After the attackers left the town, the first to react was a group of neighbors who Col. Slocum unsuccessfully attempted to stop from pursuing them, but they didn’t get any farther than Moore’s ranch.
The invaders passed back over the border at 8:10 a.m. Villista testimonials make clear that they were not followed after the attack on Columbus: “No one pursued us. There wasn’t any fighting,” they recounted. “At no time were we overtaken by anyone following us. We saw a cavalry force arrive at the border. But nothing happened.” Maybe this was because the Mexicans had not retreated in a single column but had dispersed into various groups holding different perspectives with orders to reassemble at a later date.
The US version is based on the testimony of Maj. Frank Tompkins, who surely led that Thirteenth Regiment force to the border. Col. Slocum had climbed to the top of Cootes Hill to observe the Villistas’ retreat and Tompkins asked for permission to follow them. “It took us twenty minutes” to mount up twenty-nine men from H Company. Upon arriving at the border, Tompkins saw a small hill where a group of Mexicans were providing cover for the retreat. And in the US major’s version, his men charged straight at them. Mariano Jiménez, one of the Villistas, recalled that “They advanced towards us, yelling Hurrah! and standing up in their stirrups to aim their rifles. We waited for them in the Mexican style, with our reins in our left hands and our rifles in our right, letting them get as close as they could with their fat horses. They shot, we responded, and they retreated back to Columbus.” During this clash, the Villistas suffered two casualties, one of which was a soldier named Cruz Chávez who died that same afternoon in La Ascensión. Beltrán reported to Villa that they had captured twelve horses from the pursuing troops and had taken twelve prisoners.
However, in Tompkins’ version, the charge succeeded in dispersing the Mexicans, inflicting thirty-two deaths, and capturing several horses. Salinas Carranza, commenting some years later on Tompkins’ report, remarked, “Didn’t he realize that his book would also be read by military men? Who believes that green troops could cause thirty-two casualties?”
That was the last record of fighting among the Villista sources. Maj. Juan B. Muñoz stated, “Nobody pursued us during our retreat [. . .]. We would have known because we were the rearguard. If they didn’t pursue us, and we were the last of the rearguard, how could they have struck at Gen. Villa who left a half hour ahead of us?” Rafael Muñoz, narrating the withdrawal, declared that “When Pancho Villa ran, no one caught him.”
However, in Tompkins’ version, the major requested permission via a note to Slocum to continue the pursuit into Mexican territory and Slocum replied he should use his judgment. He did so and advanced. The second encounter, according to Tompkins, took place after his force had grown to fifty-six men with the addition of twenty-seven men from Castleman’s F Company. Tompkins claimed that he reached the Mexicans in thirty minutes and that when they came within “400 yards of them, and having found shelter for the horses, they dismounted and opened fire, forcing the extreme rearguard to fall back [. . .] killing and injuring several.” Salinas noted wryly, “They dismounted to fight at an enemy that was fleeing?”
According to Tompkins, the fighting lasted around forty-five minutes against 300 Villistas. “My men counted between seventy-five and one hundred dead in Mexican territory.” The US cavalry men suffered no casualties, although Maj. Tompkins and his horse suffered small injuries and a bullet went through his hat. Tompkins asserted that, after this fight, and with their horses tiring, they withdrew. Salinas couldn’t help but ask, “What kind of horse gets tired, and even collapses, in four hours?” Sadler, in the prologue to the second edition of Tompkins’ book, corroborated this undoubtedly false story, “For more than six hours, Tompkins’ outnumbered forces galloped fifteen miles into Mexico and killed dozens of Villistas before returning to Columbus when they ran short of ammunition.”
Gen. Pershing, very prudently, did not mention Tompkins’ pursuit, simply summarizing that Villa himself, already back in Mexican territory, stayed on a small hill with a guard of some thirty men to cover the retreat of groups which had fallen behind.
In 1934, Tompkins received the Distinguished Service Cross, eighteen years after the fact, when Columbus had already become a myth and there were no Villistas around to give their version of events.
Soon after the invaders withdrew, twenty carloads of men arrived in Columbus from Deming “armed to the teeth to follow the Villistas.” They had been alerted by Grost, the owner of a furniture factory, who, after having been injured, sounded the alarm.
Curiously, Otis Aultman, the most Villista of all the photographers, was the first photographer to arrive in Columbus for the AP. He drove seventy-five miles from El Paso in record time. “The town was in ruins and the people were hysterical.” Walter Horne was there as well and began to quickly photograph the dead.
He shot pictures of an enormous ditch into which several men were tossing the cadavers of seventy-three Villistas who had fallen during the attack on Columbus. He also took a photo of a wall clock that had been shot through by various bullets. His colleagues captured images of the seven prisoners awaiting trial. The young Paiz can be seen in the second row.
Not long after, in the afternoon of March 9, George Carothers arrived in Columbus. Among other tasks, he reviewed documents found in the saddlebags of a dead Villista officer (Prieto). He had no doubt, and the documents confirmed it, that Villa had directed the attack. Carothers, who became rich during his time with Villa, now assured everyone that not only had Villa been in Columbus, but that he was also responsible for the massacre in Santa Isabel. “The fact is clear that he [Villa] declared war on us beginning last December.” On March 13, he quickly wrote a letter to Gen. Scott in which he called Villa crazy, “eager to kill Americans.” Scott was obliged to publicly renounce his sympathies for Villa. From this moment on, being a Villista in the United States wouldn’t fly, nor was it profitable politically.
Meanwhile, the attackers gathered at the agreed-upon spot, a place called Vado de los Fusiles, where they abandoned the mule carts taken from the military camp in Columbus. Rafael Muñoz recalled that Villa said, “Now we’ll see if they claim that Pancho Villa is dead.” They rested and then took account of who was present. They were missing some 100 of the men who had entered Columbus between dead, captured, and dispersed, while a good number of those present were wounded. Of the missing, twenty-three would arrive the next day. In other words, the casualties in Columbus, and the subsequent pursuit, couldn’t have been more than seventy, plus seven prisoners. Information provided by the Villistas closely approximated the estimate given by Capt. Lucas, who reported sixty-seven dead and five wounded prisoners. Other sources, such as Tompkins, McGaw, Racozy, and Pershing himself, all exaggerate the numbers. The sum of the dead compared to the number of wounded is surprising; normally, the number of wounded is triple that of those killed. It appears that Calzadíaz was not wrong when he asserted, many years later, that the Mexicans wounded in Columbus were “finished off with gunshots.”
In Columbus, another casualty count was being added up, those on the US side who had fallen. The official figure included ten civilians, including a woman married to one of the officers (she had been trapped in the burning hotel) and two Mexican boys. There were also thirteen dead soldiers. However, in Racozy’s book, there is a photograph of the wake in which coffins can be partially made out. And there are at least seventeen.