Glimpses of Villa's Army

Glimpses of Villa's Army

BY GRACE ZENOR PRATT

You who have crossed the Rio Grande into the changing blueSierra Madre hills, have felt the charm that lies over the land ofromance and legend; have felt the haunting presence of peoples,dead ages gone by, who built their fortresses upon the mountaintops, and whose villages and cities lie in dusty ruins among thefields and highways of today. You may have appreciated thepicturesqueness of the newer generation and rejoiced with themin the cool, sweet winds from the mountains intermingled withthe hot breath of the desert.

The painted plain to the east, with its dreamy shades ofmauve blue greys and the changing purple peaks in the distance,is a fitting background for the white walled village of CasasGrandes, basking in the September sunshine; its half naked chil-dren happy with their dogs in the dusty streets, their elders idlingaway their hours at the door of the cantina or watching the usualcock fight by the plaza.

Down the long street, past the good doctor's house, the colonylay fresh and cool in its setting of orchards and vineyards, thesleek horses and cattle grazing in the meadows or dotting thehill-slopes.

The harvest was over; every granary filled to overflowingwith precious, ripened grain. Corn-fields stretched green andluxuriant on every side. Fruits of many flavors weighted theorchards. Truly the goddess of plenty had poured a generousshare of her treasure into the sun-kissed valley.

The straggling adobe casas of the natives, following the riverand fringing the town, add the picturesque tone, which togetherwith the customs and charm of the people serve to keep farmlife in Mexico from becoming monotonous or irksome.

Last evening the bugle call had sounded as usual across the

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valley, and the soldiers had ridden out, silhouetted against thevivid plain, to drive up the cavalry horses for the night. Nowrumors came and floated everywhere. Villa and his army werecoming our way. We had not long to wait. The strange, shrillwhistle which broke the suspense drew the first of many trooptrains which followed.

Weary, hungry, suffering from exposure, crowding everyavailable space, clinging to box-cars and engine, they came withcries of exultation at this stop which promised rest and food.

Under the cars were improvised beds hung from the rodsand very near the iron wheels, where whole families of womenmid children (camp followers) had ridden thousands of miles.

INTAKE OF THE IRRIGATION CANAL, COLONIA DUBLAN

Kettles of frijoles were cooking there under miraculous circum-stances and a brood of young chickens scratched contented if notsecure in an ingeniously constructed cage.

Above, on the flat roofs of the cars, were temporary hutsmade of blankets and sometimes of reeds and grasses—here andthere stacks of fire arms and an occasional pet goat.

Many of the soldiers were but illy clad for our climate, wear-ing the thin cotton trousers and shirt, the straw sombreros andsandals of the hot country. Women with bare feet and nakedarms, carried babies, and led little ones by the hand, that wore butone little garment.

By the morrow every available house, corral, barn—everyrude shelter was crowded with families. Our shady sidewalks

IRRIGATION LATERAL NEAR COLONIA DUBLAN, MEXICO

were lined with temporary structures of many materials and weheard the steady monotonous tramp of many sentinels.

Trains continued to arrive until soon every switch and side-track were blocked with trains of cars, which scene together withthe great multitude in constant motion, changed the whole land-scape and atmosphere of things.

Truly we were under military rule. The bugle call awakenedus early and was our summons to bed, while the hundreds ofcamp fires made the late evenings bright with their glow.

BIRD S EVE VIEW OF COLONIA JUAREZ, MEXICO

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A STREET IN COLON IA JUAREZ, IN THE DAYS OF PEACE

The cavalry horses and mules for the artillery arrived gauntand half-famished with thirst and hunger, having- been on thev, ay for many days.

We rode out at sunset and listened to the splendid militaryband. Grouped about for several blocks, were thousands ofwomen and scantily dressed children, happy in their poverty, dis-tinguished officers and well dressed soldiers, many local Mex-icans and a few Americans. It was the hour for review and rollcall, and on one side were long lines of soldiers; the peon in hispoor clothes of flimsy cotton, his straw sombrero and sandaledfeet, side by side with a Spanish dandy in a well tailored armyuniform. Two generals rode down the shady street side by side,on their thoroughbred horses with rich, showy trappings, som-breros embroidered with silver, and having the grandiose air ofthe Spanish cavalier of story.

The serenade awakened us sometimes in the late nights.Many a graceful Mexican dance—rhythmic, graceful, entrancing.and sometimes "La Golondrina," with all its native pathos andpassion.

With the last of the troop trains to arrive came the handsomeprivate cars of the generals, their automobiles and luxurious car-riages and more good horses. The artillery arrived, too, and wasunlioaded at the front of town. Men began repairing and paint-ing the seventy or eighty cannon.

Cannot you imagine for a moment the conflict of emotions

JUAREZ (LATTER-DAY SAINTS) STAKE ACADEMY, MEXICO

when we looked upon the unreal conditions? Heretofore thepeaceful rural landscape, the herds of lowing- cows coming" homeat evening—now blotted by dozens of military trains, the thou-sands of camps, suppressed murmur of many voices, thousandsof moving forms and now the long row of blue-grey cannon sostrangely change the color of the atmosphere.

A morning came when we found our barns and corrals emptyof our faithful horses. Our pets were not in their accustomedplaces. Our little Bernice, used only to kindness and gentle words,had a saddle upon her back and shoes on her dainty feet, and wewere powerless. Within twenty-four hours we had horses neitherto work nor to drive. All night we could hear the whinnyingof the little colts, the distant call of their mothers, and thepitiful lowing of cattle confiscated from the big ranches. It wasa queer sight next day—ridiculous and pathetic, too, to us whowere the losers, the men taking their grain to the mill in littleexpress wagons, baby carriages, or some old rickety vehicle thathad escaped notice.

The stores were again closed out of provisions, as they hadbeen so many times before. On going in ourselves to make cer-tain, we found in one shop nothing save a John B. Stetson hat anda can of ox-tail soup for which there seemed to have been nodemand.

Our irrigating ditches and canals of clear water were evi-dently appreciated. Along every canal and by every waterwaywomen and girls laundered their clothing in wooden tubs with cor-

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A TYPE OF HOME IN COLONIA JUAREZ, NOW OCCUPIED BY THE MEXICANS

rugated bottoms or else upon flat, smooth stones at the water'sedge. Clothing" of every fine and color decorated the fences andvegetation; while blue and yellow pajamas and a scarlet serapegraced our front gateway.

The smell of tortillas and frijoles came to us with the smokeof the camp fires. Ovens were built of mud—tortillas baked onpieces of flat tin, and one need not be alarmed to see a camp fireburning in the center of a header-box or hay rack while some oldand wrinkled senora patiently prepared her dinner.

The army provisions were given out promiscuously. Some-times one regiment had sugar while another went sugarless. Itwas the same with soap, shoes, and even clothing. The shoeswere thrown from the cars into the midst of the mob and thosewho were agile had their chance, as well as the chance of another.There was no time for controversy about the shade and textureof clothing, but the soldiers were kept busy for days thereafter,bartering to find their fit and choice.

The night before the army left en masse, we passed in frontof the camps, and, as we crossed the artillery section, a gracefulSpanish lady with a black mantilla of priceless lace half conceal-ing her face, walked slowly in the sunset. Who was she and whyhere so far from the guarded halls and flower-sweet patios whereshe belonged ?—we wondered !

The army prepared for departure so many days that ourhearts grew impatient. Detachments moved out at intervals but

GLIMPSES OF VILLA'S ARMY 401

the general movement was well worth seeing. From an upperwindow we watched the long, dusty columns out of sight. Wesaw the horses that had served us so faithfully drawing heavilyloaded wagons, and goaded by cruel whips, in the hands of crueldrivers. The march to Sonora would be a long and weary one.Then came the dull rumble of the artillery drawn by mules, morecavalry, the rattle of ammunition boxes and at length pack mulesand burros.

For a full half day the straggling lines of infantry stumbledalong through the choking dust and some family groups that werestriving to keep together.

The few women who were allowed to make the Sonora tripwere loaded with many burdens. One woman trotted away withseveral broad boards upon her head, leading a horse so heavilypacked he could scarcely walk. One pack, too much for a smallburro, fell, bursting open, and a gay young fighting cock escapedin the opposite orchard. Bright colored parrots perched on manya shoulder, and on broad-rimmed hats, where many another treas-ure was concealed. A week little donkey, packed with kettles, bed-ding and, in fact, a whole housekeeping outfit, and mounted by hismaster, carried a picture of the Virgin, done in colors and framed,in the midst of the array.

The army was gone. The green alfalfa fields trampled bymany feet, corn-fields stripped of their plenty, orchards laid waste,and over the clean, shady streets the smudge of thousands of campfires.

We turned to our corrals and barns, and heard the whinnyingof the young colts for their mothers.

The work of our hands had been destroyed. There was workto begin anew, and while we pondered over our tasks for themorrow, the dusk came on. We dreamed of a distant day whenpeace would come to our fair, sun-loved country, and we heardthe desolate cry of the wild birds nesting in the alamo trees bythe river.

TANKER, IDAHO