A Ballad of Love and Glory(39)
Riley trained his field glasses on Bragg, taking pleasure in the disappointment the Yank must have been feeling that his light artillery couldn’t be employed in an artillery exchange across the river. His 6-pounders didn’t have the range needed, nor could they be maneuvered on the ramparts as they were on the field. What did he feel at seeing the Irish gunners under Riley’s command pointing Mexican cannons right at him?
“When do we strike?” Flanagan asked. “When do we cut the Yanks to pieces?”
“Hold your hour,” Riley said, panning to the east with his field glasses. He could see nothing but the dense thickets of cane growing along the river. He wished he could be there to witness General Arista’s army intercept Taylor. It was only a matter of time. After weeks and weeks of a standoff with the armies eyeing each other from opposite sides of the river, both forces were now on the same side, in proximity of each other, ready to be put to the test.
“Arrah, I loathe waitin’,” Quinn said. “Makes me nervous everythin’ will go arseways on us.”
Riley looked at his gunners eagerly awaiting his orders, most of them scarcely drilled and unaccustomed to fire. He wished there had been more time to bring them to a higher standard of instruction and better precision, but they were strong, capable men who had learned to work well. Riley patted Quinn on the back. “Faith, you’ll light those matches soon enough,” he promised.
* * *
Two days later, on May 3, at the first tinge of sunrise, Riley’s battery, along with the rest of the Mexican artillery, rammed round shot down their cannons, lanyards at the ready. The Yankee fort was hushed and still, its bugles not yet sounding reveille.
The day before, news reached them that General Arista’s plans had gone awry. With insufficient boats at their disposal, it had taken his troops twenty-four hours to cross the river, and by the time all his forces and artillery pieces had landed on the opposite side, Taylor’s troops had already gotten past them. Now that Taylor had reached the safety of Point Isabel, General Arista had no choice but to wait for Taylor’s inevitable return to Fort Texas, and this time the Mexican forces would be ready to intercept his advance. In the meantime, to lure Taylor out of the depot and force him to countermarch, Arista had ordered the bombardment of the Yankee fort to commence.
The officers pointed their swords at Fort Texas and gave the order everyone had been waiting for: “?Fuego!”
The Mexican cannons belched and recoiled as the crews jumped to the side. Round shot screeched across the river, shattering the tranquility of the early morn. Riley watched the first shots slam into the walls of the fort, sending the Yanks scrambling into the shelters. Through the haze, he could see the residents who remained in Matamoros coming out to cheer heartily from their rooftops and on the streets. “?Viva México!” they shouted. The church bells began ringing and bugles joined in with their calls as the Mexican cannons showered metal rain on the Yankee fort.
“?Fuego!” Riley and the other officers shouted again. Just like he’d taught them, Riley’s crew swabbed the cannons, reloaded, and fired away. After the first shots, the Yankees recovered from the surprise and hastened to reply to their fire. Now it was Riley’s crew’s turn to duck as Braxton Bragg’s gun belched. Through the grayish haze and fragments of twigs and leaves swirling about, Riley trained his field glasses on Bragg’s gun, took the range, aimed, and yelled, “?Fuego!”
The exchange of fire was thunderous. Riley winced as he heard the Yankees’ shots crashing into the town, tearing their way through the houses, blasting the streets. His crew returned fire on Bragg’s battery again, determined to unseat his cannon.
The bombardment continued for another hour, with one Mexican cannon being taken out of commission and three of its crew members killed. Riley’s battery suffered one injury from Bragg’s cannon—Flanagan was wounded by an exploding shell that ricocheted from the ground and tore into his abdomen. He was rushed to the makeshift hospital.
General Mejía ordered some of the cannons to be repositioned and better protected. The Yanks, unable to take out another of the Mexican cannons, attempted to set Matamoros ablaze. Riley watched as they hurled hot shot at the heart of the town, the shells tearing through the terracotta-tiled roofs, the adobe and stone walls, but to his relief the buildings didn’t ignite. The Yanks had failed to heat the shells to a high enough temperature. Riley took great pleasure in seeing Bragg’s disappointment.
Six hours after the bombardment began, the Yankee guns went silent, and Riley assumed they were being careful with their limited supplies. The Mexicans continued to deliver their iron shower with little damage to the Yankee fort. Two of their guns had been dismounted, but not Bragg’s. As Riley had predicted, most of the Mexican shells got lodged in the earthen walls, causing little injury. Other shots fell short of their targets. The shots that landed inside the fort exploded upward, so the Yankees simply dropped to the ground to avoid being injured. But it was the noise they were after, not carnage, and thus the firing continued. Riley hoped by now Taylor had decided to leave the depot and make haste to the fort.
But it was not to be.
An express was received from General Arista that Taylor still remained at his depot. Firing on the Yankee fort would resume the next morning. It was almost fifteen hours before the firing finally ceased. The troops’ eyes were red and burning from the day’s smoke, the air reeking of exploding gunpowder. Riley was grateful that because of the smoke, at least they hadn’t been attacked by the mosquitoes that tormented them day after day. With no time to waste, he accompanied General Mejía and the engineers to conduct an inspection of the damage. The general ordered the troops to repair the sandbag fortifications and breastworks. The night was hot and humid, and the mosquitoes returned in swarms, but the troops labored incessantly. Beyond repair were three of the guns the Yankees had knocked out of commission, and one howitzer that had cracked during firing. Riley could hear the Yankees making their own repairs. He knew their fort had sustained little injury, but he hoped they’d at least suffered a good number of casualties.