by F. M. Parker
General Scott read to the end and nodding from time to time. He looked at Trist and his eyes were misty, the most intense emotion Lee had ever seen from the general. “Nicholas, my friend, you’ve done it in a grand fashion. Everything the president desired from the Mexicans you’ve gotten for him. I hope he and the country appreciates your unselfish action.”
“It was possible only because of your victorious march to take the Mexican capital.”
“We make a fine team,” Scott said in a hearty voice and clapped the smaller man soundly on the shoulder.
Scott handed the document to Lee. “Read, colonel, and see how your country had been increased in size by a third in one fell swoop and reaches to the Pacific Ocean.”
Lee read the twenty-three terms of the treaty. The boundary between the two countries would run along the Rio Grande to the southern boundary of New Mexico, then west along the Gila River to the Gulf of California. From there it would run westward along a line just south of San Diego to the Pacific Ocean. The United States would pay $15,000,000 for the territory. Lee thought it fair when looked at from the point of view that the Americans were giving up a large area of conquered land. One of the terms spoke to the Mexican people in the transferred territory. They could go or stay and would retain ownership of their property. Should they remain, they would become American citizens.
“Captain, make a copy for us to keep here at headquarters.” Scott said to Captain Scott. “The original must be sent at once to the coast and put aboard a mail packet to Washington.”
“Nicholas, you should have the honor of transmitting the treaty to Washington?”
“I’ll prepare a letter to President Polk at once. I hope he’ll accept it since I had no authority to negotiate with the Mexicans.”
*
“Pillow should be taken out and shot like the cowardly, treacherous dog he is,” Hitchcock said in a malevolent voice to Lee. “This is his doing by writing President Polk lies about the general.”
Lee said nothing. Exactly one week after the signing of the peace treaty, a messenger had arrived directly from Polk with a dispatch containing an order directing Scott to turn over the command of the army to General Butler. A second order had directed him to convene a court of enquiry to hear his charges against Pillow, Worth, and Duncan. The same court would also hear Worth’s charges against Scott. Hitchcock and Lee had left headquarters with Scott somber and thoughtful writing out his final order for the army he had led in victorious battles, an order relinquishing his command in ten days and placing General Butler as commander of the army in central Mexico.
“Well, what do you say?” Hitchcock asked, and aimed a questioning eye at Lee.
“The general could’ve handled Pillow and Worth in a more subtle way. His vanity led him to speak too bluntly and do things that played into the hands of Pillow and Polk.”
“Maybe he could’ve. But it’s hard for an honest man to deal with a liar and braggart like Pillow. The general will have his chance to prove what kind of an officer Pillow is when he has him before the court of enquiry.”
“Scott must also stand before the court and face questioning about Worth’s charges against him.”
“I’ll demand to testify at the hearing. I want to have my say about Pillow.”
“We’ll both have our chance to testify, I’m sure of that,” Lee said.
He glanced around the large reading room of the Aztec Club that was jam-packed with more than a hundred officers engaged in intense conversations. Men gestured and talked with high emotion as they made their point. The news that the general was being replaced had struck the army like a bombshell. Officers had flocked to the club knowing that here they would find others to discuss and argue such a startling event. Pillow, Worth, and Duncan were absent and for good reason, by forming a cabal against the popular Scott, they had alienated most of the other officers of the army that had marched inland with the general and held him in high regard. Several officers of Butler’s staff were present and in a good mood for with him soon to be the commanding general of the army their own status would be substantially increased.
Lee saw Captain Grant sitting off by himself with a newspaper. He was the only officer in the reading room who was actually reading. Lee had never seen the captain show his inner thoughts or feelings, always unruffled and with a calm voice.
Grant sensing eyes upon him looked up from the newspaper. Seeing Colonel Lee watching him, he nodded, got a return nod, and went back to his reading. Grant couldn’t but help hearing the loud talk among the officers surrounding him. Scott’s staff officers, especially Hitchcock, Beauregard and McClellan were condemning Pillow in the roughest of language, cursing and denouncing him for lying and betraying their general.
Worth’s and Duncan’s name came up now and again in a derogatory way. Scott’s staff men had glum expressions, which were rightfully possessed since they had much to lose by the change in army commanders. Lee especially must dislike it since he was Scott’s favored staff officer. Or at least that was the word in the army.
Grant thought Polk’s treatment of Scott to be harsh and unjust, and further that it was poor strategy to take a victorious general’s army away from him in a foreign land before the war was officially ended and a treaty signed, sealed, and delivered. He was confident that Polk’s action was caused by politics with him wanting to lessen Scott’s chance of winning the nomination for president on the Whig ticket.
*
General Scott met with Lee and Hitchcock in his plush quarters in the National Palace. He had surrendered his office at headquarters when General Butler assumed command of the army two weeks past. The two colonels had come at Scott’s request and were seated and facing him.
The general was in a thoughtful mood, yet that did not distract him from his usual courteous manner and he was pouring wine into tall glasses for the two men and himself. The wine merchants of the capital kept the general well stocked with the finest of the country. Scott took up his drink and seated himself across from the two colonels. Holding the wine glass delicately in his large hand, he took a drink and focused on the junior officers.
“We three have soldiered together for a year, almost to the day. During that time we have had time to take each other’s measure. I judge both of you fine soldiers and honest and fair men and for that reason I want you to consider the following proposition that has been brought to me.” A trace of a smile came and went on his face.
“Several prominent Mexicans, businessmen, government officials, and military have come to me and propose that I resign from the American army and issue a proclamation declaring myself dictator of Mexico for the next six years.”
The statement amazed Lee, believable only because Scott never joked, and certainly never lied.
Hitchcock cackled and slapped his leg. “By, God!” he chortled.
Scott smiled at their reaction. “Ah, I see that has your attention. And you’re wondering why the Mexicans would do such a thing. I have the answer for they told me. They want me to make Mexico a country where the law applies to all citizens equally, to make it a true democracy, to stop insurrection and the extortion and tyranny practiced by the military and the church. A period of dictatorship would give time for them and me to organize a government that would give the people what they rightfully deserve. They also fear invasion from another foreign power once we leave, and this would quiet likely happen for they have no army and a very weak and fractured government. They even mentioned that they would seriously consider annexing Mexico to the Untied States as Texas did.”
“How sincere do you think they were?” Lee asked.
“Quite sincere. To seal the deal, five of the richest men in the capital have guaranteed me $250,000 each for a total of $1,250,000 and the salary of the president for the six years. That’s quite a fortune.”
“Even for a dictator,” Hitchcock said. He gave a chuckling laugh enjoying the news immensely.
“Yes, even for a dictator. Should
I accept the offer, I’d want you two to join me as my principal staff officers, and of course with the proper promotions and increase of pay. As you know, we can all resign our commission so that there would be no reason why we can’t legally do as we wish.”
“When would this take place, if it did?” Lee asked.
“When the treaty is finally approved by the American and Mexican congresses. At that time, about seventy percent of our men will be discharged in place. That would be some 10,000 soldiers. With a hansom pay raise most of them would sign on with us. In addition, the Mexicans say that I could choose another 10,000 Mexican troops from their army. With that size of an army we could defeat any nation that might try to invade Mexico.”
Scott sat back in his chair and observed the men. “It’s tempting, isn’t it?” he said with a chuckle.
Lee was flabbergasted with the proposal. Scott with his intelligence and honesty and immense prestige could in truth make it work.
“I agree with you about the number of men that would sign on,” Hitchcock said. “And we already control the arsenals and occupy all the major cities and seaports, and have a tax on the output of the gold and silver mines.”
“I don’t expect your answers now for even I haven’t made up my mind. Before I could, I would need to know approximately how many officers and men would be with me. Talk quietly with those officers that you think would be the right ones for such a venture and see how many of them would come along. The Mexicans expect an answer and we will give them one.”
A series of faces and names came to Lee of the colonels, majors, and captains that he would choose to serve with him. They could all become wealthy, and life here would be enjoyable.
“This is a strange situation to be in,” Hitchcock said.
“How do you feel about this offer?” Scott asked Lee.
“I like serving with you and will give this serious thought. One thing for certain Mexico needs something like this to have time to get its house in order.”
CHAPTER 50
Grant left the conclave of army captains with a feeling of uneasiness about what was being proposed. Captain Porter of Quitman’s division had sought Grant out and persuaded him to attend a secret meeting of other captains in his quarters to discuss the Mexican proposal to Scott. The news that Scott might declare himself dictator of the country and would need officers to command an army had spread like wildfire. The men discussed the possibilities for acquiring wealth should he become part of an army of Americans controlled by an American general. Some men thumped the table and boasted about what they could achieve in the way of promotion, or starting a private business. In Grant’s case, he already had a bakery business in operation and could keep all the profit instead of contributing it to the Soldiers’ Fund. Further he might get promoted to the rank of major, which wouldn’t be all that bad.
Grant’s apprehension grew as he considered what signing on with an American dictator ruling Mexico might mean. As an American soldier, the scheme to overthrow the Mexican government seemed wrong. This was so even given how poorly the government functioned. In addition, he was opposed to the annexation of Mexico. No, Grant wouldn’t sign on to a dictator’s army in Mexico. With that decision resting easy on his mind, he struck off to the army hospital where he had been headed when sidetracked by Porter.
*
Grant came to the hospital consisting of scores of tents and an even greater number of houses that had been taken over by the army on the border of Tacubaya. Thirty-six hundred soldiers, one out of every six men of the army, lay wounded or ill with disease. Most of them were here in Mexico City, with a lesser number at Puebla and Veracruz. Men had been wounded in battles and in fights in the grog shops and low dives of the city. However it was disease, mainly typhus and dysentery that was the biggest killer of the soldiers.
General Butler had ordered all the injured and sick men that were able to travel to be taken to Veracruz for transport to the army hospital in New Orleans. When well enough, the men would to be released from the army and sent on to their homes. Grant was to get the expedition started just as soon as he could put together the necessary wagons and teams. He entered the office of Colonel Samson, Chief Surgeon.
“Colonel, I’m Captain Grant. I’ve been ordered to take your sick and wounded to Veracruz. How many will I need wagons for?”
“Eleven hundred and ninety are well enough to travel,” Samson said. “When can you leave with them?”
“Mid-morning tomorrow, sir. Say nine o’clock.”
“I’ll have them ready. I’ll send along two surgeons and their medical assistants to look after the men. All you have to do is get them safely to the coast.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
*
Grant found O’Doyle and directed him to gather the men and start assembling three hundred wagons and rounding up the needed teams of horses and mules and prepare everything for the journey to Veracruz. The army had nearly three thousand wagons in a yard occupying a large area west of Tacubaya, and more than eight thousand horses and mules grazing in rented pasturage round about the south end of the valley. He ordered the men to start their work at once and continue until dark. They had been loafing for days and that wasn’t good for soldiers.
He thought of Char. He would like to spend the evening with her but preparation for the journey must come first. As he passed the army cemetery heading to his quarters to grab a bite of food, he saw Chilton standing among the graves. The cemetery was rapidly adding new graves for the drum taps of the dead march sounded almost every day as two, three, and sometimes four corpses of soldiers were brought for burial.
Chilton appeared very lonely there in the cemetery with his shoulders slumped and his head turned down to a grave. That posture of Chilton’s brought to Grant’s mind the band of horsemen he had seen that day when Char and he were in the abandoned house and men had passed in the rain. Chilton closely resembled the leader of those riders. Grant caught himself up short for he was confident those men were some of the Americans that had been robbing the outlying towns and thus it was best not to think of Chilton being one of them. He went to talk with his friend who worried too much about the dead.
As he walked across the cemetery, he read names carved into wooden markers driven into the ground at the head of each grave. The old sorrow for his friends moldering in their graves came over him. He shoved the thoughts out of his mind. “Hello, Mat,” he called.
Chilton lifted his arm. “Hi, Sam.”
“How you doing?” Grant replied. Chilton had been a slender man at the beginning of the march from the sea. Now he was gaunt, unhealthily so with hollow cheeks and blue eyes unnaturally large in his bony face. At the moment they held tears. Some men weren’t meant to be soldiers because the death of comrades was too much for them to bear.
“Surviving, Sam, surviving.”
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Another one of my fellows died.” Chilton pointed at the fresh dirt of the grave near his feet. “Once I thought a man who had no fear could do anything he wanted. How bitter that thought is today with so many of my men lying buried here.”
“Mat, the army is no place for you, so why not go home. I believe the chief surgeon would approve a discharge for you, or at least a release to inactive duty.”
“I’ve already got permission to leave. A train will soon be going to Veracruz and I plan to be with it.”
“I’ll be leading it.”
“That’s good. We’ll have time to talk. When will you be leaving?”
“Tomorrow mid morning.”
“I’ll see you then.” Chilton turned back to stare at the graves.
Grant watched Chilton for a moment, and then walked away.
*
Grant bathed, donned a fresh uniform, and ate a meal prepared by Valere. He complimented Valere for the fine food and left his quarters and walked to the center of Tacubaya where he stopped at a tobacconist shop and ordered six cigars be fresh
ly rolled. While he waited, he went next door to a barbershop and bought a shave and had his raggedy hair shortened. Since arriving in the capital he’d gone clean-shaven. Spruced up, he struck out for the capital to see Char.
Grant knocked on the door of the Paz home with a pleasant feeling of anticipation at seeing Char. The young woman had built a warm place in his heart.
The older woman that chaperoned Char opened the door. Her face tightened with displeasure at sight of Grant. Why was that? “I wish to see Senorita Paz,” Grant said.
“The Senorita isn’t at home,” said the woman and started to shut the door.
“Wait. Please tell her that Senor Grant came to see her?”
“She will be told,” the woman’s voice had finality in it. She shut the door in Grant’s face.
He walked across the yard to the street. There he turned to look at the house. For the briefest of moments, he saw someone peeking from an upstairs window before they drew back hastily out of sight. The person could have been Char. Grant’s relationship with the people of the house had drastically changed.
*
Approaching Jalapa with his wagon train, Grant came upon the bivouac of the Rangers in a grove of trees beside a small stream just off the National Highway. The men lounged about on their blankets on the ground smoking and talking. The camp of Lane’s Mounted Riflemen was just downstream from the Rangers, and they too were lazing about.
Grant brought his caravan of wagons into the upper end of the meadow and halted to rest men and animals until the coming morning. The sick and wounded men, those that were capable, climbed down from the vehicles to walk about. The surgeons and their assistants hurried to help the men who had lost a leg or were for some reason unable to dismount from the vehicles. The teamsters began to unhook their animals and take them out to graze, and the cooks hastened to gather wood for their evening cooking fires.
Cavallin came up from the camp of the Rangers. He called out ahead. “Sam, I didn’t expect to see you coming with a wagon train.”
