they were trained. The two artillery pieces were in the center of the square, unlimbered and ready to fire. But time passed slowly for Will as he reached into his vest pocket frequently, looking at his pocket watch to check the time. The occasional faint sound of gunfire echoed in the distance.
Nearly two hours passed before a solitary Ranger galloped back into camp. When he saw Will and the other officers, he sawed on the reins and headed toward them. “Gen’ral, we whupped ‘em and whupped ‘em good. There must have been forty or more Comanche that attacked our supply wagons. We had to have killed a dozen or more afore they took to showin’ us the daylight between them and their saddles.”
Nearby soldiers, hearing the news, cheered. Will was tempted to let the men celebrate, but as Major Wyatt and the other officers restored order and refocused their attention at the prairie around them, Will decided discipline was more important. If there were any Comanche observing his command, there was no sign of them and Caldwell arrived back at camp with his men an hour after his messenger. He maneuvered his horse through the skirmish line of infantry and came up to Will, and gave a casual salute. “General Travis, the supplies will be here by this evening. The Comanche caught the waggoneers and militia by surprise. Ten were killed and another four were wounded by the time we arrived. If we hadn’t caught the Comanche by surprise, they would have looted and burned the wagons. Although the Comanche retreated with their wounded and some of their dead, I think we killed seven or eight warriors and probably wounded an equal number.”
