Justin H. Smith - The Mexican-American War (Vol. 1&2)

Such as it was, however, the system went promptly into effect. Beginning on May 15, the secretary of war sent requisitions for volunteers to the governors of the states, deeming this method of application advantageous as well as due to their official position, since they were supposed to know the troops of their jurisdictions and the best places from which to draw them. In general the plan was to summon about 25,000 from the northeastern states, to be enrolled and await orders, and to call out nearly as many from the other states for immediate service. The former were all to be infantry; the latter, horse and foot in the ratio of about one to three. It was expected that existing militia organizations—regiments or parts of regiments—would offer their services, and that new men would fill the ranks as they felt moved to come forward. Not only privates but officers were to approach the national service by that portal, and then be mustered into the army at the appointed state rendezvous by a United States officer detailed for the purpose.21 In four days the calls were nearly all on their way.24

The purpose of distributing requisitions over the whole country was to interest every state, Polk explained; and to stimulate the executive officials he urged upon the secretary of war the most prompt and energetic action and personal attention to each detail, insisting for his own part upon being kept “constantly advised of every important step that was taken.”22 This charge Marcy accepted with all seriousness.23 Whether bowing his massive head ponderously over a big desk, sifting callers with keen glances through shaggy brows, or giving instructions to subordinates in a voice roughened with snuff, he devoted his faculties to his task with a rare power of concentration. But he preferred the quiet of his home; and there, comfortably wrapped in his dressing gown with a box of the brown powder and an old red handkerchief on the table, he did his best work.24

Polk believed, or tried to believe, that “multitudes” were eager to volunteer, but others feared it would not be easy to raise troops after so long a peace. Strong influences were at work, however. Though evidently the fireside was not in danger, patriotism urged men to take the field, for did not the nation call?

“Arm! arm! your country bids you arm!

Fling out your banners free—

Let drum and trumpet sound alarm,

O’er mountain, plain and sea;”

thus wrote Park Benjamin the day Polk signed the war bill. A longing to escape from the dulness of bare existence, ambition to see the world and test one’s powers, a passion for adventure and frolic in a far clime believed to be all glitter, beauty and romance, the prospect of revelling in the Halls of Montezuma, a feeling that one who was not “in it” would have to spend the rest of his days explaining why, the expectation of honors and popularity that would make success easy in any pursuit, quarrels with sweethearts or hopes of becoming irresistible to the “girls,” were among the motives. For the high officers it was a “political tour,” said one of them; and with everybody the barbarities perpetrated by the Mexicans in Texas counted for much. The hardships of campaigning were unknown. While every one understood that some would fall, it was practically impossible for an ardent young fellow, well and strong, to imagine his particular person stretched lifeless on the ground; or, if such an end was ever contemplated, it appeared as something quick, unfelt amidst the excitement, and sweetened by the greatness of one’s cause.24

Behind all of this lay certain facts too deep for the soldiers themselves to perceive, but not too deep for them to feel. One instinctively shunned that “misery of cowardice,” which—as Pericles told the Athenians—is more dreadful to men of spirit than death in battle. As the ages have demonstrated, man is naturally a fighting animal, and therefore he finds in war the keenest sense of his vital selfhood. It is our chief glory to will and to do; and in mortal combat this glory is more intense, if not more real, than in peaceful occupations. Besides, if a man comes to his end in being supremely himself, he triumphs over death, and indeed he wins another victory, too, for life—so rich in menaces—can threaten him no longer. The validity of nearly all these motives was more or less transitory. When, for example, a man had proved that he could face a cannon, it seemed unnecessary to keep on facing it. But while they lasted, they were strong.24

In almost every section, therefore, except New England, where the annexation of Texas could not yet be forgiven, the war spirit rose high, astonishing even the most sanguine. At New York the walls were covered with placards headed, “Mexico or Death,” or “Ho, for the halls of the Montezumas!” and the streets echoed to the song:

“Come all ye gallant volunteers

Who fear not life to lose,

The martial drum invites ye come

And join the Hickory Blues:

The gallant Hickory Blues,

The daring Hickory Blues—

To Mexico they proudly go,

The gallant Hickory Blues."

At Philadelphia 20,000 citizens of all parties gathered “to sustain the country.” In the central states banks advanced money without security, farmers’ wives issued free rations, ladies made clothing and flags by the wholesale, roads turned black with men. Ohio looked with disfavor on the annexation of Texas and the war with Mexico, regarding them as measures favorable to slavery; yet in less than two weeks after the requisition for volunteers arrived, three thousand of her sons were marching to the rendezvous. At Indianapolis Lew Wallace hung out a flag and a four-sided transparency inscribed, “For Mexico; fall in”; and in three days his company was full. “Illinois must rally now and win a character,” James Shields wrote to Koerner; and fourteen regiments volunteered instead of the four that could be taken.24

In Kentucky, said reports, the quota of the state was complete by May 26, and the governor had to stop the volunteering by proclamation. Tennessee was called upon for about 3000 men, and nearly 30,000 came forward. None would retire, and the selection was made by lot or ballot. At Memphis troops organized before the call arrived. “May glory and honor await them!” cried the Daily Eagle. St. Louis began to drill on May 12, and in a few days the excitement was so deep and universal that the courts adjourned. North Carolina offered more than three times her quota.24

In the Gulf states many feared that not enough citizens would remain at home to police the negroes. “Governor, do—if possible—get them into the service,” was the tune in Alabama. Mississippi complained bitterly that so few of her sons had a chance. At New Orleans the roar of business was almost drowned by a still more clamorous roar:

“The drums, the drums, the busy, busy drums,

The drums, the drums, the rattling, battling drums,

The drums, the drums, the merry, merry drums!”

As rapidly as possible Brigadier General Wool and other officers mustered the regiments into service; and, leaving the rendezvous and the crowds of praying, cheering people amidst the saddest good-bys and the warmest good wishes, the volunteers bravely set out for the war.24

Before very long new views of military life began to dawn upon the soldiers. At the old battlefield below New Orleans, where many of the troops camped, mud and water covered what was below their boot-tops while mosquitos covered what was above. Going down the river they brightened at the sight of sycamores and live-oaks, draped with Spanish moss, and of the ducks, jays, mocking-birds and Virginia nightingales, that seemed to find life so merry. But soon the lighthouse of the Southwest Pass was gleaming astern, the muddy water became blue, and these landsmen were on the deep. Sharks, diving porpoises, squadrons of nautili and shoals of little flying-fish gave them some pleasure; but the motion, especially to men packed like sardines in the dirty holds of schooners and small brigs or lying spoon-fashion—if there was even room to do that—on deck, seemed horrible. On the slow voyage the water, which was often impure, fermented sometimes, and ten cents was the price of a wholesome drink.25