The Colt that got away

By Tim Inwood

Recently at a gun show, I was looking over an old US service 1911 .45 pistol. Its serial number was low and the gun itself in only fair condition. The seller said the previous owner claimed the gun had been used in the Mexican Punitive Expedition in 1916. This comment brought back a flood of memories about why I have an interest in these early Colts.

When I was a boy, we would sometimes go out to my great-grandfather’s youngest brother’s farm in Southern Clinton County. I always enjoyed visits with Uncle Fred, as he always had an interesting story to tell. His ghost stories would leave you sleepless and checking under the bed. His adventures left you exhilarated. He would become so animated when talking about history, it may have indeed been the main reason I developed such a passion for the subject.

A few times he told me different stories about chasing the infamous Mexican bandito leader Pancho Villa. In 1916, the US army was sent to find Villa in the wake of Villa’s attack on Columbus, New Mexico. To a young boy, this was great and exciting stuff. The story threw out names that would only mean more to me as I got older and took an interest in history. General “Black Jack” Pershing and a then-young officer named George S. Patton figured prominently in my Uncle’s stories about Mexico. The last time he told me stories from the expedition, he went in his room and then came back out with a brown holster. Later as a collector, I would know it correctly as the 1912 swivel holster issued with the 1911 pistol. The following is a combination of my recollection of my Uncle’s stories, mixed with a bit of detail from Stanley Hirshson’s book, General Patton, A Soldiers Life.

As Fred lit his pipe and a wisp of smoke rose, he slowly began to tell the story of Patton going after Julio Cardenas and pulled the old 1911 Colt .45acp from the holster and carefully sat it down on the coffee table. Despite its age, it was in magnificent shape, surprising since it appeared that he kept it in the holster. I admired the blued beauty as the flames in the fireplace created shadows that danced over the gun, making it look all the more a part of the epic legend he spun. He continued the story about how Cardenas was the captain of the Dorados, but in Mexican tradition he called himself General. As Pancho Villa’s bodyguard, Pershing knew Cardenas might know where Villa was, so he placed his trusted Lieutenant George Patton on the job. He knew Patton well. Pershing, a widower, was dating Patton’s sister. So he knew the man could be counted on to get Cardenas.

Patton was sent to Cardenas’ ranch, but did not find him there. Apparently, the dust stirred up by the old Dodge touring cars warned of the Americans approach, and the Villaistas fled the ranch. Only Cardenas’ uncle, wife, and baby were there when Patton and his men arrived. Today, people whine about putting a wet cloth over someone’s face being torture, but in earlier times real torture was used, and it got results. Patton and his men strung up Cardenas’ uncle only to the point of his blacking out and brought him down, threw water on him, and revived him for questioning. This was done three times. On the third time, the uncle finally talked. The torture, brutal as it was, worked. Days later, on May 14, 1916, Patton and his motorized patrol eventually came across Cardenas.

Based on the interrogation of Cardenas’ uncle, Patton suspected that Cardenas might be at the San Miguelito hacienda that day. Patton decided to use caution, as it was thought Cardenas might have as many as twenty armed men at the ranch with him.
On that May afternoon, Patton traveled with eight men, including a civilian named Lunt, who served as the interpreter for the group.

Lieutenant Patton learned a lesson from the first raid. Not wanting to tip off the Mexican with a dust cloud as he had on the first failed raid, they parked the automobiles on the reverse slope of a hill about a mile from the hacienda. He told the others the plan. The rest of the men and cars were to remain out of sight until Patton’s car reached the ranch. Then Patton, the driver, a trooper, and Lunt sped down to the ranch.

Patton would pass the hacienda and stop at the Northwest corner. He left the soldier and driver in the car to cover the West and North sides of the ranch. Patton, along with Lunt, would approach the front of the ranch from the North. The soldiers in the other automobiles rushed up to offer support, now that Patton was in place.

Suddenly, three horsemen emerged from the hacienda. Well armed with rifles and pistols, they wheeled their mounts upon seeing Patton and rode for the Southeast corner of the ranch. There, they encountered the other troops. The Mexicans turned and rode back towards Patton.

Patton held his fire. The politicians in Washington D.C. had sent our troops into Mexico with orders that they could only defend themselves if they were fired upon.

Cardenas and his men rode towards Patton and at a distance of roughly twenty yards, the Mexicans opened fire on Patton. That was all the provocation that Patton needed. He now could return fire on his assailants. Firing his ivory-stocked Colt Single revolver, he hit the lead horseman in the arm, and then dropped the horse he was riding with the following shots.

Patton now took cover to reload his single action Colt, a painfully slow process that could have gotten him killed in the heat of the fight. Luckily, the other Americans had joined the fight and were firing on the Mexicans, giving him some needed time to get his weapon back in action.

The surviving Mexicans charged him, and, at roughly ten paces, they fired at and missed Patton and the hapless, unarmed, Mr. Lunt.

Patton, having reloaded his Colt, took aim, shooting the nearest Villaista's horse, which fell, rolling on the rider. Patton, chivalrous fellow that he was, waited for the man to free himself from the downed animal. Once on his feet he tried to fire at Patton, but Patton was quicker, killing him with a single well-placed shot.

The third Mexican attempted to flee, but Patton and two other soldiers opened up at the fleeing bandito, killing him.

Gunfire was then heard from the Southwest corner of the ranch: the man Patton had shot first was now on his feet and back in the fight. All of the Yankees now turned their attention to him. He stopped and he raised his bloody and broken left arm as best he could in apparent surrender; the right arm, unharmed from Patton’s first volley of fire remained to his side. Suddenly, he went to draw his pistol with his right hand. That was the end of him as a bullet pierced his head. As it turned out, this was Julio Cardenas’ last action on this Earth, the first to get shot, but the last in this fracas to die.

Patton returned triumphant to General Pershing with the three dead men, now quite ripe from the heat of the day and being strapped over the hoods of the old Dodge cars. Pershing was somewhat disgusted by the scene, but also impressed with the fact Patton had gotten the job done.

Patton also returned from this engagement realizing carrying only one of his Colt Single Action Army revolvers was not the wisest move. As you could only safely carry it loaded with five shots, he was at a disadvantage and knew he was lucky to have survived his first shoot out. From that day forward, when he carried the old single action Colts, he carried them as a pair.

Patton kept the captured weapons from the Cardenas raid; he viewed them as lucky charms. They are currently on display at the Patton Tank Museum near Fort Knox, Kentucky. The Colt Single Action Army he used in that skirmish is also on display in the museum, which brings me back to Uncle Fred’s Colt 1911, a relic of the Punitive Expedition.

In May of 1978 when Uncle Fred passed away, my grandfather’s first cousin Glenn was the executor of the estate. When my parents went out to look at what would be sold in the estate auction, among the guns I spied the Colt 1911 in it’s 1912 swivel holster sitting on the table. Immediately I began trying to think of ways to talk my parents into letting me buy the pistol.

Initial reception to the idea was rather chilly. I had a .22 revolver already but I knew the .45 would be a hard sell. I approached my father first, knowing my mother would be the roadblock. He said, “Maybe, depends on what it sells for.” I told him I had saved money from summer jobs working on farms. I was sure I had enough money. Again the answer was “maybe”.

The day of the auction came. I got to guard Uncle Fred’s gun collection. Rather jealous as the bidders came back to look at the guns I wanted to hide the prized Colt, but resisted the temptation. When the guns went up on the stump the bidding began. I looked about and my father had not yet arrived. I was panicked. I knew if he did not arrive I would have to sway my mother.

I finally spoke to her about letting me bid on the pistol, hoping it’s history and the length of time Fred had it would sway her. She looked and me and said, “No. A 15 year old boy doesn’t need that cannon.” My heart sank. The pistol came up for bidding, and, without my father, I could not bid. The Colt with its original holster sold for the paltry sum of $90. I felt ill, as I had brought $300 and was prepared to spend all of it in pursuit of that pistol. Thirty years have passed and the frustration with that loss still irritates me.

On occasion, the subject of Uncle Fred’s 1911 pistol comes up. I still give my mother, now in her 70s, mild grief for not letting me bid on it. It was, after all, a piece of family history. I have purchased several early Colts, but none has satisfied my desire for that one Colt 1911 that had protected Uncle Fred on his Mexican adventure so many years ago. It was, sadly, the Colt that got away.

Tim Inwood is the current Legislative Liaison and Past President of the Clinton County Farmers and Sportsmen Association, an Endowment Member of the NRA and Life Member of the OGCA, Republican Central Committeeman for Chester Township A, in Clinton County, Ohio, and a volunteer for Buckeye Firearms Association.