January 4th. Very early we started for Victoria—and had to work our way through the camp of the Illinois regiments which was placed along the road. At last we cleared them and found ourselves marching by moonlight through a beautiful grove of pecan trees. I know nothing more pleasant than this moonlight marching, everything is so beautiful and quiet. Every few moments a breath of warm air would strike our faces—reminding us that we were almost beneath the Tropic. After we had marched for about four hours we heard a little more yelling than usual among the Volunteers. Smith turned his horse to go and have it stopped when who should we see but the General and his staff in the midst of the yelling. We concluded that they must be yelling too, so we let them alone. This is but one instance of the many that occurred when these Mustang Generals were actually afraid to exert their authority upon the Volunteers.—Their popularity would be endangered. I have seen enough on this march to convince me that Volunteers and Volunteer Generals wont do. I have repeatedly seen a Second Lieutenant of the regular army exercise more authority over the Volunteers—officers and privates—than a Mustang General.
The road this day was very good and after a march of about seventeen miles we reached Victoria. The Volunteers had out their flags, etc.—those that had uniforms put them on, especially the commandant of the advanced guard. Picks and shovels were put up—Generals halted and collected their staffs, and in they went in grand procession—evidently endeavoring to create the impression that they had marched in this way all the way—the few regular officers along laughing enough to kill themselves.
General [John A.] Quitman came out to meet General Patterson—but old Zach [Taylor], who arrived with his regulars about an hour before we did, stayed at home like a sensible man.[22] We made fools of ourselves (not we either, for I was laughing like a wise man all the time) by riding through the streets to General Quitman’s quarters where we had wine and fruit. Then we rode down to the camp ground—a miserable stony field—we in one corner of it, the “Continental Army” all over the rest of it. We at last got settled. About dark started over to General Taylor’s camp. Before I had gone 200 yards I met the very person I was going to see—need not say how glad I was to meet him after a two months absence.
This reminds me that when at Matamoros—a day or two before we started on the march—we received the news of poor Norton’s death. I had written a letter to him the day before which was in my portfolio when I heard of his death. The noble fellow met his death on board the Atlantic, which was lost in Long Island Sound near New London on the 27th November 1846. Captain Cullum and Lieutenant C. S. Stewart were both on board, and both escaped. Norton exerted himself to the last to save the helpless women and children around him—but in accordance with the strange presentiment that had been hanging over him for some time, he lost his own life. He was buried at West Point—which will seem to me a different place without him.
One night when at Victoria I was returning from General Taylor’s camp and was halted about 150 yards from our Company by a Volunteer sentinel. As I had not the countersign I told him who I was. He said I should not go by him. I told him “Confound you I wont stay out here all night.” Said he “You had no business to go out of camp.” Said I “Stop talking, you scoundrel, and call the Corporal of the Guard.”—“I ain’t got no orders to call for the Corporal and wont do it—you may, though, if you want.” “What’s the number of your post?” “Dont know.” “Where’s the Guard tent?” “Dont know.”—As I was debating whether to make a rush for it, or to seek some softer hearted specimen of patriotism, another sentinel called out to me “Come this way, Sir!”—It appeared that the first fellow’s post extended to one side of the road, and the last one’s met it there.—“Come this way, Sir” said he, “Just pass around this bush and go in.” “Hurrah for you” said I, “you’re a trump, and that other fellow is a good for nothing blaguard.”
Left Victoria January 13th and arrived at Tampico on the 23rd. Wednesday January 13th. From Victoria to Santa Rosa four leagues. Road not very hilly, but had to be cut through thick brush; two very bad wet arroyos [gulches] were bridged. Santa Rosa a miserable ranche—could only get a half dozen eggs and a little pig in the whole concern—good water in the stream.
[January] 14th. Started before daylight and before going 200 yards we landed in a lake—the road, or path, passed directly through it, and during the rest of the day it was necessary to cut the road through thick brush—no cart had ever been there before. Bridged two wet arroyos and encamped about sunset by a little stream. Just as enough water had been procured the stream was turned off—probably by the Mexicans. We had a stampede this day. Rode on about six miles with the guide. Country a perfect wilderness—not a ranche between Santa Rosa and Fordleone.
[January] 15th. Started early, road cut through a mesquit[e] forest, many gullies, two bad arroyos before reaching El Pastor. Here General Twiggs[23] caught us, about 11 A. M., army encamped, but we went on. I worked the road for about five miles, and started back at 4 [o’clock]. Smith and Guy de L....[24] rode on about ten miles. Road better but very stony. “Couldn’t come the cactus” over Guy de L.... this day. He (G. de L.) shot five partridges at a shot which made us a fine supper.
[January] 16th. Reveillé at 3—started at 4—arrived at end of preceding day’s work just at daybreak. Road very stony in many places—swore like a trooper all day—arrived at Arroyo Albaquila about 11 [A. M.]. Twiggs came up and helped us wonderfully by his swearing—got over in good time—cussed our way over another mile and a half—then encamped by the same stream—water very good.
[January] 17th. Started before daybreak—road quite good—prairie land—arrived at Fordleone or Ferlón at about half after ten. Fine large stream of excellent water—good ford—gravelly bottom—gentle banks. 11 miles.