“Who the hell are you, and what do you think you’re doing charging into our camp?” I asked.
“We are Ejército del Norte,” one of the men in uniform said. “Uh, Army of the North.”
“Villa’s men?” I asked.
“Sí.”
“I just met with General Villa a few days ago in President Carranza’s camp. He said we could pass through his territory safely.” I wasn’t sure the man understood me, and I was about to repeat it in Spanish when the man spoke up.
“General Villa? You see him?”
“Yes.”
“What about?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
The man turned to his companion and said something in a low voice. The second man studied Charley and me and then responded. He, and not the man I was talking to, was clearly in command.
“Mi coronel asks your name?” he said.
“Tell the colonel my name is William Battles, and
