Liquid Courage

Hereeeeeeee's Hernán!

On March 4th, 1519, Hernán Cortés landed on the Yucatán Peninsula.  It was a bold move.  Cortés had been given command of a Spanish expedition to the Mexican interior by Diego Velázquez, the Spanish governor of Cuba.  Velázquez and Cortés were colonialism drinking buddies, but when it became clear to Velázquez that Mexican glory > Cuban glory, Velázquez tried to revoke Cortés’ command.  Cortés killed the messenger (literally), and when Velázquez arrived personally to stop him, Cortés waved adios to Velázquez from the helm of a ship.

Cortés sailed off to the mainland with 11 ships, 100 sailors and 530 soldiers.  On the Yucatán Peninsula he met the two people who would allow him to whisper silky words into the ears of the Aztecs: Geronimo de Aguilar, a shipwrecked sailor who had been living with the Maya, and La Malinche, a native woman given as a slave to the Spanish.  Aguilar spoke Spanish and Mayan, and La Malinche spoke Mayan and the Aztec language Nahuatl.  An effective game of New World Telephone ensued, and the rest, as they say, is lamentable.

Moctezuma II greeting Cortés

Cortés was a talented and persuasive military leader, and proved adept at manipulating alliances and social power structures he encountered in the native civilizations.  A massacre here, a hostage taking there, sprinkle with smallpox, and within two and a half years the Aztec Empire was in ruins.  On August 13, 1521, the city of Tenochtitlan surrendered to Cortés’ besieging forces, and that was that.

So pour out a splash of mezcal for the Aztec Empire.  Say what you will about their penchant for human sacrifice and oppression of surrounding peoples; the Aztecs were no match for the wildly successful combination of Spanish colonialism, New World Telephone, and smallpox.

Drink: Pulling a Custer

Ratings:
Strength: 2/5 (musket)
Skill: 1/5 (galley slave)
Rank: ?/5 (up to you, cowboy)

[ingredients:]

• any shot (recommended: Buffalo Trace whiskey and Tabasco)

[preparation:]

1. Refuse an offer of a chaser.
2. Take shot.
3. Gasp for chaser but find none available.
4. You have “Pulled a Custer.”

NOTE: for a summary of the Battle of the Little Big Horn in the style of Rudyard Kipling’s Just So Stories, which is a totally obvious thing to do, please see the Briefing Room.

Background

Poor George Armstrong Custer.  He resides in the wing of American history devoted to those figures whose multifaceted careers are overshadowed in the popular imagination by one singular act (see also: Buckner, Bill; Hancock, John).  Custer was an American military officer who is and will forever be known primarily for leading troops into total annihilation by Native American warriors in 1876.  Still, there’s more to the man than a butt whupping, right?

A fan of publicity, but probably not this kind.

Custer was last in his class at the U.S. Military Academy, but graduated as the Civil War broke out.  So the jobs market was pretty good.  He was known for flashy uniforms and a love of publicity, but gained admirers for his aggressive tactics and willingness to lead charges.  He fought for the Union at the First Battle of Bull Run and at Gettysburg, and was present at General Lee’s surrender at Appomattox.  How interesting!  Sort of a poor-student-makes-good story, isn’t it?

Doesn’t matter – he and his troops got demolished at the Battle of the Little Big Horn.

Okay.  General Philip Sheridan was a sufficient fan of Custer that he presented Custer with the table upon which General Lee’s surrender was signed.  Custer gave it to his wife, Libbie, and it now resides in the Smithsonian.  In 1867 Custer was court-martialed for going AWOL in order to visit his wife.  How romantic!

Nobody cares – Custer got his ass and everybody else’s ass kicked by Sitting Bull in 1876.

They say Custer cussed like an Irishman.

Fair enough, but hear this: Reconstruction Era politics almost cost Custer his appointment as part of the campaign against the Sioux.  But his popularity with influential Army officers, and his own pleading, overrode President Grant’s animosity towards Custer and he was included in the campaign.  How tragic!  This has all the makings of some sweeping historical epic, directed by Oliver Stone and starring Colin Farrell!

Yawn – two thousand Native Americans booked Custer one-way passage on an express train to Deadville at the Battle of Greasy Grass Creek.

Fine!  Let’s talk about that, since it’s all anybody cares about.

Much of the events of “Custer’s Last Stand” remain debated.  The basic outline is that Custer took 700 men forward as part of the 7th Cavalry’s attack on a large Native American camp.  Custer split his forces into three groups to encircle the camp.  Custer was aware that he was probably outnumbered, but no one in the 7th Cavalry realized by just how much.  Custer has since been criticized for refusing reinforcements for the attack, for splitting his forces, and for leaving Gatling guns back at Yellowstone (back then, you could bring guns into a national park).  Yet all of those decisions were consistent with the information Custer had at the time, with standard American military strategy, and with his aggressive command style.

Looks heavy

What happened?  The other two prongs of Custer’s forces were driven back, allowing Sitting Bull’s entire force to focus on Custer’s prong.  Numbers vary wildly, but somewhere between 1,800 and 3,000 warriors attacked Custer’s 210 men on a bluff overlooking the camp.  Custer’s men likely made a stand in a circle, using dead horses and small ditches for cover.  They were quickly overrun and every single man was killed within an hour.  The remaining two prongs fought an inconclusive battle that day and the next, until U.S. reinforcements arrived, at which point Sitting Bull withdrew.

The nation at large, riding Manifest Destiny to the Pacific, was shocked by news of the defeat.  Blame for the trouncing was hotly contested, but Custer’s demise was quickly glorified in the national consciousness.  A trendy beer called Budweiser commissioned a lurid and entirely fabricated lithograph of Custer’s Last Stand, and put it up in every goddamn saloon in the country.

Man, that Custer was a hero. Barkeep, pour me another frosty.

Custer’s desire for publicity would probably be satisfied by the fame he enjoys today.  The specifics of that fame, however, he might not be so keen on.  The point is, Custer was a poor student, an aggressive and flashy Civil War office, a romantic, and was present for a lot of important mid-century events.  Also, he left Gatling guns at home and got everybody killed at the Battle of the Little Big Horn.

Drink: Spanish Parenting

Ratings:
Strength: 3/5 (tank)
Skill: 2/5 (national guard)
Rank: 3/5 (centurion)

[ingredients:]

• Ample Spanish red wine
• Ample Coca Cola
• 1 shot Spanish brandy
• glass bowl, pint glass

[preparation:]

1. Place a pint glass in the center of a large bowl.
2. Fill the bowl and the pint glass with a 1:1 mixture of red wine and Coca Cola (making calimocho).
3. Give the shot of brandy to someone who wants it.  No, wait, don’t do that, just pour it into the pint glass, which is easier.
4. Drink the bowl at your leisure, spilling as much as you like.
5. Once the bowl is finished, drink the pint glass exuberantly.

Background

The Siege of the Alcázar took place in the first few months of the Spanish Civil War.  For everyone involved, its symbolic value far outweighed its military significance.  The siege featured little military acumen, a lot of wasted ammunition, and a (likely) act of laziness that snowballed into some really appalling parenting.

Wrote a bestselling parenting book, 'Kids For Country'

When the Spanish Civil War began on July 17th, 1936, the Alcázar was a fortified military academy in the city of Toledo.  The provincial governor, Colonel José Moscardó, was ordered to send guns and ammunition to Madrid to fight the Nationalists.  Moscardó was not involved in the coup which began the war, so it is unclear whether his refusal to send the supplies was an act of Nationalist solidarity or an act of laziness.  Either way, he stockpiled a tremendous number of guns and ammo in the Alcázar, and the Republicans sent 8,000 militia to Toledo to retrieve them.

The siege, to use a geographically inappropriate adage, was all hat and no cattle.  The Republican militia, lacking both training and equipment, wasted a lot of ammo shooting ineffectually at the Alcázar’s reinforced walls.  The troops inside fired back when they felt like it.  This continued from July until September (with daily siestas at 2-ish).  On September 18th, the Republicans invited media to watch the detonation of two mines they had dug under the Alcázar’s walls.  The subsequent Republican assault was repulsed.  The arrival of a 175mm gun allowed the Republicans to shoot more satisfyingly at the Alcázar, but it merely created rubble which blocked any further storming of the fort.  On September 27th, General Franco’s army arrived on the outskirts of town to relieve the garrison, and the Republican militia fled.

The best card up all those 8,000 Republican sleeves was taking Colonel Moscardó’s son Luis hostage.  On July 23rd, the militia spoke to Moscardó on the phone, demanding that he surrender the Alcázar or they would kill Luis.  An effective threat in most instances.  However, Moscardó again took the path of least energy.  Here is a translated excerpt from the (now famous) phone call:

• Militia commander: It is you all who are responsible for the killings and crimes that are occurring.  I urge you to surrender the Alcázar in under ten minutes and that if you do not do so, I will shoot your son Luis, who I have here in my custody.
• Moscardó: I believe you.
• Militia: So that you see that it is true, now I put your son on the telphone.
• Luis: Papa.
• Moscardó: What’s going on, son?
• Luis: Nothing.  They say they’re going to shoot me if you don’t surrender the Alcázar.
• Moscardó: Well entrust your soul to God, shout ‘Long live Spain!’ and die like a patriot.

"What did your father say?" "Um..."

Way to go, pops.  This conversation was immortalized as evidence of the righteous cause for which the Nationalists were fighting.  Legend has it that Moscardó heard a gunshot over the phone, but actually Luis was killed a month later.  Other aspects of the siege, like the important role military cadets played in the Alcázar’s defense, were also exaggerated.*

The Alcázar was militarily useless, but possessed symbolic value for the Nationalists.  The Republicans thought its capture would demoralize the rebels (thus the big media junket).  Instead, the siege became a big PR victory for the Nationalists, who wrung every teaspoon of romanticism out of the event, the war continued, and everybody behaved really, really badly.

*It was summer vacation, so the handful of cadets present were probably delinquents repeating classes they had failed.  If you want to see real military cadet heroism, you need to look to Mexico.