Thanks for the Tamales

There are moments in history when leaders suddenly find themselves in a position to say something important, uttering words that will be remembered through all eternity.  Long after people have forgotten the circumstances, or even who made the statement, exactly what they said seems destined to be recorded in history books forever.  Let you give you a few examples:

During the Battle of the Bulge, when the 101st Airborne Division was surrounded at Bastogne with little hope of survival, the German army sent a demand for the Americans to surrender.  While few remember that it was General Anthony McAuliffe who replied, most people do know his answer, “Nuts.”  

Before King Xerxes invaded Greece, he attempted the impossible: he tried to get the warlike Spartans to surrender and accept Persian rule.  Confident that his much larger army could conquer the independent city-states of Greece, he implored the Spartan King Leonidas to surrender his arms.  In a reply that would later be echoed by numerous armies in later wars, Leonidas answered, “Molon labe.” (“Come and take them.”)

As a Roman statesman, Cato the Elder was furious that Rome had ended each of her two wars with Carthage by demanding only a tribute instead of the city’s total destruction.  For years, Cato ended each of his speeches in the Senate with the phrase, "Carthago delenda est!" (“Carthage must be destroyed.”)  Cato eventually got his wish when Carthage was burned in the Third Punic War and her surviving inhabitants were enslaved.  (The notion that the Roman army sowed the ground of Carthage with salt so that nothing could grow there is a 19th century invention.)

I was tempted to add the battle cry of the Finnish troops fighting the Russians during World War II, "Tulta munille!" (“Fire at their balls!”).  Unfortunately, this seems to be an invention of Väinö Linna's World War II novel, The Unknown Soldier.  If you have never read this excellent novel, you can read it free here.

As you have probably guessed by now, I have a nomination for another great line from a leader—one you have probably never heard of.  

Pascual Orozco was not your typical general of the Mexican Revolution.  Of Basque heritage, he was tall, fair-haired, and well-educated, and he had been a fairly successful businessman before the fighting began.  Born in the mountainous regions of Northern Mexico, Orozco was a muleskinner and was experienced in using long lines of mules to move men and supplies through the rugged terrain of the Chihuahuan mountains, which skill would become useful during the violent years of fighting in the Mexican Revolution.  The small mines of the region were yielding significant amounts of gold so that Orozco hired armed guards and earned enough transporting ore for the miners that he was able to purchase his own small gold mine. Then, recognizing a business opportunity, Orozco set up a series of small stores in the remote towns that made up border regions just south of the United States.

Dissatisfied with the corrupt government of President-For-Life Porfirio Diaz (who had made life difficult for businessmen who lacked political connections or great wealth—neither of which Orozco possessed), he raised a band of soldiers and joined the nascent revolution of Francisco Madero in 1911.  Since Madero’s revolution was incredibly small and highly unlikely to be effective against the large, professional army of a Mexican president who was backed by the United States, Madero eagerly accepted the support of inexperienced men like Pascual Orozco and Pancho Villa (the bandit and cattle rustler who was also remaking himself into a military general).

Orozco, the experienced muleskinner, proved to be very effective at logistics and led his army to a series of small victories.  Mexico’s professional army depended on the nation’s railroads for deployments and the revolutionary forces soon learned that they were relatively safe if they moved through the canyons and deserts where there were no railroads.  When Mexico’s government seemed to be powerless to stop the revolution, popular support for President Diaz gradually vanished like the morning fog when the sun rises.  President Porfirio Diaz (until then the longest ruling dictator in Latin American history) eventually bowed to the inevitable and fled—along with the contents of the Mexican treasury—to a comfortable exile in Paris.

Madero became Mexico’s president and quickly learned that starting a revolution was a hell of a lot easier than ending one.  As he appointed men to various offices, there was no good office for a muleskinner/general who had little professional training.  When he offered Orozco a position in the Army—the same army that Orozco had so recently been fighting—Orozco had his feelings hurt and abandoned Madero.  Before long, he was again part of the revolution, fighting this time  against his former leader and within a few short years, the revolutionary general was ambushed and killed in West Texas by the Texas Rangers as he gathered men and horses for yet another revolution in Northern Mexico.

However, Orozco’s death occurred years after he uttered one of those great lines that deserves to be reprinted forever in the history books.  While fighting in the mountains of Chihuahua for Madero, Orozco proved to be a ruthless, if opportunistic, military commander.  There is ample evidence that he frequently used his army to attack his business competitors, “requisitioning” goods from the stores of his rivals while sparing his own stores.  Nor could captured soldiers expect clemency, as Orozco usually had prisoners quickly executed.

Early in the revolution, Orozco led his men into the badlands of Northern Mexico, and set up an ambush at the Cañón del Mal Paso (Canyon of the Evil Pass).  When the Mexican soldiers of General Navarro blundered into the trap, most of the men were slaughtered and the rest hurriedly retreated.  (You would kind of think the name of the canyon might have warned the men.)

Orozco had his men strip the bodies of the dead soldiers and sent their uniforms back to President Diaz with a note that read, "Ahí te van las hojas, mándame más tamales". 

In English, that translates as "Here are the wrappers, send me more tamales."