Then matters came to a crisis. Reinforcements were brought up from Mexico City and the Constitutionalist besiegers suffered a crushing defeat. I could put no more hope in them.
Kueck came again to see me.
"Give me an order on Koglmeier for those papers," he demanded. "There's no use saying Koglmeier hasn't got them, for I know he has."
I could see he was not bluffing, and knew the game was up. I signed the release for the papers. There had been no personal animosity between Kueck and myself. I had seen too much of life to be angry with a man simply because he was obeying his orders.
About September 12, 1913, Kueck came to escort me out of prison, and in his own carriage drove me to the railway station, bound north, out of Mexico. I had a sheaf of letters, signed by Kueck, which recommended me, as Baron von der Goltz, to the good offices of German Consular representatives throughout the United States, and requested them to supply me with funds.
The last man who spoke to me in Chihuahua was Colonel Carlos Orozco, commander of the Sixth Battalion of Infantry, and General Mercado's right-hand man, though his bitter enemy. His farewell was a threat. "You are lucky to get out of Mexico," he told me. "If you ever come back and I see you I will have you shot at once." My next meeting with Colonel Carlos Orozco occurred on Mexican soil.
Escorted by Consul Kueck out of Mexico I went up to El Paso, determined to return to Mexico as soon as possible. But before I did anything else I felt a very great desire to square accounts with General Salvador Mercado.
So I stepped off at El Paso to look for Labansat, the Constitutionalist about whom my friend Pablo Almandaris told me while I was in prison. I lost no time in getting into touch with him and other members of the Constitutionalist junta.
Another acquaintance made at that time proved very useful to me later. Dr. L. A. Rachbaum, Francisco Villa's personal physician, was a fellow guest at the Ollendorf Hotel.
We were an earnest but impecunious bunch. Juan T. Burns, afterwards Mexican Consul- General in New York, may recall a morning when he and I found ourselves with one nickel between us and the necessity of getting breakfast for two at an El Paso lunch counter. That lone "jitney "bought a cup of coffee and two rolls. Each of us took a roll and we drank the cup of coffee mutually.
I also renewed my intimacy with Koglmeier, the saddler in South Santa Fe Street. He told me a man he did not know had come with my written order for the papers I had left in his safe and he had given them up.
Despairing at last of obtaining results at El Paso, I availed myself of my consular recommendations and went on to Los Angeles, California. There I received help from Geraldine Farrar, whom I had known in Germany, and in November, 1913, directly after the battle of Tierra Blancha, Chihuahua, I received a telegram saying: "Dr. Rachbaum proposition accepted; come with the next train," and signed "General Villa." My way lay open before me and I was free to start.
I reached El Paso on November 27 and went on to Chihuahua, which had fallen into the hands of the Constitutionalists. Once there, I looked up my friend of the half blanket, Pablo Almandaris, and by him was introduced to Colonel Trinidad Rodriguez, commanding a cavalry brigade, who promptly attached me to his staff, with the rank of captain.
The Federalists had retreated across the desert northwards and settled themselves in Ojinaga, the so-called Gibraltar of the Rio Grande, a tremendously strong natural position.
Towards the middle of December we received orders to proceed to the attack of Ojinaga. Our brigade and the troops of Generals Panfilo Natira and Toribio Ortega were included in the expedition, some 7,000 men. The railway carried us seventy miles. The rest of the journey had to be made on horseback. During four days of marching in the desert I made acquaintance with Mexican mounted infantry, the most effective arm for such conditions and country the world has seen.
Arriving before the outer defences of Ojinaga we began our siege of the city. Soon afterwards I got my first sight of Pancho Villa.
Of a sudden, one evening, Trinidad Rodriguez told me that "Pancho" had just arrived, and we must ride over for a conference with him.
We found Villa lying on a saddle blanket in an irrigation ditch in the company of Raul Madero, brother of the murdered President, a handful of officers who had come up with them, and our own commanders, Natira and Ortega.
Madero, to my mind one of the ablest Mexicans alive, was clad in the dingiest of old grey sweaters. Villa, unkempt, unshaven and unshorn, was begrimed and weary from his ride across the desert. But he seemed full of bottledup energy, and when General Rodriguez and I came up he was giving General Ortega a talking to because so little had been accomplished in regard to the taking of Ojinaga.
While we talked I fashioned a cigarette, and all at oree he broke off abruptly. "Give me some of that too," he demanded. I handed him "the makings," and he attempted a cigarette. He was so clumsy with it Jbhat I had to roll it for him. Then for the first arid last time in my acquaintance with him I saw Pancho Villa smoke. Contrary to the stories that have gone out about him, he is a most abstemious man with regard to alcohol and tobacco.
On Christmas night, 1913, happened the adventure which made me, quite by accident, and without intention^ a hero. Also, I underwent the greatest fright of my life.
My commander, Rodriguez, had received orders to make an attack that night straightforward towards Ojinaga. After it was completely dark we formed and advanced, finding ourselves very soon among the willows lining the bank of the Rio Conchos, which we had to cross.
It was my first taste of genuine warfare, and I cannot begin to tell you how it affected me, how ghastly it was among the willows in the vague darkness through which the column was threading its way with the utmost possible quietness. The beat of hoofs was muffled in the soggy ground, and the only sound to break the utter stillness of the night was the occasional clank of a spur or thin neigh of a horse.
Then all at once, to the front and in the distance, came a boom the single growling of a field-gun. Ping! Ping! Ping! broke out a volley of rifle shots, and then with its r-r-r-r-r! a Hotchkiss machine-gun got to work. A staccato bam! bam! bam! as a Colt's machinegun joined the chorus. Somewhere troops were going into serious action. That was no skirmishing.
We finally crossed the river and dismounted. Part of the brigade had gone astray. Rodriguez cursed impatiently and incessantly under his breath until he joined us. He was a born cavalry leader, mad for action. Any sort of waiting lacerated his nerves.