In September of 1847 a war between the two largest armies in the Americas was drawing to its close. While the conflict between the Republic of Mexico and the United States of America was incredibly hard fought by both sides, the outcome of nearly every battle were equally as one sided. The unavoidable Mexican defeat was merely a long line in a series of humiliations of a people who had descended from the first conquerors of the New World. Once, the hooves of Spanish cavalry and the might of their heavily armed gallons had crippled empires and struck fear into their fellow Europeans but those days were gone forever. Since Spain's departure, the nation they left in their wake, despite having all the pomp and pretenses of a powerful army, had known nothing but defeat.

The United States was following the opposite path. Having thrown off their own colonial shackles only forty years before their Mexican neighbors, the United States had grown infinitely more powerful in the intervening years. If Mexico was in its inevitable descent into irrelevance, the writing was clearly on the wall that the United States was on its way towards domination.

The exact political dramas and casus belli which brought Winfield Scott’s Army of the United States of America to the gates of Chapultepec to fight the army of General Antonio López de Santa Anna are a pandora’s box of conjecture and fiercely held opinion lost to the echoes of history. Suffice it to say that controversy swirled around America’s invasion of Mexico. And while that was a topic for contemporary pundits and future historians, none of that mattered to the men in the ranks at Chapultepec. All that mattered, all that could matter, was the battle they were about to fight.

The war had begun and mostly been waged in the Mexico’s north, but a surprise landing by Winfield Scott at Veracruz had brought the Americans the doorstep of Mexico’s capitol.

The Mexican Army that defended their capital was a shaken shell of its former self. Having lost a series of battles, the soldiers in the Mexican ranks knew they had survived this long only due to luck. The shakiness of the Mexican ranks was further exacerbated by having lost their best unit in the previous battle: the San Patricios Battalion. Made up of deserters from the largely Irish Catholic US Army, the San Patricios had been the best fighting force in the Mexican Army at the battles of Monterrey, Buena Vista, and Cerro Gordo before their eventual capture in the slaughter of the Battle of Churubusco. Fifty San Patricios would watch the battle at Chapultepec, from a gallows erected atop a hill with a clear view of Chapultepec Castle. Whatever caused each man to leave their nation’s army is an individual matter. Some left for selfish reasons, some for reasons they considered noble, but whatever the reason, they would play no part in the final battle.   

The US Army could not have been more different. Riding the emotional highs of recent victories, they marched with some of the best soldiers the United States would ever know. Wearing the blue American uniform were future generals like George Meade, Thomas Jackson, Joseph E Johnston, Winfield Scott Hancock, and Robert E Lee, and three future presidents Ulysses S. Grant, Zachary Taylor, and Franklin Pierce. In fact, most of the senior leaders of the US Regular Army who parted ways with one another in 1861 to lead their sides in the Civil War marched under the Stars and Stripes in Mexico.

While the US Army had confidence a quick and decisive strike could end the war, the Mexicans were counting on guile and attrition to give their quantitatively superior but qualitatively inferior troops the victory. Santa Anna was no fool. He knew the blue wave approaching him had every advantage imaginable, so he endeavored to trick them, trap small units, and defeat them in detail. His plans were dashed when a trap he laid for the Americans at Molino del Rey went exactly to plan, but fell to ruin when the 4,000 Mexican Cavalrymen under General Juan Alvarez, attempting to catch American infantry exposed in the open, was routed by little over 200 American Dragoons under Major Edwin Sumner.

His bag of tricks empty, Santa Anna then resolved to hold Chapultepec Castle, situated on a hill south west of Mexico City, and bleed out the Americans in a siege.

The castle still stands, it is in a nice part of Mexico City during the day. Worth a trip

But the Americans were not going to wait. US Army and Marine Infantry formed up at the base of the hill, and after a brief bombardment went directly at the shocked Mexicans. They marched across the open ground in front of the Mexican walls through the fiercest fire the Mexican troops could muster. Leaning into the torrent of bullets in what would become a hallmark of American infantry, the blue ranks reached the castle’s outer wall, and realized that they had forgotten ladders. Where most armies would retreat, the Americans held their positions, exposed to Mexican cannons and muskets until ladders were brought to the front lines. An unforced error that could have led to disaster, resulted in a massive over correction. So many ladders were brought to the front that it is said the men scaled the wall 50 abreast. The first man over the wall, 22 year old brevet second Lieutenant George Pickett, wounded and carrying nothing but the American flag his friend Lieutenant James Longstreet had handed him, led a wave of blue towards the enemy. The fighting was fierce, and bloody, so bloody that the red stripe on USMC non commissioned officers pants is said to represent the blood spilled at Chapultepec. But the battle was brief. The skill, determination and the fates themselves pushed the bayonets of the American infantrymen over the castle’s walls and crushed the defenders within.

The Mexican soldiers fought incredibly bravely. Some refusing to surrender, despite their General having fled the field. One teenage cadet, according to legend, had leapt to his death from the parapet, taking his nation's colors with him so they would not become a trophy for his enemy. Despite their individual bravery, it did nothing to effect the outcome. Without their best unit, and against an better led, stronger, and faster opponent, they were doomed. The Americans had gone right at their enemy. Their aggression and initiative overwhelmed the inferior opponent, and all that was left to secure the victory was Lieutenant US Grant carrying two cannons up a tower to blast the gates of Mexico City open seal the fate of Mexico forever.

Where's my trophy Tony???

Michigan has now won three Big Ten Championships in a row. Three. A feat which seemed more a flight of cruel fantasy in 2020 than anything resembling prophecy. I started these diaries talking about Vincent Gray, the man who stayed and helped Michigan hang on against the onslaught that was Ohio State. Michigan is no longer hanging on. Michigan is setting the conditions of each battle, choosing a strategy of their convenience and destroying opponent after opponent. Michigan beat Purdue through the air, they beat Penn State on the ground, Ohio State through a hybrid attack, and Iowa through defense and special teams. Michigan is now the Empire, and it will fight you in your style, and defeat you.

Iowa on the other hand faces a bleak future. Through the history of the Big Ten Championship game, a Big Ten West team has only claimed the trophy once, the very first time when Wisconsin beat Michigan State. It wasn’t even the Big Ten West then, but since that day the West has known nothing but defeat, and year after year, a team has emerged out of the corn to sacrifice itself upon the alter of the power of the East. The slaughter hasn’t even been close. Since 2018 the East has beaten the West by a score of 212-80, without a since game closer than 10 points. But with the expansion of the conference, the West’s tenuous grasp on a backdoor to championships has faded, perhaps forever. No longer will their mediocrity be rewarded with a trip to Indianapolis. (One could argue that the Championship game should go away forever with the 12 team playoff, and a likely year after year re-match). Iowa has won 11 Big Ten championships since their admission in 1899, but Michigan and Time may have slammed that door shut forever.

But all of that is a macro topic, for future pundits to look back upon. The topic for today is Michigan. Michigan who walked into the Big Ten championship game off the heels of perhaps the greatest victory in program history. They walked in with perhaps the most on the line, and they marched towards a team they know was inferior in almost every category. Michigan attempted no guile, no subterfuge. They simply marched directly at Iowa and hammered them. Michigan took Iowa’s recipe for success and beat them across the face with it. And even when Michigan’s unforced errors held them back (weak holdings, dropped passes, a 26 yard punt), other parts of the juggernaut that Michigan has become over compensated. Michigan’s normal heroes, Corum, Edwards, McCarthy, et al were all there, but it was one man who was steady the entire game on offense. Cornelius Johnson, the Senior, the man who nearly single handedly put Ohio State on the ropes last year, the man who watched his star dim with the rise of Roman Wilson, answered when the situation looked bleak. Nine times he was targeted, and nine times he hauled in a reception. His stats weren’t gaudy, no ones were, but he kept the team moving, kept the wave of blue pushing towards victory like no one else on the team. He was perfect on the day, a statistic only Peyton O’Leary managed to match with his stellar 1 for 1 performance. Michigan hangs its fate on consistency, the steady drone of attrition and on this day, old #6 was the most Michigan of Michigan men.  

While it was ugly, and while it was far from what we hoped, and far from what our experience in the last two Championship Game blowouts have conditioned us to, it was precisely what Michigan needed. It was straight ahead, violent, aggressive and dominant. The coaches did exactly what they needed to do, the fastest and most direct way possible.

 Michigan has plenty of lessons to take from this game, but it was a straight forward victory. Now Michigan will step over the ashes of an Iowa program it may have sentenced to perpetual Minnesota status, and face down one of its most lethal foes on the biggest stage it has yet to be on. Hail to the Victor’s Valiant. Bring me Bama.