The First Division was right upon the heels of the San Antonio fugitives. The men were wild with excitement; nobody thought now of weariness.
XVIII
IN THE CHARGE AT CHURUBUSCO
Churubusco, into which the Mexicans from the south and from the west were pouring, bristled with defenses. They seemed to be mainly on the left or west of the road. First, there was the straggling village, half encircled by breastworks, with an immense stone church rising high above everything, and already spouting smoke from its cannon mounted upon the walls and the flat roof. There were cornfields and fruit trees upon both sides of the road, and beyond the church there was a stone bridge carrying the road across what appeared to be a large canal, reaching from the lake on the east into the cornfields and meadows of the west. It was at least a mile in length, piled with earth on either bank, like a dike, and absolutely filled with infantry and artillery, protected by the earthen parapets.
The end of the bridge in front of the earthworks, at the middle of the dike, had been built up into a regular stone fort, containing a battery under cover. While farther on, occupying the road after it had left the village and the bridge, there were thousands more infantry and lancers, swelled by the Santa Anna force.
The column had halted, the men ceased cheering, and General Worth and staff surveyed Churubusco through their glasses.
It was an anxious moment. The enemy certainly numbered twenty thousand, well stationed. The bridgehead and the dike had opened with cannon balls which came ricocheting down the road and splashed the mud and water of the cornfields. But the men paid little attention to them. Hooray! Here was General Pillow, at last, with the General Cadwalader brigade of Voltigeurs and Eleventh and Fourteenth Infantry—toiling in from the west and uniting with the First Division on the road. He had arrived too late for San Antonio, but was in time for Churubusco.
The men were growing impatient. Within a few minutes the gunfire from Churubusco had risen deafening. The church was being attacked; it fairly vomited smoke and shot and shell; every inch of it seemed alive. The fields to the west of it were answering. Infantry in thin lines could be seen stealing forward; a battery was hammering hard.
“Twiggs! Old Davy’s there, with Taylor’s battery!”
How the men knew, nobody could tell; but know they did. The word passed that General Persifor Smith’s First Artillery and Third Infantry were attacking the church. They appeared to be suffering, for they were within point-blank range of the roof-top and the cupola, and had no cover except the corn.