Mounted Service School in June meant that he would return to his regiment, which, he learned, was about to be deployed to the Philippines. Ever since 1898, when the United States acquired the Philippine Islands from Spain as part of the spoils of the Spanish-American War, a tour of duty here was virtually de rigueur for all young army officers. Patton was apprehensive because he knew that, more often than not, the Philippines failed to be a rite of passage and became, in fact, a dead end to an officer’s career. Always ready to pull whatever strings he could find, Patton secured 11 days of leave to travel to Washington, where he prevailed on influential friends to get him an alternative assignment. They managed to arrange a transfer to Fort Bliss, in El Paso, Texas, on the Mexican border. To be sure, it was no garden spot and certainly less comfortable than a posting in Manila, but new troubles were brewing between Mexico and the United States, and Patton sensed the possibility of real action at this post.
Mexico was in turmoil. Numerous would-be leaders vied for power, including the brutal Victoriano Huerta and the more moderate Venustiano Carranza. In these struggles, partisans of one leader or the other sometimes crossed the border into the United States to replenish their war chests with cash and goods “liberated” from towns in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. Army border garrisons were expected to police the region and prevent or turn back such incursions. Patton’s hope was that the police action would soon break into open warfare.
In a matter of months, it would, more or less. But for now, Patton could find no one at Fort Bliss to tell him what he was expected to do.
Eventually, he was informed that there really was nothing for him to do until his regiment arrived. In the meantime, it was suggested that he study for the examination that would qualify him for advancement from second to first lieutenant. He asked for extra time to prepare, and since no one had anything to better occupy him, he was granted the extension. Patton used this time not only to study but, quite shamelessly, to butter up the president of the promotion board by helping him train his polo ponies. Learning that his former Fort Sheridan commander, Captain— now Major—Francis Marshall, was at Fort Bliss on an official visit and was the guest of a promotion board member, Patton wasted no time in calling on Marshall and his host, confident that “Maj. M will blow my horn.” 4 No doubt Marshall did, for Patton took the examination and was quickly qualified for promotion. The actual promotion would come on May 23, 1916.
Shortly after he passed his exam, Patton’s regiment, the 8th Cavalry, arrived at Fort Bliss. Patton was sent with his troop to Sierra Blanca, a rudimentary Texas border town of perhaps 20 houses plus 1 saloon. It was a town out of a dime novel, populated by cowboys and patrolled by a rugged snowy-haired marshal named Dave Allison, who quickly befriended the young officer. Beyond the few rude streets of the town lay a landscape of desolation, through which Patton led mounted border patrols and, from the saddle, at the trot, hunted jackrabbits. “I like this sort of work,” he wrote with satisfaction, “a lot.” 5
Something more exciting than jackrabbits loomed on the horizon on Thanksgiving Eve. While in Sierra Blanca with Troop A of the 8th Cavalry, Patton received a telegram from Fort Bliss warning of an impending raid on the town by some 200 Mexican revolutionary bandits. With all the senior officers out on patrol, Patton was in command. He wrote to his father that he did not believe the “rumor” of a raid, but, in any case, he set about planning how to repel an attack, assigned battle stations to each of the 100 men with him, and ordered everyone to sleep beside their weapons. “I wish they would come. I . . . could give them a nice welcome,” he wrote. 6 As Patton had predicted, however, nothing happened.
On
Mexico was in turmoil. Numerous would-be leaders vied for power, including the brutal Victoriano Huerta and the more moderate Venustiano Carranza. In these struggles, partisans of one leader or the other sometimes crossed the border into the United States to replenish their war chests with cash and goods “liberated” from towns in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. Army border garrisons were expected to police the region and prevent or turn back such incursions. Patton’s hope was that the police action would soon break into open warfare.
In a matter of months, it would, more or less. But for now, Patton could find no one at Fort Bliss to tell him what he was expected to do.
Eventually, he was informed that there really was nothing for him to do until his regiment arrived. In the meantime, it was suggested that he study for the examination that would qualify him for advancement from second to first lieutenant. He asked for extra time to prepare, and since no one had anything to better occupy him, he was granted the extension. Patton used this time not only to study but, quite shamelessly, to butter up the president of the promotion board by helping him train his polo ponies. Learning that his former Fort Sheridan commander, Captain— now Major—Francis Marshall, was at Fort Bliss on an official visit and was the guest of a promotion board member, Patton wasted no time in calling on Marshall and his host, confident that “Maj. M will blow my horn.” 4 No doubt Marshall did, for Patton took the examination and was quickly qualified for promotion. The actual promotion would come on May 23, 1916.
Shortly after he passed his exam, Patton’s regiment, the 8th Cavalry, arrived at Fort Bliss. Patton was sent with his troop to Sierra Blanca, a rudimentary Texas border town of perhaps 20 houses plus 1 saloon. It was a town out of a dime novel, populated by cowboys and patrolled by a rugged snowy-haired marshal named Dave Allison, who quickly befriended the young officer. Beyond the few rude streets of the town lay a landscape of desolation, through which Patton led mounted border patrols and, from the saddle, at the trot, hunted jackrabbits. “I like this sort of work,” he wrote with satisfaction, “a lot.” 5
Something more exciting than jackrabbits loomed on the horizon on Thanksgiving Eve. While in Sierra Blanca with Troop A of the 8th Cavalry, Patton received a telegram from Fort Bliss warning of an impending raid on the town by some 200 Mexican revolutionary bandits. With all the senior officers out on patrol, Patton was in command. He wrote to his father that he did not believe the “rumor” of a raid, but, in any case, he set about planning how to repel an attack, assigned battle stations to each of the 100 men with him, and ordered everyone to sleep beside their weapons. “I wish they would come. I . . . could give them a nice welcome,” he wrote. 6 As Patton had predicted, however, nothing happened.
On
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