The Hundred Years Farce

The Hundred Years Farce

Scott Skipper

Copyright 2012 & 2018

ISBN 9781301250769

License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

It may not be re-sold or given to other people.

This is a work of fiction. It is revisionist history. The characters who resemble historical people do so by coincidence.

Author’s Notes

The roles that the Democrats and Republicans are playing in this story may confuse the modern reader. It must be remembered that the political positions of those two parties has switched over time. Lincoln, the paragon of liberality, was the first Republican president, whereas, the slave owners and states’ rights firebrands were usually Democrats. Teddy Roosevelt, trustbuster and promoter of Progressivism, was a Republican. Fictional president, Rigoberto Cuautémoc Gonsalvas, was a Democrat. The rest you will have to divine on your own.

Yes, I know the caverns at Luray, Virginia, extend deep underground and not above the base of the mountain. You’ll just have to forgive me for that, and I assure you, that isn’t the biggest absurdity you are about to read.

Epigraph

Had they done it a thousand times, each with a different set of players, the end would have been very much the same, for such is the fate of the human condition.

Part 1: Contreras, México August 19, 1847

The bodega was dark, reeking of fermentation and dust. Stacked against the rear wall were small, black, spherical pots corked and sealed with wax. General Franklin Pierce’s orderly used his knife to pry the cork from one and sniffed. Making a face he said to the empty room, This oughta do.

Gathering four of the dusty little pots in his arms, he took them across the cobbled plaza to the house the General had chosen to be his headquarters for the night. The house’s owner and his family had fled when the troops entered the town, but his cook lingered unconcerned and seemed indifferent to serving her patrón or the uniformed gringos. General Pierce was conversing with General Worth over platters of tampiqueña. When the orderly entered the dining room his eyes went wide. What have you found, Williams? he asked.

I believe it’s called mescal hereabouts. Whatever it is, it’s plenty potent.

Pierce drained the glass of the wine he’d found in the larder and said, Let’s see how it tastes. Pour some for General Worth first.

Williams filled Worth’s glass with the white, slightly cloudy, liquor, then tipped the small crock over Pierce’s. With a tiny splash, a large, white grub dropped into the goblet. The two generals stared in amazement. The Méxicans believe the worm gives it strength, sir, William assured.

Well, it certainly would do that, Pierce replied as he spooned the maggot from his glass. Raising it in salute to Worth, he took a mouthful. Swallowing quickly, he gasped and said, A very potent worm indeed. Worth sipped his daintily.

Being new to this theater, Pierce said to Worth, I am amazed at the ease with which we took Contreras. Have all your battles gone so well?

Without exception. The Méxicans flee at the first demonstration. Not to say they don’t put up a good fight when their position is strong, but the first sign of being turned or carrying the works, and they melt into the countryside.

At the end of the meal, and the second jug of mescal, Worth proposed, General, it would behoove us to inspect the engineers’ progress in preparing for tomorrow’s assault on Churubusco.

Pierce replied, Indeed, sir. Williams, bring the horses around. He rose unsteadily, feeling light-headed. This damnable heat is oppressive, he claimed. Worth looked skeptical.

Williams brought the horses to the courtyard and handed the reins to the generals. Pierce put his boot in the stirrup, seized the pommel and flung himself entirely over the animal landing on his head on the packed dirt.

Worth and the orderly ran to him. Good God, General, Worth cried, are you hurt?

Pierce’s eyes were rolled back in his head, and he took several seconds to respond. I think perhaps I should lie down.

Staff rushed to his aid and unceremoniously carried him to a bed where Rosita, the compliant little Indian cook, bathed his head with a damp towel. He soon lapsed into the sleep of the dead.

In the morning his staff urged General Pierce to skip the day’s battle, but he was adamant. He arrived in the plaza with the other commanders to receive instructions. The small crowd of generals and colonels, waiting out of courtesy for the arrival of General Scott, tried to find relief from the brutal August sun. Pierce fanned his face with his plumed hat impatient in the sweltering humidity until the moment his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the cobbles. Such was General Franklin Pierce’s first day of action in the Méxican War.

Churubusco, August 20, 1847

Lieutenant Gustavus Woodson Smith was in command of Company ‘A’ of engineers while waiting to be brevetted. The company’s captain had succumbed to el vómito in Santa Cruz leaving the irascible Smith the ranking officer. At three o’clock in the morning, a fog rose around the village of Coyoacán throwing the plans of General Twiggs into disarray. Smith with his lieutenants, Foster and McClellan, finally led the bewildered and befogged regiments to their respective assembly areas as the sun was burning away the mist. "Getting into position before it’s light was the idea, he complained to Foster. Now, we have to reconnoiter with our asses hanging out in broad daylight."

Foster shrugged and said, What else is new?

Company ready to move?

Been ready since hauling ass out of bed three hours ago.

All right. We use these houses as cover until we get past those huts, then break toward the cornfield and hope there’s some cover between here and there. Company ‘A’ advanced trailing rifles in one hand and picks or shovels in the other.

The movement of the engineers went unnoticed, or ignored, by the Méxican infantry in position on the roof of the Convent of San Pablo. The crash of musketry began to their right with fire returning from the convent’s roof. Dammit, Smith hissed, they’re supposed to wait for us to reconnoiter. That’s Lee. Now, he knows better. He indicated for his charges to find what shelter they could behind maguey plants. When they moved again they drew fire from the Méxicans who were shooting from behind sandbags on the roof of the church. Find a ditch and dig in, Smith shouted.

Leaving the ditch empty handed, running in a crouch, Smith made it to a ruined adobe wall at the edge of the cornfield and crept to its end. From his vantage, he saw the Méxicans’ works arrayed across the front of the ancient stone convent. He counted the guns and noted the dozens of silly plumes at the front of the Méxicans’ headgear conspicuous above their earthworks. Bayonets poked over the sandbags. All the firing was coming from the roof.

Retracing his steps to the ditch where his company waited, he gave an order to Lieutenant Foster. Find General Smith. Report that we need one gun, soonest possible, to move up to those huts and clear the roof with a few grape shells.

Foster ran to comply, and shortly a whole battery opened from their rear. The Méxican battery answered and shell and shot screamed through the cringing engineers.

Smith slapped his thigh with his cap. God dammit! Is that one gun? McClellan at his side just shook his head.

After a moment of seething, he said to his lieutenants, All right, let’s get out of here.

The sappers and miners followed their officers back to General Scott’s position where Smith reported his findings. General, Captain Lee’s rifles should not have opened without proper reconnaissance, that frontal attack is futile and going to incur heavy loss, and it would have made our job a little bit more comfortable if Captain Taylor had not fired his artillery through us.

Scott ignored the cynicism. We have a report that the works contain only one gun. We can easily take them by storm.

The engineer rolled his eyes while he said, Sir, they have four guns. I saw them quite clearly.

A concerned look descended across the general’s visage. Have you a recommendation, Lieutenant?

Now that the roof has been cleared of infantry, the works can be easily carried by turning the left—that would be this side, Smith told his superior waving his left arm in the air.

Scott gave him a hard look but said, Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll pass an order to that effect to General Twiggs.

Twiggs succeeded handily and ended the battle in less than thirty minutes. Meanwhile, Pierce’s brigade, less their general, attempted to turn the right to no result. The sappers and miners followed Twiggs brigade into the Méxicans’ works to see what they could learn for future reference. They were astounded to find that a large number of the prisoners were Irish deserters from the American Army.

Smith remarked to McClellan, Guess the Provost Marshall’s got some hangin’ to do.

Valley of México, September 1847

Nicholas Trist, representing the State Department, entered the City of México on September 2, with a small envoy of officers under a flag of truce. The party was escorted to President Santa Anna who greeted them coolly without rising from his capacious seat. Trist spoke good Spanish and got right to the point. Señor, the United States is prepared to offer an immediate cease-fire in exchange for the territories of Texas, New México, and California for which we are prepared to pay a sum to be determined later. The alternative is the investment, and ultimate destruction, of the City of México.

Santa Ana sat silently scowling for so long that the officers accompanying the diplomat thought that Trist’s Spanish had not been understood. Finally, the Méxican President said flatly, Me gustaría tiempo para consultar a mis consejeros.

Fair enough, Señor Presidente, Trist replied promptly, while you consult, I propose an armistice the terms of which are that neither side is to form troops in line of battle and not to approach each other nor reinforce their ranks. However, during the armistice, our quartermaster is to be permitted free entry into the city for the purpose of purchasing supplies.

The Méxican commander-in-chief raised one eyebrow. Why should we suffer to feed our enemy? he asked.

Because the only alternative for supplying our army is to plunder your citizens.

Santa Anna groaned. He said, You may do so until it becomes burdensome on the people.

Excellent. Then the only remaining business is a letter of free conduct for our quartermaster to present to your gatekeepers.

Santa Ana sighed looking put out but rang for his secretary.

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