"We're almost there," Scott relayed to America the next morning. The previous day had been another battle, fighting always more fighting. They'd managed to push the Mexicans back to Churubusco, a mere 5 miles from Mexico City. Today they'd continue the battle—hopefully to end in success—and from there on they would be able to march directly to the city itself.
America hadn't wanted to fight. He had insisted on it vehemently, offering to help out the wounded instead, only carrying a gun with him for protection on Scott's insistence. And so he had passed the previous day.
However, this battle went differently. The San Patricios were there—the deserters, Scott called them, with contempt in his voice. They fought valiantly, sustaining heavy losses, along with their Mexican allies. It was an intense battle, a last stand to protect the city from the invaders.
At some point the lines had blurred for America, self defense turned to attacking. It had been unbearable, watching Mexico fight alongside her troops, helping them to defeat the enemy, while he hung back like a coward. He told himself he was helping, tending to the wounded as best he could in the midst of battle, dragging the injured out of the fray if need be.
But it wasn't the same. And so he went back on his decision, and fought once more with his troops. Several times he had come close to Mexico, close enough to see the look in her dark eyes. Fierce, determined—and full of hate as they settled on him. America could feel the intensity of her glare, the strength behind it, and was at once taken aback and spurred onwards by it. Maybe she was a girl, but she was unlike the women he was familiar with. She had the strength to fight him, and so he would fight her. For her own sake, to put this to an end, he told himself.
Because he recognized in her eyes a familiar sentiment. He saw his Revolutionary self within her, the same passion and will to persevere. And it was for this reason he knew she would not give up. She would fight until the very end.
After suffering a defeat at Churubusco, Santa Anna had retreated back into the heart of Mexico, a final defense attempt. More fighting, chaos, death. Scott wanted the war over with, and America was with him on that, as were most involved. And slowly, the Mexicans, battle worn and tiring of the fight, backed down, leaving the city in disarray.
"President Polk called me back," Trist announced, obvious unease in his expression.
"You can't leave now," America frowned, shaking his head. "The fighting's over, and we need to settle this. We've just started working with the peace commissioners."
"I know," Trist sighed, letting his eyes fall shut briefly. "If I go back now, we might lose the opportunity to make any sort of agreement. This government is disintegrating."
"Yes," agreed Scott, determination in his voice. "We need to act now or never. The president will just have to wait."
"It still doesn't feel right," Trist glanced away, off into the distance—back towards the White House, maybe? But then he changed direction, with a new confidence. "We need to do this. Polk won't be happy, but it's the only way."
"One must do what they must."
"America, if you wouldn't mind," Trist began, turning back to the young Nation. "Would you mind finding, ah…Mexico, and discussing this with her? I've got to send word to Polk of my…declination. And I have a feeling the negotiations might not reach her properly."
"Of course," America complied, going to look for the other Nation.
"Mexico, please, listen to me," America urged, not flinching as she continued to glower at him. "We need to settle this for your own good. Your government is falling apart, and if we can't settle this—"
"No," Mexico returned, the anger clear in her tone, even if the words were not. "No permitire usted engañarme. ¡No!"
"I, uh…" America desperately wracked his brain, trying to make sense of her words and recall the sparse amounts of Spanish he had learned from Spain. "No…engage. You won't let me engage you. I'm not planning on fighting you; I want to make a truce."
"No, no comprende," She continued, frowning, as she started to move away.
"Wait, I just…" he grabbed her wrist, only to be hit in the face.
"¡Para!" she shouted, yanking at her arm. Alarmed, America released her.
"You…not welcome here," she said at last, in broken English. "I want…nothing with you. Go!" And with that she left, expertly winding off into the mess of streets.
America sighed to himself, disappointed. That could've gone a lot better. Disheartened, he made his way back to Trist and Scott, hoping the governmental negotiations would work out better.
Historical Notes: The San Patricios (Saint Patrick's Battalion) were a group of Irish, German, and other immigrants that, fed up with their treatment and unsure about fighting a Catholic country, deserted Taylor's men to join forces with the Mexicans. Each San Patricio who deserted from the US side was jailed after the war in Mexico and given an individual court-martial trial. Some of the Irish were set free, but roughly half of the San Patricio defectors who were executed by the US for desertion were Irish. There are ceremonies held in Mexico twice a year, on September 12 which is the anniversary of the executions, and on Saint Patrick's Day.
The Battle of Churubusco took place on August 20, 1847, the day after the Battle of Contreras (Padierna). After defeating the Mexican army at Churubusco, the U.S. Army was only 5 miles away from Mexico City. The San Patricios played a big role in this battle, suffering heavy losses. They knew they would likely face death once the war was over, and so they fought with extra passion. The Battle of Churubusco was considered the Waterloo of the Mexican-American War, the last major fight.
After the battle, Santa Anna's largely intact force retreated to Mexico City, where a number of different skirmishes took place. Stragglers from the Mexican army left in the city after Santa Anna's withdrawal climbed to the roofs of houses and began shooting at the American soldiers. Before he evacuated, Santa Anna released 30,000 prisoners into the streets of the city, and these rooftop shots provoked the prisoners into similar acts.
Because of the confusion following the fall of Mexico City, Trist was unable to start negotiations with the Mexican peace commissioners until January 1848. Polk, unable to understand the delay and impatient, revised his plans. Originally he had planned to pay $30 million for New Mexico, Upper and Lower California, and the right of transit across Mexico's narrow isthmus of Tehautepee. Now, realizing the disorder of Mexican affairs, he contemplated demanding more territory and paying less of it. He summoned Trist home.
Trist, with Scott's support, ignored the order, realizing that unless a treaty was arranged soon, the Mexican government might disintegrate, leaving no one in authority to sign a treaty. He sent a 65-page letter to the president, about his refusal to return, and started negotiations. Early in February the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was completed. By its terms Mexico accepted the Rio Grande as the boundary of Texas and ceded New Mexico and Upper California to the United States. In return, the United States agreed to pay Mexico $15 million and deal with the claims of American citizens against Mexico, which accounted to $3.5 million by that time.
Translations:
No permitire usted engañarme. ¡No!: I won't allow you to trick me. No!
No, no comprende: No, you don't understand.
¡Para!: Stop! (except for this one, due to her anger/panic, Mexico uses the formal form of 'you' with America, in a mocking way, methinks. I wasn't sure what form to have her use ' Let me know if I botched this all up)
I think I might be coming down with something (my head/throat feel strange), and I have a History exam Friday I need to do well on. Also, I have an epic amount of History notes on World War II to do over the weekend…so I don't know how updates would be. But I wanted to get this up for you today. I hope it's not too bad…no proofreading whatsoever + sickness = screwups. I'll look it over in the morning.
Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone ^^