Questioning peons through an interpreter, the officers learned of a path which began at the highway near Cuapa, made a circuit on the left through the pedregal, and apparently returned to the highway some distance inside the works, and this received careful attention; but the conclusion was, that while infantry could filter through it, artillery could not pass; and to advance by such a route in the presence of a strong, unshaken enemy, whose front and other flank could not be attacked or seriously threatened, appeared worse than hazardous. Even Scott felt rather depressed on hearing the reports, especially as fortifications were said to exist north of the hacienda. The men, wagons and guns, all covered with mud, that lay scattered about on the wet ground, seemed little indeed like a conquering army. Except for some cattle, the army had only four days’ provisions; the hard bread was already musty, and the horses lacked forage.[6]
Later, however, Lee and Beauregard brought somewhat more promising information. To the hacienda of Peña Pobre, a mile and a quarter from San Agustín toward the west, they had found a good road; and then, after proceeding about an equal distance by a mule-path to the top of a sharp ridge, they had seen the path continue to Padierna and the turnpike, which lay in full view nearly a mile and a half away, and they believed it possible to make a road by that line. Their escort had routed a hostile corps of observation, and some men had been seen at work on a rounded hill beyond the turnpike, but no other Mexican forces appeared to be near. Indeed, it seemed probable that much less adequate defences had been provided here than on the great southern highway, and in this direction Scott resolved to strike. “An enemy that halts, vacillates, declines the battle offered him, makes a circuit, hunts for a position and finds none to suit him is an enemy lost,” exulted the Diario.[6]
THE BATTLE OF CONTRERAS
The next morning, August 19, therefore—while Quitman unwillingly remained at San Agustín to guard the base,[7] and Worth, with his engineers and troops, continued to reconnoitre and threaten on the San Antonio side—Scott ordered a force of engineers to build a road in the other direction. Pillow’s division was to furnish working-parties, and Twiggs’s to clear away whatever Mexican detachments might undertake to hinder the operations; and the implied instructions were to gain and hold the San Angel turnpike, so that San Antonio could be turned. Scott did not expect or desire a general engagement at this time; but he directed Pillow to take command and employ both divisions, if a battle should be opened, promising that in such an event he would soon appear on the field. Under these instructions the troops advanced cautiously but rapidly the first mile and a quarter, constructed a road to the summit of the ridge, pulled up the guns with drag-ropes, and looked over. As the returning tide makes a sea in the Bay of Fundy, where only bare ground had been visible a few hours earlier, Valencia’s army had taken possession. It was now one o’clock, and evidently road-building was over for a while.[11]
Pillow, however, knew all about winning victories. From a central hill, Zacatepec, where he stood, he could measure Valencia’s forces to a nicety, and he decided to brush them away. By his order the Mounted Rifles, particularly the advanced companies of Roberts and Porter, deployed quickly, drove the Mexican skirmishers in a handsome style from rocks and fissures, and finally occupied Padierna. At the same time and under his instructions Magruder—tall, blonde and intrepid—advanced his field battery nearly a mile without cover over that almost impassable ground, which the enemy had now barred with stone walls, planted it under the slight protection of a transverse ledge, and not long after two o’clock opened a duel with Mexican siege guns, 68-pound howitzers and many lighter pieces, more than twenty in all, at a range of about 900 yards, while brave Callender fought the howitzer battery beside him, dashing little Reno set off rockets, and Smith’s and Pierce’s brigades, which were presently to attack Valencia’s camp, furnished support. And Pillow knew also how to “bag” a defeated enemy. So he ordered Riley’s brigade to the extreme right to coöperate with the frontal attack by checking reinforcements and cutting off Valencia’s retreat. Then he countermanded this order, but not in season.[11]
Zigzagging, scrambling, leaping, and sliding as best they could over about a mile of pedregal, Riley’s brigade crossed the stream and the turnpike, formed in the orchard of Ansaldo, routed small bodies of lancers, passed through San Gerónimo—an Indian village lying amid trees and ravines a quarter of a mile west of Ansaldo and about three times as far from Valencia—had a stiff but victorious brush with Torrejón and three regiments of cavalry, defied Valencia’s cannon, some of which now faced this way, found cover at length in broken ground between the village and his camp, and waited for the Mexicans to be routed. But the major general commanding failed in the prime essential of his plan, for he did not induce Valencia to retreat. Badly crippled, the American batteries became silent after an hour or so, the brigades that had expected to charge saw clearly they could accomplish nothing, and Riley found himself isolated. So ended wretchedly the first phase of the battle of Contreras,[8] Pillow’s phase.[11]
But by this time a second phase was taking shape. Pillow himself perceived that Riley had been thrown into imminent peril, and sent Cadwalader’s brigade, which was followed by the Fifteenth Infantry, to his support. Smith, useless where he was and probably feeling little confidence in Pillow or Twiggs, decided to regard himself as the senior officer present, gathered his men, except those employed in skirmishing, and, with a yell of endorsement from them, proceeded in the direction that Riley had taken—not, however, primarily to intercept Valencia’s retreat or reinforcements, but with a direct view to attacking his left flank. At about the same time—probably by half-past three o’clock—Scott himself joined Pillow and other officers on Zacatepec, viewed with his usual battlefield equanimity the desperate state of things, now spread before him like a map on a table, studied Valencia’s batteries, the heavy ranks of supporting infantry and the long lines of cavalry in the rear, and soon fixed upon woody San Gerónimo—marked at a line distance of about a mile and three quarters by its white steeple—as the key to the situation, since it both flanked and isolated Valencia, and ordered Shields’s brigade also, which had followed him from San Agustín, to that point.[11]
Smith, arriving at San Gerónimo about an hour before sunset, found all of the commands, except Shields’s, that had been ordered to go there; and he also found that Santa Anna, after hurrying from San Antonio through Coyoacán and San Angel, had placed himself with Pérez’s brigade and seven or eight hundred cavalry and artillery on low hills about one half or three quarters of a mile behind San Gerónimo, and—though checked by Cadwalader’s brigade—was making ready to attack. Smith at once began preparing to dispose of him, while the Mexicans on the hills, after four or five guns arrived, indulged in vivas, music and a little harmless cannonading; but both commanders finally concluded that the hour was now too late for a battle. Santa Anna also decided that an impassable ravine separated him from the Americans, and that he could not prudently expose his men and arms to the rain then imminent; and therefore, leaving his cavalry and artillery behind, he put the rest of his forces under cover at San Angel.[11]
Night and a storm now set in, but behind the curtain of darkness four striking scenes were presented. Scott, the general who seemed to have lost half his army all at once without a battle, sat at headquarters anxious and helpless. Seven times he despatched an officer to his isolated right with orders, and seven times the officer failed to get through. But still he waited—patient, considerate for those about him, hopeful and alert, reflecting no doubt that brave men, skilful officers and the natural strength of San Gerónimo would count. Valencia, on the other hand, feeling that at last he had proved Santa Anna a blunderer, and had forced him into the position of a mere assistant, was jubilant, boastful and literally intoxicated. He reported grandly on his “brilliant day,” and scattered promotions as if already head of the state.[11]
Santa Anna, devoured by passions and perplexities, now sent José Ramiro to Valencia by a circuitous route with orders to retreat at once. Not long afterwards two of Valencia’s aides reached San Angel, bringing news that, instead of being exterminated, thousands of Americans were established in the San Gerónimo woods. Don’t talk to me, Santa Anna cried to the aides, who endeavored to excuse the situation; Valencia is an ambitious, insubordinate sot; he deserves to have his brains blown out, and I will not expose my men to the storm for him; let him spike his guns, make the ammunition useless, and retreat. When Ramiro arrived at the camp, Valencia would not listen to his message, and fiercely demanded ammunition and men; but when his aides reported, he saw his doom.[9] “Traitor, he has sold us!” he cried, storming like a madman in the midst of his troops. Soldiers heard and echoed the cry. Women shrieked. Frightened horses broke loose and galloped into the night. Americans with lights are creeping in behind us, reported Torrejón. The army understood. Scouts were feeling the way. The price had been paid to Santa Anna. Their blood would soon be claimed.[11]