General Worth directed the adjutant to have camp made on a piece of high ground near the road. The drums beat the halt. The day’s up-hill march had ended a short mile out of Jalapa.
After the guards had been posted and supper had been eaten, everybody was glad enough to turn in. Tattoo, to extinguish lights and be quiet, was not needed.
When reveille sounded at daybreak, the drummers and fifers saw a beautiful scene indeed. The camp was above the clouds. Below, in the east or the direction of Vera Cruz, a thunderstorm was raging; the lightning darted through the clouds, which were white on top with the rays of the unseen sun. Only twenty-five miles in the south old Orizaba Peak shone like silver. Jerry frequently had seen it from Vera Cruz, but never had it appeared so wonderful. And on before, in the west, there was Jalapa, located between hills, with its white houses and red roofs set amidst orchards and gardens.
“Well, now I say that like as not we all were killed at Cerro Gordo and have arrived in Heaven,” Drum Major Brown said.
“That’s right; for according to the Spanish, they have a saying: ‘Jalapa is a small piece of Heaven fallen to earth,’” a fifer asserted.
“You’re wrong there, and so are they,” corrected somebody. “Look beyond. We’re going to be nearer Heaven than when down at Jalapy.”
Back of Jalapa the real mountains began. They rose straight up, it seemed, in a series of purple masses until their crests touched the sky.
Halt was made at pretty Jalapa only long enough for General Worth to receive fresh instructions from General Scott; and out the First Division marched, leaving the Second Division behind, and the Patterson Volunteers, and most of the dragoons. The First was in the advance at last.
Rumors stated that the First was to take the castle of Perote, twenty-five miles on. Perote ranked second in strength to only San Juan de Ulloa itself. But if one brigade of the Second Division had been able to take Cerro Gordo Hill, the two brigades of the First felt able to take Perote.
The road climbed and climbed. The horses of the Duncan flying battery of the Second Artillery, and those of the wagon train, had all they could do, even when helped by men at the wheels. But the day was clear, and an inspiring sight that was to look before and behind, and see the serried column winding on, Captain Kearny’s Company K of the First Dragoons ahead, General Worth and staff following; the artillery afoot, and the infantry and their bands trudging gallantly after, and the white-topped wagons bringing up the rear.