But Drum and Benjamin, iron men, bringing up as soon as possible a long 18-pounder and a 24-pound howitzer on the opposite sides of the aqueduct, dampened the ardor of the Mexicans not a little, and splinters from the masonry did havoc. among the sheltered artillerymen at the garita. Some troops already beaten at Chapultepec and at the intermediate battery soon became demoralized. At about one o'clock rumors crept in that Americans from the southern front were turning the position. Ramírez, Garay, Argüelles and Barrios retired without the formality of saying good-by; and Terrés, whose cannon ammunition had failed, withdrew prudently to the citadel with two of the guns and about seventy panicky men, the remnant of his garrison. The Rifles now dashed over the parapet; and at exactly twenty minutes past one a tall, slender man with short, bristling, grayish hair stood on it, smoking a cigar and waving a red handkerchief tied to a rifle. It was Quitman, self-possessed but exultant; and in a few moments the Palmetto colors and the green banner of the Rifles, with its blazing gold eagle, were flying at the portal of the city.[1]
The advance then continued for some little distance, and, as the ammunition of our two heavy guns had been exhausted, the captured Mexican 8-pounder was made to do good service. But Santa Anna, who had thought the position safe and gone on to San Cosme, soon arrived with ordnance and troops. The citadel was reinforced, and infantry and cannon were placed at other points. Quitman's last artillery cartridges were used, and under the enemy's fire no more could be brought up. Solid shot cut down both Drum and Benjamin. Our infantry had to retire to the vicinity of the garita. Attempts were then made to strengthen the position; but they did not accomplish very much. Ammunition gave out entirely, and firing ceased. The enemy grew bolder. Again and again they charged, and though repulsed they did not appear to be discouraged. By this time every member of Quitman's staff, Beauregard, his engineer officer, and all his artillery officers had been killed or wounded, and he longed anxiously for night.[2]
Meanwhile, events had occurred on Scott's other wing. Trousdale's command, supplemented with Jackson's guns, pushed along the road and aqueduct on the north side of the rectangle, and the latter distinguished himself by fearlessly
