Home of the Brave (43 page)

“What did he
say?”

“If I told you, you’d want
to shoot him.”

“I already want to shoot
him.”

“Let’s go. There’s nothing
else to be said here.” She turned her horse.

Bliss had not moved and was
locked in a staring contest with the general.

“If you come now, William
Wallace Smith Bliss,” Marina said. “I’ll promise to keep your name
a secret.”

Bliss broke eye contact with
the Mexican general and turned his horse. “Where can I get one of
those six-shot revolving-chamber-pistols like Josiah Whipple
has?”

“I think you have to join
the Texas Rangers or be friends with Captain Sam
Walker.”

“If I had one I could have
shot that general and his escort.”

“Not very
diplomatic.”

“Wish I knew his
name?”

“Who?” she asked.

“That general.”

“Pedro de
Ampudia.”

“You said you didn’t know
his name.”

“No, I said he was too rude
to introduce himself, I didn’t say I didn’t know his
name.”

“God, you’re a maddening
woman.”

February 23,
1847

Buena Vista,
Mexico

General Pedro de Ampudia
attacked at dawn, pushing the left flank of the General Lane’s
Second Indiana volunteers back into the Illinois volunteers.
General Wool sent a messenger to Lane ordering him to hold the line
at all costs, but the best Lane could manage was an organized
withdrawal, taking the Illinois regiment with him.

General Taylor, returning
from Saltillo, joined the Mississippi Rifles commanded by Colonel
Jefferson Davis and attacked the flank of Ampudia’s column. At the
onset, Davis was wounded in the foot but he stayed in the
fight.

Taylor and Davis’s charge
enabled General Wool to halt the retreat of the Indiana and
Illinois volunteers and he placed them beside the hacienda where he
had already placed two cavalry regiments and a battery under
command of Thomas W. Sherman. The Third Indiana was brought forward
in support of Davis and the Americans were back in control of their
small army.

The next Mexican attack
marched into a hail of bullets, grape and round shot from the
hacienda. The Mexican soldiers fell, faltered, slowed and then
broke and fled in panic. No amount of urging or threats from their
officers could turn them around.

Mexican General Francisco
Pérez, with artillery support, launched an assault on the center
which was answered by a battery of Braxton Bragg’s artillery. The
Mexican attack soon fizzled as rain began to fall, leaving the
battlefield to the dead and wounded.

~

“This one’s not gonna make
it,” Sarah Borginnes said to Marina. She stood up and slogged
through the mud toward the next wounded man.

Marina wiped the rain from
her eyes and blinked into the gloom. “The ambulance is stuck in the
mud and the cavalry detachment went to pull it out. Maybe we should
go back a bit. It’s not safe here, so close to the Mexican pickets
without protection.”

“We’re okay.” Sarah pointed
toward the Mexican lines. “I been a camp follower long enough to
know the sound of a army breakin’ camp. Santa Anna’s pullin’ out.
Help me turn this boy over so he don’t drown.”

Marina knelt in the mud
beside her. “My son asked me whose side I was on and I gave him an
evasive answer because I was feeling sorry for these peasant boys.
Now I’ve decided that I was wrong in blaming the United States. I
want that bastard Santa Anna dead so he can’t do this again.” She
looked back at the mired ambulance. “The Mexicans don’t even bother
to send medical personnel or bury their dead.”

“Course not. That way we
gotta do all the dirty work while they rest.” She glanced toward
the Mexican line. “Shit. You got your pistol?” She struggled to her
feet, then scrambled in the mud to retrieve a pike.

Marina’s hair was in her
face and it took her a moment to see the two mounted men cantering
toward them from the Mexican lines.

“Shoot the one on the right
and I’ll take care of the one on the left,” Sarah said.

Marina pulled up the
mud-soaked hem of her dress and groped for the holster on her calf.
After fumbling with the snap on the tie down strap, she eventually
managed to draw the little pistol. But before her cold fingers
could find the safety and the hammer, the riders, who were spinning
heavy lariats, threw their loops.

Sarah ducked under the rope
that was thrown at her and slapped the man who had thrown it in the
chest with the pike. When he fell, she stabbed him in the
throat.

Marina was caught by the
lariat across her elbows, jerked off her feet and dragged toward
the enemy lines. Sarah ran hopelessly after the horse until she
could run no more.

~

“I am General Don Antonio de
Padua María Severino López de Santa Anna y Pérez de Lebrón, the
President of Mexico.” He put his fists on his hips and looked down
at Marina haughtily.

“I am an interpreter.” She
was naked, on her knees with her wrists tied to her ankles behind
her back. There was blood in the white of her right eye and it was
swollen half closed. Her breasts were bruised and there were teeth
marks on her shoulder, neck and around her left nipple that were
oozing blood. “A non-combatant.”

“You were armed and looting
our dead soldiers,” Santa Anna said.

“You know that I was giving
aid and comfort to your soldiers. You have no right to hold
me.”

“The woman who was with you
killed one of my vaqueros. You will not be held, you will be
hanged.”

“Then I shall be waiting for
you in Hell,” she snarled angrily. “And I suspect that the wait
will not be long.” She squirmed in an attempt to relieve the
pressure of the tight bindings on her ankles and wrists.

He was taken aback by her
venom and modified his tone to be more reasonable. “The reason that
you are not already dead is a letter you had in your possession
from Lieutenant General John Van Buskirk.”

“What about it?”

“Who is he and why do you
have his letter?”

“He is my husband,” Marina
said, after a moment.

“Then you are a
spy.”

“I thought I was a looter of
the dead,” she replied in a bored tone.

“Are you a citizen of
Mexico?”

“I am a citizen of the
United States of America.”

“You speak my language like
a native,” he observed.

“Your language?” She
laughed. “Perhaps you can fool a few of the ignorant peons, but I
know who you really are, Spaniard.”

“I was born in Mexico,” he
said defensively.

“You are a criollo,” she
countered. “I hear it in the way you speak and I see it in the
arrogance of your demeanor.”

“Who do you think you are?”
he spluttered.

“I know who I am. I was born
in the Anáhuac Valley and became a United States citizen when the
Louisiana Territory was sold to the United States.”

“Then you are a
traitor.”

“Looter, spy or traitor.
Call me what you will. I am a Mexican but not a Mexican citizen.
You are a pretender. I owe no loyalty to you.”

“That is all very good
because, when we reach Mexico City, you will hang as an enemy of
Mexico.”

“I shall proclaim my
innocence from the gallows.”

“Everyone proclaims their
innocence from the gallows and no one listens.”

“Many will listen to the
granddaughter of La Malinche.”

“You lie.” He slapped her
across the face.

She glared up at him, the
hatred burning in her eyes. “You strut like a peacock and behave
like a coward. I am a direct descendant of La Malinche, the first
Mestizo. This I can prove by probanzas de sangre and I can also
prove that you are a pretender. Kill me quickly or I shall lead the
people in rebellion against you. And this time you will not be
spared and exiled; you will be publicly judged and
hanged.”

He slapped her again and she
spit blood in his face.

“I will teach you,” he
shouted, struggling with his belt in an effort to drop his
trousers.

Marina laughed. “Are you
going to show me your cork leg now? I have always wondered if you
had lost your manhood with it. Your wife has no children. But then
again, she is but a child herself and you are a pitiful, old,
one-legged man. Show me your cork cock.”

~

During the night, General
Santa Anna declared victory and withdrew south leaving his dead and
wounded behind and taking Marina Cortés Van Buskirk with
him.

March 8, 1847

The Bay of Veracruz,
Mexico

Fortress Veracruz,
consisting of Fort Santiago on the south, Fort Concepción on the
north, Fort San Juan de Ulúa on Gallegos Reef, and Fort La Mancha
on the cliffs, was the strongest fortified city in the Western
hemisphere. Nearly four thousand men under the command of Brigadier
General Juan Esteban Morales garrisoned the walled city.

The United States
Expeditionary Force commanded by Major General Winfield Scott
included the First Division of Regulars under General William J.
Worth, the Second Division of Regulars under General David E.
Twiggs, and the Third Division of Volunteers under General Robert
Patterson.

Brigade commanders included
Colonel John Van Buskirk, Colonel John Garland, Colonel Newman S.
Clarke, Brigadier General Persifor F. Smith, Brigadier General
Bennet Riley, Brigadier General John A. Quitman, Brigadier General
Gideon J. Pillow, Brigadier General James Shields, and Colonel
William S. Harney commanding the dragoons. Scott’s Chief of Staff
and Executive Officer was Lieutenant General John “Yank” Van
Buskirk.

General Scott had chosen
Collado Beach, three miles south of Veracruz, as the landing zone.
The First Regular Division under General Worth was chosen to make
the assault before dawn on the morning of March
9
^th
.
Now all was ready and the army had nothing left to do but wait
aboard the ships until zero hour came.

“Dad,” Robert said, as Yank
appeared on deck. “Please allow me to introduce these officers who
are all recent West Point graduates.” He smiled at the men. “My
father taught at the Academy in its infancy.”

“It was not the institution
then that it is now,” Yank said. “I would, of course, be very proud
to meet your friends, Robert.”

“General John Van Buskirk,”
Robert said, bowing formally to his father, “it is my honor to
introduce Captain Robert Lee, class of 1829, Lieutenant George
Meade class of 1835, Lieutenant Sam Grant, class of 1843 and
Lieutenant Thomas Jackson, class of 1846. Gentlemen; my
father.”

“I had the honor of being a
friend of your father,” Yank said, shaking Lee’s hand. “In case you
gentlemen were not aware,” he said to the others, “Captain Lee’s
father was General Henry Lee, who was better known as Light Horse
Harry Lee, a genuine American hero.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lee
replied. “My father spoke very highly of both you and your father
often.”

“Captain Lee finished second
in his class,” Robert said.

“Indeed?” Yank
nodded.

“I fear my position was
undistinguished by being nineteenth in a class of fifty-six,”
Lieutenant Meade said, stepping forward to shake Yank’s
hand.

“I was distinguished by
being near the foot of mine.” Lieutenant Grant shook Yank’s
hand.

“As was I,” Lieutenant
Jackson said in his turn.

Yank smiled at the young men
fondly. “I fear that we set an early precedence on the importance
of class position. The Academy’s task was to produce good officers
and the simple fact is that anyone who graduates from The United
States Military Academy, regardless of class position, is material
for flag rank.” He bowed to his son and to Captain Lee. “Not to
diminish my son Robert or Captain Lee’s outstanding scholastic
achievements in any way, of course.”

“Father,” Robert said.
“We’ve been discussing the upcoming battle and, since none of us
have any experience with a prolonged siege, perhaps you could
provide some insights.”

“I wish that I could, but
every battle I’ve ever been in was a straight up fight. I just
missed being besieged at the Alamo by an odd twist of fate,
however. I had planned to visit my old friend Davy Crockett on the
day of Santa Anna’s attack but Sam Houston asked me to accompany
him to Goliad and we were on the road some distance from the
fortress when we heard the guns. Sam thought it was thunder. A
short time later, Deaf Smith came riding toward us…” Seeing the
embarrassment on Robert’s face, he stopped short.

“Don’t let us keep you,
Dad,” Robert said nervously.

Yank smiled. “It is a
pleasure and honor to have met you young gentlemen.” With a glance
at the landing boats along the rail, he walked toward the ladder
and climbed slowly down.