Into Mexico with General Scott / When attached to the Fourth United States Infantry, Division of Major-General William J. Worth, Corps of the famous Major-General Winfield Scott, known as Old Fuss and Feathers, campaign of 1847, lad Jerry Cameron marched and fought beside Second Lieutenant U. S. Grant all the way from Cera Cruz to the City of Mexico, where six thousand American soldiers planted the Stars and Stripes in the midst of one hundred and fifty thousand amazed people

by Edwin L. Sabin

“Hooray! Huzzah! Huzzah!”

The drums beat the charge, Jerry pounding lustily as he ran. The men yelled—a Cerro Gordo shout. They stumbled, fell, splashed into ditches four feet wide. Lieutenant Grant was running and waving his sword in front of his company. All the officers were cheering on their men. The breastworks loomed higher, the cannon muzzles gaped wider.

The line swept on; the front rank began to climb—the men slipping and clutching and clinging, and ever advancing their muskets to pull trigger. Over they went with yells renewed; up and over went the rear rank, and over went the fifers and drummers, tumbling into the cheering mass.

The breastworks were empty. Onward extended the road, with the Mexican artillery and infantry, mingling with horses and women, legging pellmell in a mass for San Antonio town—through the little town and out again.

“On, men! On!”

Now it was a race. Look! The Second Brigade was closing in and firing. So rapidly it descended from the lava, beyond the village, that it struck the rout right in the middle—cut the mass in two. The first portion broke and fled east, across the fields; the Second Brigade halted in the gap, while the other half of the Mexicans scurried faster up the road for Churubusco.

The Fourth Infantry joined the Second Brigade at the instant when the remainder of the First Brigade came in. Everybody was laughing and cheering, but there was no time to be lost.

“To the color! Beat to the color, drummers! Battalions, form companies! Forward—double time—march!”

The First Division ran on. The whole elevated road before was a sight. The two miles to Churubusco, lined by shade trees, was a solid jumble of Mexicans—infantry, artillery, lancers, camp followers and baggage wagons, flying for dear life. Wounded were dropping out, guns were being abandoned, teamsters and cannoneers were lashing their horses. It was a rout indeed.

And yonder in the northwest another rout pelted in: Santa Anna’s reserves, from near Contreras, pursued hotly by the Twiggs Second Division, all aiming for Churubusco.