John Henry Thomas, a personal representative of President Wilson. He is present this morning to assure the president that the mission parameters have been fulfilled.”
Patton looked the man over. “What is your unit, sir?”
“Lieutenant!” Pershing said in anger at the presumptionof a first lieutenant questioning not only a lieutenant colonel but also a representative of the president of the United States.
“I am attached to the National Archives, Lieutenant. And while my answer creates more questions as to my affiliation, that will have to be enough, okay Lieutenant?”
“I have my men to watch out for, sir, that is my only concern.”
“You not only have them to watch outfor young lieutenant, you have me. And as you now know, I have at least one powerful friend in office. So don’t let me down, son.”
“Yes, sir, but these orders are ambiguous at best.”
“Exactly, because we don’t know what it is we will find across that river,” said the small man as he removed his hat and wiped the brim with another handkerchief he produced from a pocket.
“Just follow your orders,Lieutenant.” Pershing once more looked up and into the thickening fog. He placed his hands behind his back, turned away, and slowly moved a distance from the armored car. “Good luck Lieutenant, Colonel Thomas … God’s speed.”
George Patton watched as Black Jack Pershing melted into the thick veil of fog. He looked at the envelope in his hand and then quickly unbuttoned his tunic and slid the ordersinside. Patton turned and made his way forward toward his waiting company.
Ten minutes later elements of the 8th United States Cavalry crossed the Rio Grande into Mexico.
* * *
The two Apache scouts from C Troop, only recently released from their imprisonment in St. Augustine, Florida, returned from the small valley that hid the hacienda. One of the men shook his head and removed his campaignhat, allowing his long black hair to shake free of its confinement. Lieutenant Patton waited for the report as patiently as he could, knowing that the lt. colonel from the National Archives was listening intently.
“Nothing but women and children as far as we can see. They seem to be doing their chores and nothing else,” the larger of the two Apache scouts said as he replaced his hat. “The foghas almost completely lifted near the hacienda, so we will have no cover in the charge.”
Patton looked down at his pocket watch, which was almost impossible to see in the night. He looked up and saw that every minute they delayed the attack allowed the fog to lift that much more.
“Five fifteen in the morning and women are already doing their daily tasks.” Patton looked at the two scouts and then over at the mysterious man sent here by the president. “Doesn’t seem too damn threateningto me.” The young first lieutenant shook his head. “I sure hope Washington knows just what in the hell they are doing.” Patton looked away from Lt. Colonel Thomas, clicked the cover of his pocket watch closed, and then turned and mounted the large roan, which pawed the ground anxiously.
“The orders regarding the women and children, Lieutenant, do they still stand?”
Patton looked down at SecondLieutenant Roland McAfee, a recent graduate of West Point on his very first field assignment, then again at the man from National Archives. Patton then scowled at the colonel and angrily shook his head. “No. If hostilities are evident, only then are the men to fire on anyone. If you can, I want the women and children scattered. Our main target is this Professor Ambrose and any other men of fightingage in the compound. I am not firing on women and children. Now, report to your troop and let’s get this over with.” Patton looked once more at the colonel. “Report it if you want to Colonel. I will not kill women and children without more of an explanation from Washington as to the why of it.”
Thomas looked taken back. “Lieutenant, you are
Patton looked the man over. “What is your unit, sir?”
“Lieutenant!” Pershing said in anger at the presumptionof a first lieutenant questioning not only a lieutenant colonel but also a representative of the president of the United States.
“I am attached to the National Archives, Lieutenant. And while my answer creates more questions as to my affiliation, that will have to be enough, okay Lieutenant?”
“I have my men to watch out for, sir, that is my only concern.”
“You not only have them to watch outfor young lieutenant, you have me. And as you now know, I have at least one powerful friend in office. So don’t let me down, son.”
“Yes, sir, but these orders are ambiguous at best.”
“Exactly, because we don’t know what it is we will find across that river,” said the small man as he removed his hat and wiped the brim with another handkerchief he produced from a pocket.
“Just follow your orders,Lieutenant.” Pershing once more looked up and into the thickening fog. He placed his hands behind his back, turned away, and slowly moved a distance from the armored car. “Good luck Lieutenant, Colonel Thomas … God’s speed.”
George Patton watched as Black Jack Pershing melted into the thick veil of fog. He looked at the envelope in his hand and then quickly unbuttoned his tunic and slid the ordersinside. Patton turned and made his way forward toward his waiting company.
Ten minutes later elements of the 8th United States Cavalry crossed the Rio Grande into Mexico.
* * *
The two Apache scouts from C Troop, only recently released from their imprisonment in St. Augustine, Florida, returned from the small valley that hid the hacienda. One of the men shook his head and removed his campaignhat, allowing his long black hair to shake free of its confinement. Lieutenant Patton waited for the report as patiently as he could, knowing that the lt. colonel from the National Archives was listening intently.
“Nothing but women and children as far as we can see. They seem to be doing their chores and nothing else,” the larger of the two Apache scouts said as he replaced his hat. “The foghas almost completely lifted near the hacienda, so we will have no cover in the charge.”
Patton looked down at his pocket watch, which was almost impossible to see in the night. He looked up and saw that every minute they delayed the attack allowed the fog to lift that much more.
“Five fifteen in the morning and women are already doing their daily tasks.” Patton looked at the two scouts and then over at the mysterious man sent here by the president. “Doesn’t seem too damn threateningto me.” The young first lieutenant shook his head. “I sure hope Washington knows just what in the hell they are doing.” Patton looked away from Lt. Colonel Thomas, clicked the cover of his pocket watch closed, and then turned and mounted the large roan, which pawed the ground anxiously.
“The orders regarding the women and children, Lieutenant, do they still stand?”
Patton looked down at SecondLieutenant Roland McAfee, a recent graduate of West Point on his very first field assignment, then again at the man from National Archives. Patton then scowled at the colonel and angrily shook his head. “No. If hostilities are evident, only then are the men to fire on anyone. If you can, I want the women and children scattered. Our main target is this Professor Ambrose and any other men of fightingage in the compound. I am not firing on women and children. Now, report to your troop and let’s get this over with.” Patton looked once more at the colonel. “Report it if you want to Colonel. I will not kill women and children without more of an explanation from Washington as to the why of it.”
Thomas looked taken back. “Lieutenant, you are
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