David R. Stevens
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While fire-eaters, both North & South, fanned controversial flames into open, armed hostilities, the political situation south of the 1860 US-Mexico border also quickly deteriorated. Prior to opening shots at Fort Sumter, Liberal Republican President Benito Juarez wrested power away from the clerical Conservatives who had held the country in a oppressive grip since before Spain’s embarrassing evacuation. Juarez’s election, and subsequent persecutions, prompted affluent expatriate Conservatives to flee to Europe, where, as political refugees, they gained the sympathies of France’s Napoleon III. Seeing the turmoil brewing in the US, Napoleon, backed by some of Europe’s most influential bankers, gambled and embarked on a mission of regaining a foot-hold on the western continent that had been lost since the publication of the US’s Monroe Doctrine. This Napoleon accomplished by convincing Austria’s Archduke Maximilian in accepting the “Crown of Mexico,” which would be propped-up by French expeditionary forces. However, when the devastating US turmoil concluded with the subjugation of the South, US Secretary of State, William Seward, issued a threatening ultimatum demanding Napoleon to withdraw French troops from Mexico, or face the consequences of war with the United States. With the final embarkation of the French Foreign Legion from the coastal port of Vera Cruz, it was only a matter of time before Maximilian realized his puppet-government could not survive without exterior military support. Convinced that forging peaceful, political alliances with the victorious North was his only formula for successful existence, Maximilian spurned the overtures of displaced, unrepentant southern generals offering their services. Seward, however, rejected Maximilian’s proposals. With his stunningly beautiful bride having returned to Europe to seek the reestablishment of withdrawn monetary and military support from governments and the Vatican, Maximilian made his last stand against converging loyal Juaristas at an old Spanish town north of that republic’s capital.
Although Sin Perdón is the author’s first book to go to publication, there are about six works “waiting in the wings,” at various stages of completion. All books, to include Sin Perdón, deal loosely with that most devastating, critical period in American History when over 600,000 men, women, and children perished in the multi-faceted conflict, many issues of which were never resolved and still haunt and plague our nation’s politics, today. The author’s total civil war knowledge (from the public school system) could be summed-up in approximately three phrases: the South had slaves; the North didn’t like it; the North invaded the South and forced the issue (resulting in the freeing of 3 million enslaved people). Equally, all the peripheral connections with the American conflict were virtually unknown. It was only when the author attended the US Army’s Warrant Officer School in 1995, where he was required to conduct research about a contending general, that his appetite was insatiably whetted. During the following years, all things “Civil War” became a consuming passion. During his subsequent research, the author discovered the stunning “facts” about the European invasion of Mexico, during the same 1860 time-frame as our nation’s armed hostilities. Sin Perdón is the author’s first installment portraying the events occurring “behind the scenes,” as vast armed forces senselessly slaughtered each other on battlefields across America. The author has spent considerable time traveling in Mexico, is fluent in the Spanish language, thereby uniquely qualified in researching antiquated yet venerable original material. During the author’s twenty-plus years in the military, many were spent writing military reports – hence the military “bent.” The author holds a BA in Education and is currently pursuing his Masters. He resides in Manassas, VA with his wife, two children, one son-in-law, and one grand-daughter.
The servants and grooms had collected all the horses and finally met up with their respective owners. (156) Juarista rebels surrounded General Méndez’s troops and mercilessly cut them down, but General Mejia succeeded in reaching the hill with a small group of aides and followers. Soon thereafter, LTC Pedro A. Gonzalez, leading what was left of the empress’ regiment, also arrived. LTC Pitner, Count Pachta, Major Malburg, and CPT Fürstenwärther also joined them on the cerro. Like waves lapping the shore, the gray uniforms steadily encroached upon the base of the cerro. (157) To this number were added the rag-tag troops of the imperial forces that had abandoned their emperor and stolen away to the Juarista’s ranks. At that moment, General Escobedo opened up on the small gathering with his batteries and captured weapons, shells kicking up rocks from the trenches. One of the officers informed the emperor that Miramón had been gravely wounded as he attempted to depart his house. Left with only two of his generals, Mejia and Castillo, Maximilian asked if it was possible to cut through the rebels’ imposing lines. After studying the situation with his field glasses, General Mejia declared it to be impossible, but if the emperor ordered the charge, he would comply with his orders.
At daybreak, to add to the confusion, López ordered that the city’s bells be simultaneously rung. This was the universal sign that the conspiracy had been a success. As the masses of Juarista troops closed in upon the small gathering on the hill from all directions, Maximilian watched in disbelief as one by one, many of his alleged true followers crossed the chasm to take their places beside the Juaristas. Now with few loyal followers, reality began to take hold of Maximilian. They could no longer cut their way through the throng before them. The emperor handed Blasio his letter case containing his private papers, a military-political division of the country, and a simplified version of palace etiquette that he had worked on earlier during the siege. He directed that Blasio burn them along with the previously dictated notes. Blasio and Captain Fürstenwärther hurried to Colonel Gayón’s tent that was pitched on a rise and accomplished the deed with the aid of a burning candle. (158)
Due in part to the rivalries and jealousies between Maximilian’s generals, the maximum effectiveness of his forces was greatly reduced. As they stood on the rocky cactus-strewn hill in the early morning dawn, Maximilian leaned on his sword, his greatcoat unbuttoned to show his Mexican general’s uniform. The Medal of Honor hung around his neck. Liberals continued gathering at the foot of the hill, but all firing had stopped. Around the city, pieces of white cloth began appearing in surrender. “Now for a lucky bullet,” the emperor said. Not wanting to expose his followers to any more senseless slaughter, Maximilian ordered that the white flags of surrender be raised. With General Mejia on his right and Salm-Salm on his left, Maximilian slowly descended the hill toward a group of liberal officers. Colonel Echegaray (Blasio claimed it was General Ramon Corona. Dr. Basch, who was not present, claimed it was General Mirafuentes) (159) stepped forward to accept the surrender of the emperor’s sword saying, “Your Majesty is now my prisoner.” Maximilian nodded, (160) but he requested that he be able to surrender his sword to General Escobedo. Directed to mount his horse, Maximilian was led back toward the city, but Escobedo soon arrived at the foot of the hill with an entourage of staff and officers. As they dismounted, Maximilian approached Escobedo, unbuckled his sword, and handed it to him. General Escobedo took the sword and passed it to his aide, Colonel Jesus Garcia, saying, “Take this sword, which belongs to the people.” (161)
