I
Everything was ready.
Friar Beltran’s forges, blazing night and day, had turned out thirty thousand horseshoes. His arsenal had produced bullets by the hundreds of thousands. Friar Beltran’s carriages for artillery, specially designed for mountain-passes, stood waiting. The guns themselves were to be carried on the backs of mules. Slings had been prepared to hoist the mules over dangerous places; also sleds of rawhide in which the guns might be hauled up inclines too steep for heavily laden mules to climb.
The women of Mendoza, led by Bernardo O’Higgins’s mother and sister who were exiles from Chile, had prepared a store of bandages and medicines, and had made uniforms for the soldiers.
All was ready—tents, provisions, herds of cattle, saddles, arms, clothes, water-bottles, cables and anchors for a portable bridge, muleteers and artisans. Nothing was overlooked by the vigilant San Martin.
Silent and reserved, he inspected everything. For he knew too well that the mountains over which he was about to lead his Army, were more lofty and dangerous than the famous Alps. He planned to send the Army through two passes, the highest of which was nearly 13,000 feet above sea-level. The troops would be long on the way, he knew, and the dangers would be terrific.
In January 1817—January is summertime in Argentina—the good folk of Mendoza gathered to say farewell to the Army that they had helped to mobilize, and to which so many of their own men belonged, some of whom they should never see again.
The Army broke up its cantonments, and began its march in three divisions, carrying the new flag of the Republic. The women of Mendoza had made it. It was white and sky-blue, like San Martin’s first uniform when he was a boy soldier, while on it was emblazoned the face of the Rising Sun.
So with provisions for many days, with armament, munitions, baggage, and great herds of cattle for food, the Army followed the trails that led through the barren foothills toward the high Andes.
The lofty central ranges of the gloomy mountains frowned down upon the soldiers, while the dark passes seemed yawning pitilessly to devour them. But nothing daunted, they courageously continued to climb the foothills toward the mountains.
Bernardo O’Higgins, the Chilean Patriot, led one of the divisions; for Chile had now joined forces with Argentina against Spain.
Higher and higher the Army climbed, scouts clearing the way before it, until it began to enter the passes of the Cordilleras. Then San Martin, who was still tarrying at Mendoza, wrote to a friend:—
“This afternoon I leave to join the Army. God grant me success in this great enterprise!”
Then saying good-bye to the folk of Mendoza, by whom he was so much beloved, he hastened to join one of the divisions.
Day after day, the troops followed the steep ascents and descents, walking close to roaring torrents, crossing craggy peaks and narrow chasms, skirting edges of precipices, wading through snow, and hauling heavy guns and supplies up steep inclines.
Great mountain-ridges, with cañons between, ran north and south, beside numerous lesser ridges; all these had to be crossed to reach Chile. The intense cold on the summits, killed many of the soldiers. While the rarefied air caused numbers to drop down and die from heart failure and exhaustion. Of the nine thousand two hundred and eighty-one mules and the sixteen hundred horses Friar Beltran had in charge, over half perished.
The soldiers, surrounded by the mountain peaks that seemed to touch the sky with their snow-bound jagged tops, were depressed by the awful loneliness. Now and then, a condor wheeled above them. Strange noises, made by gusts of wind in the cañons, sounded like the wails of lost souls. Every step the soldiers took, convinced them that should they be attacked, it would be impossible to retreat. Such were some of the terrible hardships uncomplainingly suffered by the Army of the Andes.
But the soldiers laughed at despair; a spirit of union and comradeship upheld them. Each corps tried to outdo the others in cheerful endurance.
At last, after more than three weeks, the Army began to defile from the passes into Chile. Then San Martin and O’Higgins, in the great battle of Chacabuco and later at Maipu, won the victory and drove the Spanish Army from Chile.
General Miller and Bartolome Mitre (Retold)