Backlands (71 page)

Now proceeding downhill, the delegation entered the deep ravine running perpendicular to the Vaza-Barris, where in the rainy season the waters ran into a channel from the slopes. At the top of the hill was the border of the settlement that had been won on July 18, and where the engineering commission was located. They could get to camp by going straight ahead, crossing the moat, and climbing halfway up the hill past the Krupps, which were mounted behind first-column headquarters. Or they could detour to the right, following the moat along the original siege line, heading downhill to the south. It was not dangerous to attempt this. The houses here were in ruins along the erosion gulley that ran down the slope, mimicking the sharp spurs with twists and bends. Most of the huts had been torn down but a few had been converted into orderly rooms for the brigades, headquarters, and mess halls. One was particularly interesting. It was a blacksmith’s shop. There were a few broken sledgehammers and tongs, and there was a brick forge, now in ruins. The surprising thing was that it contained a beautiful anvil, made of the best Essen steel, which came from the captured cannons of the Moreira César expedition.

Going on their way, they came upon the black line. This name had been appropriate early on but it seemed very inappropriate now, after a visit to the horrible trenches they had just seen to the north. They went along a ditch until they came to a broad clearing on the right. This was the square where the churches had stood. It was swept clean, completely deserted. The open space made the huge house of worship seem even more imposing than ever, with its split walls and huge facade reduced to monolithic stone blocks, its towers in ruins, and its dark nave completely empty.

A few more steps led them to the old church, which was completely burned down. Only the outer walls were still standing. To their left was a run-down cemetery, with hundreds of crosses. Stakes bound with liana stalks marked the grave sites.

Once they had crossed the Vaza-Barris, they wended their way to the deep trench of the Providencia River. The winding bed led them to the thin ranks of the Fifth Police, which was down to a third of its original strength. Then they came out on a hillside, on the slope of Mount Favela. Ahead was the Seventh of September Trench, hanging like a balcony over the view. It was a dangerous spot. They crossed it quickly until they reached the trench.

From here they could observe the settlement. It had a different appearance now. There were large dark stains where the fires had burned. The debris of the conflict had created a scene of complete ruin and abandonment.

Only the strip to the north of the square and the cluster of huts next to the arbor and behind the church were intact. There were maybe four hundred houses crammed into that narrow space. All who were inside them would not be able to hold out under an attack by six thousand men.

It was worth a try.

The commander in chief proceeded to organize an attack. Since the rebels were weakening, he decided to abandon his plan to wait until they surrendered, to avoid the loss of more lives. The officers were summoned on September 30 and plans were made for an immediate attack. Combat units were quickly assembled and they were assigned positions for the next day. The battalion charts indicated there were 5,871 men under arms on September 30.

The assault was going to be led by the Third and the Sixth brigades under the commands of Lieutenant Colonel Dantas Barreto and Colonel João César de Sampaio. The first detachment was made up of seasoned veterans who had been constantly skirmishing with the enemy. The second, comprising new recruits, was eager to match its strength with the
jagunços
. The Third Brigade moved from its original position on the black line and was replaced there by three battalions: the Ninth, Twenty-second, and Thirty-fourth. Countermarching toward the Old Ranch House on the right, it was joined by another brigade composed of the Twenty-ninth, Thirty-ninth, and Fourth battalions. The two brigades moved to a position in the rear and along the sides of the new church, which was the target of the assault.

This first movement was followed by other secondary and supplementary ones. At the order to charge, the Twenty-sixth of the line, the Bahian Fifth, and the right wing of the São Paulo Battalion were supposed to move quickly to positions on the left bank of the Vaza-Barris, on the corner of the square. They were to stay there until further orders. At the rear the two Pará corps were to remain in reserve, ready to replace or reinforce the active detachments. The action was to start at the rear of the church and move gradually along the line of bayonets at the riverbank to the south of the square.

It was a strong pincer movement. The troops manning recently captured positions as well as those in camp were to participate. They were to come into action as needed or when the enemy would start to fall back en masse from the front trenches.

In addition to all these preliminary maneuvers there was supposed to be a sustained bombardment by all the siege guns. They would aim their fire for about an hour on the small area they planned to capture. The brigades were to attack only after the cannons stopped their fire. They were to proceed with fixed bayonets but holding fire unless circumstances forced them to do so. In this case they were to aim only along a meridian line in order to avoid friendly fire. When the commander in chief issued the order “Infantry, advance!” the Third Brigade was to march in double-quick time to a point on the left side of the church. There it would take a position 150 yards long, with two battalions of the Sixth Brigade, the Twenty-ninth, and the Thirty-ninth in the rear. The Fourth would attack on the right after crossing the Vaza-Barris. The rest of the troops would just be spectators, unless something unusual happened.

The bombing began at dawn on October 1. The batteries were arranged in a semicircular line a mile and a quarter long. It extended from the cannon closest to the camp to those on the redan at the other end. The Cambaio road came in here. All fire was focused on the reduced nucleus of huts. It lasted just forty-eight minutes but the effect was crushing. The guns had been carefully put into position the night before. They could not miss the stationary target.

They were giving the impenitent guerrillas a last lesson. They had to clear the ground for the attack so there would not be any unpleasant surprises. They did this in a steady, unrelenting way. They wanted no obstacles except ruins in the way of their bayonet charge. They made the ruins.

The results of this horrific battery were visible to the naked eye. Roofs were falling and certainly crushing those underneath. Walls crashed down, sending splinters and clods of earth flying through the air. Here and there, against the dusty trash heaps, fresh fires were flaring up. They were separate at first but then they merged into a huge blaze. Over the bright backlands morning a canopy of cannonballs formed. Not a single grenade could be wasted. They beat against the fractured cornices of the church, exploded in fragments, and bounced off the Sanctuary and the arbor, sweeping over the area in broad ricochets. They burst in the air, exploded in the square, and hammered the clay roofs, tearing big holes into them. They fell through the roofs, exploding inside. They swept down the alleys, blowing up the garbage heaps. They pounded this last holdout of Canudos, from top to bottom. The inhabitants no longer had any barriers or shelters behind which to hide. The reentry angle made by the walls of the new church, which was their cover from fire from the Seventh of September Trench, was now entirely destroyed. The
jagunços
were completely exposed to the virulent bombardment.

Meanwhile they did not hear a single scream or see a single person, however fleetingly. When the last shot had been fired and the roar of the cannons had subsided, the sudden quiet that fell on the dwellings was hard to grasp. It was as if the entire population had fled in the night.

There was a brief pause and then a bugle sounded from the top of Mount Favela. The charge was beginning. According to plan, the battalions were to converge from three points at the new church. Out of sight of the enemy, they made their way along the huts or the thalweg of the Vaza-Barris. One battalion alone, the Fourth Infantry, stood out from the rest. It was marching in plain sight across the river at a quick step, where it scrambled up the bank and marched into the square in closed ranks.

This was the first time that troops had entered the city in military formation.

When this movement was complete, the troops marched forward. They had gone just a few steps when they were thrown into disarray. Some dropped to the ground as if preparing to fire. Some fell back without any attempt at formation. Others ran ahead in front of their comrades. There was a melee of bayonets, people charging at each other and running into each other. The silence was broken by an explosion that sounded like a mine blowing up.

The
jagunços
were coming back from the dead, as always. They were theatrically and gloriously blocking the aggressor. The Fourth Battalion took the full brunt of the ambush and was brought to a stop. The same occurred with the Twenty-ninth and the Thirty-ninth, which received fire at close range at the back of the Sanctuary walls. On the left the Dantas Barreto brigade was stopped short. Hit on one of its flanks the brigade had to abandon its original direction and meet the assault head on, a movement that was badly executed by three companies that had been separated from the battalion. All the plans had to be changed. Instead of converging on the church, the brigades were stopped or scattered and lost in the alleys.

The onlookers viewing the battle from the surrounding hills could make out nothing through the increasing din. There was a confused uproar of rifle fire and shouting, occasionally punctuated with the sounds of the bugle. Two brigades had disappeared into the maze of huts. Against all expectations, the
sertanejos
could still not be seen. Not one of them was seen running to the square. Attacked on all sides, they had to make for the square where they would run smack into the army troops. The plan failed completely and this was equivalent to a defeat for the army. The soldiers met resistance they did not expect. They had not only been stopped but were now on the defensive. The
jagunço
s poured out of the huts and began to attack them.

They had barely been able to take the new church. In the ruined nave the soldiers of the Fourth, standing on a pile of rubble, were mixed up with the Third Brigade. This did them no good. From the sidelines, a fierce and continuous fire came from big blunderbusses. The guerrilla fighters were firing from within the Sanctuary. The square was still deserted.

The advance of the battalion was not a closed formation. Instead it was a long, fast-moving line that suddenly burst into flame, unfurling a gleaming ribbon of steel from the riverbank to the walls of the church. It was a quick, stunning movement, typical of the
jagunços
, an indescribable serpentine motion. It was not a charge but a thrust. For a while a flexible line of steel wrapped itself around the enemy’s holy bastion. There was the glint of two hundred bayonets. Then the Fifth disappeared from sight into the ruins.

This did not change the situation. The ruined sector of the settlement, which they thought could be taken by two brigades, had now used up those brigades and their reinforcements and would need entire new battalions—the Thirty-fourth, the Fortieth, the Thirtieth, and the Thirty-first Infantry. The attacking army had been doubled. The noise of the invisible battle rose to a crescendo. Fires were spreading. The entire arbor had been burned down. In the dense smoke, the square stood out, an empty white space.

After three hours of fighting they had put two thousand men into action with absolutely no effect. Army losses were increasing. In addition to a number of privates and lower-ranking officers, the commander of the Twenty-ninth, Major Queiroz, and the commander of the Fifth Brigade, Lieutenant Colonel Tupy Ferreira Caldas, were killed.

The death of Colonel Ferreira Caldas inspired his men to an act of great courage. His brigade idolized him. He was one of the rare men born to be a soldier. His nervous, restless, and impulsive nature was well suited to the rhythm of rapid charges and the rough life of the barracks. He was the commander of the advance guard on July 18 and had come out of the deadly fire unharmed. The bullets had grazed him, blown off his hat, and scratched his belt buckle. The one that finally killed him struck him in the arm as he was viewing the battle through his binoculars. It went through his chest, knocking him to the ground and killing him instantly. The Thirtieth was seized with a shudder of fear and anger. With a leap, the men ran from behind their trench and were off, on the double, down the narrow lanes to launch a personal attack on the huts that had fired the shot. Not a shot was heard but the soldiers were dropping from bullets fired at close range. Their comrades ran over them, throwing themselves against the doors and battering them down with their rifle butts. They forced their way into the tiny rooms and became enmeshed in hand-to-hand combat.

This attack was one of the most daring attempted in the entire conflict. But like the others, it was thwarted. The unflagging tenacity of the
jagunços
reduced the numbers of the Thirtieth and they had to return in disarray to their position. The same attacks and retreats occurred along the entire line. The final death throes of their victims were too much for the iron-bound brigades.

Nevertheless a little before nine o’clock the army troops were given an encouraging illusion of victory. As one of the reserve battalions came up, a cadet from the Seventh placed the national flag on the rubble of the church walls. Bugles blew and a viva to the republic resounded from thousands of throats. Surprised by this show, the
sertanejos
stopped their fire and the square started to fill up with fighting men. Many of the onlookers, including three generals, ran down the hillsides. As they went by the black line at the bottom, they met four privates holding two captured
jagunços.
All around them men from everywhere in the line were running about, embracing each other, throwing up their hats, waving their swords and rifles, and running into the square with shouts and cries of celebration.