Viva Villa
The trembling ground woke Sergeant Skillman, and not a split- second later, a defining explosion sat him straight up on his cot. He moved smartly to the front flap of the squad tent. A column of fire and smoke lit up the sky nearly a 1000 yards out on the night horizon; gun fire in the distance. It was just after 4:00 a.m.
A voice from behind him. “What in the Hell was that?” Skillman spun around and dashed back to his bunk. “Squad formation, under arms, in the company street; on the double.” Instantly, people scrambled.
Within minutes his section closed ranks. The sergeant checked each man for his basic load of ammunition then moved them in a column of two’s, at double time, eastward along the tent lined street. They turned left up the center road to the main gate of Camp Furlong, New Mexico.
In the moonless night the sergeant deployed his squad evenly on both sides of the road.
Someone yelled out of the darkness. “Man coming in… on the run.”
Skillman stepped to the center of the road, revolver at the ready. “HALT. Don’t make a move. Identify yourself.”
“First Lieutenant Lucas, heavy weapons troop commander.” He approached Skillman. “I just left the rail station… Mexican desperadoes all over the town… shouting Viva Villa.” Lucas doubled over to catch his breath. “Burning and looting… had to shoot one to get clear of the train… I came in from El Paso.”
Skillman lowered his revolver. “We’re from Bravo Troop; I’m Sergeant First Class Skillman, sir.”
“Sergeant, we’ve got to take my heavy machine-guns into town before those mad men burn the place to the ground. I don’t know where all my troops are, but I’m under strength anyway. Bring your men and help me deploy right now.”
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