From the first, Santa Anna had been determined to gain the American rear, doubtless believing that if taken in reverse the volunteers would certainly give way, and he had succeeded in completely outflanking us; yet Ampudia’s light brigade, the heavy infantry, Torrejón’s cavalry, and the brilliant corps of lancers that attacked the Mississippi and Indiana troops had all failed. Upset, perhaps, by this disappointment, he threw away his chance of triumph, for he should have coöperated with his brave troops in the north field by hurling upon the American centre all the forces that could be gathered on the south field and the plateau.[15] But now, for a last and crowning effort, he assembled these forces, placed them under the command of General Pérez, and advanced the battery on his right flank to an elevated position.[19]
Unwittingly Taylor played into his hands, for now—about four o’clock—he ordered Hardin to charge;[16] and the brave colonel, whose finely cut, virile face, jet-black eye and tightly closed lips told what he was, advanced promptly with his six companies. This movement brought him before long into contact with the Mexicans from the recess, who, observing the smallness of his command, rallied against him. Bissell and McKee, seeing that he was overmatched, hastened to his aid, and all three pushed vigorously forward; but suddenly queer objects appeared to be moving along the surface of the plateau at their right, and in another moment out of the ground rose a forest of muskets. This was the corps of Pérez emerging from the broad ravine. Hardin, Bissell and McKee poured upon it a hot fire. So did O’Brien with his two 6-pounders, and Chickamauga Thomas with one of Sherman’s pieces. But the fire of the Mexicans, one terrific blaze and roar, was this time low and true. The air seemed thick with their bullets. Some of the Kentucky men dropped to the ground to escape them. “Up, up and on!” cried McKee, and with frantic cheers they sprang again to their work.[19]
But they fought in vain. The odds were too great, and the Americans too exhausted. “Retreat or you are lost!” was the order; and the three regiments, enveloped by the left wing of Pérez, rushed and rolled in headlong flight down the second gulch toward the road. Here the fearless Hardin, defending himself to the last with a sabre, his only weapon, sank to the ground. Here the son of Henry Clay, wounded in the thigh, refused to let his men imperil their lives by trying to carry him farther, and bravely met his fate; and here fell the gallant McKee, covered with wounds. Indeed, all seemed to be doomed alike, for lancers hurried on to close the mouth of the gulch; but suddenly Washington’s guns opened with spherical case shot, and under this driving, hissing blast of iron the Americans ran breathless to La Angostura.[19]
On the plateau, during this catastrophe, the right wing of Pérez bore down upon Taylor’s position at the centre. Nothing formidable stood in its way except O’Brien, for Thomas was fully occupied about one hundred yards to O’Brien’s left and rear. Understanding the crisis and ready to sacrifice everything if he could only gain a little time, O’Brien fired canister till not one of his gunners was left, and the Mexicans could almost lay hands on the pieces, and then just managed to hobble away. The Mexicans now swept on at a run. The fragments at our centre were on the point of giving way. The day seemed lost.[19]
But by this time Bragg and Sherman, lashing and spurring their tired horses, came up from the north field; and the Indiana and Mississippi regiments, hurrying over the ridges and ravines with trailed arms, appeared on their left some distance away. Without support Bragg whirled his guns into battery only a few rods from the enemy, and Sherman followed his example, while the infantry charged the Mexican flank and rear; and quickly, but none too soon, canister and bullets told. Round followed round, and volley pursued volley. The infantry shook with fatigue; the men at the cannon, grimy with powder-stains, gasped for air as they rammed the charges home; but they all kept at work.[19]
Bravely fought the Mexicans, too; but such a staggering fire could not be resisted, and soon the dark masses of Pérez’s column reeled back in confusion to the broad ravine. It was now about five o’clock. Our artillery continued to play for a while on the San Patricio battery, but even Miñón, who had been making feeble demonstrations against Saltillo, was by this time thoroughly repulsed,[17] and the roar of battle subsided. The terrible conflict was in fact over. Both armies were too exhausted to fight longer, and in the narrow valley day was already waning.
“The guns still roared at intervals; but silence fell at last,
And on the dead and dying came the evening shadows fast;
And then above the mountains rose the pale moon’s silver shield,
And patiently and pitying she looked upon the field.”[19]