How did you play the CSA? Did you play the US, then let the CSA break away, make a peace and then switch sides? If so, how did you do that?
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Yep, play as the US, elect Abraham Lincoln, and in December of 1860 you'll get a 'Civil War' event, whereupon the CSA is created. Save the game, exit to the main menu, then go to the load screen, click on the game you saved, them right click on your shield at the top of the screen. You should then be able to select 'Confederate States'. Do so, then click 'start game', and you'll be the CSA.
More updating.
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May 17, 1875, 1000, Longstreet's positions
"Everything ready Colonel?"
Smith looked up from the map he was studying to nod to General Longstreet.
"Yessir. Scouts have come back in, they say the Mexicans are about five miles south of us, moving north fast. Mostly infantry, but they did see some cavalry heading the column. No field pieces as far as they could see."
"Good. Ride swiftly Colonel. Let's bring the enemy to heel."
Smith grinned and saluted, watching as Longstreet rode back to speak with Brigadier General Calhoun, commander of the 11'th Cavalry Division. Craning his neck around to see to his right rear, he saw the men of the division ready to go, eager and prepared. Coiled like a spring.
With a final guffaw, Longstreet and Calhoun finished talking, and Calhoun gave the order to advance. The 11'th Division streamed out from behind the rightmost hill, riding swiftly southeast along lines traced on Smith's map. The scout had mapped a circuituous route for the 11'th, whose job it was to attack and destroy the army's supply train, then lead the Mexicans back into the teeth of the Confederate defense. The riding was swift, but not too fast, the horses needed to have something left for the fight, and more importantly, the ride back. Still, the ride passed quickly, each man getting ready for the upcoming action.
"Smoke on the horizon!"
"Smith craned his neck to the left, and smiled at the sight of smofe from a few small campfires rising lazily into the sky about half a mile away. The formation veered left and slowed, the men of the 11'th gathering behind a low rise of sand no more than three of four feet high. The Mexicans were right behind the rise, maybe 400 feet away.
A feral grin brok out across Smith's face as General Calhoun ordered them into formation for the charge.
-------------------------
General de Salazar sighed with impatience as the men of his army slumped out of line, many just sitting where they lay, others stoking up small fires for a quick lunch. He had not wanted to stop. He had, in fact, abhorred the very idea of stopping. The state of the men however had been apparent even to him. They were no good to him of they simply collasped once he found these yanquis.
He watched as the whole long line of his men sat down, and rested. He had been explicit. Fifteen minutes. Not one minute more. Speed was essential.
Of themselves, his eyes began roving to the west. Nothing up here but sand and some sparse trees and dead bushes. That small rise down there was about as high as it got this close to the coast.
De Salazar blinked as he looked at the rise. Was that...it couldn't be. He had sworn he had seen something red and blue flapping from behind the rise. But what out here could be red and blue?
"General?"
He looked down and accepted the canteen from his servant, taking a long gulp.
The bugle call rang out across the desert as he coughed water all over himself.
---------------------------
Of all the luck!
They had stopped, and the fools were actually making lunch!
Smith whooped loudly as the 11'th Division charged into the Mexican column. The Confederate steeds covered the ground quickly, bringing the cavalrymen within 100 yards in seconds. Shots rang out up and down the line as the Confederates let loose their own version of the Palmetto rifle, the carbine.
The cavalrymen cut through the infantrymen swiftly, barreling through the encampments, their carbines spitting out a prodigious amount of lead. The twelve shot magazines made each Confederate worth three of the Mexican infantrymen in terms of firepower. The first charge smashed the first few rows of resting soldiers, and the Confederates regrouped on the other side of the position they had just decimated for another charge.
Confusion reigned among the infantry as the peace and calm of seconds before had suddenly turned into a surprise attack leaving tens of Mexicans already dead. Those who had survived were returning fire, but sporadically, and the Mexican sergeants were trying to get firing lines formed so the muskets they carried might do some good.
Smith reined his horse in and turned around, sliding a fresh magazine into his carbine. The Mexicans were surprised as hell, but he could already see the non-coms trying to form firing lines. None of that. Raising his carbine, he sighted and fired. A Mexican lieutenant clutched his neck and fell to the ground, blood welling out and forming a black puddle in the sand.
The bugle blared charge again, and again the 11'th fell on the Mexican lines.
-------------------------
"Cavalry! Where are the damned cavalrymen?!"
De Salazar was livid. These....these Rebel scum had come from seemingly nowhere and managed to maul a whole regiment of his army, from the looks of things.
"Where are they? Velasquez! Where is that fool Muerco?"
"General Muerco is at the head of the army sir, with all the cavalry that aren't here guarding you." Velasquez smirked inside. Not like he'd send his personal guard against the Confederates. They might come after him then, and who would protect de Salazar's esteemed self then?
"Why isn't he down there?" Salazar's finger stabbed to the melee half a mile away. "Isn't that what cavalry's supposed to do, protect our flanks?"
Velasquez was silent, and de Salazar fumed, turning away and watching as the Confederates reformed and....charged again.
"The devils!" He could see, and more importantly hear the volume of fire the Southerners were putting up. He winced involuntarily as he saw a great many men in Mexican uniforms crumple to the ground. A strange banshee-like wail eminated from the enemy cavalry, and somehow de Salazar feared they would charge again, but no, they retreated now, vanishing behind the rise as quickly as they had appeared.
"Velasquez! I want to know how many men we lost. And get Muerco's men follwing those damned yanquis. We move now. We follow those fools and we end this today!"
Velasquez simply nodded and walked away to deliver de Salazar's orders. Slowly, the Mexican Army rose and began limping northward again, the cavalrymen of General Muerco leading the pursuit of the Confederate soldiers.
--------------------------
May 17, 1875, 1000, Longstreet's positions
"Everything ready Colonel?"
Smith looked up from the map he was studying to nod to General Longstreet.
"Yessir. Scouts have come back in, they say the Mexicans are about five miles south of us, moving north fast. Mostly infantry, but they did see some cavalry heading the column. No field pieces as far as they could see."
"Good. Ride swiftly Colonel. Let's bring the enemy to heel."
Smith grinned and saluted, watching as Longstreet rode back to speak with Brigadier General Calhoun, commander of the 11'th Cavalry Division. Craning his neck around to see to his right rear, he saw the men of the division ready to go, eager and prepared. Coiled like a spring.
With a final guffaw, Longstreet and Calhoun finished talking, and Calhoun gave the order to advance. The 11'th Division streamed out from behind the rightmost hill, riding swiftly southeast along lines traced on Smith's map. The scout had mapped a circuituous route for the 11'th, whose job it was to attack and destroy the army's supply train, then lead the Mexicans back into the teeth of the Confederate defense. The riding was swift, but not too fast, the horses needed to have something left for the fight, and more importantly, the ride back. Still, the ride passed quickly, each man getting ready for the upcoming action.
"Smoke on the horizon!"
"Smith craned his neck to the left, and smiled at the sight of smofe from a few small campfires rising lazily into the sky about half a mile away. The formation veered left and slowed, the men of the 11'th gathering behind a low rise of sand no more than three of four feet high. The Mexicans were right behind the rise, maybe 400 feet away.
A feral grin brok out across Smith's face as General Calhoun ordered them into formation for the charge.
-------------------------
General de Salazar sighed with impatience as the men of his army slumped out of line, many just sitting where they lay, others stoking up small fires for a quick lunch. He had not wanted to stop. He had, in fact, abhorred the very idea of stopping. The state of the men however had been apparent even to him. They were no good to him of they simply collasped once he found these yanquis.
He watched as the whole long line of his men sat down, and rested. He had been explicit. Fifteen minutes. Not one minute more. Speed was essential.
Of themselves, his eyes began roving to the west. Nothing up here but sand and some sparse trees and dead bushes. That small rise down there was about as high as it got this close to the coast.
De Salazar blinked as he looked at the rise. Was that...it couldn't be. He had sworn he had seen something red and blue flapping from behind the rise. But what out here could be red and blue?
"General?"
He looked down and accepted the canteen from his servant, taking a long gulp.
The bugle call rang out across the desert as he coughed water all over himself.
---------------------------
Of all the luck!
They had stopped, and the fools were actually making lunch!
Smith whooped loudly as the 11'th Division charged into the Mexican column. The Confederate steeds covered the ground quickly, bringing the cavalrymen within 100 yards in seconds. Shots rang out up and down the line as the Confederates let loose their own version of the Palmetto rifle, the carbine.
The cavalrymen cut through the infantrymen swiftly, barreling through the encampments, their carbines spitting out a prodigious amount of lead. The twelve shot magazines made each Confederate worth three of the Mexican infantrymen in terms of firepower. The first charge smashed the first few rows of resting soldiers, and the Confederates regrouped on the other side of the position they had just decimated for another charge.
Confusion reigned among the infantry as the peace and calm of seconds before had suddenly turned into a surprise attack leaving tens of Mexicans already dead. Those who had survived were returning fire, but sporadically, and the Mexican sergeants were trying to get firing lines formed so the muskets they carried might do some good.
Smith reined his horse in and turned around, sliding a fresh magazine into his carbine. The Mexicans were surprised as hell, but he could already see the non-coms trying to form firing lines. None of that. Raising his carbine, he sighted and fired. A Mexican lieutenant clutched his neck and fell to the ground, blood welling out and forming a black puddle in the sand.
The bugle blared charge again, and again the 11'th fell on the Mexican lines.
-------------------------
"Cavalry! Where are the damned cavalrymen?!"
De Salazar was livid. These....these Rebel scum had come from seemingly nowhere and managed to maul a whole regiment of his army, from the looks of things.
"Where are they? Velasquez! Where is that fool Muerco?"
"General Muerco is at the head of the army sir, with all the cavalry that aren't here guarding you." Velasquez smirked inside. Not like he'd send his personal guard against the Confederates. They might come after him then, and who would protect de Salazar's esteemed self then?
"Why isn't he down there?" Salazar's finger stabbed to the melee half a mile away. "Isn't that what cavalry's supposed to do, protect our flanks?"
Velasquez was silent, and de Salazar fumed, turning away and watching as the Confederates reformed and....charged again.
"The devils!" He could see, and more importantly hear the volume of fire the Southerners were putting up. He winced involuntarily as he saw a great many men in Mexican uniforms crumple to the ground. A strange banshee-like wail eminated from the enemy cavalry, and somehow de Salazar feared they would charge again, but no, they retreated now, vanishing behind the rise as quickly as they had appeared.
"Velasquez! I want to know how many men we lost. And get Muerco's men follwing those damned yanquis. We move now. We follow those fools and we end this today!"
Velasquez simply nodded and walked away to deliver de Salazar's orders. Slowly, the Mexican Army rose and began limping northward again, the cavalrymen of General Muerco leading the pursuit of the Confederate soldiers.
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Now this Weekly Showcase is a real gem. It's not only based on a scenario, but it's based on a 'what-if' portion of the actual scenario itself. I found it was easy to get caught up with the characters and the story. The Civil War has always been a pet era of mine, and Pete Longstreet a favourite, vastly underrated general. Good luck with it E_C. 
Wow, I'm shocked.
Thanks a lot LD, I didn't imagine this would be Showcase material even when it was finished, much less with less than a page in the thread. As they say south of the border (the second one), Muchas gracias.
Update forthcoming tonight.
Thanks a lot LD, I didn't imagine this would be Showcase material even when it was finished, much less with less than a page in the thread. As they say south of the border (the second one), Muchas gracias.
Update forthcoming tonight.
200 posts baby! ::does the First Lieutenant dance::
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May 17, 1875, 1135, Longstreet's positions
The courier's horse skidded as the messenger pulled his reins up sharply. A high pitched ninny cut across the waiting army, and the messenger slid from his beast, his feet seemingly already moving as he ran to find Longstreet's staff.
Longstreet himself was mounted, looking out across the field of battle from the right hill, behind the cannon. The last hour and a half had been put to good use as dirt and sand piled under the cannons had proven effective as camouflaging them from below. From an even level or from behind, of course, they were quite visible, but Longstreet didn't expect the subterfuge to have to last long anyways.
He turned just as the messenger was scrambling upwards. The young man was breathless, but he drew himself up straight and saluted.
"Reports from the battle sir. The Mexicans were stopped for lunch or something and we hit em while they was still in column. We charged through once, then again, then lit back out this way. They're after us like ticks on a hound sir, maybe three quarters of a mile behind me."
Longstreet nodded curtly to the boy as he looked back over the field. The forward regiments were dug in, the cannon were loaded and ready, the cavalry were set behind the hills for their enveloping maneuver, and the reserve infantry regiments waited in the gap. All was as ready as it could be.
"Get your horse watered son, and get some yourself. We're ready to entertain all the new friends ya'll have invited to the party."
Saluting with gusto, the young Confederate clambered back down the hill, and Longstreet scoured the horizon, looking for the telltale dust clouds of the approaching enemy.
---------------------------
1210
"Well, I'll be.....here come the cavalry John. Riding hell for leather too."
John sat up as Bob's words and watched as the cavalry division that had ridden out some two hours before came streaming back into camp. The thundering pound of their horses' hooves could be felt and heard even in this sandy morass. Splitting off, the cavalrymen slid over the defensive wedge of the infantrymen like water over a roof, quickly gaining the relative safety of the low rises where they would pause to regroup and coleasce back together.
"You know what that means Bob. Mexicans can't be too far behind." As he said the words, he stood up in the firing pit, his rifle in his right hand as he steadied it on the lip of the pit and sighted outwards. Bob did the same, as did the other infantrymen surrouding them. The slower ones were motivated by their sergeants and corporals, and soon thousands of rifle barrels were pointing towards the oncoming enemy.
John was one of the first to hear it. A dull call, then growing louder as he finally realized what could be maikg the sound. A bugle. The dull sounds of hooves striking the earth grew in volume, and the Confederates waited.
"There!"
A shout from one of the men in the forwardmost pits of the wedge, and John saw them too. The red, white, and green Mexican banner flapped crazily in the wind as thousands of Mexican cavalrymen appeared on the horison. It was obvious that they were in hot pursuit of something, or someone, and it was just as obvious that they couldn't see the Confederate positions yet. John looked down to his butternut uniform, to the dirt stains and the mud caked into it and realized what a superb color it was for fighting in the desert. He'd not want to be out here in grey like the old-timers had been.
"Steady men. Hold your fire till they're in range and everyone can join in. Don't go shooting off and telling them we're here."
The gravelly words of Sergeant Cheek barely registered in John's mind as he watched the Mexicans advancing. There were a great dela of them to be sure, but to John's mind there were thousands of them waiting just behind the ones he could see. They seemed to pick up speed as they approached, and John was suddenly cognizant of the fact that he could see the brown eagle in the center of the flag. Weren't they getting -
"Open fire!" the cry echoed across the field by lieutenants and sergeants, squad leaders and corporals. John looked down the barrel, lined the sight up on a Mexican's chest, and pulled the trigger.
The Confederate line erupted in a sudden explosion of noise and smoke, as the infantrymen showed their deadly new rifles for the first time. The cavalry charge slowed once the first bullets started hitting, but the impetus still drove them forward. The closer they got, the thicker the hailstorm of lead became, as the infantrymen fired off whole magazines into the oncoming rush in seconds.
Horses and men screamed both as the Confederates did their work, pouring fire into the slackening charge until the Mexicans could advance no more. Chaos reigned in the land in front of the firing pits, as the rate of fire did not slack off. Mexicans pitched forward off their horses, struck from three differnt directions. Horses were struck with tens of bulelts at once, pitching their riders and collapsing to the slickening ground, their legs pawing uselessly at the air.
John had no clear recollection of anything after he pulled the trigger the first time. After that his training had taken over, and he levered round after round into the rifle, spitting death at the enemy. When the magazine ran out, he loaded another one, and risked a look at Bob. He was keeping up the rate of fire as well, but he was picking his shots, each one an instrument, doing delicate and specific work, unlike John's almost mindless barrage.
Under such murderous fire, from an enemy they could barely see, much less hit, the Mexican cavalry broke. The first signs were the slowness of the last companies to move forward to press the attack, and the final straw was when a Mexican colonel, apparently the highest ranking officer left alive on the field, turned tail and ran. Seeing such examples of leadership, and the reluctance of their comrades to join them, and a disproportionately high number of their other comardes bleeding on the ground, they ran, discarding firearms, sabers, hats, canteens, anything that could slow them down. They thought only of escape. As they ran, the surviviors could hear the screams behind them, haunting and high pitched. The sound, and the fear it embodied, would follow many of them to their graves.
----------------------
Longstreet allowed himself a slight bit of satisfaction as the Mexican cavalry broke and ran. The men had performed well, better than he had expected. Turning to his adjutant, he offered a slight smirk.
"They were rather eager to get themsleves killed Major. I think we have just dealt with a great deal of our enemy's cavalry force."
"Decisively, sir." Peters replied, watching as the shattered Mexican formation crawled over the horizon.
"We will not have that advantage again. Some of that force will find the main body of the Mexicans, and they will know of our position. The next battle will be the one that decides the issue."
Peters wanted to tell the general that this was a splendid way of starting a campaign, but he bit his tongue as he watched the general looking across his field.
"Remeber that Peters. The most important battle is always the next one."
Nodding, the staff officer watched as Longstreet rode down the hill to converse with his cavalry officers one last time. The rest of the Mexican army should be here soon, and Peters found himself looking forward to the introduction.
----------------------------
May 17, 1875, 1135, Longstreet's positions
The courier's horse skidded as the messenger pulled his reins up sharply. A high pitched ninny cut across the waiting army, and the messenger slid from his beast, his feet seemingly already moving as he ran to find Longstreet's staff.
Longstreet himself was mounted, looking out across the field of battle from the right hill, behind the cannon. The last hour and a half had been put to good use as dirt and sand piled under the cannons had proven effective as camouflaging them from below. From an even level or from behind, of course, they were quite visible, but Longstreet didn't expect the subterfuge to have to last long anyways.
He turned just as the messenger was scrambling upwards. The young man was breathless, but he drew himself up straight and saluted.
"Reports from the battle sir. The Mexicans were stopped for lunch or something and we hit em while they was still in column. We charged through once, then again, then lit back out this way. They're after us like ticks on a hound sir, maybe three quarters of a mile behind me."
Longstreet nodded curtly to the boy as he looked back over the field. The forward regiments were dug in, the cannon were loaded and ready, the cavalry were set behind the hills for their enveloping maneuver, and the reserve infantry regiments waited in the gap. All was as ready as it could be.
"Get your horse watered son, and get some yourself. We're ready to entertain all the new friends ya'll have invited to the party."
Saluting with gusto, the young Confederate clambered back down the hill, and Longstreet scoured the horizon, looking for the telltale dust clouds of the approaching enemy.
---------------------------
1210
"Well, I'll be.....here come the cavalry John. Riding hell for leather too."
John sat up as Bob's words and watched as the cavalry division that had ridden out some two hours before came streaming back into camp. The thundering pound of their horses' hooves could be felt and heard even in this sandy morass. Splitting off, the cavalrymen slid over the defensive wedge of the infantrymen like water over a roof, quickly gaining the relative safety of the low rises where they would pause to regroup and coleasce back together.
"You know what that means Bob. Mexicans can't be too far behind." As he said the words, he stood up in the firing pit, his rifle in his right hand as he steadied it on the lip of the pit and sighted outwards. Bob did the same, as did the other infantrymen surrouding them. The slower ones were motivated by their sergeants and corporals, and soon thousands of rifle barrels were pointing towards the oncoming enemy.
John was one of the first to hear it. A dull call, then growing louder as he finally realized what could be maikg the sound. A bugle. The dull sounds of hooves striking the earth grew in volume, and the Confederates waited.
"There!"
A shout from one of the men in the forwardmost pits of the wedge, and John saw them too. The red, white, and green Mexican banner flapped crazily in the wind as thousands of Mexican cavalrymen appeared on the horison. It was obvious that they were in hot pursuit of something, or someone, and it was just as obvious that they couldn't see the Confederate positions yet. John looked down to his butternut uniform, to the dirt stains and the mud caked into it and realized what a superb color it was for fighting in the desert. He'd not want to be out here in grey like the old-timers had been.
"Steady men. Hold your fire till they're in range and everyone can join in. Don't go shooting off and telling them we're here."
The gravelly words of Sergeant Cheek barely registered in John's mind as he watched the Mexicans advancing. There were a great dela of them to be sure, but to John's mind there were thousands of them waiting just behind the ones he could see. They seemed to pick up speed as they approached, and John was suddenly cognizant of the fact that he could see the brown eagle in the center of the flag. Weren't they getting -
"Open fire!" the cry echoed across the field by lieutenants and sergeants, squad leaders and corporals. John looked down the barrel, lined the sight up on a Mexican's chest, and pulled the trigger.
The Confederate line erupted in a sudden explosion of noise and smoke, as the infantrymen showed their deadly new rifles for the first time. The cavalry charge slowed once the first bullets started hitting, but the impetus still drove them forward. The closer they got, the thicker the hailstorm of lead became, as the infantrymen fired off whole magazines into the oncoming rush in seconds.
Horses and men screamed both as the Confederates did their work, pouring fire into the slackening charge until the Mexicans could advance no more. Chaos reigned in the land in front of the firing pits, as the rate of fire did not slack off. Mexicans pitched forward off their horses, struck from three differnt directions. Horses were struck with tens of bulelts at once, pitching their riders and collapsing to the slickening ground, their legs pawing uselessly at the air.
John had no clear recollection of anything after he pulled the trigger the first time. After that his training had taken over, and he levered round after round into the rifle, spitting death at the enemy. When the magazine ran out, he loaded another one, and risked a look at Bob. He was keeping up the rate of fire as well, but he was picking his shots, each one an instrument, doing delicate and specific work, unlike John's almost mindless barrage.
Under such murderous fire, from an enemy they could barely see, much less hit, the Mexican cavalry broke. The first signs were the slowness of the last companies to move forward to press the attack, and the final straw was when a Mexican colonel, apparently the highest ranking officer left alive on the field, turned tail and ran. Seeing such examples of leadership, and the reluctance of their comrades to join them, and a disproportionately high number of their other comardes bleeding on the ground, they ran, discarding firearms, sabers, hats, canteens, anything that could slow them down. They thought only of escape. As they ran, the surviviors could hear the screams behind them, haunting and high pitched. The sound, and the fear it embodied, would follow many of them to their graves.
----------------------
Longstreet allowed himself a slight bit of satisfaction as the Mexican cavalry broke and ran. The men had performed well, better than he had expected. Turning to his adjutant, he offered a slight smirk.
"They were rather eager to get themsleves killed Major. I think we have just dealt with a great deal of our enemy's cavalry force."
"Decisively, sir." Peters replied, watching as the shattered Mexican formation crawled over the horizon.
"We will not have that advantage again. Some of that force will find the main body of the Mexicans, and they will know of our position. The next battle will be the one that decides the issue."
Peters wanted to tell the general that this was a splendid way of starting a campaign, but he bit his tongue as he watched the general looking across his field.
"Remeber that Peters. The most important battle is always the next one."
Nodding, the staff officer watched as Longstreet rode down the hill to converse with his cavalry officers one last time. The rest of the Mexican army should be here soon, and Peters found himself looking forward to the introduction.
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EC, This is extremely well written, I've been glued to my screen for almost an hour. The showcase is well deserved.
I must admit I have only a passing knowledge of the US civil war, apart from the old blue and grey games, but this makes me want to know more.
I have one question, what is special about the AoN scenario? couldn't you get htis from playing US in an ordinary scenario?
Oh and congrats on the 200 posts, I had hoped I would be beating both you and the_Hawk to it in the FC. I guess your on AAR turns the trick? (It probably is the right place to have your anniversaries? )
This has gone straight to my morning to do list right next to coffee and the FC
V
I must admit I have only a passing knowledge of the US civil war, apart from the old blue and grey games, but this makes me want to know more.
I have one question, what is special about the AoN scenario? couldn't you get htis from playing US in an ordinary scenario?
Oh and congrats on the 200 posts, I had hoped I would be beating both you and the_Hawk to it in the FC. I guess your on AAR turns the trick?
(It probably is the right place to have your anniversaries? )This has gone straight to my morning to do list right next to coffee and the FC
V
shawng1: Hey, I'm just happy to be moving up the ladder.
Valdemar: Thanks very much for the kind words, much appreciated. The AoN runs from 1820 to 1914, so it's after the regular EU2 timeframe. The Confederacy revolted in 1860, and the war began in 1861, so it's about 40 years too late for regular Europa to cover.
Indeed, I never would've reached 200 this quickly if it wasn't for this AAR. I knew I was getting closer but didn't realize how close till I was at 199.
Glad you're enjoying this in the mornings, and thanks for reading.
Valdemar: Thanks very much for the kind words, much appreciated. The AoN runs from 1820 to 1914, so it's after the regular EU2 timeframe. The Confederacy revolted in 1860, and the war began in 1861, so it's about 40 years too late for regular Europa to cover.
Indeed, I never would've reached 200 this quickly if it wasn't for this AAR. I knew I was getting closer but didn't realize how close till I was at 199.
Glad you're enjoying this in the mornings, and thanks for reading.
Congratulations on your promotion 1st LT. EmprorCoopinius
Also congrats on your weekly showcase, well deserved!
Also congrats on your weekly showcase, well deserved!
Estonian: Many thanks. Hope your Confederate adventure is going well.
------------------------
May 17, 1875 - 1220, Longstreet's positions
The thing about it that got to John first was the smell.
Intellectually, he supposed he knew that death would smell bad all along. His experience with death up to this point however, had had none of the newness, none of the violence of this experience here.
Blood ran over the sand in front of Longstreet's firing pits, drying and blackening in the noontime sun. The bodies of horses and men both were spread out across the line for as far as John could see. The moans of the wonded, and the screams of the mad intermingled as the ringing in John's ears subsided.
Shaking his head, his nose wrinkled at the awful smell, he loaded another magazine into the Palmetto, checking the action to make sure no sand or debris had fouled it. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, sending a silent curse to the sun hanging high above the battlefield. Finally satisfied with his weapon, he set it against the side of the pit and took another sip from his half full canteen, splashing a little on his face to try and get some of the grime off.
Bob still leaned forward in the pit, his rifle already reloaded and ready, his eyes already on the horizon waiting for the next wave of the enemy.
"Sure was something else."
Bob grunted, then turned to look at John.
"My daddy fought the Mexicans the first go-round. His stories never had stuff like....this in 'em."
Bob's vague gesture covering the remnants of the Mexican cavalry made John nod in agreement. Not that his father had ever told him stories about the war...John hadn't seen his father in seven years. Just the total....unexpectedness of what war really was about struck the young man.
"How many more Mexicans you figure are out there?"
Bob shrugged, turning his head halfway back towards the line.
"Ain't no telling till they get here I guess. That was as least as many cavalry men as we sent out after 'em, so I'd say probably even numbers for the next round."
John simply grunted as he screwed the cap back on his canteen and set it down. No point in speculating, he supposed.
He'd know the truth soon enough.
----------------------
1230
The colonel's faculties were quickly failing him. De Salazar supposed it could have something to do with the three bullets in him, but he needed information from this sorry excuse for an officer before he bled to death.
"How many men were waiting for you in the ambush?" de Salazar's tone was light, almost pleasant, but the threatening undertone was evident to even the wounded man.
"I...I cannot say for sure General. We pursued the yanqui cavalry, and watched as they sought shelter behind some low rises. We rode hard -"
The man's speech was interrupted as he coughed, a trickle of blood running down his chin that was quickly wiped away.
"We....rode hard, and suddenly they were firing...they had dug pits...and their uniforms were tan, and we could not see them. There must have been...thousands.....they cut down our charge -"
Again a spasm of coughing, and de Salazar turned away, disgusted with this wreck of a man.
General Muerco had certainly pursued the opponent with gusto....but also with blind stupidity that had gotten him, and nearly everyone else killed. Stragglers from the division de Salazar had detached told of a whole host of Confederates lying in wait. He was not yet sure of the total, but at least five hundred of his finest cavalrymen now lay dead some half a mile to the north.
Stalking from the medical wagon, de Salazar remounted his white charger and waved Velasquez forward.
"The enemy is half a mile to the north, and dug in very well between two rises, according to our intrepid colonel." He snorted at his own wit. "We shall advance along their entire front, and presse them against the rises, where we shall exterminate them. Double time, now."
Colonel Velazquez nodded and rode forward, and de Salazar grunted in approval as the pace quickened. He had had quite enough of this Confederate. He looked forward to the battle, and the victory he knew was waiting right around the corner.
------------------------
1245
"Enemy on the horizon!"
Longstreet squinted into the distance, and took the prooffered telescope with a word of thanks. The Mexican lines suddenly leapt from miniscule to mid sized as Longstreet peered south.
"I'd put their numbers at about twenty five, thirty thousand," Peters commented from Longstreet's side.
"Closer to thirty, I'd say Major. He appears to have had some communication with his erstwhile cavalry. He intends to advance along the whole length of our line. His cavalry...it looks as if he plans to hold them in reserve, to exploit any breakthroughs. Heh."
Longstreet lowered the telescope, handing it back to his staff officer.
"Put a regiment of cavalry on each wing, hanging back about a hundred yards. Move them away from the rises about another hundred yards laterally, and have them keep a lookout. I want to know if those cavalry are really meant to flank us."
Peters nodded, and turned and spoke to a lieutenant who quickly slid/ran down the rise.
"We wait for their advance, and then we open up with the cannon, once they're within four hundred yards. Let them engage the infantry, wait until they've committed, then we slide around behind them and cut them off."
Longstreet watched as the Mexicans crept closer, now easily visible to the naked eye, but still small. Their brightly colored banners flapped as the infantrymen marched forward like a human wave.
He sat, looking out across the desert at his first opponent in 13 years, and waited for his blow.
------------------------
Resolution for the battle tomorrow, I promise.
------------------------
May 17, 1875 - 1220, Longstreet's positions
The thing about it that got to John first was the smell.
Intellectually, he supposed he knew that death would smell bad all along. His experience with death up to this point however, had had none of the newness, none of the violence of this experience here.
Blood ran over the sand in front of Longstreet's firing pits, drying and blackening in the noontime sun. The bodies of horses and men both were spread out across the line for as far as John could see. The moans of the wonded, and the screams of the mad intermingled as the ringing in John's ears subsided.
Shaking his head, his nose wrinkled at the awful smell, he loaded another magazine into the Palmetto, checking the action to make sure no sand or debris had fouled it. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, sending a silent curse to the sun hanging high above the battlefield. Finally satisfied with his weapon, he set it against the side of the pit and took another sip from his half full canteen, splashing a little on his face to try and get some of the grime off.
Bob still leaned forward in the pit, his rifle already reloaded and ready, his eyes already on the horizon waiting for the next wave of the enemy.
"Sure was something else."
Bob grunted, then turned to look at John.
"My daddy fought the Mexicans the first go-round. His stories never had stuff like....this in 'em."
Bob's vague gesture covering the remnants of the Mexican cavalry made John nod in agreement. Not that his father had ever told him stories about the war...John hadn't seen his father in seven years. Just the total....unexpectedness of what war really was about struck the young man.
"How many more Mexicans you figure are out there?"
Bob shrugged, turning his head halfway back towards the line.
"Ain't no telling till they get here I guess. That was as least as many cavalry men as we sent out after 'em, so I'd say probably even numbers for the next round."
John simply grunted as he screwed the cap back on his canteen and set it down. No point in speculating, he supposed.
He'd know the truth soon enough.
----------------------
1230
The colonel's faculties were quickly failing him. De Salazar supposed it could have something to do with the three bullets in him, but he needed information from this sorry excuse for an officer before he bled to death.
"How many men were waiting for you in the ambush?" de Salazar's tone was light, almost pleasant, but the threatening undertone was evident to even the wounded man.
"I...I cannot say for sure General. We pursued the yanqui cavalry, and watched as they sought shelter behind some low rises. We rode hard -"
The man's speech was interrupted as he coughed, a trickle of blood running down his chin that was quickly wiped away.
"We....rode hard, and suddenly they were firing...they had dug pits...and their uniforms were tan, and we could not see them. There must have been...thousands.....they cut down our charge -"
Again a spasm of coughing, and de Salazar turned away, disgusted with this wreck of a man.
General Muerco had certainly pursued the opponent with gusto....but also with blind stupidity that had gotten him, and nearly everyone else killed. Stragglers from the division de Salazar had detached told of a whole host of Confederates lying in wait. He was not yet sure of the total, but at least five hundred of his finest cavalrymen now lay dead some half a mile to the north.
Stalking from the medical wagon, de Salazar remounted his white charger and waved Velasquez forward.
"The enemy is half a mile to the north, and dug in very well between two rises, according to our intrepid colonel." He snorted at his own wit. "We shall advance along their entire front, and presse them against the rises, where we shall exterminate them. Double time, now."
Colonel Velazquez nodded and rode forward, and de Salazar grunted in approval as the pace quickened. He had had quite enough of this Confederate. He looked forward to the battle, and the victory he knew was waiting right around the corner.
------------------------
1245
"Enemy on the horizon!"
Longstreet squinted into the distance, and took the prooffered telescope with a word of thanks. The Mexican lines suddenly leapt from miniscule to mid sized as Longstreet peered south.
"I'd put their numbers at about twenty five, thirty thousand," Peters commented from Longstreet's side.
"Closer to thirty, I'd say Major. He appears to have had some communication with his erstwhile cavalry. He intends to advance along the whole length of our line. His cavalry...it looks as if he plans to hold them in reserve, to exploit any breakthroughs. Heh."
Longstreet lowered the telescope, handing it back to his staff officer.
"Put a regiment of cavalry on each wing, hanging back about a hundred yards. Move them away from the rises about another hundred yards laterally, and have them keep a lookout. I want to know if those cavalry are really meant to flank us."
Peters nodded, and turned and spoke to a lieutenant who quickly slid/ran down the rise.
"We wait for their advance, and then we open up with the cannon, once they're within four hundred yards. Let them engage the infantry, wait until they've committed, then we slide around behind them and cut them off."
Longstreet watched as the Mexicans crept closer, now easily visible to the naked eye, but still small. Their brightly colored banners flapped as the infantrymen marched forward like a human wave.
He sat, looking out across the desert at his first opponent in 13 years, and waited for his blow.
------------------------
Resolution for the battle tomorrow, I promise.
EC, now I'm halfway through my first cop of coffee and you leave me hanging here untill tonoght (my time?) How on earth am I to get through the day?
V
V
V: Hehe, sorry. This update's coming a little late (2:47 am for me), but hopefully you'll still be able to give it a read. Promise more posting tomorrow.
------------------------------
May 17, 1875 - 1245, Longstreet's positions
General de Salazar's eyes roamed over the dispositions of the yanqui invaders. They held the gap between two rises, their line anchored by the dual hills. His telescope roamed the positions. No signs of any field guns. No signs of their cavalry either.
"General de Salazar, shall we order the cavalry to encircle the enemy's lines?" Velasquez's eye assessed the enemy position as his general did. If they could release the cavalry, they could roll the enemy's flank and -
"No. We do not know where their riders have gone. They have already taken advantage of our flanks being bare already, they will not do it again. The cavalry protects our sides and our route of march."
Velasquez sighed inaudibly, and nodded. He could see the men getting ready, sergeants and non-coms dressing the lines. When all was ready, an officer rode to de Salazar's side, nodding and saluting the general.
"Forward! For Mexico!"
De Salazar's words rang out, and the drums began pounding out their rhythmetic beat as the Mexican army marched forward. The men kept their formation rather well to Velasquez's eye, remaining as he was with de Salazar and his command staff a safe distance away. The sun beat down as the Mexican lines marched closer to the Confederate line, no more than 300 yeards from them now. Two hundred fifty. Two hundred.
A dull *whoomp* caused Velasquez's eye to snatch upwards from the advancing Mexicans and look at the rises behind the Confederate position. He was just in time to see a long line of grey puffs belch out of the innocuous looking hills.
"Cannon. They have cannon."
The observation spilled out of his mouth as the first shells landed amongst the Mexican lines. From the distance they were firing they could hardly miss, not to mention the height adavantage enjoyed by the gunners. Velasquez winced as a swath of soldiers were cut down by the cannon fire, a large empty column in the previously filled out line. The *whoomps* of the Confederate shells picked up in frequency, and the effects on the Mexican lines were beginning to tell, as reserves struggled over the bodies of their comrades to fill the gaps.
The men moved faster now, no doubt from the command of de Salazar, whom Velasquez was doing his best to ignore right now. The lines crept closer to the yanqui line, and the grey puffs continued to belch from the Confederate guns. Velasquez figured the distance at a hundred yards. Soon the massed musketry of the Mexicans could finally be brought to bear.
The crackle of Confederate rifle fire became audible as the front row of Mexicans began the first step of their loading process. They knelt, to allow the second line to deliver fire at the same time. Velasquez watched as the Mexican lines methodically loaded and brought their weapons to bear. The grey haze of smoke from Confederate fire was making ti harder and harder to see the details of the battle below. The volume of defensive fire kept rising as the Mexican advance began applying pressure against the whole defensive line. Surely they could not stand against this!
The first volley of Mexican fire rang out across the center, but it sounded weak, diffused to Velasquez. Had some of them fired individually, not in volley? Snatching a telescope from one of de Salazar's aides, he looked through the magnifying glass.
"Madre de dios!"
He almost dropped the telescope as he watched the battle. The reason the first volley had seem so diffused was that only thirty or forty men had been alive to fire. The second line was having even mroe trouble as Confederate bullets picked the formation apart. The ragged volley that came from the second rank was worse than the first, and Velasquez doubted they were doing any real damage to the Confederates.
"Forward! They msut move forward! Fix bayonets and rout them from their holes like the rats they are!"
Velasquez almost growled at de Salazar's comment. Perhaps the other wings were doing better....but no, he saw the right wing dissolving under tenacious fire, and the left hadn't even gotten a second volley off yet. Even as he watched, Velasquez saw tens of soldiers being hit, all but helpless to do anything about it. The fire the Confederates were putting up had not slackened, had in fact increased in volume and intensity the closer the Mexican lines had come. Velasquez knew that no soliders could stand against such withering fire. If this continued, their entire force could be spent on these lines.
"Genral de Salazar, we cannot push the Confederates back. They are too well dug in, we will bleed ourselves white if we keep this up."
De Salazar turned to Velasquez, a dangerous look in his eye.
"Do not question my orders, Colonel. We will advance, and we will press this rabble into those rises, and we will kill them! If I have to do it myself, we will drive them from this field!"
Turning to the captain commanding his detachment of bodyguards, de Salazar puffed himself up and looked at Velasquez.
"I am going forward to exort our men to bravery. They will see me, and they will fight harder, for the glory of Mexico, and me! Come, Colonel."
Velasquez rather liked the position he was in, but knew that de Salazar didn't issure requests, only orders. Muttering, he spurred his mount forward.
The small party rode closer to the battelfield, close enough so that Velasquez could make out the Mexican regimental standards falling in the dirt as their formations melted under the enemy defense.
De Salazar paused, looking over the battlefield, and Velasquez could not see how the general deluded himself into thinking victory was within his grasp. The three wings were now nothing more than especially thick lines, with more and mroe men dropping by the second. Another ragged volley rang out from the middle, and a weak yell of "Forward!", but Velasquez watched as the last man charging pitched forward dead fifty yards from the Confederate lines.
"Sir, if we release the cavalry now, we may still be able to roll their flanks. It is -"
"Silence Colonel! I've had about enough of your imprudence. The cavalry holds our flanks and our line of march." A small *tfft* of sand brought the attention of the party back to the battle.
"They're shooting at us General. We should remove you back to safety."
"Nonsense, Captain. They couldn't hit an elephant at that dist-"
Velasquez turned and watched as General Antonin de Salazar slumped out of his saddle, blood flowing from a large hole in his forehead. He looked at the captain, and they both nodded, turning tail and riding back towards the cavalry, and safety.
----------------------------
"The Mexican infantry reserve has been committed."
Longstreet peered through the telescope as the last of the Mexican regiments marched to the middle. Now that the enemy had closed, the guns had quit firing, and the relative silence gave Longstreet time to think. Whoever that general was, he was determined, Longstreet would give him that. More than determined to batter his head against a brick wall, until one or the other gave.
"Any sign of their cavalry?"
"No sir, they're still behind the main body, presumabluy holding their flanks."
Longstreet snorted at that. "Their flanks are half a mile away from them."
Peters simply shrugged, being no party to the thinking of the Mexican command.
"Very well. Signal the cavalry to ride. The infantry reserves to advance through the center."
Peters saluted and turned away, giving the necessary orders. Within moments, the sound of horses' hooves added a low rumble to the sounds of battle as the six thousand men of the Confederate riders swept round the battle lines, riding south quickly as they drew a distended noose around the remainder of the Mexican forces. The infantry advanced quickly, men running, ducking and firing in a staggered wave through the middle of the defenses. The added fire quickly broke the Mexican attack on the left, and the remainder of their men broke and fled, most not realzing they wre running right into the arms of the cavalry now riding hard north again right into the face of the Mexican retreat.
It was a slaughter. The attacking infantry quickly pivoted right as they broke clear of the defensive lines, and charged into the flanks of the center Mexican formation. Wild rebel yells filled the air as the cavalry, still thundering northwards slammed into the rear. Attacked from three different directions, the center broke, the formation simply dissolving as the attackers rolled over them easily. The last Mexican formation broke as the defenders rose from their firing pits and charged as well, surrouding the final enemy resisters on the field. A last ragged few shots were all the Mexicans could muster as they were slaughtered to a man.
Longstreet watched as his men rolled up the Mexican lines, and turned, navigating the tricky descent downwards. Below, a company of cavalrymen waited, assuming a protective formation around Longstreet and his staff as they gathered behind the rise.
A chorus of rebel yells filled the air as the firing died down, finally coming to a stop as the Southerners realized all resistance had ended. Bodies littered the field from one end of the line to the other, scattered across the desert. Longstreet's horse picked its' way through the firing pits and snorted as he stepped onto the battlefield. Colonel Smith saluted and rode forward.
"Excellent execution Colonel. The Mexican cavalry?"
"Gone sir. We encountered 'em on our southward swing, but they had already decided to pack it up and head home. Just abandoned these poor bastards to die."
Longstreet grunted as he looked around at the carnage he had wrought. Smith looked at the General, then kept on with his report.
"General Calhoun's on the left sir, bringing in the flanking regiments you sent out. Any orders?"
"Not right now Colonel. We're going to get those cannon down, which will probably take quite a while, and then we're headed south."
"To Tampico." Smith looked boyishly eager, an expression Longstreet found amusing considering the Colonel's age.
"Ulitmately, yes. but first we march to Saltillo, to the city of San Luis. The fortress there is old and antiquated...I want to knock them out of the war before they get a chance to get into it. You have two hours Colonel, then we march. Good work today."
Smith saluted, and Longstreet returned it, watching as Smith rode off and began reforming his regiment for the march. He looked south, in the direction of Tampico, and San Luis.
His eye, though, was on Mexico City.
----------------------
Finally, resolution to the battle. Hurrah! Thoughts, comments?
------------------------------
May 17, 1875 - 1245, Longstreet's positions
General de Salazar's eyes roamed over the dispositions of the yanqui invaders. They held the gap between two rises, their line anchored by the dual hills. His telescope roamed the positions. No signs of any field guns. No signs of their cavalry either.
"General de Salazar, shall we order the cavalry to encircle the enemy's lines?" Velasquez's eye assessed the enemy position as his general did. If they could release the cavalry, they could roll the enemy's flank and -
"No. We do not know where their riders have gone. They have already taken advantage of our flanks being bare already, they will not do it again. The cavalry protects our sides and our route of march."
Velasquez sighed inaudibly, and nodded. He could see the men getting ready, sergeants and non-coms dressing the lines. When all was ready, an officer rode to de Salazar's side, nodding and saluting the general.
"Forward! For Mexico!"
De Salazar's words rang out, and the drums began pounding out their rhythmetic beat as the Mexican army marched forward. The men kept their formation rather well to Velasquez's eye, remaining as he was with de Salazar and his command staff a safe distance away. The sun beat down as the Mexican lines marched closer to the Confederate line, no more than 300 yeards from them now. Two hundred fifty. Two hundred.
A dull *whoomp* caused Velasquez's eye to snatch upwards from the advancing Mexicans and look at the rises behind the Confederate position. He was just in time to see a long line of grey puffs belch out of the innocuous looking hills.
"Cannon. They have cannon."
The observation spilled out of his mouth as the first shells landed amongst the Mexican lines. From the distance they were firing they could hardly miss, not to mention the height adavantage enjoyed by the gunners. Velasquez winced as a swath of soldiers were cut down by the cannon fire, a large empty column in the previously filled out line. The *whoomps* of the Confederate shells picked up in frequency, and the effects on the Mexican lines were beginning to tell, as reserves struggled over the bodies of their comrades to fill the gaps.
The men moved faster now, no doubt from the command of de Salazar, whom Velasquez was doing his best to ignore right now. The lines crept closer to the yanqui line, and the grey puffs continued to belch from the Confederate guns. Velasquez figured the distance at a hundred yards. Soon the massed musketry of the Mexicans could finally be brought to bear.
The crackle of Confederate rifle fire became audible as the front row of Mexicans began the first step of their loading process. They knelt, to allow the second line to deliver fire at the same time. Velasquez watched as the Mexican lines methodically loaded and brought their weapons to bear. The grey haze of smoke from Confederate fire was making ti harder and harder to see the details of the battle below. The volume of defensive fire kept rising as the Mexican advance began applying pressure against the whole defensive line. Surely they could not stand against this!
The first volley of Mexican fire rang out across the center, but it sounded weak, diffused to Velasquez. Had some of them fired individually, not in volley? Snatching a telescope from one of de Salazar's aides, he looked through the magnifying glass.
"Madre de dios!"
He almost dropped the telescope as he watched the battle. The reason the first volley had seem so diffused was that only thirty or forty men had been alive to fire. The second line was having even mroe trouble as Confederate bullets picked the formation apart. The ragged volley that came from the second rank was worse than the first, and Velasquez doubted they were doing any real damage to the Confederates.
"Forward! They msut move forward! Fix bayonets and rout them from their holes like the rats they are!"
Velasquez almost growled at de Salazar's comment. Perhaps the other wings were doing better....but no, he saw the right wing dissolving under tenacious fire, and the left hadn't even gotten a second volley off yet. Even as he watched, Velasquez saw tens of soldiers being hit, all but helpless to do anything about it. The fire the Confederates were putting up had not slackened, had in fact increased in volume and intensity the closer the Mexican lines had come. Velasquez knew that no soliders could stand against such withering fire. If this continued, their entire force could be spent on these lines.
"Genral de Salazar, we cannot push the Confederates back. They are too well dug in, we will bleed ourselves white if we keep this up."
De Salazar turned to Velasquez, a dangerous look in his eye.
"Do not question my orders, Colonel. We will advance, and we will press this rabble into those rises, and we will kill them! If I have to do it myself, we will drive them from this field!"
Turning to the captain commanding his detachment of bodyguards, de Salazar puffed himself up and looked at Velasquez.
"I am going forward to exort our men to bravery. They will see me, and they will fight harder, for the glory of Mexico, and me! Come, Colonel."
Velasquez rather liked the position he was in, but knew that de Salazar didn't issure requests, only orders. Muttering, he spurred his mount forward.
The small party rode closer to the battelfield, close enough so that Velasquez could make out the Mexican regimental standards falling in the dirt as their formations melted under the enemy defense.
De Salazar paused, looking over the battlefield, and Velasquez could not see how the general deluded himself into thinking victory was within his grasp. The three wings were now nothing more than especially thick lines, with more and mroe men dropping by the second. Another ragged volley rang out from the middle, and a weak yell of "Forward!", but Velasquez watched as the last man charging pitched forward dead fifty yards from the Confederate lines.
"Sir, if we release the cavalry now, we may still be able to roll their flanks. It is -"
"Silence Colonel! I've had about enough of your imprudence. The cavalry holds our flanks and our line of march." A small *tfft* of sand brought the attention of the party back to the battle.
"They're shooting at us General. We should remove you back to safety."
"Nonsense, Captain. They couldn't hit an elephant at that dist-"
Velasquez turned and watched as General Antonin de Salazar slumped out of his saddle, blood flowing from a large hole in his forehead. He looked at the captain, and they both nodded, turning tail and riding back towards the cavalry, and safety.
----------------------------
"The Mexican infantry reserve has been committed."
Longstreet peered through the telescope as the last of the Mexican regiments marched to the middle. Now that the enemy had closed, the guns had quit firing, and the relative silence gave Longstreet time to think. Whoever that general was, he was determined, Longstreet would give him that. More than determined to batter his head against a brick wall, until one or the other gave.
"Any sign of their cavalry?"
"No sir, they're still behind the main body, presumabluy holding their flanks."
Longstreet snorted at that. "Their flanks are half a mile away from them."
Peters simply shrugged, being no party to the thinking of the Mexican command.
"Very well. Signal the cavalry to ride. The infantry reserves to advance through the center."
Peters saluted and turned away, giving the necessary orders. Within moments, the sound of horses' hooves added a low rumble to the sounds of battle as the six thousand men of the Confederate riders swept round the battle lines, riding south quickly as they drew a distended noose around the remainder of the Mexican forces. The infantry advanced quickly, men running, ducking and firing in a staggered wave through the middle of the defenses. The added fire quickly broke the Mexican attack on the left, and the remainder of their men broke and fled, most not realzing they wre running right into the arms of the cavalry now riding hard north again right into the face of the Mexican retreat.
It was a slaughter. The attacking infantry quickly pivoted right as they broke clear of the defensive lines, and charged into the flanks of the center Mexican formation. Wild rebel yells filled the air as the cavalry, still thundering northwards slammed into the rear. Attacked from three different directions, the center broke, the formation simply dissolving as the attackers rolled over them easily. The last Mexican formation broke as the defenders rose from their firing pits and charged as well, surrouding the final enemy resisters on the field. A last ragged few shots were all the Mexicans could muster as they were slaughtered to a man.
Longstreet watched as his men rolled up the Mexican lines, and turned, navigating the tricky descent downwards. Below, a company of cavalrymen waited, assuming a protective formation around Longstreet and his staff as they gathered behind the rise.
A chorus of rebel yells filled the air as the firing died down, finally coming to a stop as the Southerners realized all resistance had ended. Bodies littered the field from one end of the line to the other, scattered across the desert. Longstreet's horse picked its' way through the firing pits and snorted as he stepped onto the battlefield. Colonel Smith saluted and rode forward.
"Excellent execution Colonel. The Mexican cavalry?"
"Gone sir. We encountered 'em on our southward swing, but they had already decided to pack it up and head home. Just abandoned these poor bastards to die."
Longstreet grunted as he looked around at the carnage he had wrought. Smith looked at the General, then kept on with his report.
"General Calhoun's on the left sir, bringing in the flanking regiments you sent out. Any orders?"
"Not right now Colonel. We're going to get those cannon down, which will probably take quite a while, and then we're headed south."
"To Tampico." Smith looked boyishly eager, an expression Longstreet found amusing considering the Colonel's age.
"Ulitmately, yes. but first we march to Saltillo, to the city of San Luis. The fortress there is old and antiquated...I want to knock them out of the war before they get a chance to get into it. You have two hours Colonel, then we march. Good work today."
Smith saluted, and Longstreet returned it, watching as Smith rode off and began reforming his regiment for the march. He looked south, in the direction of Tampico, and San Luis.
His eye, though, was on Mexico City.
----------------------
Finally, resolution to the battle. Hurrah! Thoughts, comments?
EC,
A very interesting read so far. As a Southern boy, I enjoy your description of the Southern officers.
A sip of a mint julip and then back to battle.....
A very interesting read so far. As a Southern boy, I enjoy your description of the Southern officers.
A sip of a mint julip and then back to battle.....
I found it brilliant, even if I had to wait 36 hours for it
It was masterfully done, I had absolutely no troulbe identifying positions and manouvers, which IMO is the most difficult part about battles.
Perhaps you should copy it into the battel thread that Eochaid (sp?) has made?
Keep going
V
It was masterfully done, I had absolutely no troulbe identifying positions and manouvers, which IMO is the most difficult part about battles.
Perhaps you should copy it into the battel thread that Eochaid (sp?) has made?
Keep going
V
Stroph1: Thanks for the kind words, and thanks for stopping by. As a Southern boy myself it's been great fun to write this.
V: Thanks again for your kind words. I had hoped the battle would be clear from the way I described it, I'm glad it came off well.
Now for a little bit of a filler post.
--------------------------------
excepts taken from 'The Confederate Century: 1861-1961', by Dr. Richard Powell, University of Virginia Press, Charlottesville, Virginia, 1991.
"The immediate reason for war with Mexico in 1875 was quite clear: the refusal of Mexico to allow Confederate agents access to their offices in the Veracruz stock exchange, and the seizure of all Confederate assets in said exchange.
The motivation for such a vigorous prosecution of the war, however, was influenced by many different factors. The desire for ports on the Pacific certainly added fuel to the fire, as did the small but vocal segment of the Confederate Congress espousing the 'manifest destiny' of the Confederacy to stretch across the continent. At work as well was the personal opinion of President P.G.T. Beauregard, who was known to have strong anti-Mexican attitudes.
The political conditions of the Confederacy at this time also had an influence on the policy of the war. Beauregard's nascent political party, known today as the Western Party, was at the time simply a convenient alliance of politicians from Louisiana, Arkansas, Texas and Mississippi who had worked together on Beauregard's campaign, political parties as such not yet being a feature of Confederate political life. Beauregard saw the opportunity in war with Mexico to bind all these western politicians into one party, a party based on western expansion, control of the Gulf Coast/Mexican trade, and a general anti-Mexican policy. A victorious war was thought to be all the endorsement a candidate of Beauregard's party would need for the Presidential election of 1880.
The war was in many ways a western war. The vast majority of regiments raised for the war, over 80%, were of men from Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana. The officers likewise followed the trend, with the most famous example being of course General Braxton Bragg, a native of Louisiana. The four years of the conflict cost Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana some fifty thousand men. The remaining twenty five thousand casualties were from the rest of the CSA.
The first months of the war brought stunning victories, as the three pronged Confederate invasion of Mexico began, spearheaded by General James Longstreet. Armies under Generals Bragg and Forrest followed, and by August most of northern Mexico was under Confederate control.
The quick victories produced optimism that the boys might be home for Thanksgiving, Christmas if things hit a snag. Optimism and enthusiam ran high in the Confederacy.
The war, however, had not been won with the fall of a few barren stretches of Mexican land. The second phase of the war was a stark contrast to the first heady months, and would begin in October 1875 with the first Mexican counterattacks."
V: Thanks again for your kind words. I had hoped the battle would be clear from the way I described it, I'm glad it came off well.
Now for a little bit of a filler post.
--------------------------------
excepts taken from 'The Confederate Century: 1861-1961', by Dr. Richard Powell, University of Virginia Press, Charlottesville, Virginia, 1991.
"The immediate reason for war with Mexico in 1875 was quite clear: the refusal of Mexico to allow Confederate agents access to their offices in the Veracruz stock exchange, and the seizure of all Confederate assets in said exchange.
The motivation for such a vigorous prosecution of the war, however, was influenced by many different factors. The desire for ports on the Pacific certainly added fuel to the fire, as did the small but vocal segment of the Confederate Congress espousing the 'manifest destiny' of the Confederacy to stretch across the continent. At work as well was the personal opinion of President P.G.T. Beauregard, who was known to have strong anti-Mexican attitudes.
The political conditions of the Confederacy at this time also had an influence on the policy of the war. Beauregard's nascent political party, known today as the Western Party, was at the time simply a convenient alliance of politicians from Louisiana, Arkansas, Texas and Mississippi who had worked together on Beauregard's campaign, political parties as such not yet being a feature of Confederate political life. Beauregard saw the opportunity in war with Mexico to bind all these western politicians into one party, a party based on western expansion, control of the Gulf Coast/Mexican trade, and a general anti-Mexican policy. A victorious war was thought to be all the endorsement a candidate of Beauregard's party would need for the Presidential election of 1880.
The war was in many ways a western war. The vast majority of regiments raised for the war, over 80%, were of men from Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana. The officers likewise followed the trend, with the most famous example being of course General Braxton Bragg, a native of Louisiana. The four years of the conflict cost Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana some fifty thousand men. The remaining twenty five thousand casualties were from the rest of the CSA.
The first months of the war brought stunning victories, as the three pronged Confederate invasion of Mexico began, spearheaded by General James Longstreet. Armies under Generals Bragg and Forrest followed, and by August most of northern Mexico was under Confederate control.
The quick victories produced optimism that the boys might be home for Thanksgiving, Christmas if things hit a snag. Optimism and enthusiam ran high in the Confederacy.
The war, however, had not been won with the fall of a few barren stretches of Mexican land. The second phase of the war was a stark contrast to the first heady months, and would begin in October 1875 with the first Mexican counterattacks."
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Onward son's of Mexico! Send those redneck rebel hicks to hell!
Oh yea by the way, axcellent AAR EmprorCoopinius. I'm throughly enjoying this one.
Oh yea by the way, axcellent AAR EmprorCoopinius. I'm throughly enjoying this one.
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Estonian: I thought I could smell damnyankee from here.
Ricobirth: Thanks, glad you decided to stop by. And to be fair, they're not ALL redneck hicks. Just the Texans.
My friend's coming into town, but I'll still have time for an update tonight after I iron out a few story wrinkles. Thanks to everyone who's been reading.
Ricobirth: Thanks, glad you decided to stop by. And to be fair, they're not ALL redneck hicks. Just the Texans.
My friend's coming into town, but I'll still have time for an update tonight after I iron out a few story wrinkles. Thanks to everyone who's been reading.
Shhhh. Don't say that about the Texans! They all have guns under their pillow. A very good read EC!
. A very good read EC!