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.