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Chapter 11: Young "Blood and Guts"
"Poor Mexican,
so far from God and so close to the United States." -- Porfirio Diaz
The punitive expedition, more than 10,000 strong, invaded
Chihuahua on March 16, 1916. Pershing had three cavalry
regiments, two infantry regiments, a battalion and two bat
teries of field artillery, plus the usual support units. His force
included the army's First Aero Squadron, consisting of eight rickety!
airplanes. The expedition entered Chihuahua in two columns, one
coming from the railhead at Columbus and the other further west
from Culberson's Ranch in New Mexico. The two columns met
about 100 miles south of the border at the American Mormon set-
tlement of Colonia Dublan. [1]There, Pershing hired Mormon guides,
whose knowledge of the countryside proved invaluable.
In addition, it was hoped that the army's aircraft could spot
Villa's troops and report back swiftly on their tactical maneuvers or
escape routes. It was, however, to be a vain hope.
If Pershing hoped that his aircraft could emulate those of the
European powers which routinely carried out bombing and strafing
missions, spotted for artillery, photographed enemy positions, and
reconnoitered their troop movements, he was to be bitterly disap
pointed.
The ill-fated First Aero Squadron, Aviation Section, Signal
Corps, consisted of eleven officers, eighty-four enlisted men, eight
Curtis JN-2 "Jennies," ten trucks, and a touring car. The aircraft
were not supplied with accurate maps, reliable compasses, machine
guns, bombs, or reliable engines. The 'Jennies" were underpow-
ered, had inadequate control systems, and were usually unstable in
any but straight, level flight.
Although the squadron's commander, Captain Benjamin
Delahauf Foulois, and his brave and capable pilots repeatedly risked
life and limb to carry out reconnaissance missions, the obsolete air-
craft proved useless. Their sole capability proved to be as messen-
gers carrying dispatches to widely separated units and occasionally
in locating stray U.S. cavalry.
On the squadron's first reconnaissance mission, which was to
aid cavalry units hunting Villistas, Foulois had to report failure. The
plane's ninety-horsepower engine lacked the power to take it over
the peaks of the Sierra Madre Mountains.
Further flights resulted in a variety of equipment failures, navi-
gation errors, abandoned aircraft, and teeth-jarring crashes, so that
within a month, six of the eight planes were reduced to junk
scattered over the Chihuahuan desert, and by the end of April the
squadron was no longer operational.
In June, however, four new 160-horsepower Curtis R-2s arrived
at Pershing's headquarters. Sadly, assembled hurriedly, they were
missing essential parts. Pilots found their laminated wooden pro-
pellers often came unglued in the dry heat of the Mexican desert
country.
After suffering many crashes and painful injuries, surprisingly,
none of the pilots were killed. But, by August 1916, the First Aero
Squadron came to its inglorious end. All the more need for men like
Holmdahl who knew the enemy country. [2]
The expedition's main problem was not Villista troops but sup-
plies. Villa realized he was too outgunned, outnumbered, and
under-supplied to meet tough American regulars in conventional
battle. Also, his troops were not the tightly disciplined fighting men
of the Division of the North, as many were untrained youths draft-
ed from small villages raided by Villa. The)' rode with him only
because they had the choice of joil1ing his band or being shot on the
spot. Avoiding fights whenever possible, his men scattered into
small bands, hiding out in the vast wastelands of Chihuahua.
The Americans were prohibited by the Mexican government
from using the Northwestern Railway which bisected western
Chihuahua. To supply the expedition they would have to depend on
the inadequate Mexican road system. To sustain itself in enemy
country, the expedition daily needed 100 tons of supplies to feed
and equip the troops and 110 tons of forage to keep horses and
mules healthy. Water was always a problem in this desert region.
It soon became obvious that the horse and mule-drawn wagons
of the army could not possibly supply the expedition over the bro-
ken, rock strewn trails called roads in Chihuahua. General Hugh
Scott, now chief of staff of the army, quickly purchased more than
600 trucks. He had to hire civilian drivers and mechanics to operate
the motor fleet, as these trades were virtually unknown in the army.
For staff use and reconnaissance, he purchased a dozen Dodge
touring automobiles.
In the searing heat of the desert and chilling cold of the moun-
tains, many breakdowns occurred, but the civilians managed to keep
supply lines open. Supplies were always tight, but there was enough
to enable the expedition to probe 250 miles deep into Mexico. As
important as the transport were the civilian scouts who knew the
water holes, grazing lands, and trails since hired Mexican guides
proved unreliable. Often
they led cavalry patrols into
the mountains on wild
goose chases. The popula-
tion was hostile and mer-
chants usually refused to
sell supplies to the
Americans, not that they
loved Villa-many despised
him-but they hated the
presence of foreign soldiers
on Mexican soil.
For the first two
months, Holmdahl's activi-
ties are unknown. The rea-
son for this void is that
many records of intelli-
gence operations conducted
during the expedition are
missing. It is possible they
were destroyed in the 1920s,
on the orders of General
Pershing, then Chief of
Staff of the United States
Army.
There is evidence
that Pershing hired two
Japanese cooks to poison the elusive Villa but the mission failed. In
those naive days assassination was not considered "cricket," so it is
highly likely that when Pershing became head of the army, he
purged the files of all relevant documents. This included any
reports relating to other assassination plots and intelligence opera-
tions. [3]
This purging of documents gives additional credence to a state-
ment made by Holmdahl in a 1962 interview with historian Bill
McGaw. Holmdahl told McGaw that sometime in 1917, after Villa
had successfully eluded the expedition's efforts to capture him, he
was ordered to report to the office of General Bell, commanding
officer at Fort Bliss in El Paso. According to Holmdahl, General
Pershing and one of his officers, Colonel Herbert Slocum, com
manding the U.S. 13th Cavalry Regiment, gave him three $20.00 gold
pieces for expenses to travel to El Paso.
At Fort Bliss, Colonel Slocum met with him in General Bell's
office and offered him $100,000 to go back into Mexico and kill
Villa. Slocum stated that payment would not be from government
funds. The $100,000 would be paid by Russell Sage, Slocum's mil-
lionaire father-in-law. Holmdahl said he turned down the offer for
three reasons. First, he said, "I liked Villa personally, even though I
fought against him." Second, he said, "I am not a assassin." Third,
he admitted, "If I killed Villa, I never would have gotten out of
Mexico alive." Holmdahl's career suggests the third reason seems
the most creditable. [4]
While many of the exploits of Pershing's civilian scouts are lost
to history, a few have been recorded. Art Leibson, the biographer
of Sam Dreben, recounts how that daring mercenary, disguised as
an itinerant Syrian peddler, hitched up a wagon-load of miscella-
neous goods and traveled through Villista country. During his trav-
els, he picked up valuable information on guerrilla movements,
which he sent back to Pershing's headquarters.
His adventures nearly came to an abrupt end in a small village,
when he was recognized by a Villista with whom he had previously
soldiered. When the man gave the alarm, Sam leaped on his horse
and galloped away, outdistancing pursuers who would surely have
shot him if they had caught him. During his escape, to the delight
of the villagers, he abandoned his wagon load of pots, pans, bolts
of clot 11, and various colored ribbons. It was probably the only
bonanza the poor villagers ever received from the revolution. [5]
Villa continued to elude the Americans; however, he was shot in
the leg during a skirmish with troops loyal to Carranza. In great
pain, the general was carried by his ."Dorados" to a cave in the Sierra
Madre mountains. Later, some of his men recalled, a troop of U.S.
cavalrymen camped on a road directly below the cave entrance.
Sitting around their campfires, in the chill of the mountain
evening, the Americans sang repeated choruses of the British
Army's favorite marching song, "It's a Long, Long Way to
Tipperary." Villa, listening, with little knowledge of English,
thought the words sounded like the Spanish, "Se jalo buey con
tapadera," which he translated as, "The ox got drunk with blinders
on." "A strange song," he muttered to his amigos, "I wonder what it
means"? [6]
In mid-April 1916, the expedition made its deepest probe, reach-
ing Parral, 250 miles south of the U.S. border. Near the border of
the state of Durango, the town was to be the scene of a number of
events in Mexican history that were both blood), and bizarre. On
April 12, after receiving permission from local authorities, Major
Frank Tompkins, commanding two squadrons of the 13th Cavalry,
rode to Parral with an advance party of eight officers and twelve
enlisted men. [7]
While Tompkins and an aide talked with the alcalde, the rest of
the party lounged in the city square. Suddenly a crowd formed, led
by a beautiful, blonde, green-eyed German woman named Elsa
Griensen. The woman, waving her arms and speaking in a strident
voice, whipped the crowd into a frenzy of hatred against the
Americans. She challenged their manhood and urged them to attack
the lounging cavalrymen. [8]
The mob advanced on the Americans throwing horse dung and
rocks, screaming "Viva Villa" and a varied array of Mexican curses.
Tompkins rejoined his men and, rather than fire into a crowd of
civilians, he ordered a withdrawal. The cursing mob, led by the
green-eyed blonde, followed.
They were joined by Mexican soldiers loyal to Carranza rather
than Villa. They, however, opened fire on the Americans, shooting
a sergeant through the head and killing him instantly
After seven
more cavalrymen were shot, one fatally, Tompkins had had enough
and ordered his men to return fire. Crack shots with their deadly
Springfields, the troopers of the 13th killed thirty-two persons,
wounding twenty-five. Tompkins then ordered a withdrawal. [9]
In May 1916, Holmdahl again appeared on the scene, improba-
bly involved with a young subaltern named Pat ton. After two
months in Mexico, Second Lieutenant George S. Pat ton, Jr. was
spoiling for a fight. Although an aide to Brigadier General John J.
Pershing, he had been sent on many a dangerous ride, carrying
orders to different columns of cavalry searching the Chihuahua
desert for the fast moving Villistas. When the punitive expedition
was formed, Pat ton badgered Pershing for a job as aide-de-camp.
When he got the appointment, he became the most eager beaver on
that demanding officer's staff. Thirty years old, tall, slender, aristo-
cratic and good-looking, he was popular not only because of a like-
able personality, but also because he would take on any dirty or dif-
ficult job with determination and enthusiasm.
By May, Pershing had established his headquarters near Rubio
more than 200 miles deep in Chihuahua. Feeding men and horses
in that barren countryside was more difficult than fighting the occa-
sional skirmishes with stray Villistas. Since that part of Chihuahua
could hardly feed its own population, it could much less provide
fodder for the gringo invaders.
When intelligence sources reported that corn could be pur-
chased at nearby Rubio and Coyote, Pershing called on his
all-purpose aide, Second Lieutenant Pat ton, to take a small party of
three automobiles and ten
soldiers on a corn-buying
expedition. Before depart-
ing camp on May 14 in
three big Dodge touring
cars, Patton surveyed his lit-
tle band. There were two
civilian drivers, ten infantry-
men armed with the famed
Springfield Model
rifles, and two civilian
scouts. One, a tall, lanky
man, was Emil Holmdahl,
who leaned against one of
the cars with a saturnine
grin and a big Colt .45
strapped to a gunbelt.
Holmdahl, by then,
was a legend among the war
correspondents and merce-
nary soldiers who had been
reporting on or fighting in
Mexico since 1910. Perhaps Holmdahl's grin was in anticipation
that the young, and as yet combat-untried lieutenant would order his
men to carry sabers. For if there was one flaw or eccentricity in
Pat ton's makeup as a soldier, it was his dedicated belief in the value
of charging with old-fashioned cavalry sabers. Patton had, in fact,
designed the saber issued to U.S. cavalry regiments and constantly
preached a doctrine of the arme blanche to anyone who would listen.
Most officers, including Pershing, only smiled at the young offi-
cer's declamations. They often pointed out that a line of cavalry
each firing seven shots from the recently issued Model 1911 Colt .45
caliber automatic pistol had much more shock power than troopers
leaning from their saddles trying to stick or slash an opponent. That
morning, however, there was no mention of sabers, and the little
group climbed into the three cars and drove twenty' miles down the
bumpy trail to Coyote. There Patton bought a few bushels of corn,
Next they drove a few miles further to Rubio.
Entering the town a few minutes before noon, Holmdahl spot
ted a number of men loiter-
ing around the plaza.
Although they were
unarmed, he recognized
some of them as Villistas he
had soldiered with in cam-
paigns against Huerta.
"They are Villa's men," he
whispered, "and they are a
bad lot." As the men sight-
ed Holmdahl, they' drifted
away down the crooked side
streets of the town.
Holmdahl's warning, how-
ever, set off alarm bells in
the young lieutenant's mind.
Colonel Julio Cardenas, former leader of Villa's elite troop of
"Dorados," was rumored to be in the area.
Patton remembered that twelve days earlier on May 2, he had
accompanied "H" Troop of the 11th Cavalry on a swift approach to
the San Miguelito Ranch, eight miles north of Rubio. There the
wife and mother of Julio Cardenas were living in a large hacienda. At
that time, the troop deployed around the hacienda and swooped
down upon the walled main house only to find it deserted. But
Pat ton had a premonition about the place and he studied the build-
ings and terrain, just in case he might return there another day.
That morning, he reasoned, if Villa's men were in Rubio then
Julio Cardenas might be holed up at the ranch. Driving a few miles
north of Rubio, Patton called a halt and briefed his band of fifteen
men. The hacienda was built in two L-shaped wings with a walled
courtyard encompassing the entire structure. There was a horse cor-
ral a few dozen yards beyond the main gate.
Windows in the wall faced out, but there was only one gate from
which a horseman could ride out and escape. The hacienda was 200
yards east of the road that Pat ton had followed from Rubio, and on
tl1e side opposite the road was the main gate. If the Villistas
attempted to escape, they would have to gallop out of the gate, cross
the road, and ride for the mountains to the west.
Patton's plan was for the first auto, in which he rode, to drive
past the hacienda and then make a quick stop. Patton and two men
would leap out of the auto and run to the northern end of the struc-
ture. Holmdahl and the driver would remain in the car and cover the
north side of the walled area near the corral.
The second and third cars were to stop on the road south of the
complex. Three men from each of those cars would dismount and
dash to the southern end of the building. They would intercept any-
one trying to leap from the windows. The two men remaining in
each of the cars would be able to stop others running from the
building and, if necessary and terrain permitting, to drive in pursuit
of any fleeing bandits.
As the three cars drove up by the ranch buildings, Patton spot-
ted three elderly men and a young boy skinning a cow in the front
yard. The boy eyed the braking autos, turned, and ran through the
front gateway waving his arms and yelling. Seconds later he
returned and calmly' went back to helping his elders skin the cow.
Patton said he "jumped out [of the auto], rifle in my left hand"
and ran to the northern end of the hacienda, while the men from
the other cars rushed to the southern end of the complex," He later
wrote, "When I was about 15 yards from the gate three armed men
dashed out on horseback ... I drew my pistol and waited to see what
would happen if they were Carranzistas." [10]
Patton yelled, "Halt." Hearing his yell, the riders wheeled their
horses and galloped directly at Pat ton and his men. Pat ton later
recounted that when the horsemen were about twenty' yards away',
"All three shot at me, one bullet threw gravel on me. I fired back
with my new pistol, five times." Two of the bullets found their
mark, one hitting the first rider in the arm and another rupturing the
belly of the other horse.
At the sound of gunfire, Holmdahl, on the other side of the
building came on the run, shooting rapidly. To get out of the line
of friendly fire, Patton leaped around the corner of the complex, as
three Villista bullets, possibly fired from one of the windows,
smacked the wall by his head and showered him with adobe dust.
As the young lieutenant caught his breath and reloaded his pis-
tol, he spied Holmdahl and one of the drivers sprinting toward him.
Patton swung back around the corner of the wall and recalled, "I
saw a man on a horse come right in front of me, I started to shoot
at him but remembered that Dave Allison had always said to shoot
at the horse of an escaping man and I did so." [11]
Dave Allison, a noted Texas law officer and range detective, had
met Patton and exchanged a few drinks and tall stories with him
while Patton was stationed with the 13th Calvary, Regiment at Sierra
Blanca. The advice proved sound, as Pat ton's bullets "broke the
horse's hip and he fell on his rider." "Impelled by misplaced notions
of chivalry," Patton wrote, "I did not fire on the Mexican who was
down until he disentangled himself and rose to fire." Holmdahl had
no such inhibitions, and as the man staggered to his feet, the scout
shot from ten feet away, killing him.
The Mexican, whose horse had been gutted by Pat ton's first
shot, was now up and running. Pat ton recalled, "I saw the man
about 100 yards off, I shot three times at him with my rifle, four or
five others fired also and he went down." [12] Meanwhile, the man
who Pat ton had shot in the
arm as he fled through the
gate, wheeled his horse and
rode back into the hacienda
courtyard. Easing himself
out of the saddle, dripping
blood from his shattered
arm, he ran into the ranch
house and dashed to the
back windows.
Pulling himself
through the window, he
dropped to the ground, and
firing his pistol with his
good arm, he ran along a fence at right angles to the road. He was
300 yards away, when Patton spotted him and yelled to one of the
troopers. The soldier calmly wrapped the sling of his Springfield
about his arm, took a bead on the running man, and fired. The
trooper shook his head and cursed as his first bullet missed. Aiming
again, he fired and the man dropped. Turning to Patton, the troop-
er held up one finger and smiled. Pat ton later remembered, "It was
remarkable how cool the men were during the fight." [13]
The wounded man, lying face down, lifted his head and with an
effort raised his left hand in a gesture of surrender. But as
Holmdahl strode toward him, the man's face twisted into a grimace
of hate as he recognized the former Villista officer. With a final
effort, he raised his pistol and fired.
Holmdahl, his sardonic grin never changing as the bullet sped
past his ear, drew his pistol, and coldly shot his old saddle-mate,
Colonel Julio Cirdenas, late commander of Villa's "Dorados,"
through the head. William Walker, one of the civilian drivers, later
charged that Holmdahl was an adventurer who "killed for plea-
sure." [14] Cutthroat though he may have been, Julio Cardenas died
game. Aside from Patton 's bullet that broke his right arm and
Holmdahl's coup de grace to the head, the Villista officer had been hit
with two other bullets that ripped through his lungs. The trooper's
first shot did not miss after all.
Not lingering over the blood), body of the dead colonel, Pat ton
made a quick survey of tl1e scene. Believing Cardenas might have
as many' as thirty men with him, he realized his troops were vulner-
able to fire coming from the crenelated roof of the hacienda.
Spotting a dead tree trunk lying against the wall of the house, he
ordered two troopers to prop it against the side of the building.
Holstering his pistol and slinging his Springfield over his shoul-
der, Pat ton shinnied up the tree trunk and stepped out on the roof.
As he did so, the roof collapsed under him, and he dropped down
through the ceiling to his armpits.
Wiggling free, he perched on the shaky roof and scanned the
deserted courtyard. Satisfied that there were no more Villistas lurk-
ing about, he climbed down, and, as his men gathered around, he
ordered a room-to-room search of the ranch house and its out-
buildings.
Patton ordered the three men and a boy, who throughout the
fighting had ignored stray bullets whizzing by them, brought to him.
Pushing the cow skinners before him, he used them as a movable
shield as the Americans searched the labyrinth of rooms in the large
hacienda. Finding the rooms locked, Pat ton used his revolver to
shoot off the locks of each room before entering.
In one room they found, silent and tight-lipped, the wife, now
the widow, of the Mexican colonel. She was holding his infant child
in her arms. His mother stood beside her, staring defiantly at the
intruders. In another room, they found two old women
whimpering in a corner. A final search turned up a saber and a sil-
ver-mounted saddle, confiscated by Lt. Patton as trophies of war.
The troopers collected the weapons of the three dead Villistas
and stowed them in the autos. Then they hoisted the bodies, one to
a car, and spread-eagled them over the hoods, tying them down.
Suddenly, Holmdahl gave a shout and pointed to a body of approx-
imately forty horsemen heading their way at the gallop. Patton,
putting discretion before valor, weighed the odds and ordered his
Dodge caravan to drive off at full speed. After a few miles when his
pursuers were lost from sight, they halted.
Pat ton pointed to the telegraph lines paralleling the road. "Cut
'em," he ordered. A trooper climbed a pole and severed the wires
with a bayonet. As they drove through Rubio on the way to
Pershing's headquarters, the young lieutenant did not want a
reception committee waiting for him. As it was, the trio of Dodge
cars got some hateful stares as they passed through the town.
Arriving at Pershing's headquarters about four o'clock that after-
noon, they created a mild sensation. The little caravan bearing the
bloody bodies stretched out on the hoods drove through the camp
like a band of proud deer hunters displaying their kills. The t\\TO
corpses, other than Julio Cardenas, were soon identified as Captain
Isadore Lopez, a Villista veteran, and Private Juan Garza. On a
plaintive note, in Lopez's shirt pocket they found an unfinished let
ter to his sweetheart.
Patton, in an ebullient letter to his wife back in El Paso wrote,
The General [Pershing] has been very complimentary telling
some
officers that I did more in half a day than the 13th Cavalry did in
a
week ... You are probably wondering if my conscience hurts me for killing
a man. It does not. I feel about it just as I did when I got my
swordfish,
surprised at my luck. [15]
It seemed the West Point lieutenant and the hardened Holmdahl had
much in common.
American newspaper correspondents assigned to the punitive
expedition wrote gory dispatches that made the young lieutenant a
national hero. One correspondent, Frank B. Elser of the New York
Times, described the affair as "a fight that will go down as unique in
the records of this expedition." [16] Patton, he pointed out, eschewed
the regulation army Colt .45 automatic pistol and dealt out death
with his personal ivory-handled six-shooter, But Pat ton ruefully
reported to his wife that his fellow officers were teasing him for
shooting the bandits rather than sabering them.
Ironically, Pat ton, one of the last of the romantic cavaliers
charging on horseback with drawn sword, led one of the first
American actions where cavalry dismounted from automobiles and
fought on foot with rifle and pistol.
General Pershing, Pat ton told his wife, was jokingly referring to
him as his "bandit." Other soldiers, after eyeing the Dodge autos
with bodies dripping blood and gore, came up with another nick-
name. An old cavalry colonel, "Old Pants" Johnson, looking at the
broken bodies of the Villistas remarked, "Look at the dirty bastards;
look at the blood and guts on those dirty bastards." [17] And a legend
and the nickname, "Blood and Guts," were born. Through it all,
Holmdahl was said to have never stopped grinning.
At that time Holmdahl was still out on bail and was seeking a
pardon for his federal conviction. He probably solicited the follow-
ing letter from Patton:
Headquarters United States Troops
Somewhere in Mexico
May 20, 1916
To Whom it may concern:
This is to certify that Mr. E.L. Holmdahl was the Government Scout with
the U.S. Troops under my command in an engagement with Villa Bandits,
at San Miguel Ranch, Chihuahua, Mexico, on May the 14th. I have
high recommended Scout Holmdahl for his coolness, courage and
efficiency while under fire, he personally killed General Julio Cardenas,
and
Colonel Gildardo Lopez in a pistol duel. At that time Holmdahl fought
in the open, without cover of any kind and shot with great accuracy and
deliberation his action being that of a man at target practice.
I also wish to recommend him to any brother officer, who may wish a
man who is thoroughly familiar with Mexico and its people or in any
position of trust, as he is most reliable, and a Good Soldier.
(Sgd) Geo. Patton.
1st Lieut 10th, U.S. Cavalry.
A.D.C. General Pershing. [18]
On July 10, Holmdahl was off on another scouting expedition
for Pershing, as attested by the following pass:
Commander of the Guard
Camp of Colonia Dublan
Please allow scout Holmdahl to pass the
lines on Govt. business this date.
July 10, 1916.
Respt.
WWReed
Capt. 6th Cavalry
Asst. Chief Staff [19]
Holmdahl was probably on a mission seeking Villa's where-
abouts, and he may have succeeded. One can only speculate, but
two weeks later he was back at Pershing's headquarters at Colonia
Dublin where he was discharged. This coincides with Holmdahl's
claim to historian McGaw that after he traveled to El Paso, a
Pershing aide offered him $100,000 to assassinate Villa. His orders
read as follows:
Headquarters Punitive Expedition, US. Army.
In the Field, Mexico, July 24, 1916.
From: The C.O. Hdqrs. Det. Punitive Expedition, Dublan, Mex.
To: The Quartermaster at the Base, Columbus, N.M.
Subject: Guide Holmdahl
1. Guide E.L. Holmdahl has been discharged and
will leave for the
border
on the first transportation. Please pay him for services as guide from
July
1st 1916 to date of his arrival at Columbus, N.M., Rate of pay One
Hundred and Fifty Dollars, ($150.00) per month. He is entitled to
transportation to El Paso, Texas.
M.C. Shallenberger
1st. Lieut., 16th Inf, ADC
in charge of guides and scouts. [20]
Shallenberger was also the officer in charge of the expedition's intel
ligence operations.
Whether Holmdahl was discharged in anticipation that he would
accept the assassination offer, and it was expedient for the army to
sever all official coru1ections with him, is not known. But by the end
of July, Pershing was increasingly frustrated by the limitations put
on his command by \\7ashington, D.C after Carranza, following the
Parral fiasco, demanded the expedition be withdrawn from Mexico.
Pershing wanted Villa badly, and it seems he was not particular
how he got him. Holmdahl's refusal to accept the mission to kill
Villa may have angered Pershing, and he well might have refused to
let Holmdahl re-enlist as a scout. Holmdahl disappears from view
during the next four months, but in December while in El Paso, he
received a curious telegram from the commanding officer of the
Southern Department of the U.S. Army, based in San Antonio,
Texas:
Received at 107 North Oregon Street, El Paso, Tex-s
E.L. Holmdahl
Your telegram twenty sixth offering your services is at hand. Your
name
has been given to intelligence officer who is keeping track of all
persons like
yourself who might be of great assistance in case of a general movement
into
Mexico Thanks for your offer.
Frederick Funston
Major General [21]
The general probably saw a kindred soul in Holmdahl, who
received the following telegram:
Dec 26 1916
To: Scout Holmdahl
Hdqts 606 Brigade
You are ordered to scout out around the Mesquite and report best
location
for next meeting of the staff. Should you encounter any of the enemyy
shoot
on sight.
By order of Cmdg General Flynn
Adj. GW [last name undecipherable]
[22]
By this time, the United States and Mexico were very close to
war, as Carranza increased his demand for the immediate withdraw-
al of the punitive expedition. In mid-June, Pershing, fearing an
attack by the Mexican army, received information that a large force
was building up at the railroad town of Villa Ahumada, about eighty
miles south of El Paso. If war broke out, those troops would be on
his left flank rear and could threaten his supply route from
Columbus. Pershing issued written orders to Captain Charles T.
Boyd, an experienced West Point-trained cavalry officer, to recon-
noiter the area and specifically to "avoid a fight." It was said, how-
ever, that Pershing had a secret private conversation with Boyd
before he departed.
On June 20, while camped at an American-owned ranch, Boyd
announced that on the following morning he would ride through the
little town of Carrizal, heavily garrisoned by Carranza troops. When
his two fellow officers and a civilian scout protested this would not
only violate his written orders but would precipitate a battle, Boyd
muttered something about "In the morning we will make history."
The next morning he attacked Carrizal, eight miles west of Villa
Ahumada. Boyd dismounted his eighty cavalrymen and charged on
foot across 300 yards of open ground into 400 veteran Carranza
soldiers sheltered in an irrigation ditch. The Carranza forces were
armed with Mauser rifles and two machine guns. Tactically, it was
like meat fed into a grinder. Boyd and one other officer were killed,
two dozen more were wounded, and twenty-three were captured.
The rest fled west across the desert until picked up by U.S. patrols
during the following days. It was the sole defeat suffered by the
expedition and it came not at the hands of Villistas, but by troops
loyal to the Federal government. When one studies this fiasco, one
can conclude that either Boyd had taken matters into his own hands
or that perhaps Pershing had whispered unofficial orders in his ear.23
Chafing at the restrictions placed on his command, Pershing
may have wanted to create an incident that either would lead to war
with Mexico or encourage Washington to lift the restraints and
enable him to further pursue Villa. The truth will never be known.
Although hotheads on both sides of the border clamored for war,
cooler heads prevailed, and negotiations for the expedition's
withdrawal were conducted by the American and Mexican govern-
ments. As a result, Pershing pulled in his patrols and drilled jis
troops in camp.
As Pershing's cavalry pushed deeper into Mexico during March
and April of 1916, Villa and most of his band scattered and retreat-
ed into southern Chihuahua. Reconstituting his forces there, Villa
was able to raid Chihuahua City and spread havoc as far south as
Durango. But while he was still a regional menace, his ability to
seize power in Mexico City was broken.
In later years he became more of a nuisance than a threat to the
central government. By 1920 he had alienated many in l1is
Chihuahua strongholds, and President Adolfo de la Huerta was able
to purchase his abdication from politics with a generous gift of land
and money.
Many considered Pershing's expedition a failure because he did
not kill or capture Villa; but Pershing was not a sheriff and the U.S.
Army was not a posse.
Driving Villa and his men far from the American border suc-
cessfully protected American towns and properties from further
raids. This, in fact, was the major strategic purpose of the expedi-
tion. Also, breaking up Villa's main forces early in 1916, enabled the
Carranza government to consolidate its power over Mexico and
begin to introduce political and economic stability.
It can be argued that the worst possible outcome of the expedi-
tion was to kill or capture the elusive Pancho Villa. To have killed
him in action would to have made him a martyr with the United
States being the chief villain. To capture him would have been
worse. He would have been taken to New Mexico, tried for murder,
convicted, and subsequently hanged in the back yard of the
Deming, New Mexico jail, along with the other Columbus raiders.
His execution would have been a lasting symbol to rally hatred
against all Americans.
In preparation for
war against Germany, President Woodrow
Wilson ordered the expedition to return to the U.S. In January 1917,
the expedition began to pull back across the border. By February 1,
all American troops had been withdrawn from Mexico. [24]
On April 6,1917, the United States declared war on Germany
and Austria-Hungary. On May 10, Pershing was summoned to the
office of General Hugh L. Scott, the army chief of staff, and told
that he would command the American troops who would be sent to
France. [25]
Meanwhile, Holmdahl was eager to get into the Great War. But
as a convicted felon no longer working for the army, he was in dan-
ger of having his bail canceled and being forced to Serve out his
eighteen-month sentence in a federal prison. Using all the influence
he had built up over the years, he increased his campaign to get a
presidential pardon.
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