They Came To Cordura by Glendon Swarthout Page A

listened to Lieutenant Treat’s oration. “Some are born to tread the paths of peace, to walk among the sheltered ways, to dwell in the midst of tranquility, and when their allotted race is ended, to look back from the sunset of life upon an even and uneventful course. But others come forth into the midst of trials and tribulations, to be surrounded by perils, and to be tossed by the storms of life.” Major Thorn did not really listen. He thought instead of the fight there might be this day or the next at Pilon Cillos , of those whose heroism, since he would be absent, would go unrecognized. “Of such are they who step forward at the call of their country in its hour of need. With souls fired by the glorious spark of patriotism, animated by the desire to spread the blessings of liberty, equality and justice to all men and to less fortunate peoples, they lay down their lives in furtherance of these high and righteous ideals.” He thought of the journey to Cordura before him now, of the five men in his charge, of what they represented. It was apt. They were of the golden race indeed, by deed. “We have congregated today to do the last rites and honors to some of that noble class, upon whom falls the unique honor of being among the first to lay down their lives, to die a soldier’s death, than which none is more honorable. Their conduct calls for our emulation and highest admiration, and should instill in our breasts pride that they have been one with us in body and will continue with us in spirit.” He was glad, after all, to take them himself; to be free of those of this regiment who, sharing his secret, shared him; to have four new citations to write, and thus, answers to seek. ‘And I have a command again,’ he thought. ‘I have had platoons, troops, once a squadron, I have been second-in-command of a regiment. For three days I will be in charge of a temporary duty detail. That is a kind of command, too. But I wonder if any officer in any war has ever had one like it. I will do my duty to them, whatever it is. And to what they stand for, whatever that may be. God help me do my duty.’ “Let us with humble and contrite spirits consign to their temporary abiding places all that is mortal of our comrades in arms.”
    Colonel Rogers nodded approval, then recited the Twenty-third Psalm and the Lord’s Prayer while Captain Paltz dropped a handful of earth into each of the seven graves. A squad fired three volleys from Springfields. Replacing his hat, forgetting to wait for taps, Thomas Thorn signaled his party on its way. As the seven riders took up the trot across the immense and aged hand of the plain, the buildings of Ojos Azules dwindling in dust behind them, mournful bugle notes called reproach.

Chapter Seven
    THUS on the eighteenth of April, 1916, they went out into the highest places of Chihuahua in Mexico, north, towards a town called Cordura .
    After they had traversed the plain and entered among the nippled peaks Major Thorn established a march formation. Sergeant Chawk he placed as a point, a hundred yards in advance of his main body, which consisted of Lieutenant Fowler and Privates Hetherington, Trubee and Renziehausen. Riding with them for a time while the Geary woman lagged behind, he put them under Lieutenant Fowler and told them that her status was that of a military prisoner, and as such she was to be watched at all times while mounted; dismounted she might move freely, even out of sight to perform the necessities, for there would be no possibility of escape afoot. Conversation with her he ordered kept to a minimum. Then stopping, he let them pass on, and the woman, and took position twenty yards to her rear. From here he could keep an eye on his formation in open country and close it up when he could not.
    An hour passed. In this high country so near were they to the sky that the small white clouds, puffed like smoke between the peaks as though from the lips of gods, ballooned by the heads of the