From his hilltop, the Mexican president sent message after message back to Mexico City calling for reinforcements. The gringos under Pershing were only a few miles away. If they took Monterrey, it would be an enormous blow to Mexican pride. Monterrey was one of the largest cities in Mexico, capital of Nueva Leon province, and a center of Mexican industry. Loss of Monterrey would also mean that the German overland supply line running west from Vera Cruz would be threatened.
An aide ran in gasping. “Horsemen coming from the south, your excellency.”
“How many?”
“Perhaps a hundred, sir.”
A hundred, he thought. That’s all? But maybe they were the advance guard of a much larger relief force. Yes, that must be it.
A little while later he heard the clatter of hoofs and the shouts of men. He heard a name and shuddered. Villa. Pancho Villa had arrived. Impossible. Villa was the bandit fool who’d started the 1916 war with the United States by attacking Texas towns and ranches thus causing an American army, again led by Pershing, to invade Mexico. It had taken almost a year to get rid of the Americans and now Pershing was back with an even larger army.
Carranza had another worry. Which side was the bandit on today?
“Excellency!” Villa boomed as he entered the living room where Carranza sat. “I bring wonderful news from Mexico City.”
Carranza forced a smile. He neither liked nor trusted the stocky, filthy, and heavily mustachioed Villa. But if he had good news and reinforcements, he would put up with the barbarian.
“Then don’t keep me waiting, General Villa,” he said with feigned warmth. “Tell me.”
A servant had brought fresh cold water that Villa gulped, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Mexico City is not a happy place, but that would not surprise you. The loss of so many men, even if most were merely captured, is an enormous blow to Mexican pride. They are wondering how you will redeem it.”
Carranza felt himself flushing. How dare this oafish shit talk to him like that? “If the government in Mexico City, my government, will get off their asses and give me a new army, I will not only stop the Americans before they get to Monterrey, but I will destroy them.”
“Brave words,” Villa said and Carranza wanted to strangle him.
“They will be more than brave when I get my army. When will the rest of it arrive? The Americans are almost here. If we lose Monterrey we will be humiliated.”
Villa shrugged several more of his men had entered the room and taken station beside him. “Mexico City feels that the fall of Monterrey is inevitable and that the war with the United States was a huge and tragic mistake, and one that must be rectified.”
“Indeed?” said Carranza. “If that is what Mexico City thinks, then they are wrong. Give me another army and we will win. And once we have won, we will negotiate a treaty from a position of strength. Anything less and I will personally be humiliated.”
“Martyred,” said Villa.
“What?” said Carranza, sudden desperation growing in his voice.
“You will be revered as the President of Mexico who was brave enough to give his life for his country.”
Villa pulled a revolver from inside his shirt and fired three bullets that struck Carranza in the chest. One of his men shot Carranza’s aide. Villa himself administered the coup de grace, a bullet to the back of Carranza’s head and then to the aide’s. He detailed a squad to remain in the hacienda, while the remainder of the men who’d accompanied Carranza ran away from the killings.
Villa’s men still had a job to do.
General Lejeune watched as Tovey’s men approached the white stone hacienda at the top of the hill. Reports said there were Mexicans holed up in it. The building had to be cleared as it commanded the approach to Monterrey.
The Texans fanned out and moved cautiously up the hill. Lejeune had to admit that Tovey was a damned good general and his men fought well. And, somewhat surprisingly, there had been little in the way of discipline problems in Mexico. A few men had gotten drunk and one man was in jail accused of rape, but the drunks had their asses kicked by their sergeants, and the alleged rapist was scared to death. He’d be released later as an investigation showed that the alleged victim was a prostitute. The benefit of the doubt would go to the soldier. Still, Tovey’d decided to let the stupid kid stew in jail for a couple of days, thinking he was going to spend the rest of his miserable life in prison breaking rocks. Hopefully, he’d realize that no piece of ass was worth that much.
Gunfire erupted from the hacienda, only a few scattered shots, but enough to send Tovey’s men to ground. An American machine gun opened up and, after a few long bursts, the fire from the hacienda ceased.
Tovey’s men ran cautiously up to the hacienda and into it. There was no more gunfire. Lejeune swore as he saw General Tovey far too close to the action.
Moments later, Tovey emerged and waved towards Lejeune who swore again. The crazy Texan wanted him to come over and climb up that hill.
Tovey greeted the Marine general outside the hacienda. “I think we got something Washington isn’t going to like.”
Lejeune took a deep breath. He was fifty-three and maybe getting too old to climb mountains, although he’d be double damned if he’d ever admit it.
“Come on in here, General,” Tovey said and Lejuene followed.
Two men lay on the floor. One was a young officer and the other an older man with a full beard. Lejeune recognized him from his photos. Carranza.
“Did we kill him?”
Tovey shrugged. “Not damn likely, but we’ll get the blame. Carranza’ll be a hero for standing up to us and dying for dear old Mexico. There’ll be statues of the fat asshole all over Mexico in a few days and he’ll be a rallying cry for them like the burning of Laredo was for us. No, he was shot and killed well before we got here.”
“How do you know that?”
Tovey laughed. “I was a Texas Ranger, which meant I had to know a little about police work, and even I can tell you those bodies are pretty damn cold for fresh casualties, and, oh yeah, one more thing.”
“What?”
“Along with gunshots to the chest, both those poor sons of bitches were shot in the back of the head.”
CHAPTER 17
President Robert Lansing looked at the grisly photos. He wanted to turn away but couldn’t. This too was part of his job. The gaping wound in the back of Carranza’s head was clearly visible. He put them face down on his desk, and swallowed to keep his stomach from rising.
“Incredible,” he said. “And now the new Mexican government has the audacity to accuse us of murdering Carranza? I knew nothing was ever straightforward in Mexican politics, but to now have the Obregon government nominating that butcher Carranza for sainthood is a little much. It’s incredible after all we did to protect Obregon and his people.”
Secretary of State Charles Evans Hughes chuckled mirthlessly. “It is, of course, just their little way of deflecting blame to another source. Since we took Texas and the other states from them seventy years ago, we have been their favorite monster under the bed.”
“And what will come of this?” General March asked.
Hughes answered. “I believe a very pragmatic new government in Mexico City will ponder matters for a while and then sue for peace while they still have enough of a country left to run. The last thing a new Obregon government wishes is to have us gobble up more Mexican territory. Monterrey is an important city and a major railhead. I believe we can let them, well, huff and puff for a while and then begin back door peace talks.”
March agreed. “They also know that Pershing is consolidating his hold on the Monterrey area and is awaiting word as to whether he should push farther south. In the meantime, his men are digging in and awaiting a Mexican counterattack, which, if we sit there long enough, will surely come.”