Recollections of Early Texas (16 page)

In a few days they came to what is known as “Dead Man's March,” a sandy portion of the country about one hundred miles long and entirely destitute of water—a desert. Partial preparations to carry along water were made before entering upon this dry march. This supply, carried on oxcarts, in canteens, and in gourds was used with great economy, but gave out when water was still twenty miles distant.

Now suffering grew intense as the sore-footed and hungry prisoners were hurried along, every energy bent to make all possible speed to water. The Mexican guards showed no mercy toward some of the Texans who fainted by the way
side, but with a reckless cruelty shot them as they fell. Perhaps it saved the poor fellows a death of slow torture, but had they been left in peace they might have revived and struggled on to water, as did their comrades.

Nevertheless, it was not long before suffering made all equal, and the guards, impelled by the one fierce longing for water, ceased their vigilance and trudged onward, leaving behind them the weak and famished Texas boys, who labored forward until the line of march was at least a mile in length.

When within a mile of water the Mexicans began to meet them with canteens and gourds full of the precious beverage. From there the Texans would get a sip—only a sip—and then it would be all gone.

Of course this was the best thing to do for men in such famished condition, but it seemed indeed tantalizing to the men, whose tongues were swollen thick and so dry that it was hard to speak. Ever and anon, though, the welcome runners would meet them with portions of cold water. At last, just ahead a beautiful sheet of water spread out before their glad eyes; here was another scene almost pathetic enough for tears, as our Texans waded into the stream and drank.

Thence they were marched to the town of Chihuahua, en route for El Paso, and there they were simply paraded without relief and housed with strict guarding; then on in a monotonous treadmill of pain to El Paso. In that town they received kindness and mercy at the hands of the natives. They ate the first bread that they had had since leaving Austin, and feasted on grapes, pears, wines, and other good things. Ah, good indeed to the half-dead soldiers, who were permitted to enjoy a few days' rest, gathering lost strength and vitality among this people who knew so well how to be kind and warm-hearted in their homes, but were always so brutal in war.

From El Paso they went on to Corretto, where they were
again well-fed but were housed in small, close quarters, almost suffocating. Then on without adventure to the City of Mexico, where they were confined and put to work on the canal surrounding the city.

At length, Santa Anna (per secretary) gave a discharge, or pass, to each of the sorely tried Santa Fe prisoners, advising them to go home and henceforth be loyal to the royal government of Mexico.

That paper Mr. Morgan still holds—an interesting relic of this unfortunate campaign. Mr. Morgan lent us the original document and we handled the old relic with a careful interest, not unmixed with curiosity. A little slip of paper, yellow and stained by time, but as we examined it our minds bridged the intervening years and in imagination we recalled the homeless, battered men, destitute of everything, in an enemy's country. How they must have rejoiced in the possession of this token of their liberty.

The Spanish reads thus:

Tejanos! La generoza nacion mejicana, a la que habeis ofendido en recompensa de un les de beneficios, os perdona. A su nombre siempre du gusto os restituyo lo libertad que perdisteis invadiendo nuestro territorio y violando nuestros hogares domesticos.

Marchad a los vuestros a publicar que el pueblo mejicano es tan generoso con los rendidos como valiente en los compos de batalla, probasties su valor probad absora su magnanimdad.

Mejico, junio 13, 1842

        Antonio Lopez de

                Santa Anna

The following is a free translation of the above:

Texans! The generous Mexican nation against which you have offended, as a reward to one of your number for benefits conferred, pardons you. In his name, which I love, I restore to
you the liberty that you lost, while invading our territory, and violating our domestic firesides.

Go home and publish that the Mexican nation is as generous with the conquered, as it is valiant on the field of battle. You have proved their courage; prove now their magnanimity.

Mexico, June 13, 1842

        Antonio Lopez de

                Santa Anna

Ah, yes! Texas did bitterly prove and could in truth publish “the courage and magnanimity of Mexico” toward our soldiers. Time may in the coming years partially obliterate the memory of their persecutions; and future generations may come to regard all this as only

    
An ancient tale of wrong—

    
Like a tale of little meaning,

    
Though the words be strong.

As long, however, as a veteran of those trying times survives he can but remember and recount the thrilling scenes of suffering and persecution—no small part of the price paid for the independence and prosperity of our Lone Star State. And though the old soldiers, retired to the quiet of their homes, may sometimes feel themselves forgotten and unknown, yet every loyal heart will grow warm in reverence, gratitude, and love at sight or mention of the faithful veterans of Texas, whose frames grow feebler with the passing months, and whose ears are now listening for “the roll of the muffled drum.” God grant that when the summons comes they may have a passport from the Great Commander, which will ensure them a safe trip “through the valley of the shadow of death” into that home where they will ever more be free and happy.

The import of the pass is very characteristic of the war customs of the Mexicans in those times. See the complacent
boast, “You have proved our courage!” Courage! Yes, courage or something else was required to overwhelm and imprison a small company of troops traversing their country on peaceful errand intent, and to persecute them to the limit of human endurance. And thus, no matter how brutal and ignoble a part they played in the scenes, they always publish themselves brave, victorious, and kind.

But back to our Santa Fe prisoners, who are free once more. As was ever the case, they found friends among the Mexican women. They were well-fed one day and furnished whiskey and tobacco enough to last them five or six days. And now they started out for home, passing through Puebla, Perote Jalapo, and on to Vera Cruz without adventure.

Here yellow fever caused much suffering among the already feeble men. Some died, whose names Morgan cannot now recall. From Vera Cruz on to Galveston, via schooner, and thence to Houston, which was then quite a small place. Here the little band scattered. Morgan, with two others, struck out for Bastrop County. Hatless, shoeless, and almost shirtless, they trudged homeward, finding along the road kind friends who gave them a warm and cordial welcome after their long exile. At last, footsore and tired, they found themselves at Sam Alexander's,
⁷
ten miles below Rutersville, where they found work. One month of rest and work at Alexander's. Ah, the luxury of good beds, wholesome fare, and healthy employment in a friendly land!

Quiet was seldom vouchsafed our people then, however, and their season of enjoyment was of short duration. Almost immediately all Texas was aroused and indignant. General Woll took San Antonio, and men rushed to the rescue.

Morgan was once again on the march. Without gun or ammunition he started afoot for the Texas army, ere long
overtaking and joining Eastland's company. It was hard marching on foot, but he soon got to ride some by kindly exchange, and they camped at Peach Creek, where the widow McClure lived. That kind and patriotic woman, hearing of his need, furnished him her best riding horse, having already given ten or twelve horses to the Texas soldiers. If memory is not treacherous, she afterward became the wife of General Henry McCulloch.

Pressing on they came to the scene of Dawson's massacre, which we have already described. Here Morgan recognized among the slain the body of Jerome B. Alexander,
⁸
son of old Sam Alexander. They soon overtook other Texas troops, among whom were Captain “Paint” Caldwell and others of the old Santa Fe sufferers. A short rest, and then all went onward in pursuit of the Mexicans, whom they overtook on the Hondo River. Here our army formed a line of battle, expecting to fight, but the Mexicans retreated. Our troops camped for the night, sending out scouts, who returned and reported the enemy still retreating. The army was jaded, and turning back, camped at San Antonio, and disbanding, the next morning found them all homeward bound.

Morgan regrets that he did not get to see Mrs. McClure and thank her for the horse, which he left on passing her home, but he has ever remembered the kindness with great gratitude. The Texas women, God bless them, were soldiers, too, in those days. In due course of time we anticipate gleaning from some of them reminiscences no less interesting than those of the old men.

Morgan left Mrs. McClure's horse at her home at Peach Creek, and plodded on foot back to Sam Alexander's, but
in a few weeks another call for men came. Captain Eastland insisted on having Morgan go with his men, although he was destitute of horse, gun, and the necessities. J. C. Calhoun,* formerly of Bastrop, agreed to furnish and equip him, and once more he marched with Eastland's men for Mexico.

In a few days the Texas army assembled at La Grange, where they received from the ladies the flag of the Lone Star. She who presented it urged them in a few fitting words to be brave and loyal to Texas. The scene impressed itself upon the memory of the soldiers. The subsequent fate of the flag may be given in brief here. At Mier it was riddled with bullets, and when the Texans found they could no longer save it they burned it, preferring anything to seeing it fall into alien hands.

From La Grange they went to San Antonio, and there, after a short time in camp, General Somervell, with his army of five hundred men, marched for Mier.

We have already followed William Clopton through the trying scenes of the Mier Expedition, and will not repeat anything concerning the movements of the main army, except as Morgan's experiences require.

They were on the Rio Grande, a few miles from Laredo, trying to crawl or creep up to the little town, expecting to find Mexican troops. As they rested a while on their horses, late one evening, Morgan, overcome with hard and continuous service, fell asleep with his bridle in his hand. He lost himself entirely, and supposes he must have slept an hour or more. Great was his surprise and dismay when he awoke and found himself alone. The army had gone! In the confusion and excitement no one of his comrades noticed or missed the worn-out soldier, who slept on, all unconscious of their movements and departure. Talk of the shifting scenes of life. Here indeed was a most bewildering change in one's surroundings. To close the eyes upon an army, and after a little nap, to
open them upon solitude, vast and complete. Rip Van Winkle himself was not more surprised and startled at the work of time, during his long sleep, and seldom do men find themselves at a greater loss. Alone, at dark, in a strange country, under a cloudy sky! He knew not how to turn, and studied in blank helplessness the darkness which enveloped him, listening in vain hope to hear some echo from the advancing army, but all in vain. Every moment of delay but lengthened the distance from his comrades, and finally he concluded to let his horse take his own course.

Brute instinct, as is sometimes the case, proved more trustworthy than human intelligence. Striking a long trot and neighing all the way, the animal soon bore him safely to the army. Surrounding Laredo about daybreak they found no Mexican troops, and the women of the little village arose and went about their household affairs, never dreaming that armed soldiers watched their movements. Angry and disappointed because there was no fight, the boys turned back for camp. Morgan and a comrade stopped at a private house for breakfast, which was cheerfully given by the Mexican woman, who seemed very much alarmed and distressed on account of the presence of Texas troops in their midst. They tried to quiet her fears by assuring her that Texas soldiers were too brave and honorable to disturb women and children.

Resting in camp a while after breakfast, the two men walked up in town again, and lo, the helpless place was sacked and robbed! That, too, by some of the “Texas soldiers.” Recognizing them, the women who gave them breakfast reminded them of their assurances of safety. Morgan says he turned away almost in tears to think of the exigencies of poor fallen humanity. The robbing of the town was entirely against orders.

Now on to a point near Mier. Morgan recalls the message of General Ampudia to our men: “If you want rations, come
on! I have 4,000 men who will serve you with pleasure.” Three wild cheers and the Texans voted to go over.

William Clopton has already recounted the scenes of the struggle from his standpoint, so I will now pass on to the interesting details of Mr. Morgan's individual experiences after the fight. He first carried his friend and neighbor, James Barber,
⁹
into the hospital, the poor fellow being wounded in the breast. Then on his way to help others, he was arrested by one of the guards and required to stay with the wounded. He looked among the sufferers for Barber and hastened to his side. The poor fellow was breathing very hard and bleeding terribly from a bullet hole over the left nipple. Like that “soldier of the Legion,” who lay dying in Algiers, he knew he was almost dead, and sent a message to the loved ones at home, and gasped in death, “I die for Texas!” Surely, from that word of the dead and dying, on through these many years of growth and glory all Texas will thrill in memory of that simple sentence. Bend low, oh mighty Mother State, bend in tenderness, bend in love, bend in sorrowful pride, and catch from the clammy lips of the dying soldiers, the great devotion implied in, “I die for Texas!”