Cartucho and My Mother's Hands by Nellie Campobello

Author:Nellie Campobello
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Texas Press

* Villa and his bodyguards were shot to death on 20 July 1923, shortly after driving into Parral, near where he lived. Villa had agreed to lay down arms after Carranza’s defeat in 1920. (Trans.)

José’s Bullets

“José Borrego came from the district of Indé. Over by Cerro Gordo. What a man! How brave he was!” exclaims Salvador Barreno, sure of his words.

“In my long life as a soldier among Villistas, where I’ve seen many true and valiant men, I’ve never seen his match. José Borrego knew how to fight all by himself. Oh, he was really terrific! He taught many others the tricks of war between men on horseback and men on foot. He’d say to us, “Keep your head down, boys. Don’t jump around, just aim for the other guy’s head. Those are the best bullets. Don’t fall asleep or get tired. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. One man can always fight against many, but remember, the secret is to fire at their heads.

“Didn’t you see how I was trapped in the caves fighting against El Cagarruta and his men? Did they get me? Why not? Well, because I fire at their heads. And I keep my eyes on them until I see the dust of their retreat. I don’t jump around when I’m hunting.”

That mountain soldier got tired of giving advice. Salvador says that one day a bullet came—the kind that breaks down the best defense—and then José, that admired and beloved José, lay motionless, his eyes watching the dust, as he used to say, that, this time, covered his own face. But he couldn’t see it.

A Miracle for Julio

The Virgin of El Rayo trembled with grief, and the stars almost fell off her robe. She shined so brightly at that moment that no one has ever forgotten it.

The way his companions tell it, Julio said to them, “I don’t want to fight up there where you’re looking. Not out of fear. I’m not afraid. It’s the war between us that makes me sad. For the love of God, I’d rather be little again!” he exclaimed, laughing. Julio Reyes was always laughing. He was a young man, the color of wheat, and his coffee-colored eyes were kind, like those of a good man. When he passed by, he would talk with Mama. In Parral everyone knew each other and liked to talk. “Julio,” Mama said to him, “here come the Villistas! Run! Run!”

The men who were up in the church of El Rayo had already taken defensive positions as they waited for the enemy. The enemies were their cousins, their brothers, and friends. Some shouted long live one general, and others cried long live his opponent. That’s why they were enemies and killing one another.

Julio believed in the Virgin of El Rayo, and that’s why she answered his wish. “I’d rather be little again,” he had said.

They went down to buy cigarettes and bread, and Julio went with them. His tousled blond curls probably made him look more like a child who plays on the ground in the noonday sun.

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