A Ballad of Love and Glory(21)
General Mejía translated and exchanged glances with General Ampudia. “The doors of our church are open to anyone who seeks the comfort of our Lord and Savior,” General Ampudia said, through Mejía. “I’m well aware the Yanqui heretics don’t allow you Irish to practice your faith.”
“I’m much obliged, sir,” he said. And then, the voice of Franky Sullivan pleading for mercy, his body bobbing in the water, rose up in his mind, and he decided to speak plainly about what else drove him here. “If I may, I desire also to meet the man who wrote the leaflet. I wish to know if he speaks in earnest.”
General Mejía translated his words and General Ampudia motioned for Riley to take a seat. This was a new experience for him, being invited to sit and have a conversation with his superiors. Usually, his commanding officers in both the British and the Yankee armies simply issued commands for him to obey.
“The commander meant every word in that pamphlet,” General Mejía said. General Ampudia pulled on his thick goatee, observing him through keen eyes.
Riley nodded. “Too many of my countrymen have perished in the river. My tentmate was shot and killed whilst tryin’ to come here. I must know that he didn’t die in vain.”
“I can assure you, Private Riley, that the deaths of your countrymen do weigh on me,” General Ampudia said. “The young man you speak of would have made a great soldier in our ranks, I’m sure of it. May he rest in peace, along with all who have perished trying to swear their allegiance to Mexico.
“President Polk has made it quite clear how much he covets Mexico’s rich lands and ports in its northwestern territories. That’s how he won the presidency, did he not? He’ll go to any lengths to reach his objective of westward expansion and continue the abhorrent institution of slavery. Mexico is a young nation and not as wealthy as the United States, but we will do everything in our power to maintain our territorial integrity!”
Noticing General Mejía’s lack of breath from having to translate his tirade, General Ampudia paused and cleared his throat before continuing. “Enough about that. Let us now talk about you, Private Riley. You strike me as a man who does not belong in a private’s uniform. What type of military experience do you have?”
“I was a sergeant in the Royal Artillery, sir.”
Ampudia’s eyes lit up.
He told Riley that he had been an artillery officer in the campaigns during the Texas Rebellion. He’d been in Mexico’s service over twenty years, and beside fighting the Texians, he’d defended Mexico against French invaders as well. The general went on to ask Riley about the artillery tactics he’d acquired under Her Majesty’s service, and Riley knew the questions were meant to test him. He answered carefully and the general seemed pleased.
“I’ve never been to England,” General Ampudia said, “but the British certainly know how to fight a war.”
“Aye,” Riley affirmed, but he thought of Braxton Bragg, the man he both hated and envied. “Is the general familiar with the Yanks’ flyin’ artillery?”
“It has been brought to my attention. And we suspect our artillery cannot rival the enemy’s! But one can never be sure. What are your thoughts, Private?”
After Riley finished describing in detail his observations of the Yankees’ artillery, the Mexican commander became pensive. Suddenly, he stood up, and Riley did the same. General Mejía got to his feet as well and listened attentively as his commander spoke to him. General Ampudia seemed excited about something and did not take his eyes off Riley while his interpreter translated his words.
General Mejía looked at Riley and said, “General Pedro de Ampudia, commander-in-chief of the Army of the North, would like to offer you a commission as first lieutenant in the Mexican ranks. Do you accept, Private Riley?”
Riley was taken aback. First lieutenant? He hadn’t heard of any deserter who had joined the Mexican ranks being given a commission. Were the Mexicans making a jest of him? He peered into the general’s eyes to see if there was mockery there. But he could see plain the general’s admiration as he looked upon Riley with keen interest.
“Here you will find that even though you are a foreigner, Mexico will welcome you with open arms. Just look at me,” General Ampudia said, puffing out his barrel chest. “Cuban by birth, and yet here I am as the commander-in-chief of the Mexican Army of the North! Here in Mexico, you will find what you’ve been searching for, Private Riley. Well, what do you say?”
Just then, the church bells started ringing, announcing the noon hour. Riley listened to the bells, never taking his eyes off the men before him. Perhaps the general was right. Perhaps he was not. Either way, Riley needed time to think. And to get to church.
“With your leave, sir, may I go to church before givin’ you my reply?”
“Of course,” General Ampudia said, motioning to the soldiers by the door to escort Riley out. “May you find the peace and comfort you seek, Private.”
* * *
When Riley stepped outside the headquarters, the day had turned bright and sunny, with no sign remaining of the morning showers. His uniform was still damp, but by the time he reached the church, the hot Mexican sun had done its work. The soldiers escorted him to the doors and then waited there while he went inside.