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34 - Insurgent Mexico by John Reed · Insurgent Mexico

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  Speaker 1: Section thirty three of Insurgent Mexico. This is a LibriVox recording.
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  Speaker 1: All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
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  Speaker 1: information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Insurgent
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  Speaker 1: Mexico by John Reid, Part four a People in Arms,
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  Speaker 1: Chapter nine battle. We returned along the winding path through
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  Speaker 1: the Mesquite, crossed the torn up track, and struck out
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  Speaker 1: across the dusty plain southeastward. Looking back along the railroad,
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  Speaker 1: I could see smoke and the round front of the
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  Speaker 1: first train miles away, and in front of it throngs
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  Speaker 1: of active little dots swarming on the right of way,
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  Speaker 1: distorted like things seen in a wavy mirror. We strode
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  Speaker 1: away in a haze of thin dust. The giant Mesquite
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  Speaker 1: dwindled until it scarcely reached to our knees. To the right,
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  Speaker 1: the tall hill and the chimneys of the town swam
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  Speaker 1: trainqually in the hot sun. Rifle fire had almost ceased
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  Speaker 1: for the moment, and only dazzling bursts of thick white
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  Speaker 1: smoke marked our occasional shells along the ridge. We could
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  Speaker 1: see our drab guns rocking down the plain, spreading along
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  Speaker 1: the first line of Alamos, where the searching fingers of
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  Speaker 1: the enemy's shrapnel probed Continually, little bodies of horsemen moved
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  Speaker 1: here and there over the desert, and stragglers on foot
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  Speaker 1: trailing their rifles. An old peon, stooped with age and
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  Speaker 1: dressed in rags, crouched in the low shrub gathering mesquite twigs. Say, friend,
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  Speaker 1: we asked him, is there any way we can get
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  Speaker 1: close to see the fighting? He straightened up and stared
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  Speaker 1: at us. If you have been here as long as
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  Speaker 1: I have, said he, you wouldn't care about seeing the fighting. Karamba.
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  Speaker 1: I have seen them take Torreon seven times in three years.
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  Speaker 1: Sometimes they attack from Gomez Palacio and sometimes from the mountains,
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  Speaker 1: but it is always the same war. There is something
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  Speaker 1: interesting in it for the young, but for us old people,
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  Speaker 1: we are tired of war. He paused and stared out
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  Speaker 1: over the plain. Do you see this dry ditch? Well,
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  Speaker 1: if you will get down in it and follow along,
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  Speaker 1: it will lead you into the town. And then, as
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  Speaker 1: an afterthought, he added, incuriously, what party do you belong to?
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  Speaker 1: The Constitutionalists? So first it was Madrista's, and then the Oroquistas,
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  Speaker 1: and now the what did you call them. I am
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  Speaker 1: very old, and I have not longed to live, but
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  Speaker 1: this war, it seems to me that all that accomplishes
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  Speaker 1: is to let us go hungry, go with God, Senoris,
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  Speaker 1: and he bent again to his slow task. While we
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  Speaker 1: descended into the arroyo. It was a disused irrigation ditch
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  Speaker 1: running a little south of west, its bottom covered with
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  Speaker 1: dusty weeds, and the end of its straight length hidden
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  Speaker 1: from us by a sort of mirage that looked like
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  Speaker 1: a glaring pool of water stooped so little so as
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  Speaker 1: to be hidden from the outside. We walked along it
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  Speaker 1: seemed for hours, the crack bottom and dusty sides of
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  Speaker 1: the ditch reflecting the fierce heat upon us, until we
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  Speaker 1: were faint with it. Once horsemen passed quite near on
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  Speaker 1: our right, their big iron spurs ringing. We crouched down
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  Speaker 1: until they passed, for we didn't want to take any chances.
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  Speaker 1: And down in the ditch, the artillery fire sounded very
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  Speaker 1: faint and far away, But once I cautiously lifted my
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  Speaker 1: head above the bank and discovered that we were very
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  Speaker 1: near the first line of trees, shells were bursting along it,
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  Speaker 1: and I could even see the belch of furious haze
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  Speaker 1: hurling out from the mouths of our cannon, and feel
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  Speaker 1: the surf of sound waves hit me like a blow
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  Speaker 1: when they fired. We were a good quarter of a
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  Speaker 1: mile front of our artillery, and evidently making for the
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  Speaker 1: water tank on the very edge of town. As we
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  Speaker 1: stooped again, the shells passing overhead wined sharply and suddenly
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  Speaker 1: across the arc of sky, and were cut off abruptly
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  Speaker 1: until the sullen echoes bouf of their explosion. There ahead,
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  Speaker 1: where the railroad trestle of the main line crossed the arroyo,
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  Speaker 1: huddled a little pile of bodies, evidently left from the
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  Speaker 1: first attack. Hardly one was bloody. Their heads and hearts
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  Speaker 1: were pierced with the clean, tiny holes of steel mouser bullets.
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  Speaker 1: They lay limply with the unearthly, calm, lean faces of
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  Speaker 1: the dead, Some perhaps their own thrifty companeros had stripped
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  Speaker 1: them of arms, shoes, hats, and serviceable clothing. One sleeping soldier,
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  Speaker 1: squatting on the edge of the heap with his rifle
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  Speaker 1: across his knees, snored deeply. Flies covered him. The dead
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  Speaker 1: hummed with them, but the sun had not yet effected them.
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  Speaker 1: Another soldier leaned against the townward bank of the ditch,
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  Speaker 1: his feet resting on a corpse, banging methodically away at
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  Speaker 1: something he saw. Under the shadow of the trestle, four
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  Speaker 1: men sat playing cards, and they played listlessly, without talking,
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  Speaker 1: their eyes red with lack of sleep. The heat was frightful.
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  Speaker 1: Occasionally a stray bullet came by, screaming where is this
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  Speaker 1: strange company? Took our appearances as a matter of course.
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  Speaker 1: The sharpshooter doubled out of range and carefully put another
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  Speaker 1: cartridge clip in his rifle. You haven't got another drop
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  Speaker 1: of water in that canteen, have you, he asked, Ah dio.
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  Speaker 1: We haven't eaten or drunken since yesterday. He guzzled the water, furtively,
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  Speaker 1: watching the card players. Lest they two should be thirsty.
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  Speaker 1: They say, we are to attack the water tank and
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  Speaker 1: the corral again when the artillery is in position to
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  Speaker 1: support us. Chihuahua ombre, But it was Duro in the
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  Speaker 1: night they slaughtered us in the streets there. He wiped
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  Speaker 1: his mouth on the back of his hands and began
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  Speaker 1: firing again. We lay beside him and looked over. We
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  Speaker 1: were about two hundred yards from the deadly water tank
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  Speaker 1: across the track and the wide street beyond lay the
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  Speaker 1: brown mud walls of the Brittingham Corral, innocent looking enough now,
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  Speaker 1: with only black dots to show the double line of
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  Speaker 1: loop holes. There are the machine guns, said our friend,
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  Speaker 1: see them, those slim barrels, peering over the edge. We
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  Speaker 1: couldn't make them out. Water tank, corral and town lay
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  Speaker 1: sleeping in the heat. Dust hovered still in the air,
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  Speaker 1: making a thin haze. About fifty yards in front of
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  Speaker 1: us was a shallow exposed ditch, evidently once a federal
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  Speaker 1: trench for the dirt had been piled on our side.
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  Speaker 1: Two hundred drab, dusty soldiers lay in it, now facing
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  Speaker 1: townward the Constitutionalist infantry. They were sprawled on the ground
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  Speaker 1: in all attitudes of weariness, some sleeping on their backs,
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  Speaker 1: facing up to the hot sun, others wearily transferring the
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  Speaker 1: dirt with their scooped hands from rear to front. Before them,
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  Speaker 1: they had piled up irregular heaps of rocks. Now, infantry
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  Speaker 1: in the Constitutionalist Army is simply cavalry without horses. All
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  Speaker 1: Villa's soldiers are mounted, except the artillery, and those for
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  Speaker 1: whom horses cannot be procured. Of a sudden, the artillery
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  Speaker 1: in our rear boomed altogether, and over our heads a
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  Speaker 1: dozen shells screamed toward the ceiro. That is the signal,
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  Speaker 1: said the man at our side. He clambered down into
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  Speaker 1: the ditch and kicked the sleeper. Come on, he yelled,
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  Speaker 1: wake up, We're going to attack the pilones. The snorer
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  Speaker 1: groaned and opened his eyes. Slowly, he yawned and picked
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  Speaker 1: up his rifle without a word. The card players began
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  Speaker 1: to squabble about their winnings. A violent dispute broke out
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  Speaker 1: as to who owned the pack of cards. Grumbling and
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  Speaker 1: still arguing, they stumbled out and followed the sharpshooter up
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  Speaker 1: over the edge of the ditch. Rifle fire rang along
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  Speaker 1: the edge of the trench in front. The sleepers flopped
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  Speaker 1: over on their stomachs behind their little shelters. Their elbows
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  Speaker 1: worked vigorously pumping the guns. The hollow steel water tank
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  Speaker 1: resounded to the rain of thumping bullets. Chips of adobe
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  Speaker 1: flew from the wall of the corral. Instantly, the wall
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  Speaker 1: bristle with shining barrels, and the two awoke crackling with
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  Speaker 1: hidden vicious firing bullets. Roofed the heavens with whistling steel,
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  Speaker 1: drummed the smoking dust up until a yellow curtain of
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  Speaker 1: whirling cloud veiled us from the houses and the tank.
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  Speaker 1: We could see our friend running low along the ground,
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  Speaker 1: the sleepy man following, standing erect still, rubbing his eyes behind,
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  Speaker 1: strung out, the gamblers squabbling, yet somewhere in the rear
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  Speaker 1: a bugle blue. The sharpshooter running in front stopped, suddenly,
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  Speaker 1: swaying as if he had run against a solid wall.
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  Speaker 1: His left leg doubled under him, and he sank crazily
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  Speaker 1: to one knee in the exposed flat, whipping up his
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  Speaker 1: rifle with a yell. Bleep, bleep, the dirty monkeys, he screamed,
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  Speaker 1: firing rapidly into the dust. I'll show the bleep, the
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  Speaker 1: cropped heads, the jail birds. He shook his head impatiently
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  Speaker 1: like a dog with a hurd ear. Blood drops flew
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  Speaker 1: from it. Bellowing with rage. He shot the rest of
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  Speaker 1: his clip and slum to the ground and thrashed to
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  Speaker 1: and fro for a minute. The others passed him with
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  Speaker 1: scarcely a look. Now the trench was boiling, with men
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  Speaker 1: scrambling to their feet like worms. When you turn over
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  Speaker 1: a log, the rifle fire rattled shrilly. From behind us
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  Speaker 1: came running feet, and men in sandals with blankets over
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  Speaker 1: their shoulders came falling and slipping down the ditch and
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  Speaker 1: scrambling up the other side, hundreds of them, it seemed.
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  Speaker 1: They almost hid from us the front. But through the
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  Speaker 1: dust and spaces between running logs, we could see the
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  Speaker 1: soldiers in the trench leap their barricade like a breaking wave.
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  Speaker 1: And then the impenetrable dust shut down, and the fierce
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  Speaker 1: stabbing needle of the machine guns sowed. The mighty jumble
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  Speaker 1: of sounds together a glimpse through a rift in the cloud,
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  Speaker 1: torn by a sudden, hot gust of wind, we could
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  Speaker 1: see the first brown line of men reeling all together
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  Speaker 1: like drunkards, and the machine guns over the wall, spinning
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  Speaker 1: sharp red dull in the sunshine. Then a man came
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  Speaker 1: running out of it, the sweat streaming down his face.
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  Speaker 1: Without a gun. He ran fast, half sliding, half falling
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  Speaker 1: down into our ditch and up the other side. Other
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  Speaker 1: dim forms loomed up in the dust ahead. What is it,
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  Speaker 1: How is it going? I cried? He answered nothing, but
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  Speaker 1: ran on suddenly and terribly. The monstrous crash and scream
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  Speaker 1: of shrapnel burst from the turmoil ahead the enemy's artillery mechanically.
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  Speaker 1: I listened for our guns. Except for an occasional boom,
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  Speaker 1: they were silent. Our home made shells were failing again,
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  Speaker 1: two more shrapnel shells. Out of the dust cloud, men
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  Speaker 1: came running back singly, in pairs, in groups, a stampeding mob.
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  Speaker 1: They fell over us, around us, drowned us in a
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  Speaker 1: human flood, shouting to the Alamos, to the trains, the
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  Speaker 1: Federation is coming. We struggled up among them and ran
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  Speaker 1: too straight up the railroad track behind us roared the
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  Speaker 1: shells searching in the dust, and the carrying musketry. And
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  Speaker 1: then we noticed that all the wide roadway ahead was
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  Speaker 1: filled with galloping horsemen, yelling shrill Indian cries and waving
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  Speaker 1: their rifles. The main column. We stood to one side
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  Speaker 1: as they whirled past, about five hundred of them, watched
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  Speaker 1: them stoop in their saddles and began to shoot. The
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  Speaker 1: drumming of their horses hoofs was like thunder. Better not
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  Speaker 1: go in there, it's too hot, cried one of the
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  Speaker 1: infantry with a grin. Well, I'll bet I'm hotter, answered
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  Speaker 1: a horseman, and we all laughed. We walked tranquility back
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  Speaker 1: along the railroad track, while the firing behind wound up
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  Speaker 1: to a continuous roar. A group of peons basificos in
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  Speaker 1: dal sombreros blankets and white cotton blouses stood along here
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  Speaker 1: with folded arms, looking down the track toward down. Look
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  Speaker 1: out there, friends, jost a soldier. Don't stand there, you'll
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  Speaker 1: get hit. The peons looked at each other and grinned feebly.
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  Speaker 1: But senor said one, this is the way we always
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  Speaker 1: stand when there is a battle. A little farther along,
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  Speaker 1: I came upon an officer, a German, wandering along, leading
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  Speaker 1: his horse by the bridle. I cannot ride him any more,
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  Speaker 1: he said to me earnestly. He is quite too tired.
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  Speaker 1: I am afraid he will die if he does not sleep.
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  Speaker 1: The horse, a big chestnut stallion, stumbled and swayed as
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  Speaker 1: he walked. Enormous tears trickled from his half shut eyes
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  Speaker 1: and rolled down his nose. I was dead tired, reeling
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  Speaker 1: from lack of sleep and food, and the terrible heat
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  Speaker 1: of the sun. About a half mile out, I looked
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  Speaker 1: back and saw the enemy's shrapnel poking into the line
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  Speaker 1: of trees more frequently than ever. They seemed to have
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  Speaker 1: thoroughly got the range, and just then I saw the
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  Speaker 1: gray line of guns limbered to their mules begin to
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  Speaker 1: crawl out from the trees toward the rear. At four
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  Speaker 1: or five different points, our artillery had been shelled out
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  Speaker 1: of their positions. I threw myself down to rest in
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  Speaker 1: the shade of a big mesquite bush. Almost immediately a
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  Speaker 1: chain seemed to come in the sound of the rifle fire,
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  Speaker 1: as if half of it had been suddenly cut off.
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  Speaker 1: At the same time, twenty bugles shrilled rising. I noticed
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  Speaker 1: a line of running horsemen fleeing up from the track, shouting.
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  Speaker 1: Something more followed galloping at the place where the railroad
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  Speaker 1: passed beyond the trees on its way into town. The
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  Speaker 1: cavalry had been repulsed all at once. The whole plain
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  Speaker 1: squirmed with men mounted and on foot, all running rearward.
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  Speaker 1: One man threw away his blanket, another his rifle. They
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  Speaker 1: thickened over the hot desert, stamping up the dust until
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  Speaker 1: the flat was crowded with them. Right in front of me,
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  Speaker 1: a horseman burst out of the brush, shouting the Federals
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  Speaker 1: are coming to the trains. They are right behind. The
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  Speaker 1: entire Constitutionalist army was routed. I caught up my blanket
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  Speaker 1: and took to my heels. A little way farther on,
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  Speaker 1: I came upon a cannon abandoned in the desert, traces
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  Speaker 1: cut mules gone underfoot were guns, cartridge belts, and a
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  Speaker 1: dozen soapes. It was rout. Coming to an open space,
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  Speaker 1: I saw head a large crowd of fleeing soldiers without rifles. Suddenly,
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  Speaker 1: three men on horseback swept across in front of them,
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  Speaker 1: waving their arms and yelling go back. They cried, they
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  Speaker 1: aren't coming out. Go back, for the love of God too.
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  Speaker 1: I didn't recognize the other was via end of Section
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  Speaker 1: thirty three