History That Doesn't Suck - 36: Mexican-American War (Part 4): Los Niños Héroes, St. Patrick’s Battalion, & the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo

Episode Date: April 1, 2019

This is the story of the Mexican-American War’s end and the making of Mexican heroes. Winfield Scott is closing in on Mexico City. Battles rage as Mexican troops defend, but General Scott can’t be stopped. American troops even snag one of Santa Anna’s spare prosthetic legs! But sometimes loss can be the breeding ground of heroes, and that’s just what happens as US forces close in on Mexico’s capital. Six teenage Mexican cadets--one of whom is only 13 years old--fight to the death. Meanwhile, Catholic US troops who’ve defected to the Mexican side in response to American anti-Catholicism are caught by the US army and mostly hung to death. Los Niños Héroes and the San Patricios might not make it out of this war alive, but they’ll live forever in the memory of Mexico. And what does the war’s end mean? Should the US annex the parts of Mexico it claimed belonged to Texas, or should it take more? Perhaps all of Mexico? As this is being debated in the US, particularly in the Senate, the question of what it means to be “American” rests at the heart of what will and won’t be taken. As President Polk leans toward “all of Mexico,” an upstart Congressman named Abe Lincoln questions the premise of the war, and Nicholas Trist negotiates a treaty in defiance of the President--this won’t be pretty. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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What did it take to survive an ancient siege? Why was the cult of Dionysus behind so many slave revolts in ancient Rome? What's the tragic history and mythology behind Japan's most haunted ancient forest? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for

a 7-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. It's just after sunrise on the morning of September 9th, 1847, as armed guards march 23 prisoners of war toward the Plaza de San Jacinto in San Angel, Mexico. It's a miserable sight. Dirt and grime from their final, valiant fight at the Battle of Churubusco three weeks back still cling to their torn blue uniforms and pale faces. Struggling to maintain balance with their hands tightly bound,

their feet slip as they walk on cobblestone roads, made slick by the morning's rain. Soon, though, they see what their forced march is about. Among the plaza's lovely trees and its nearby rose-colored colonial church by the morning's rain. Soon, though, they see what their forced march is about. Among the plaza's lovely trees and its nearby rose-colored colonial church is a 40-foot-long, 14-foot-tall gallows. Each of its 16 swaying ropes ends in a hangman's noose. This is the end for these captured soldiers

of St. Patrick's Battalion. Or should I say, Batallón de San Patricio? Because, to be clear, the condemned are primarily Irish and other Catholic Europeans who immigrated to the United States and joined the U.S. Army, but then defected to fight for Mexico. See, much of primarily Protestant America has become unnerved by the spike in recent years of Catholic immigration, and that's resulted in many Americans developing some serious anti-Catholic sentiment. Sadly, some U.S. Army officers haven't proven immune to this prejudice. As they harassed the immigrant Catholic soldiers under their command through excessive corporal

punishment, or even denying them much-needed medical attention, unspecified hundreds slowly defected to predominantly Catholic Mexico. Once there, the Mexican military gladly organized these Catholic, often Irish, soldiers into an army unit named after Ireland's patron saint. They fought fiercely for Mexico until their recent capture. But the U.S. Army doesn't see their captives as heroes who stood up for their dignity and faith. They see turncoats, traitors, deserters. And to that end, they'll make the men of St. Patrick's Battalion pay to the fullest extent possible under U.S. law. And today, that means death by hanging for 16 of them. For the other seven present, that means 50 lashes

and branding with a hot cattle iron. The 16 are herded to the gallows and forced as pairs into the back of eight wagons, each of which sits under two nooses. Meanwhile, guards tie the other 70 trees in the plaza as hired Mexican mule drivers, armed with one of the cruelest, most damaging whips ever dreamt up by man, the knotted, rawhide cat-of-nine-tails, take their places behind them. Now I need to tell you that one of the men tied to a tree is John Riley. This physically imposing 6'2 Irishman with blue eyes and black hair is the commander of St. Patrick's battalion. He recruited many of its members. He's the reason it even exists. So as you can imagine,

many in the U.S. Army see him not just as a deserter, but as the man personally responsible for all the American blood spilt and lives taken by this highly effective battalion. So while the specifics of his case prevent him from receiving a death sentence, General David Twiggs, who's present and overseeing the battalion's hangings and floggings, is offering a bonus if a mule-driving flogger manages to kill John with his 50 lashes. One, the general exclaims. The seasoned mule drivers now use their cat-of-nine-tails to expertly rip the flesh from the seven men's backs.

John doesn't make a sound. Two. Three. General Twiggs pauses between each lash. The slower he counts, the greater the chance John and the others might bleed to death. Around the 20th lash, the American commander even claims to lose count, and in the process, adds nine extra lashes to the 50 called for by law. Whoops. As the whipping continues, the mule drivers show their efficacy.

One U.S. Army captain present today will later write, Why those thus punished did not die under such punishment was a marvel to me. Their backs had the appearance of a pounded piece of raw beef, the blood oozing from every stripe as given. Pain-induced shrieks rend the air, but none come from John. Despite the best efforts of his assailant, the Irishman never makes a peep. With 59 lashes administered and John still breathing, General Twiggs now moves to the next part of the punishment, branding. U.S. soldiers press the faces of the bloodied, battered seven against their respective trees, then apply the piping hot cattle brands shaped into the letter D for deserter into each man's left cheek.

Again, screams follow. And again, none belong to John Riley. The scent of charred flesh fills the air as General Twiggs inspects the brandings. When he gets to John, he notices the soldier branded the D upside down, and that will not do. The general pronounces that John will be rebranded, even if the soldier has to, quote, burn his damned head off. Close quote. The two-inch

letter D now sears the Irishman's right cheek, and this is it. Finally, after 59 lashes and two third-degree burns on his face, John lets out a scream. He then passes out cold as U.S. soldiers mock him for not being so tough after all. But we aren't done. They throw cold water on John, bringing him back to the land of the living only so they can drag his half-dead body toward the gallows. Ah, right, the gallows. General Twiggs hasn't executed the 16 men standing in the wagons yet. He wanted to ensure that their last experience on earth would be watching the flogging and branding of their brothers-in-arms and commander. Now the shoe's on the other foot. The bloodied, branded seven are dropped front and center so they can watch their friends hang. Catholic clergy see to the men's last rites.

U.S. soldiers cover the condemned's faces with white caps, descend from the mule-drawn wagons, and then... Ha! Fifteen necks break instantly, but one poor soul slowly suffocates. It's John Reilly's best friend, Patrick Dalton. And all the bleeding, branded John can do is watch. Patrick and six of the other dead are taken to a cemetery for burial. Meanwhile, the seven flogged, branded, and still bleeding men are forced to dig graves right then and there for the other nine dead. With this task completed, one final thing remains.

Pipers now strike up the shameful air known as the Rogue's March as other U.S. soldiers hold John and the other six men to the ground and shave their heads with straight blades. And with that, the day's humiliation, punishments, and executions are over. John and his six men are thrown back in jail. The execution of others from St. Patrick's Battalion will wait for another day. Well, this is it. We're ending the Mexican-American War.

But this won't be clean and easy. First, we'll head to Washington, D.C., where political intrigue and questions about slavery and all this land soon to be acquired from Mexico are plaguing the government. With that background, we'll pick up with General Winfield Scott and follow him, along with U.S. treaty negotiator Nicholas Trist, to Mexico City. We'll see a number of battles along the way, but the most dramatic scenes will happen in the capital itself. This is where we'll meet two groups of Mexican national heroes, the teenage Los Niños Héroes and the doomed St. Patrick's Battalion.

With the fighting done, we'll spend time with an emotionally tortured Nicolas Trist as he negotiates the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. And then finally, I'll give you some last thoughts on how this war sheds light on a few less than pleasant issues, like racism and religious prejudices. I know, it's kind of a bummer note to end on, but that's how things go in history sometimes, you know? So here we go. Let's head back six months and up to D.C. and get this war over with. Rewind. It's March, 1847, and up in Washington, D.C., President James Polk is chomping at the bit to get this Mexican-American war wrapped up.

He promised his voters that he would only serve one term, and if he's going to keep his word, he needs to finish this bad boy off and give the glory of the military victory to a Democrat. With that in mind, the president and his cabinet discuss whom they can send to Mexico to work out a peace settlement. They want to have someone on the ground ready to negotiate with Mexico as soon as the embattled country is willing to talk. But the Democrats have two inner factions, and choosing the wrong person could create a feud that would weaken the party. Secretary of State James Buchanan saves the day and comes up with the perfect candidate, Nicholas Trist. Currently the top clerk in the State Department, the ambitious Nick is a well-connected

Virginia lawyer, the grandson-in-law of Thomas Jefferson, and the former personal secretary of Andrew Jackson. He's more than ready to make a name for himself as the negotiator of an international war-ending treaty. On April 10, 1847, Nick accepts the job to sail down to Veracruz and travel inland to join up with Winfield Scott's army. He'll then stay embedded with the army and travel inland to join up with Winfield Scott's army. He'll then stay embedded with the army and be ready to open negotiations anytime. The president authorizes Nick to negotiate a ceasefire when appropriate and to offer the Mexicans up to $20 million for Alta and Baja, California, Nuevo Mexico, and a Texas border at the Rio Grande. With these

instructions in hand and a burning desire to do right by his country, Curly-haired Nick sails out of D.C. in late April. That's one item checked off of James Polk's to-do list. But he still needs to deal with the Wilmot proviso. Let me give you a little background. Anti-war Whigs and Northern Democrats have been arguing that this conflict is little more than a land grab to get more territory for southern slave owners. James insists that's not the case. It's a straight up war provoked by Mexican aggression. But back in 1846, when he submitted a request for $2 million that would go toward a potential peace settlement, it became obvious that the pro-slavery southern

president wouldn't end the war without taking a huge swath of Mexico's land. Northern Dems, blindsided by their president's duplicity, fought back by adding a rider to the war appropriations bill that banned slavery from any territory gained in the conflict with Mexico. That caused a nasty, weeks-long debate, and congressmen ended up voting for the bill on strictly sectional, not party lines. The Wilmot Proviso, named after the junior Pennsylvania rep David Wilmot who introduced it, didn't pass. Undeterred, Northern Democrats brought it up again in February 1847. The proviso stalled out once more, but the rancorous Wilmot proviso debate shines a light on the interconnected issues of slavery and the Mexican-American War. Some moderate voters even moved toward the anti-war end of

the spectrum during the debates. One American soldier publishes an article arguing that the whole war is a plot by President Polk to give, quote, the country of Mexico to the slaveholders of the South. Close quote. Damn, he's not pulling any punches. But President Polk's a big boy, so we're going to leave him to fend for himself in D.C. as we head south to see how the victorious General Winfield Scott is faring after taking Veracruz, Mexico. Then we can find out what happens when the Democrat Nick Trist shows up in Whig Winfield's army camp. You remember the Battle of Veracruz from last episode, right? Tons of shelling and totally lopsided death counts that favored the Americans. This imbalanced outcome put the American soldiers in a somber mood as they marched into the bombarded city on March 29, 1847. But that can't last, and Winfield knows it. He imposes martial law, not to micromanage the

citizens living near the shelled-out fortress, but to control his unruly army. He has no intention of allowing his men to thieve and harass Mexicans in the area as they've done in conquered lands in northern Mexico. Further, Winfield has no intention of staying in the coastal city. The entire point of his operation is to take Mexico City, 250 miles inland, so it's time to get a move on. The organized, careful general plans to follow Mexico's national road, which is, ironically, the same route that Hernando Cortes took over three centuries ago, through the towns of Jalapa and Puebla to reach the fortified capital,

Mexico City. So on April 8th, the advanced guard of the American army marches north by northwest toward Jalapa, fully anticipating meeting stiff Mexican resistance along the way. See, Mexican President and General Santa Anna has rebuilt his Battle of Buena Vista devastated army and is waiting at the small town of Cerro Gordo with well over 12,000 guys. He plans to pick off the Americans as they march through the deep gorge southeast of the town. Dense trees and hills protect other entrances to the city, so Santa Ana figures the Americans will stay on the national road, where he can attack them. This plan almost works too. Brigadier General David Twiggs, whom we met in the opening of the episode cruelly punishing the

St. Patrick's Battalion, leads the 1st Division of Regulars and gets within 3 miles of Cerro Gordo on April 11, 1847. The none-too-bright general figures he can just plunge his army straight into the gorge, pass through heavy enemy fire, capture the town, and take all the glory. Uh, no. Luckily for David's doomed men, Major General Robert Patterson

catches up to them and puts a stop to this sure-to-fail plan. Then on April 15th, old Fuss and Feathers arrives with the rear guard and sends out his engineers to do some serious reconnaissance in the area. He needs to come up with a feasible way to get through Santa Ana's army. There has to be a weak point in the defenses somewhere, right? Winfield sends bold, young captain Robert E. Lee to find it. The West Point grad stealthily sneaks through the trees around the left flank of the Mexican lines and gets all the way to a small stream behind the Mexican army. He has all the intel he needs for his commanding officer, but as he's about to head back to safety, the captain hears footsteps.

Like that scene in Jurassic Park where Dr. Grant and the kids hide behind a log to avoid being seen by the on-the-hunt T-Rex, Robert ducks behind a fallen tree just in time to avoid being seen by several Mexican soldiers on their way to fill their canteens at the stream. Yeah, Robert stumbled onto a watering hole. Actually, this is the main water source for the entire Mexican army. Heart-pounding and breathless, the captain manages to stay hidden from the hundreds of Mexican soldiers that come to the stream all afternoon. Even as some of them sit on the log

he's hiding behind. At nightfall, weary Robert slips back into the safety of the American camp and gives his valuable knowledge of the landscape to Winfield. With good intel in hand, old Fuss and Feathers now devises a plan to take Cerro Gordo. He orders his 8,500 men to leave the main road and attack the Mexicans from their nearly unprotected left side, taking two important hills, La Atalaya and El Telegrafo, in the process. Once that's done, they can charge the main Mexican lines head-on and fight their way into the town. On April 17th, David twigs his men, more due to their talent than his leadership, take La Atalaya and force the Mexicans to retreat after a short fight. Overconfident David then orders his men to take the next hill.

Charge them to hell, he bellows. His obedient soldiers run down the southwest side of the hill, guns blazing. But they soon find themselves exposed to fire from the Mexicans on El Taragrafo with no way to retreat to the American camp on La Atalaya. As night falls, the poorly led men crawl to safety, but their general's thoughtless orders yields about 90 casualties. Fighting continues the next day. With leadership from Captain Robert E. Lee counterbalancing inexperienced David, the Americans take Atalegrafo while Winfield's men attack the Mexicans' front lines. Old Fuss and Feathers' plan plays out almost perfectly. By two o'clock, Santa Ana's 12,000-man force crumbles and retreats in the face of the 8,500 well-placed Americans. Usually austere, Winfield emotionally addresses his victorious

men as he surveys the now-quiet battlefield. Quote, Brother soldiers, I am proud to call you brothers. You have claim on my gratitude for your conduct this day, which I will never forget. Close quote. The Americans capture 3,000 prisoners, 39 cannons, 4,000 muskets, and Santa Anna's leg. Yeah, remember how in the last episode I told you he lost the lower half of his left leg years ago? Well, naturally, he has a prosthetic. General Santa Anna flees Cerro Gordo so quickly, he leaves it and almost all of his valuables behind. Embedded journalist George Kendall reports, quote, as it is, his traveling coach, together with all his papers, valuables, and even his wooden leg, have fallen into our hands, together with all the money of his army.

Close quote. The money goes straight to the army purser, but the Illinois Volunteer Battalion claims the boot-clad, formally dressed cork leg and takes it home as a prize of war. In fact, in the 21st century, you can go see it at the Illinois State Military Museum. Kick off an exciting football season with BetMGM, an official sportsbook partner of the National Football League. Yard after yard, down after down, the sportsbook born in Vegas gives you the chance to take action to the end zone and celebrate every highlight, real play.

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He has a few spare legs back in Mexico City. While Santa Ana and his broken army regroup at their capital, Winfield moves his men 20 miles up the road from the captured Cerro Gordo to the welcoming mountain town of Jalapa. And that's where President Polk appointed Democrat Party member peace negotiator Nicholas Trist arrives on May 14th. But he immediately comes down with the debilitating diarrhea that's going around the camp. This is no way to start a working relationship with the debilitating diarrhea that's going around the camp. This is no way to start a working relationship with the somewhat egotistical, wig-leaning General Winfield Scott. Since he can't meet Winfield in person, Nick just sends some letters explaining his mission to the General.

This might have smoothed things over, except that Winfield has a chip on his shoulder, believing Nick has a, quote, well-known prejudice against me, close quote. So the two grown men give each other the cold shoulder like, well, two grown men with big egos and competing professional ambitions. Still feuding, Nick and Winfield, along with the entire U.S. Army, move closer to Mexico City, settling in the city of Puebla for the summer. Here, Nick starts a dialogue with Mexican officials through the British envoy in Mexico City, Charles Bankhead. This is going to sound like a game of telephone at an 8th grade birthday party, but stay with me. On June 14th, British envoy Charles tells

American diplomat Nick that Mexican General Santa Ana might be willing to negotiate for a small under-the-table bribe of only $1 million in cash. Nick then tells Charles that could be okay, but he has to ask Winfield for the money. Got all that? Good. If the negotiator is going to ask the general for money though, Nick's probably going to have to get on speaking terms with old fuss and feathers. So Nick sends Winfield a pretty sincere apology and fills him in on the details of this attempt to open peace talks. To Winfield's credit, he forgives the still sick as a dog diplomat. The general sends over a gift with a

get well soon card that reads, my dear sir, looking over my stores, I find a box of guava marmalade, which perhaps the physician may not consider improper to make part of your diet. After receiving the thoughtful present, Nick meets with Winfield. It turns out they have more in common than vanity and ambition. Both of these guys want to end this war. So they decide together to open talks with Santa Anna. On July 16th, Nick writes, quote, we are both convinced that the only way in which the indefinite protraction of this war can possibly be prevented is by the secret expenditure of money at the city of Mexico. Close quote. As an unmerited token of their trust in the Mexican general,

Winfield and Nick give Santa Ana a $10,000 down payment from the American war chest. Then the two Americans wait for the Napoleon of the West to make his next move. On July 25th, they receive bad news. It turns out that Santa Ana never had legal authority to open talks at all, and Mexico's Congress has no intention of changing the law to give him such authority. Sorry but not so sorry Santa Ana pockets the cash, and Winfield and Nick learn an important lesson about dealing with the self-serving Mexican general. Winfield realizes it's time to move ahead with plan A and take Mexico City. On August 7th, the first lines of Winfield's now

14,000 strong army march out of Puebla toward the well-defended capital of Mexico. They leave the national road and head northwest up the Chalco Road to approach the target. This is a bold move for the usually overcautious Winfield. He could trap his forces and leave them without access to reinforcements or supplies. But the general just wants to end this war, so he goes for it. The first divisions of Americans reach the town of San Agustin on August 18th and then march north on the Acapulco Road toward San Antonio. That's San Antonio, Mexico, not Texas.

Anyway, American dragoons get only three miles up the road to San Antonio, Mexico before the advance guard under the direction of Captain Seth Thornton, who we met in episode 33, starts taking fire. The first Mexican shell hits Seth and kills him immediately. That's when Americans figure out that Santa Ana has positioned a large part of his army along the Acapulco Road. This is a serious problem for Winfield. Let me give you a lay of the land here. The Acapulco Road is the fastest way to Mexico City, but has the large, marsh-surrounded Xochimilco Lake on its east and the Pedregal, an ancient lava flow, on its west. With these geographical impediments, it's not like Winfield can just tell his men to stay off the road and avoid the Mexicans at San Antonio.

But young, bright Captain Robert E. Lee and Lieutenant Pierre Beauregard come up with a solution. They suggest making small improvements to what's basically a cowpath that skirts around the south and west sides of the lava flow and meets back up with the easier to travel San Angel Road. This would allow the Americans to avoid Santa Ana's large army and still get to Mexico City. Now, Winfield knows a good idea when he hears one. And respectful, persuasive Robert knows how to present his awesome plan to his superiors. In the end, old fussuss and Feathers trusts that the clever captain can make the lava flow trail work and orders Robert to head up the 1st Division of Infantry under the command of Major General Gideon Pillow on August 19th. The Americans know they might meet some resistance along this new road, but Winfield has instructed Gideon to avoid an all-out battle. They need to save their men

and ammo for the serious fighting that will go down at Mexico City. Against Santa Anna's orders, out for glory Valencia has positioned his forces at Padierna, where the cowpath meets the San Angel Road, setting a trap for the Americans. A quick side note, American scouts think this town is Contreras, so the battle that goes down here will be known as the Battle of Contreras, even though it's in Padierna. Confused? I'm sorry about that. So are the soldiers, and sometimes history's messy. Anyway, Valencia pins down Gideon's advanced lines with his heavy guns entrenched in the hills above the town. American General Gideon doesn't

have the firepower to disable these guns, but he's gonna try. Across the afternoon and into the evening, the superior Mexican guns destroy all eight of the Americans' wimpy six-pounders. Knight brings an end to the brutal artillery duel. Believing he has won the battle, Valencia parties like a frat boy on spring break. Meanwhile, in heavy rainfall, American battalions position themselves to attack Padierna at first light. At 6 a.m. on August 20th, the Americans charge the probably hungover Mexicans from two sides. After mere 17 minutes of hand-to-hand combat, Mexican lines break. The entire army flees northeast up the road.

The intense Battle of Contreras, which again went down in Padierna, has a high body count. 4,500 Americans manage to kill over 700 of the 7,000 Mexicans in the fight. But the Americans can't rest. After the early morning battle, Winfield orders David Twiggs' troops to follow the north-retreating Mexicans. David's men reach the town of Chorobusco in the early afternoon. Mexican forces already have a strong position here, but fields of tall, close-growing corn keep David's troops from seeing the extent of the Mexican entrenchments. Since they can't see what they're up against, let me fill you in. Chorobusco is a large town just south of Mexico City, which sits on the south banks of the Chorobusco River.

I feel like the city's naming committee didn't try very hard. Anyway, there are two forts covering the river and the vital bridge traversing it. The main fort, called a Tetepón, sits on the south bank of the waterway, and the second stronghold, the converted convent of San Mateo, is just southwest of it. Santa Ana has over 7,000 men defending the two forts and the entrenched lines connecting them. The bridge over the river is the best way to get into Mexico City, so the Americans need to gain control of it. With that goal in mind, David orders his men to charge the convent of San Mateo. The soldiers get trapped by incessant Mexican musket and cannon fire, which one man compares to a hailstorm battering against a glass window. And the Americans know exactly who is raining this storm of bullets down on them.

A green silk banner bearing a harp and the motto, Erango Braobrah, on one side and a painting of St. Patrick on the other, waves proudly over the converted convent. This signifies that John Riley and his fellow St. Patrick's Battalion members, known as San Patricios, have four eight-pounder guns and dozens of muskets aimed at their former compatriots. While David's men try to attack the fortified convent, American General William Worth has his troops attack the Tete-de-Pont on the river. One soldier describes the deadly battle, quote, the roar of the cannon and musketry, the screams of the wounded, the awful cry of terrified horses and mules and the yells of the fierce combatants all combined in a sound as hellish as can be conceived. Close quote. But backup soon arrives and the Tetepont falls to the Americans. With the stars and stripes waving over the fort, the Mexican forces at San Mateo are screwed. Their line of retreat just got cut off. As American forces smashed their way into the convent, outnumbered Mexicans tried to surrender. Twice. But the desperate to avoid capture San Patricios

tear the white flag out of their hands. They know, as you do from today's opening, how this will end if the Americans capture them. Nonetheless, as the situation in the convent becomes hopeless, the San Patricios allow their fellow Mexican soldiers to wave the final flag of surrender. The days of fighting at the battles of Contreras and Churubusco leave over 4,000 Mexicans and 1,000 Americans killed or wounded. The Americans also capture John Riley and 84 other San Patricios, but we'll get to them later. Right now, we want to stick with Winfield's army, which is almost the gates of Mexico City. With such a powerful military position, Winfield wants to negotiate a peace treaty without actually having to conquer the capital. He hopes to avoid, quote, Close quote.

This frustrates most of his men. One soldier complains that, quote, After every victory, we are down on our knees suing for peace. Close quote. But Winfield and Nick open talks with Mexican officials anyway. From their new headquarters at Tacubaya, southwest of the capital, they exchange letters with Mexican military officials and make a few handshake deals. It seems that honorable, patriotic Winfield and Nick are unable to see that Santa Ana will never

be straight with them. Instead, the American general agrees to an armistice while Nick tries again to work out a peace arrangement. Per the ceasefire rules, both Americans and Mexicans promise to halt military preparations and allow free commerce between Americans and Mexicans in the capital while negotiations are in progress. Now, military leaders may accept this arrangement, but many of the 300,000 residents of Mexico City do not. When a few hundred American teamsters pull their wagons into the main city plaza to buy food for the American troops, many locals get angry. Children and women start to throw rocks at the teamsters, injuring several. Local police try

to protect the unarmed men, but the crowd is intent on getting justice for their brothers and sons lost in battle against the Americans. One woman screams that she wants to kill them all because they killed her poor son. The crowd of over 30,000 people agrees. First, the Americans slaughtered Mexicans in battle, and now they should roll over and sell them food? That's more than these war-weary people can take. Only a speech from former Mexican President Herrera and the deaths of two Teamsters calmed the out-for-blood crowd. Considering this bloody incident, and two weeks of watching Mexican officers blatantly break the armistice agreement by building fortifications,

Winfield can't take it anymore. On September 6th, he gives Mexican negotiators notice of his intent to end the armistice and move forward with the only option left to him, conquering Mexico City. But Winfield being Winfield, he has to think through how he goes about it. Should he launch a frontal assault by charging down one of the raised roads, that is, causeways, that cut through the marshlands surrounding Mexico City? Sounds deadly, and that's not Winfield's style, as we saw at the Battle of Veracruz in the last episode. But he has heard that the Mexicans have a cannon foundry and a massive store of gunpowder at nearby Molina del Rey and Casamata,

respectively. So he wants to start by taking these out. Now General Pillow tries to talk Winfield out of this, pointing out his intel on this supposed foundry is old. Both fuss and feathers won't have it. He has a plan and he's sticking to it. Early on the morning of September 8th, yes, just two days after ending the armistice, Winfield sends General Wirth with 3,500 men to Molina del Rey. It's an unimpressive series of a few small stone structures, including a beat-up old flour mill, hence the name Molina.

So is there really an active foundry here? What about Mexican defenders? Well, the Americans know one way to find out. When their cannons elicit no response, the Americans lazily figure the coast is clear and saunter toward the small stone structures. This is just what the Mexicans wanted. It's only once the unsuspecting Americans are in the open and exposed that Molina del Rey's defenders deliver a belated and deadly response with their own cannon and muskets. Americans drop left and right as the Mexicans pursue them and finish off any wounded left behind.

But as the battle rages through the morning, the tables turn as the brave but ill-equipped Mexicans run out of working muskets and ammo. American troops push back and make their way into the stone buildings, engaging the defenders in close-quarters combat in room after room. By the early afternoon, the battle's over. U.S. forces have prevailed, but only technically speaking. They have over 600 wounded and 116 dead. To put that another way, almost 30% of American troops in this fight are casualties. Damn. It might as well be the British at Bunker Hill back in episode 7. Another win or two like Molina del Rey and Winfield will find himself losing this war after all. And that's a real possibility because only a thousand yards from Molina del Rey is an impressive, daunting, menacing fortification, Chapultepec Castle. Located at the top of a 200 foot tall

ridge this 18th century architectural masterpiece isn't just a fortified defensive position with as many as a thousand defenders. It's also a military academy filled with a hundred or so of Mexico's finest young cadets. Attacking Chapultepec Castle is the equivalent of attacking a fortified West Point full of patriotic, overachieving warriors. And this is just what Winfield wants to do. When he pitches this plan to his top officers at a council of war on September 11th, nearly everyone disagrees. They could forego this western approach and avoid the castle altogether by taking one of three causeways that lead into Mexico City from the south. Almost to a man, including rising star golden boy engineer

Robert E. Lee, the council prefers this southern course. But our other shining engineer, Lieutenant Pierre Beauregard, comes to agree with Winfield. After all, isn't Santa Ana expecting them to avoid Chapultepec Castle? How reinforced might these southern roads be by now? So there's really no safe way to take the capital, and old Fuss and Feathers gets his way. The U.S. Army will storm the castle. The next day, U.S. artillery bombards Chapultepec's gorgeous fortifications from morning until nightfall. As 16-pounder siege guns, howitzers, and mortars work their magic, castle walls crack while Mexican forces suffer casualties and desertions. Realizing the Americans will not be attacking from one of the southern causeways,

Santa Ana wants to send reinforcements, but how can he do so when this rain of artillery would only add to the Mexican body count? So he waits. The bombardment begins anew early the next morning, September 13th. Then at 8am, the siege guns go silent as 7,000 American troops charge at the castle in a three-pronged attack. Mexican artillery fires back as the Americans swarm toward and up the steep ridge. It seems this battle could go either way.

Meanwhile, 30 men and 30 nooses watch the battle rage. Yes, these are the last of St. Patrick's Battalion taken captive at the Battle of Churubusco. It's been four days since the first round of lashes, brandings, and executions, and now these 30 soldiers stand in the back of wagons, bound at the wrists and hands with nooses around their necks, as their executioner, Colonel William Harney, forces them to watch Mexico's last hope of resistance, Chapultepec Castle, fall. He's determined that the last thing these Catholics will see before death is an American flag fluttering from Chapultepec Castle. In fact, the gallows' location five miles to its south and on a hill just outside the village

of Miscoac was arranged specifically so Colonel Harney could carry out this bit of cruelty. Harney has forced the tightly bound St. Paddy's to stand and watch with rope at their throats since 5.30 this morning. But he was quite angry when he counted only 29 men at the gallows. Where's the 30th? He demanded. The surgeon explained that the 30th, Francis O'Connor, lost his legs in the last battle and his moments from death. Bring the damn son of a bitch out. My order is to hang 30, and by God, I'll do it. The despicable colonel screams. Following orders, U.S. troops carry him to the gallows. They lengthen the noose so it can hang the already unconscious, legless Francis laying in the wagon beneath it. Now it's past 8 a.m. The doomed men have stood

here, or laid here in Francis' case, under the hot September sun for hours. Finally, one emboldened Irishman calls out to Colonel Harney. If we won't be hung until your dirty old flag flies from the castle, we will live to eat the goose that will fatten on the grass of your own grave, Colonel. Yep, the San Patricios stay bold and witty even with both feet in the grave. Meanwhile, things are taking a bad turn for the Mexicans up at the castle. American forces are held up in a grove for a bit, but soon gain the upper hand. With ladders and pickaxes, they ascend the ridge and force the castle's defenders to retreat from the walls as hand-to-hand combat ensues. Amid this bloodbath, Mexican cadets as young as 13 defend their country and their school.

When Mexican General Nicolas Bravo sees that all is lost and orders his forces to retreat, six of these youths refuse to flee or surrender, preferring to fight to the death. According to legend, at least one of these boys, traditionally thought to be Juan Escutia, takes extreme measures to protect Mexico's honor. We're not there yet, but when he sees the castle is lost, Juan will wrap the green, white, and red tricolor of Mexico around his own body, then jump off of the castle to his own death in order to prevent the Americans from capturing his country's flag. Logistical issues and a lack of contemporary historical records cast a lot of doubt on the

flag legend. Other specifics are murky too. But honestly, who gives a damn? The fact remains that these mere boys fought bravely for their country as their cherubic corpses fell and their blood stained the ground of Mexico's sacred Chapultepec Castle. I mean, few Americans care whether revolutionary American spy Nathan Hale actually said, quote, I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country, close quote. Fact is, as I pointed out in episode eight, he was executed as a patriot and died well. Same goes for these boys. And just as the United States puts Nathan's face on stamps and statues, these six niños héroes will be memorialized with six massive marble columns in a semicircle at Chapultepec Park, a mural of Juan plunging to his death in the castle itself,

a metro station, and still other ways and places. They died young, but will live forever in the hearts and minds of the Mexican people. But no matter how that flag comes down, its fall will signal the execution of the 30 condemned San Patricios at the village of Miscoac. And these veterans know the moment's coming. Americans are now swarming into the castle. They watch in silence while Mexican priests give them absolution and perform last rites. Colonel, oh, Colonel, dear, will you grant a favor to a dying man of the old second, a Florida man, Colonel, calls out one of the condemned as the end clearly approaches. Even heartless Colonel Harney is responsive in this moment. He rides up to the man.

The San Patricio then replies, Thanks, thanks, Colonel. I knew you had a kind heart. Please take my pipe out of my pocket and light it by your elegant red hair. That's all, Colonel. Livid at being the butt of the dying man's joke, Harney unsheathes his sword and hits the tied, noose-wearing man in the face, knocking several teeth out.

With blood pouring from his mouth, the cheeky man replies, Bad luck to ya. You've spoiled my smoking entirely. I shan't be able to hold a pipe in my mouth as long as I live. That's some dark humor, but damn. Talk about showing an unconquered spirit to the end. Then it happens. Mexico's flag disappears. At 9.30, the stars and stripes take its place. After four hours of standing in the

sun with rope chafing their hands, ankles, and necks, the time of execution has arrived. Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah! The Catholic men spontaneously cheer as a salute of sorts, perhaps to each other, perhaps with thoughts of their flogged and branded Captain John Riley. Colonel Harney now orders the wagons forward. Thirty bodies, including Francis' legless frame, swing, kick, and collide.

A little while later, a soldier asks the colonel if he should cut down the corpses. No, Harney answers. I was ordered to have them hanged. I have no orders to unhang them. If you go to the Plaza de San Jacinto in Mexico City's suburb of San Angel, where the first round of San Patricio executions happened, you'll find a small memorial. Translated into English, it has an inscription that reads, In memory of the Irish soldiers of the heroic battalion of St. Patrick, martyrs who gave their lives for the Mexican cause during the unjust North American invasion of 1847.

Beneath this is a list of 71 names, mostly Irish, with a smattering of Germans and other nationalities. Fifty of these men swung from the gallows between September 9th and 13th, 1847. More were sentenced to death, but old Fuss and Feathers pardoned five and commuted the sentences of another fifteen because the specifics of their desertion did not permit execution by U.S. law. That's how we ended up with the lashing and branding of John Riley. Unable to appreciate how America's anti-Catholic sentiment might have pushed these men to switch sides, the U.S. will promptly forget them. But Mexico won't. Nor will Ireland. If you visit this memorial on the September

13th anniversary of the second round of executions, you'll see Mexicans and Irish gathered as an Irish diplomat reads aloud all 71 names. The throng of spectators call out, Morio por la patria, as each name is read. And the same day each year, Irish dignitaries welcome Mexican officials to John Riley's hometown of Clifton, Ireland. So although no one knows what became of John after he left U.S. custody, his legacy lives on. On September 14, 1847, the day after these executions and the fall of Chapultepec Castle, General Winfield Scott begins an unpeaceful occupation of Mexico City. His men have no choice but to return fire at snipers and peasants who throw stones as proud citizens riot against American occupation of the capital. Winfield takes a forceful stance, threatening to sack the city if the violence doesn't stop. This quiets most, but guerrilla

uprisings continue in the outlying villages and Americans have to be vigilant against attack. Against this backdrop, Nick Trist gets to work crafting a treaty. It's difficult work for a couple of reasons. First, the American negotiator has come to be ashamed of this war, seeing it as a naked land grab like many other Americans. As the negotiations move forward, Nick feels regretful, quote, Close quote. And that brings up the other difficult piece of this negotiation. Friction has developed between Nick and President James Polk. See,

Nick wants to use American-held territory as a bargaining chip to end what he now sees as a shameful war. James wants to end the war with as much land as possible for his country. In the past few months, while Nick has been embedded with the army, the president has become sympathetic to the small but growing all-Mexico movement in the U.S. This extreme take on Manifest Destiny holds that North America is a birthright of Americans. Sam Houston, one of the movement's more vocal proponents, energetically asserts, quote, Assuredly, as tomorrow's sun will rise, so certain it appears to my mind,

must the Anglo-Saxon race pervade throughout the whole rich empire of this great hemisphere. Close quote. So even though he sent Nick to Mexico hoping to gain Alta and Baja California, Nuevo Mexico, and the Rio Grande border for Texas, in a September 1847 cabinet meeting, the president declares he is now, quote, decidedly in favor of insisting on the acquisition of more territory, close quote. Rightly fearing that Nick won't go along with this change of plans, James recalls Nick. On October 4th, he sends a letter to his hand-picked negotiator, telling him to come home with a treaty if he already has one. If he doesn't, he should come home anyway, quote,

by the first safe opportunity, close quote. But Winfield and Edward Thornton, the British charge d'affaires in Mexico, tell him to ignore the presidential summons and keep up the good work. In an unprecedented move, Nick flushes his personal ambitions. He ignores the president's order and does his best to work with the Mexican government for an agreement that will bring peace to both war-weary countries, even if it costs him his career. By the end of January 1848, Nick has worked out the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo with the newly installed Mexican government

of President Manuel de la Peña y Peña. Nick makes the treaty as generous to Mexico as his angry boss, the President of the United States, will tolerate. The terms of the agreement seeds out to California, Nuevo Mexico, and Texas down to the Rio Grande. It also specifies that Mexican residents in those territories will be offered a path to U.S. citizenship and that the U.S. will pay $15 million U.S. dollars to the Mexican government. Nick purposely keeps the payment low. He's authorized to pay up to $20 million in order to keep James Polk happy. On February 2nd, 1848, three Mexican commissioners and a fired but still on the job Nick signed the treaty. One official comments to Nick, quote, this must be a proud moment for you. No less proud for

you than it is humiliating for us. Close quote. Now, Nick keeps his mouth shut, but he later writes to his wife, quote, could those Mexicans have seen into my heart at that moment, they would have known that my feeling of shame as an American was far stronger than theirs could be as Mexicans. Close quote. The signed treaty gets overnighted to DC. Okay, FedEx isn't a thing yet, but the treaty travels fast by 1848 standards and arrives on President Polk's desk by 9 p.m. on February 19th. Despite the late hour, James reads it immediately. He then writes in his journal, quote, Mr. Trist has acted very badly, but notwithstanding this, if on further examination the treaty is one that knows the politically expedient thing to do is to send it to Congress and end the war.

The treaty makes it to the Senate floor on February 21st, 1848. But that same day, tragedy strikes. Former president and passionate anti-slavery, anti-war Whig, Massachusetts Representative John Quincy Adams has a massive stroke. The lifelong civil servant dies two days later, and President Polk suspends all government business for two days of mourning. After the suspension, the debates over next treaty begin. On one extreme, anti-war Whigs argue that they can't accept any treaty which takes land from Mexico. At the other end, pro-expansionist Dems want to get all of Mexico. And to throw another lighter fluid-soaked log on the fire, anti-war Northern Democratic congressmen bring up the Wilmot Proviso again. They suggest adding the ban on slavery in all acquired territory to the treaty. Like the previous two tries with the

Proviso, the Southern Controlled Senate rejects that idea, but manages to ratify the treaty on March 10, 1848, bringing the war to an end. Alright, let's wrap up these last four episodes with a look at the big picture. And you know, some of this is going to be uncomfortable, but hey, we got this. Just as we take pride in our better moments, we can rep the less savory so we can learn and heal, right? So here we go. The Mexican-American War was a result of America's belief in its manifest destiny. This 19th century notion claimed that Providence, or God, wanted the United States to expand across the North American continent, even by conquest if necessary. Now, force doesn't really jive with republicanism,

but if we look at this globally, I think we can make more sense of it. After all, this isn't entirely different from the mentality of 19th century European nations that are conquering and building worldwide empires with the conviction that they are righteously spreading civilization. The French call this la mission civilisatrice, or the civilizing mission. In other words, the 19th century might be a time when many nations are grasping the idea of human and civil rights, but despite rhetoric, it's yet to sink in across the board that, to be truly ethical, those rights must apply to everyone, not just one's own country, ethnicity, or religion.

Plenty of U.S. leaders left behind writings that demonstrate this lamentable reality, especially while debating whether to conquer all of Mexico or not. Check out what foreign vice president turned senator John C. Calhoun had to say on the matter on January 4th, 1848. I quote, We have conquered many of the neighboring tribes of Indians, but have never thought of holding them in subjugation or of incorporating them into our union. Nor have we ever incorporated into the union any but the Caucasian race. To incorporate Mexico would be the first departure of the kind. For more than half of its population are pure Indians and by far the larger portion of the residue mixed blood. I protest against the incorporation of such a

people. Ours is the government of the white man. The great misfortune of what was formerly Spanish America is to be traced to the fatal error of placing the colored race on an equality with the white. I know that's super uncomfortable to the 21st century American ear. It's not much more comfortable reading it, I promise. But this is a pretty mainstream view in the mid-19th century. So ironically, the same superiority complex and racism that spurred some of this manifest destiny stuff also played a role in the U.S. not taking over all of Mexico. Crazy, right? Of course, racial attitudes towards Mexico weren't the only racial factors at play in this war. We have to remember that many Americans wanted to expand the nation in order to expand

slave territory. Frederick Douglass, who we'll meet in far greater detail later, I promise, bluntly described the war on January 21st, 1848 as, quote, this slave-holding crusade, close quote. Meanwhile, abolitionist and philosopher Henry David Thoreau was so deeply upset about the war and slavery. He refused to pay taxes in the summer of 1846, even though this landed him in jail. He later wrote a lecture based on this experience, basically saying he prefers jail to funding a government that supports slavery. Let's quote him. How does it become a man to behave toward this American government today? I answer that he cannot without disgrace be associated with it. I cannot for an instant recognize that political organization as my government, which is the slave's government also. Under a government which imprisons any

unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison. Close quote. This is now one of Henry's most famous works. It's called On Civil Disobedience. And while not a cause of the conflict with Mexico, the war also showed how America is still struggling to extend full rights to all regardless of religion. I'll remind you that we briefly met the California-bound Mormon battalion in episode 34.

These soldiers never see action and are an absolute footnote militarily speaking, but it's worth pointing out how unenthusiastic they are to fight for the country that's chasing them and their families west. As historian Peter Guardino put it in his recent book with Harvard University Press, The Dead March, quote, When the U.S. government began trying to recruit them, the Mormons, many men were reluctant to sign up. They were bitter about the violence that had been inflicted on them and they did not feel any particular political allegiance to an American society that had persecuted them. Some Mormons believed that God might make the United States lose the war to punish Americans for mistreating them. And of course, as we just saw in this episode, the Mormons aren't the only

faith feeling less than warm and fuzzy toward the U.S. For crying out loud, the Catholics of St. Patrick's Battalion switch sides. Some scholars point to promises of land from the Mexican government as an inducement, and that's fair, but it's telling that the common thread among the men in this unit was their Catholicism. So between the Mormons and the Catholics in this war, we can see that the mid-19th century U.S. is also struggling to accept non-Protestant faiths. In short, between race and religion, we can see that America still has a way to go in the quest to fully implement Thomas Jefferson's immortal and beautiful words, All men are created equal. I think it's no secret at this point in the podcast I consider myself a rather patriotic American.

But to me, being patriotic isn't just about praising your country. It also means owning your country's shortcomings, as we're doing here. But let me also point out that some Americans do stand up for the principles that we, as a nation, like to think of when we consider what it means to be American. To start, I've already quoted Henry David Thoreau and Frederick Douglass, and there were other moral players like Nick Trist or John Quincy Adams. We also have a young, tall, and gangly Illinois congressman from the Whig Party by the name of Abraham Lincoln. He introduced his spot resolutions on December 22nd, 1847, in which he questioned President Polk's episode 33 claim that the spot where the first battle occurred was American soil. Ah, you remember that fight

in disputed territory, right? Well, honest Abe thought that was clearly Mexican territory. He's far from alone in his views, but his opposition to the war will cost him his congressional seat and lead others to call him a traitor. And still others will come to regret their role. The young officer we met a few times in these recent episodes, named Ulysses S. Grant, will later write, quote, I do not think there was ever a more wicked war than that waged by the United States on Mexico. I thought so at the time when I was a youngster, only I had not moral courage enough to resign. Close quote. By the way, keep an eye on these two young bucks, Abe and Ulysses. I'm sure many of you Americans know this,

but in case you're not American or otherwise just don't yet know, we're far from done with these two. Now there's one last thing we can't ignore in the big picture of the Mexican-American War. Mexico's shortcomings. To be clear, these shortcomings do not give the U.S. moral ground. They only help us better understand the outcome of the war. So to that end, I'll remind you that Mexico has been a house divided since gaining independence in 1821. Through its early decades, Mexico's dysfunctional government turns over quickly,

is poorly managed, breaks its word, and often leaves its citizens high and dry. Understandably, this leads many Mexicans on the edge of this massive nation to question if they want to be a part of it, including predominantly Anglo-settled Texas, which left through revolution back in 1836. It's that same dysfunction that's led other border regions, like Alta California and Nuevo Mexico, to develop rather independent spirits, revolt, and even at times call for independence from Mexico. Once again, this does not give the U.S. the right to conquer, but it sure did make it easier to do so as a minority of Californios actually welcomed the U.S. Army and New Mexicans didn't initially oppose it. Both groups soon realized that U.S. military occupation was worse than the Mexican government, but by then it was

too late. I can't help but wonder, if the Mexican-American war never happened, if America wasn't on a manifest destiny kick, would either Alta California or Nuevo Mexico have broken off in time? Maybe Mariano Vallejo and other California leaders, rather than John C. Fremont and the Bear Flag Revolt crowd, would have founded the California Republic. And would it have joined the United States? Or would it be an independent Spanish-speaking sovereign nation to this day? We'll never know. All we know for sure is that, with the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, Mexico's land holdings, even if tenuously held, decreased by about 33%, while America's increased by 25%. This also brings some 75,000 Spanish speakers and 150,000 American Indians under U.S. governance. And one last big kicker. This newly acquired territory

is about to take the already divisive slavery issue to a whole new level as Americans go bare-knuckle brawl, sometimes literally in Congress, over whether slavery should be permitted in it or not. And in just a little over a decade, this is finally going to boil over into the most violent, deadly war America has ever seen, led by men on both sides who earn their stripes fighting against Mexico. score composed and performed by Greg Jackson and Diana Averill. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit historythatdoesntsuck.com. Join me in two weeks where I'd like to tell you a story. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode

description. I gratitude you kind souls providing additional funding to help us keep going. And a special thanks to our members whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Merchant, Christopher Pullman, David DeFazio, David Rifkin, Denke, Durante Spencer, Donald Moore, Donna Marie Jeffcoat, Ellen Stewart, Bernie Lowe, George Sherwood, Gurwith Griffin, Henry Brunges, Jake Gilbreth, James G. Bledsoe, Janie McCreary, Jeff Marks, Jennifer Moods, Jennifer Magnolia, Jeremy Wells, Jessica Poppock, Joe Dobis, John Frugaldugel, John Boovey, John Keller, John Oliveros, John Radlavich, John Schaefer, John Sheff, Jordan Corbett, Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie Koneko, Kim R., Thank you.