thorns were peculiarly troublesome, and some of the water contained salt. Sweat and dust almost hid the skin of men's faces at more than one time; and not only did soldiers drop far behind from exhaustion, but in some cases water could be given to the faint only by prying their jaws open. Once the drinking water was so muddy it could scarcely run, we are assured — to say nothing of an odor derived from dead horses. On the very first day the troops were ordered to march without breakfast, and they went hungry more than once afterwards, with cattle, hogs, and actual clouds of wild turkeys plainly in sight.[1]
Some of these facts appear to reflect upon the commanding officers, and other facts point the same way. Patterson had an impressive person, somewhat in the style of the English squire, it was thought, and certain very agreeable qualities of his Irish race, when he chose to display them; but although Polk felt disposed to make him generalissimo, he seems to have lacked a familiar acquaintance with his profession as well as experience in practising it. He also lacked initiative, and he lorded it over the troops, they felt, with all the severity of a satrap.[2]
Pillow, the second in command, had come to the war like many others for his personal advantage; and having been the President's partner in a law office, having contrived through cunning and secret management at the Baltimore convention in 1844 to secure Polk's nomination, and being now in confidential correspondence with the White House, he felt specially authorized to slake his intense ambition. On the score of ill-health Pillow had left his command at Monterey for a trip to the United States; but, finding in this expedition a chance of becoming prominent, he suddenly recovered. No one could fail to see his determination to be conspicuous, and it was not commended by all. "Ho for the embryo hero! Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" exclaimed Captain Caswell, a brilliant officer. Naturally Pillow felt inclined to look upon the soldiers as merely coal for his furnace, and they in turn generally detested him. In one stormy scene he called upon them to shoot him, if they dared, adding grandly, "I'm not afraid to die!'"' And after that, when angered by unnecessary harshness on his part, they obtained some comfort by growling to one another, "He's some!" "He isn't afraid to die";
