Read Ebook: The Mexican War diary of George B. McClellan by McClellan George B George Brinton Myers William Starr Editor

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Editor: William Starr Myers

EDITED BY

WILLIAM STARR MYERS, Ph.D.,

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF HISTORY AND POLITICS PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS PRINCETON

LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 1917

Published April, 1917

PREFACE During the past four or five years I have been preparing a life of General McClellan in which I plan especially to stress the political influences behind the military operations of the first two years of the Civil War. The main source for my study has been the large collection of "McClellan Papers" in the Library of Congress at Washington, most of which hitherto never has been published. In this collection is the manuscript Mexican War diary and by the courteous permission and kind cooperation of General McClellan's son, Professor George B. McClellan of Princeton University, I have been able to make the following copy. I desire to thank Professor McClellan for other valuable help, including the use of the daguerreotype from which the accompanying frontispiece was made. My thanks also are due Professor Dana C. Munro for his timely advice and valued assistance in the preparation of the manuscript for the press. The map is reproduced from the "Life and Letters of General George Gordon Meade," with the kind permission of the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons.

It has seemed to me that this diary should prove to be of special value at the present time, for it throws additional light upon the failure of our time honored "volunteer system" and forecasts its utter futility as an adequate defense in a time of national crisis or danger.

WM. STARR MYERS.

Princeton, N. J. January 3, 1917.

War Map opp. p. 6

First Page of the Mexican War Diary in an Old Blankbook Facsimile reproduction of McClellan's manuscript opp. p. 40

Church at Camargo, Seen from the Palace Facsimile reproduction of a sketch by McClellan opp. p. 70

INTRODUCTION

George Brinton McClellan was born in Philadelphia, Pa., on December 3, 1826. He died in Orange, N. J., on October 29, 1885. His life covered barely fifty-nine years, his services of national prominence only eighteen months, but during this time he experienced such extremes of good and ill fortune, of success and of failure, as seldom have fallen to the lot of one man.

While still a small boy McClellan entered a school in Philadelphia which was conducted by Mr. Sears Cook Walker, a graduate of Harvard, and remained there for four years. He later was a pupil in the preparatory school of the University of Pennsylvania, under the charge of Dr. Samuel Crawford. McClellan at the same time received private tuition in Greek and Latin from a German teacher named Scheffer and entered the University itself in 1840. He remained there as a student for only two years, for in 1842 he received an appointment to the United States Military Academy at West Point.

McClellan graduated from West Point second in his class in the summer of 1846 and was commissioned a brevet second lieutenant of engineers. On July 9 Colonel Joseph G. Totten, Chief of Engineers, ordered McClellan to "repair to West Point" for duty with the company of engineers then being organized by Captain A. J. Swift and Lieutenant Gustavus W. Smith. The Mexican War had begun during the preceding May and the young graduate of West Point was filled with delight at the new opportunity for winning reputation and rank in his chosen profession. The company of engineers was ordered to Mexico and left for the front during the month of September.

The diary that follows begins with the departure from West Point and continues the narrative of McClellan's experiences through the battle of Cerro Gordo in April, 1847. It ends at this point, except for a line or two jotted down later on in moments of impatience or ennui.

To the student of McClellan's life this diary presents certain striking contrasts in character between the youthful soldier, not yet twenty years of age, and the general or politician of fifteen or twenty years later. At this time McClellan was by nature happy-go-lucky, joyous, carefree, and almost irresponsible. In after years he became extremely serious, deeply and sincerely religious, sometimes oppressed by a sense of duty. And yet at this early age we can plainly discern many of the traits that stand out so prominently in his mature life. He was in a way one of the worst subordinates and best superiors that ever lived. As a subordinate he was restless, critical, often ill at ease. He seemed to have the proverbial "chip" always on his shoulder and knew that his commanding officers would go out of their way to knock it off; or else he imagined it, which amounted to the same thing. As a commanding officer he always was thoughtful, considerate and deeply sympathetic with his men, and they knew this and loved him for it.

These same traits perhaps will explain much of the friction during the early years of the Civil War between McClellan and Lincoln and also the devotion that reached almost to adoration which the soldiers of the Army of the Potomac showed for their beloved commander. And McClellan had many intimate friends, friends of high character, who stood by him through thick and thin until the very day of his death. This relationship could not have continued strong to the last had he not in some measure deserved it. His integrity, his inherent truthfulness and sense of honor, stood out predominant.

McClellan could write. In fact his pen was too ready and in later years it often led him into difficulties. He had a keen sense of humor, though it was tempered by too much self-confidence and at times was tinged with conceit. He was proud, ambitious and deeply sensitive. All this appears in the diary, and it will be seen that this little book offers a key to the explanation of much that followed.

McClellan took a prominent and brilliant part, for so young a man, in the later events of Scott's campaign which ended in the capture of the City of Mexico. He showed himself to be able, brave and extremely skilful. He was promoted to the rank of brevet first lieutenant, August 20, "for gallant and meritorious conduct in the battles of Contreras and Cherubusco," and brevet captain on September 13 for his services at Chapultepec. He was brevetted in addition for Molino del Rey on September 8, and the nomination was confirmed by Congress, but he declined the honor on the ground that he had not taken part in that battle, while this brevet "would also cause him to rank above his commanding officer--Lieut. G. W. Smith--who was present at every action where he was and commanded him."

The diary gives a vivid picture of Mexico, the land and its people. Furthermore, there is a fine description of the life of the soldiers on the march, of the siege of Vera Cruz, and of the ill behavior and lack of discipline of the volunteer forces. The notes will show that General George Gordon Meade, later the Union commander at Gettysburg, also was a lieutenant in Taylor's army, and his estimate of the volunteers agrees in every particular with that mentioned above.

McClellan's career has been the subject of endless controversy, often pursued with such acrimony and gross unfairness that its memory rankles today in the minds of many. Furthermore, upon the outcome of this controversy have depended the reputations of many prominent men, for if McClellan should be proved to have been in the wrong the mantle of greatness still might rest upon the shoulders of certain politicians and generals hitherto adjudged to be "great." On the other hand, if McClellan was in the right, and the present writer believes that in large part he was, then he was a victim of envy and downright falsehood. His name should now be cleared of all unjust accusations, and also history should reverse its judgment of many of his opponents.

WM. STARR MYERS.

The result of my experience with respect to the transportation of troops by sea is,--

In the first place see that the part of the vessel destined to receive them is thoroughly policed, washed and well scraped out before the vessel sails; then let a strong police party be detailed every day, so that the part between decks may always be well washed out and smell well. Wind-sails are very necessary. The acting commissary of subsistence should see for himself exactly what is put on board for the use of the troops and should cause a written requisition to be made upon him for the quantity used from day to day or week to week. He should have a reliable and intelligent sergeant at his disposal. Care should be taken that good cooking arrangements are provided. Mush appeared to be a favorite and agreeable food for the men at sea. The muskets should be inspected every day, when the weather permits, as also the quarters. Men must be required to wear their worst clothes on board. Care should be taken that camp equipage and all articles necessary for immediate use of troops when landed are so stowed that they can be got at at once.

Brazos is probably the very worst port that could be found on the whole American coast. We are encamped on an island which is nothing more than a sand bar, perfectly barren, utterly destitute of any sign of vegetation. It is about six miles long and one-half mile broad. We are placed about one hundred yards from the sea, a row of sand hills some twenty feet high intervening. Whenever a strong breeze blows the sand flies along in perfect clouds, filling your tent, eyes and everything else. To dry ink you have merely to dip your paper in the sand. The only good thing about the place is the bathing in the surf. The water which we drink is obtained by digging a hole large enough to contain a barrel. In this is placed a bottomless barrel in which the water collects. You must dig until you find water, then "work-in" the barrel until it is well down. This water is very bad. It is brackish and unhealthy. The island is often overflowed to the depth of one or two feet. To reach this interesting spot, one is taken from the vessel in a steamboat and taken over a bar on which the water is six feet deep, and where the surf breaks with the greatest violence. It is often impossible to communicate with the vessels outside for ten days or two weeks at a time.

We have been here since Monday afternoon and it is now Friday. We expect to march for the mouth of the Rio Grande tomorrow morning at break of day--thence by steamboat to Matamoros where we will remain until our arrangements for the pontoon train are complete. We received when we arrived the news of the battle of Monterey. Three officers who were present dined with us today--Nichols of the 2nd Artillery, Captain Smith formerly Captain of Louisiana Volunteers now an amateur, Captain Crump of the Mississippi Volunteers--fine fellows all. Saw Bailie Peyton and some others pass our encampment this morning from Monterey. I am now writing in the guard tent . Immediately in front are sand hills, same on the right, same in the rear, sandy plain on the left. To the left of the sand hills in front are a number of wagons parked, to the left of them a pound containing about 200 mules, to the left and in front of that about fifty sloops, schooners, brigs and steamboats; to the left of that and three miles from us may be seen Point Isabel.

Camp opposite Camargo, November 15th, 1846. We marched from Brazos to the mouth of the Rio Grande and on arriving there found ourselves without tents, provisions or working utensils, a cold Norther blowing all the time. We, however, procured what we needed from the Quarter Master and made the men comfortable until the arrival of Captain Swift with the wagons, who reached the mouth late in the afternoon, whilst we got there about 10 A. M. Thanks to Churchill's kindness G. W. Smith and myself got along very well. We left in the Corvette the next morning for Matamoros, where we arrived at about 5 P. M. The Rio Grande is a very narrow, muddy stream. The channel is very uncertain, changing from day to day. The banks are covered with the mesquite trees, canes, cabbage trees, etc. The ranches are rather sparse, but some of them are very prettily situated. They all consist of miserable huts built of mesquite logs and canes placed upright--the interstices filled with mud. The roofs are thatched, either with canes or the leaves of the cabbage tree . Cotton appears to grow quite plentifully on the banks, but is not cultivated at all. The Mexicans appear to cultivate nothing whatever but a little Indian corn . They are certainly the laziest people in existence--living in a rich and fertile country they are content to roll in the mud, eat their horrible beef and tortillas and dance all night at their fandangos. This appears to be the character of the Mexicans as far as I have seen, but they will probably improve as we proceed further in the country.

Matamoros is situated about a quarter mile from the river. Some of the houses on the principal streets are of stone, there is one near the Plaza built in the American style with three stories and garrets. All the rest are regular Mexican. On the Plaza is an unfinished cathedral, commenced on a grand scale, but unfinished from a want of funds. The great majority of the houses are of log. The place is quite Americanized by our army and the usual train of sutlers, etc., etc.,--you can get almost everything you want there. We were encamped near the landing. I rode over to Resaca and Palo Alto, but as there is just now a prospect of our returning to Matamoros, before moving on Tampico, I shall write no description of the fields until I have visited them again. After being sick for nearly two weeks in Matamoros I left with the company for Camargo on the "Whiteville," where we arrived two weeks ago tomorrow, and I have been in Hospital Quarters ever since until day before yesterday.

I have seen more suffering since I came out here than I could have imagined to exist. It is really awful. I allude to the sufferings of the Volunteers. They literally die like dogs. Were it all known in the States, there would be no more hue and cry against the Army, all would be willing to have so large a regular army that we could dispense entirely with the volunteer system. The suffering among the Regulars is comparatively trifling, for their officers know their duty and take good care of the men.

I have also come to the conclusion that the Quartermaster's Department is most wofully conducted--never trust anything to that Department which you can do for yourself. If you need horses for your trains, etc., carry them with you. As to provisions get as much as possible from the Commissaries--you get things from them at one-half the price you pay sutlers. Smith has ridden over to Brazos de Santiago to endeavor to make arrangements for our immediate transportation to Tampico. Captain Hunter went with him on my mare. They return in the morning. Whilst at Camargo, Smith had a discussion with General Patterson about his right to order us when en route to join General Taylor, under orders from Head Quarters at Washington. The General was obliged to succumb and admit the truth of the principle "That an officer of Engineers is not subject to the orders of every superior officer, but only to those of his immediate chief, and that General to whom he may be ordered to report for duty."

There goes Gerber with his tattoo--so I must stop for the present.

I waited and waited in the hot sun on the Plaza, watched the men gorging themselves with oranges, sausages etc., them took to swearing by way of consolation. When I had succeeded in working myself into a happy frame of mind old Abercrombie ordered Gibson to start in advance and our company to bring up the rear. I wont attempt to describe the beauties of forming a rear guard of a wagon train. Suffice it to say that the men straggled a great deal, some got rather drunk, all very tired. We reached the banks of El Arroyo Tigre about 8 o'clock and then encamped as we best could.

I rode on in advance of the company to see El Tigre and found Gibson amusing himself by endeavoring to curse a team across the river, which had got mired in the middle. I rode back and met the company about one mile from the camp ground, struggling along--tired to death and straining their eyes to see water through the darkness. I consoled them somewhat by telling them that it was not more than a mile to the water, but they soon found that a mile on foot was a great deal longer than a mile on horseback. However, we got there at last, pitched our camp, and soon forgot all our troubles in sound sleep.

I rode in advance next morning through the long wagon train to find a new ford. We crossed and encamped with General Pillow's Brigade. Went down to Major Harris' tent, where I had a fine drink of brandy and the unspeakable satisfaction of seeing a democratic Volunteer Captain sit, with the greatest unconcern, on a tent peg for at least an hour. Gibson and I then went to Winship's tent where we found G. W. and an invitation to dine with General Pillow.

This evening G. W. and myself had a grand cursing match over an order from the "stable" requiring a detail from our camp to pitch and unpitch the General's tents etc. However, we sent them just about the meanest detail that they ever saw. At this place our large army was divided into two columns. We moved at the head of the first column. General Pillow came on one day after us.

We started about 7.30--a bright sunny morning. Nothing of interest this day--the men improved in their marching. We encamped about three o'clock at Guijano, where there were two ponds of very good water. We had a beautiful spot for our encampment, and a most delightful moonlight evening. There is one house--hut rather--at this place. From Matamoros to this place the road is excellent requiring no repairs--chaparral generally thick on roadside--one or two small prairies--road would be boggy in wet weather. From Matamoros to Moquete about ten miles, from El Moquete to El Guijano about ten miles.

Road good--passes principally through prairie--at Salina wood scarce in immediate vicinity of the water, plenty about three quarters of a mile from it. Wood not very plenty at Santa Teresa--enough however.

I rode off into the prairie--followed by Songo--and in the excitement of chasing some rabbits managed to lose the column. I at length found my way back, and was told that I had created quite an excitement. When I was first seen in the distance they did not know whether I was a Mexican or a white man. Patt, finally concluded that I must be a straggling "Tennessee horse," gave the Colonel a blowing up for allowing his men to leave the column, and directed him to send out a guard to apprehend the "vagrom man." Just about that time Smith found out what was going on, discovered who it was and rectified the mistake.

Passed Chiltipine about 11 A. M.--sent Songo to buy eggs and milk. After we had passed about a mile beyond the Ranche , I heard a peculiar neigh--which I recognized as Jim's--and loud laughing from the volunteers. I turned around and saw Jim "streaking it against time" for the mare--head up, eyes starting and neighing at every jump, minus Songo. I rode back to see what had become of the "faithful Jumbo," Jim following like a little puppy dog. It appeared that Jim had thrown his "fidus Achates." When we stopped at Chiltipine Dr. Wright gave us a drink of first rate brandy.

At Chiltipine we left the road and took a prairie path to the left. The grass was so high that we found ourselves at about 1 P. M. out of sight of the train and artillery. Pat became very much agitated and ordered a halt, glasses were put in requisition but no train could be discovered. Pat became highly excited and imagined all kinds of accidents. At last some artillery was discovered. Pat's excitement reached its highest pitch, for he took it into his head that they were Mexicans. "Good G--d, Mr. Smith! Take your glass--take your glass--those are our artillery or something worse! I fear they have been cut off." However, it turned out to be Gibson, and Pat's countenance changed suddenly from a "Bluntish," blueish, ghastly white to a silly grin.

At last we reached our camp at a dirty, muddy lake--ornamented by a dead jackass. Pat ensconced himself in the best place with Tennessee horse as a guard, put Gibson "in battery" on the road, with us on his left flank--a large interval between us and the Tennessee horse--a similar one between Gibson and the Illinois foot. Gibson had orders to defend the road. How he was to be informed of the approach of the enemy "this deponent knoweth not," such a thing as a picket was not thought of. I suppose Pat thought the guns old enough to speak for themselves.

December 27th. We had our horses saddled at reveill? and before sunrise were upon the banks of El Rio de San Fernando--a clear, cold and rapid mountain stream, about 40 yards wide and two and a half feet deep--bottom of hard gravel. We crossed the stream and found ourselves the first American soldiers who had been on the further bank. The approaches to the stream from the town required some repairs, nothing very bad--it was horrible on the other side. As we again crossed the stream we halted to enjoy the beautiful view--the first rays of the sun gave an air of beauty and freshness to the scene that neither pen nor pencil can describe.

December 28th. Crossed the stream before sunrise under orders to move on with the Tennessee horse one day in advance of the column in order to repair a very bad ford at the next watering place--Las Chomeras. Very tiresome and fatiguing march of about 22 miles. Road pretty good, requiring a few repairs here and there. Water rather brackish. Very pretty encampment. Stream about 20 yards wide and 18 inches deep. No bread and hardly any meat for supper.

December 29th. Finished the necessary repairs about 12 noon. We partook of some kid and claret with Colonel Thomas. While there General Patterson arrived and crossed the stream, encamping on the other side. Waded over the stream to see the Generals--were ordered to move on in advance next morning with two companies of horse and 100 infantry.

December 30th. Started soon after daybreak minus the infantry who were not ready. Joined advanced guard, where Selby raised a grand scare about some Indians who were lying in ambush at a ravine called "los tres palos" in order to attack us. When we reached the ravine the guard halted and I rode on to examine it and look for the Indians--I found a bad ravine but no Indians.

On this same day the Major commanding the rear guard was told by a wagonmaster that the advanced guard was in action with the Mexicans. The men, in the rear guard, immediately imagined that they could distinguish the sound of cannon and musketry. The cavalry threw off their saddle bags and set off at a gallop--the infantry jerked off their knapsacks and put out--Major and all deserted their posts on the bare report of a wagonmaster that the advance was engaged. A beautiful commentary this on the "citizen soldiery." Had we really been attacked by 500 resolute men we must inevitably have been defeated, although our column consisted of 1700--for the road was narrow--some men would have rushed one way, some another--all would have been confusion--and all, from the General down to the dirtiest rascal of the filthy crew, would have been scared out of their wits .

When we crossed the San Fernando I saw a Mexican endeavoring to make two little jackasses cross. He was unable to do so and finally sold them to a Volunteer for fifty cents; the Volunteer got them over safely. After regaling ourselves with a view of Murphy we considered ourselves fully repaid for the extra distance we had marched. At last we gained our place at the head of the column and arrived at Marquesoto about 12 noon, without further incident--except that General Pillow appropriated one of our big buckets to the purpose of obtaining water from the well. We had a very pretty ground for our encampment and had a fine eggnog that night, with Winship to help us drink it. From Santander to Marquesoto about ten miles.

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