“Colonel Garland! Oh, Colonel Garland! The general directs that you take four companies of the Fourth, unite with the Second Artillery, and commanding in person, march out upon the Puebla road until in touch with the enemy or he has been dispersed.”
Captain Nichols, the adjutant, rapidly called the companies: A, B, E, I. Company B was into it! Jerry sprang to his place. Drummer and fifer stuck to their company on detached duty like this.
“Company B, by the right flank! Right face! Company, forward—march!” Captain Gore bawled.
In double file (two ranks formation) Company A marched out through the corral gate.
“By platoon, into line! Quick—march! Guide right.”
The other companies were close before and behind. The Second Artillery, serving as infantry, was double-quicking from the plaza, under Major Galt. Two guns of Colonel Duncan’s battery issued at a gallop. In the plaza the remaining two cannon were being hauled at top speed to opposite corners to face the streets.
At quick step the Colonel Garland detachment, with the guns trundling at the rear, headed for the Puebla road. And a funny spectacle the detachment made: loose shoes flopping, jackets askew and half buttoned, belts dangling, caps wrong side before, muskets not all put together yet, and many of the men only partly washed and shaved.
The cloud of dust was plain and much nearer. The Mexicans appeared to be swinging around, northward, as if bent upon cutting the road east of Amozoc. They could be seen easily: a great column of lancers—looked to be two or three thousand, all at a trot, their yellow cloaks streaming, their red jackets glimmering, their lance points, muskatoons and trappings flashing.
“Form company! First platoon, right oblique!”
Then—