Highly unfortunate, therefore, in this as well as in other regards, was an escapade of Brevet Colonel Harney, a man as brave as a lion and also as untamable, who had been occupying San Antonio for some time with three companies of the Second Dragoons. Obtaining permission to ask for Texan troops to defend the frontier against the Indians,[13] he called for eight companies, and shortly before Wool’s arrival, on the pretext of a threatened Mexican invasion of which he entertained little or no fear, he moved off with his entire command, although he knew of the intended concentration at San Antonio, and advanced to the Rio Grande.[14] Imprudently crossing the river, he was cut off by one of its quick rises. Only the refusal of his officers to follow him prevented a ridiculous dash against Monterey. Finally, near the end of August, he obeyed the order to return, but left three companies behind; and a part of this detachment, engaged in procuring a large supply of grain and flour in Mexico, lost the supplies and three of their number, killed or wounded. The rest of the three companies escaped under fire in a disgraceful manner, burning public stores to prevent the Mexicans from taking them; and of course news that Americans had been repulsed flew like fire through the border.[26]
WOOL’S MARCH
Such presumption on the part of a regular officer, such imprudence, and above all such disregard of his government’s known intentions were intolerable, and Wool felt them with peculiar intensity. He was a high-strung person. Being devoutly pious he loathed swearing, for example; but on special occasions his feelings got the better of his tongue, and when this occurred he would instantly raise his eyes to heaven and implore forgiveness. While not a great man, and apparently incapable of inspiring soldiers or gaining their sympathetic support, he understood his profession and lived up to it. When campaigning he seemed to sleep—if he slept at all—with both eyes open, and the outposts were liable to receive a visit at any hour of the night. Never sparing himself, he was equally stern with others; and towards officers, presumably more intelligent and responsible than privates, he seemed especially exacting. So now he treated Harney with such rigor that some of the volunteer officers, little disposed to favor strict discipline, sympathized with the culprit, and Wool came to be regarded by not a few as a narrow martinet, jealous and harsh in temper and weak in judgment. Possibly some ground for these opinions could be found, but substantially they were unjust.[15]
Finally, on September 23, a topographical party went forward to study routes, inquire about wood, water and forage, and select halting places; and two days later some 1400 men, the first section of the “army,” advanced into an almost unknown region with about one hundred and seventy-five wagons and provisions for two months.[16] The distance to Presidio del Rio Grande, a small Mexican town five or six miles beyond the river, was about 175 or possibly 185 miles. Much of the country proved to be rough and wild, but there were also barren prairies, deep “hog-wallows,” rich bottom-land and one fine, broad valley. Several streams had to be crossed, and among these were counted the Medina and the Leona, not less beautiful than their names. Population there was almost none, though on the first day’s march Castroville, a German town planted on American soil by a Frenchman bearing a Spanish name, offered quite cosmopolitan suggestions. A drought of several weeks had made the roads hard and the streams fordable, and no serious difficulty was encountered until on October 8 the advance came to the Rio Grande.[26]
WOOL’S MARCH
The river was here swift and rather more than four feet in depth; but with the aid of boats and a pontoon bridge, provided beforehand by Wool, the troops effected a crossing safely during the next few days, established a small fort at each end of the bridge—to hold it and to guard the boats for the second section under Colonel Churchill, which was still waiting at San Antonio for the means of transportation—and then camped three or four miles beyond the town for rest and repairs. Some of the teams had come all the way from La Vaca, 330 miles, without stopping for a day. As the small Mexican border force had retired and the citizens were friendly, there was nothing to fear; and Wool’s amicable assurances, reinforced with strict orders to molest no one, promoted kind relations. The government had left him without specie, and the people would accept only hard cash; but with private means and by dint of borrowing he obtained half-rations of corn. This brightened the outlook noticeably, for subsistence was to be, of course, the greatest problem; and the arrival here of Brigadier General Shields,[17] who brought not only another body of the troops but news that Monterey had fallen, and took command of all the infantry, together with a small force of mounted men, appeared to strengthen the expedition materially.[26]
Wool had received no definite instructions from Taylor, and on October 16 with about 1800 men he struck out according to his own judgment for Monclova, taking a circuitous route practicable for wagons and artillery. This brought the army soon to San Fernando de Rosas, a garden of roses lying in a beautiful plain on the cool and limpid Hidden River (the Escondido), surrounded with trees and encompassed at a distance with superbly grand peaks.[18] Here the road turned more toward the south, and the country soon became broken. Formidable mountains upreared themselves ahead, and before long the troops were among them, traversing valley after valley in order to turn their huge flanks.[26]
The San José range, some 4000 feet high, had to be climbed. It was a hard task; but when the mists dissolved, Wool and his men gazed with delight over two beautiful valleys, where meandering lines of dark foliage marked the watercourses, while on the west, like a battlemented wall, towered the Sierra de Santa Rosa, its precipitous buttresses festooned with white and purple clouds. Descending then through a gorge to the plain of San José, the army next encountered the Alamos and Sabinos Rivers, each about four feet deep and racing like a torrent. To get the wagons across looked at first impossible; but with incredible exertions and the aid of ropes and improvised bridges the feat was accomplished.[26]