Blood and Thunder

Narbona looked down on Kearny’s Fort Marcy and saw organized American troops drilling. Perhaps for the first time, he heard gunfire, a terrifying experience: “Many Native Americans at the time were said to have an overseeing, irrational fear of artillery” (174-5).

Narbona did not understand “American logic”: why they fought the Mexicans and, as soon as they conquered them, took the New Mexicans’ enemies as their own. These men, with their guns and their strange ways, were a wholly different beast: the bilagaana, “the New Men,” as Narbona called them. He saw only one option: making peace with the Americans (174-5).

On September 25, Kearny left Fort Marcy for California. The 300 dragoons he took with him were glad to be rid of Santa Fe, with its religious zealots, livestock, and vermin, “incongruities of culture” which they did not appreciate (179-81).

As they marched, Kearny’s men could see Mount Taylor in the distance—Blue Bead Mountain to the Navajo—from which they frequently raided New Mexican settlements. Despite his lofty promises, Kearny could do little to stop the raids. He left the Indian problem to his successor, Charles Bent, who would also struggle to address it. Offenses were committed by both the New Mexicans and the Navajo in what Sides calls “the grim metronome of life” (183). Although the Indians certainly antagonized the settlers, the settlers also regularly kidnapped Navajo children for slaves—“although slavery was technically illegal, anyone of means” owned an Indian slave (180-2).

Encamped at the ruins of a village called Valverde, Kearny met an unexpected ally: Kit Carson. Carson had been sent by Fremont and Stockton to deliver their dispatches to President Polk. Kearny quickly realized that Carson would be of more use as a guide for his army than a message boy for Stockton and Fremont, and he ordered Carson to hand over his dispatches and accompany him instead.

Carson, ever loyal to Fremont, “briefly agonized over what to do—agonizing being something he rarely engaged in” (187). He considered deserting, but eventually acquiesced to the advice of his comrades and to Kearny’s own authority, much as he had to Fremont’s. “‘He made me believe,’ Carson said, ‘that he had a right to order me’” (188). Carson turned back the way he came and led Kearny’s army, through difficult territory, into California.

In October 1846, a small group of 30 Americans, led by Captain John Reid, undertook a dangerous mission. The objective was simple, if stunningly tone deaf: Reid and his men would ride into Navajo territory and convince as many Indians as possible to attend the upcoming peace talks held by Alexander Doniphan.

One volunteer, Jacob Robinson, kept a journal describing this first contact between the Navajo and American soldiers. The Navajo told the men of Narbona, who was too sick to come meet them, and offered to escort them to his camp. As more and more Navajo slowly showed up, the unease of the Americans grew. Reid “now feared a trap but realized he had come too far to turn around now—he was utterly at the Navajos’ mercy” (193). The sense of alarm grew when they awoke one day to find their horses gone—taken to graze elsewhere and soon to be returned, according to the Navajo.

To their surprise, Narbona arrived, and was ready to talk peace. Notably, one of Narbona’s wives stood up—Navajo women enjoyed significantly greater rights than their Indian and even American counterparts—and suggested the Americans were outnumbered, the warriors should slay them. Narbona angrily shut her down. Instead, the Americans would be “lavished with Navajo hospitality” (195). Reid’s men were stunned at the incredible party thrown by the Navajo; the Americans marveled at the Navajos’ generosity, dancing, curiosity, and sense of humor. Both sides quickly became friends, although the peace would not last long.

That same month, Kearny, Carson, and company pushed through New Mexico to California, meeting various tribes along the way. Carson was ornery, not because he just because needed to retread the same territory, or because he’d been looking forward to seeing his wife, or because of his loyalties to Fremont. He was upset at his inability to achieve the “athletic grail” of crossing the continent in a record 60 days, and especially at being denied an opportunity to see Washington. “Carson, who had in effect been a field agent of Manifest Destiny, wanted to meet its prime movers” (199-200).

Kearny and Carson both believed the chance for glory in California was already over: They didn’t know that the Mexicans, roused by Robert Stockton’s harsh treatment, had revolted against the American occupation and had retaken much of California. Only San Diego remained in American control, and the fiercest fighting in the Mexican-American War lay ahead.

The journey across the New Mexico desert was brutal. The landscape was alien and hostile, particularly to mules and horses. Lieutenant Emory described the terrain and the suffering of the troops: “It is labor, labor from morning till night. I’m tired of this business. I wish it was over” (203-4). It seemed impossible to him that this could ever become a slave-holding place, or that a transcontinental train could ever cross it. The men finally found respite with the friendly tribes of the Pima and the Maricopa, who had used canals to create an oasis in the desert. They shared abundantly with the Americans.

In late November, a Mexican horseman was intercepted carrying letters revealing the disaster in California. Although the news was devastating, it ensured Carson’s energy was now fully engaged on the war effort. Realizing his perilous position, Kearny asked for reinforcements and was soon met by Archibald Gillespie and 39 Marines. Kearny, with Gillespie and Carson’s approval, decided to launch a night raid on a nearby force of Mexican fighters, led by Captain Andres Pico. He hoped to steal their horses and scare them off before they realized what poor condition the Army of the West was in. The surprise attack failed, though, and Kearny prepared his men for an all-out assault in the early hours of December 6, 1846.