Three Roads to the Alamo

by William C. Davis

  Leading his small company south, Travis in fact reached the Atascosa that evening. The next dawn he crossed over and went on south another five miles before he suddenly came on the unmistakable signs of a large herd of horses that had come onto the Laredo road at that point. Obviously this was a caballado, probably the very one that false rumor said had left San Antonio back in late October. This herd could only be about eight days out of Béxar, and clearly had been led off to the west and then south to pick up the road to evade Austin's scouts. Travis led his men on the trail for several miles until they found the site where the Mexican herders had camped, surely no more than two nights before.

  Now he was on a fresh trail, and with each succeeding mile Travis could see from the signs that he was getting closer. “With renewed confidence of success,” he said, he pressed on briskly. When he reached Macho Creek, fifty miles south of Béxar, he found the caballado's previous night's camp. Knowing the quarry to be close now, he dispersed his small command to either side of the road and thereafter moved forward cautiously until twilight stopped them two or three miles above San Miguel Creek. The tejanos with Travis who knew this country told him that the creek would be the only water for some miles around. The Mexicans must camp there.

  Now for the first time Travis faced the real prospect of a fight. Tenorio had offered no resistance at all, and Travis had a cannon to support him at Anahuac. At Concepción he arrived to find the Mexicans already in flight, and his chase after them had been as much a lark as anything. Now, however, there were armed Mexican soldiers ahead. He did not know how many, though the report of a tejano passed along the way suggested there might be twenty. The prospect of being outnumbered did not daunt him, for he counted on the superior range and accuracy of the rifles his men carried as opposed to the weapons of the foe. But if he made an attack after dark he gave up that advantage and might also lose the strength of surprise, since in the dark he, too, could be taken unawares. Besides, too much blind firing might spook and stampede the herd, his real objective. With a maturity and prudence not characteristic of the Travis of Anahuac, he decided to wait, bed his men down where they were for the night, and attack in the morning. Cold and miserable though they were that night, he had made the wise decision. They camped without fires in the rain, with no fresh water and their only fare the unsalted dried meat on which they had subsisted for days past.

  At the first glimmers of dawn on November 10, Travis mounted the command and they raced down the road to the San Miguel. As he approached, he first saw two Mexicans out collecting the horses to start the day's trek, and took advantage of their being away from their companions by ordering a charge right into the Mexican camp, hoping to surprise and divide them in order to eliminate their advantage of numbers. Travis himself rode at the head of his volunteers and dashed into the camp, so stunning the soldados that they gave up without a shot being fired. It turned out that instead of being twenty, they were only seven, and the two Travis passed initially made their escape. Far more important, though, he captured—besides the five soldiers, six muskets, and two swords—a total of three hundred or more horses and mules. Only now did Travis have a little trouble with his men. Unused to military usage, they assumed that what they captured would belong to them, in the manner of privateers. Their captain, however, “whose only thoughts were for his countriees welfare,” as one volunteer said, persuaded them that the horses must go to Austin for the benefit of the army, and the men acquiesced.74 Immediately he sent a rider off to Austin with the news, then collected the horses, and started the herd back to the north, reaching the San Antonio River, a short ride from the Texian army, on November 13.

  Austin had been worried about Travis for some time after Briscoe brought word of his continuing to the Atascosa. Now that Travis was leading his own party of men, though only a dozen, Austin at once recognized him again as a “captain.” By November 9 he had Fannin looking for him, in the hope that Travis could help with an expedition after another Mexican pack train supposedly headed for Laredo, but Fannin never found him.75 Two days later Austin sent an order to Travis himself, telling him to link with Fannin, but no sooner did he write the message than Travis's rider came in with the report of the capture of the caballado. A delighted Austin wrote another dispatch immediately. “I have to thank you and express my approbation of your conduct and that of your men in this affair,” he said. “It has been creditable to yourselves and useful to the service.” Learning that most of the horses were in poor condition, he ordered Travis to leave them to graze on the Seguín rancho, and then hurry himself back to get orders for a new mission. The reward for success was to be no rest.76

  Travis rejoined the army late November 15, and thereafter Austin kept him out almost constantly on scouts, usually accompanied by “Deaf” Smith. They burnt the grass along roads leading out of San Antonio to deny the Mexicans the grazing. They joined with Capt. Juan Seguín and his company to guard routes into and out of the city, and ranged widely around the countryside, vigilant for more horses and reinforcements.77 On those days when Travis stayed with the main army, he witnessed the laxity and poor coordination that made it such a troubled command, with discipline in short supply and too great an abundance of individual independence. The men fired their guns promiscuously in camp, wasted food, and came and went as they pleased, and Travis could not have been blind to the fact that many of Austin's directives took on more the aspect of requests than orders. It taught him a lesson in command. “A mob can do wonders in a sudden burst of patriotism or passion,” he would say in a few days, “but cannot be depended on as soldiers for a campaign.” If ever he had a substantial company of his own, he saw object lessons here in how not to command.78

  When Austin planned on November 21 to storm Béxar at last, there would naturally be no role for Travis's small company of mounted men, and so he and the others attached themselves to the infantry companies, Travis himself joining Fannin's Brazos Guards.79 But then the continuing problems of this troubled mob of men—it could hardly be called an army—led to an almost universal refusal to make the attack just hours before it was to go. For some it was too much. Fannin resigned, and a number of other disheartened men decided simply to go home. Two days later, when Austin gave up and announced his departure to undertake a mission to the United States decreed for him by the consultation, and an election was held to choose his successor, only those men electing to continue the siege were allowed to vote.

  Travis did not vote. He, too, had seen enough. Some men in his own company had simply gone home without leave.80 It was time now for him to return to San Felipe, though he went from different motives than those animated by simple disgust.81 Even though the consultation had adjourned on November 14 and thus he could not now take his seat, there was still good work for him to do, especially since the permanent council continued to sit, and in its hands now rested the organization of the country for a more systematic and extended resistance. Besides, his personal affairs needed tending. In the face of the volunteers' unwillingness to attack now, he had better uses for his time—better for himself and for Texas. Travis remained with the army a few more days, and his reconstituted company of scouts no doubt went out on another reconnaissance or two. Austin's confidant Moses Bryan maintained that “no one was more efficient in this line of service than Travis.”82 His friend “Deaf” Smith brought in the word on November 26 of a Mexican pack train that resulted in Bowie going out for what became known as the Grass Fight, and Travis and his men may have joined in the general rush. If so, it was his last action with this troubled army. Within a few hours, or a day or two at most, Travis was riding back to San Felipe.83

  He arrived to find himself one of the lions of the hour. On November 18 Austin had written to the permanent council to report the capture of the caballado and compliment Travis on his action. About the time Travis left the army, on November 27, the military committee of the permanent council reported a commendation of “citizen Capt. Wm. B. Travis for his persona
l worth and distinguished service.”84 By that time Austin's announcement of the caballado capture was already in the San Felipe newspaper.85 Travis at last had everything he had wanted: His practice flourished, the leading men of the community looked up to him, he enjoyed widespread influence, he had a cause that was worthy of his talents as a political firebrand, and now he was a celebrity. Even James Dellet had never been a war hero.

  19

  BOWIE

  1835-February 2, 1836

  We will rather die in these ditches, than give it up to the enemy. Public safety demands our lives rather than evacuate this post to the enemy.

  JAMES BOWIE, FEBRUARY 2, 1836

  Even with the elation that came at the moment of seeing the Mexicans retire from Concepción to San Antonio, Bowie felt as well frustration, and perhaps some regret that he had not followed his orders more carefully the day before. If only Austin and the rest of the army had been with him this morning, or in immediate supporting distance, he believed that they could have pursued the foe and taken Béxar itself by noon.1 Austin felt the same frustration. He had his army on the road at first light, with Lieutenant Travis and his small company of mounted volunteers in the advance, and Travis and his men were the first to hear the sounds of the firing ahead at Concepción. Before long Bowie could see Travis's horsemen on the other side of the San Antonio River, riding after the Mexicans, but to no useful end other than harassing the withdrawal. An hour after the fighting ended Bowie saw Austin himself ride up at the head of the main column. Without dismounting, Austin began issuing orders for a full pursuit and general attack on Béxar itself.

  Bowie ran over to Austin and immediately remonstrated with him to rescind the order. He had learned more than enough from his friends sending information out of the town to know that its defenses were now too strong. The Mexicans who attacked that morning would by now be well inside their own works again, and without artillery Austin was no match for them. He would simply suffer as the foe had suffered that morning. Fannin joined Bowie in his argument, and finally Austin yielded, believing that Cós would have to surrender before long anyhow as the Texians tried to starve him out. The general ordered Bowie to direct the distribution of the army in the position selected around Concepción, and dismounted to send a quick dispatch to await the meeting of the consultation. In it he complimented “colonel Bowie and captain Fanning” on “the brilliancy of the victory,” and included Bowie's count of thirty muskets and the brass field piece as spoils. He would add to that in a few days that he thought Bowie and Fannin fought “in the best Manner.”2

  Austin's health plagued him now, leaving him physically too debilitated to be equal to his duties and mentally too fatigued to think and plan with clarity. Having accepted Bowie's advice on assaulting San Antonio and its works, he feared there must inevitably be a long siege ahead, for which he had little stomach. Moreover, without decisive action soon, he knew he could not hold the army together. The volunteers would simply disappear as quickly as they came. Already the desertion of one company had delayed his march to Concepción on the morning of the fight. His only hope was to instill some sense of discipline, and for all his compliments for Bowie's and Fannin's conduct of their fight, he could not forget that the two had disobeyed express orders in not immediately reporting finding a position for the army. Had they done so, Austin would have brought up the army on the afternoon of October 27, and the victory of the next morning might have seen them in possession of San Antonio itself. Now Austin issued an order that “any officer who disobeys orders, shall be immediately arrested and suspended from his command, until a court martial decides his case.”3 Undoubtedly he had Bowie in mind, and certainly Bowie must have seen it that way.

  Meanwhile Austin slowly made his preparations for a siege. Learning that three hundred volunteers were on their way to join him, he felt more confident, and early on October 30 sent Bowie in command of three to four hundred men, nearly half the army, across the San Antonio and into the outskirts of Béxar itself in a clear invitation to Cós to come out and fight, but the Mexicans wisely stayed within their fortifications. Bowie remained there all day, retiring only at dusk.4 The attempt to lure the Mexicans out may have been Bowie's idea, quite possibly with the intent of falling back to lead the foe on to the rest of the army in ambush. Or it may as well have been to divert Cós's attention to the south, for the next day, October 31, Austin led his half of the army north to a position on the Alamo Canal, a ditch a mile above Béxar, taking Travis with him and sending him off on a raid to find the enemy caballado.

  Before putting his men in motion, Austin directed that he and Bowie would send their commands in to harass the foe that evening as soon as Austin had his men in place.5 But that night in his camp at Concepción, Bowie got a message from Austin. He canceled the planned skirmish, yet in typically equivocal fashion gave Bowie permission to go ahead with his part of it if he wished. He also wrote that Refugio de la Garza, the very priest who had married Bowie to Ursula, sent word from town that two companies of the Mexican cavalry wanted to defect to the Texians and needed only a demonstration on the south side of Béxar to act as a pretext for their being ordered out. Austin told Bowie to make a diversionary movement the next morning, and went on to ask his opinion on what their future operations ought to be, including the possibility of an all-out assault on the city.6

  Of course Bowie had an opinion, and an aggressive one. He doubted the accuracy of Garza's information, for he had been getting similar rumors himself, but so contradictory that he did not believe them. Nevertheless he knew that Cós's supplies of corn were short, and in a close siege the Texians could force him to give up or come out and fight. In case the two companies did defect, Bowie urged that he and Austin be prepared to rush the town immediately in a coordinated attack to take advantage of Mexican confusion. He advised waiting no more than five days for the defectors to come out, and if they did not, then the Texians should storm Béxar. “We cannot doubt for a moment the result.” To be certain that his and Austin's movements coordinated well, he suggested that each send a courier to the other twice a day, morning and evening, and at the same times, so that each would know the situation of the other simultaneously.7 It was wise policy, indeed, though it also revealed how little Bowie knew of military history. For centuries commanders had exactly the same idea, only to find that the exigencies of the battlefield almost invariably defeated simultaneity.

  Bowie made his demonstration the next morning, taking his division within eight hundred yards of the town, and finding the position so advantageous that he determined on his own to occupy it rather than returning to Concepción. But no deserters came out to him, and he firmly believed now that none would. Bowie then did something typical of his independent instinct to act on the whim of the instant. Taking advantage of Austin's absence, and almost certainly without his permission, Bowie assumed one of his commander's prerogatives by sending a message into San Antonio to the Mexican commander. He proposed that Cós enter into negotiations with him for the surrender of his garrison and “to close the war.” Bowie wrote the note hurriedly, and as usual without thinking it through carefully beforehand, for no sooner did he finish than he started making additions, mostly boast. Between the lines he scrawled that “I fought you on the 28th inst with only a small detachment of ninety two men,” obviously rubbing Cós's nose in it a bit, but also implying that with several hundred he could inflict even greater damage. Then as a postscript, he elaborated further, mentioning the large reinforcement just received, and how difficult it was to restrain his men from attacking on their own, especially—he could not refrain from boasting again—as they were “nearly flushed with victory, purchased with no loss on their part.”

  At the same time, however, he also maintained that they were not revolutionaries. He and his men were pledged to defend the constitution of 1824. “They hold to that as their sheet anchor, and will sooner part with life, than abandon it.”8 Perhaps, though more likely Bowie was being disi
ngenuous again. The sentiment for a declaration of independence, not just from Coahuila but from Mexico itself, was growing, and everyone expected the consultation to discuss the issue. Certainly for Bowie's personal land interests, full-scale independence offered more promise than did remaining in the Mexican federation with its renunciation of the Mason grants. But it would be unwise to say anything like that to Cós now. Better to present themselves in the guise of loyal Mexican citizens, simply defending their constitutional rights. That would soften the sting if Cós agreed to negotiate.9

  Cós's reply, when it came, stated that his duty allowed him only to obey his orders, and those were not to communicate with the “rebels,” consequently he returned Bowie's message unread. Apparently no one in San Antonio had informed him who his antagonist was, and Cós must not have kept much abreast of recent events elsewhere in Texas, for he knew his antagonist only as “an individual Bery Bowie who is called Colonel.”10 Privately, however, he sent Garza out with a verbal message that he had been told to fortify and hold Béxar at all costs, and would do so. “Every thing seems to wear the appearance of resistance,” Bowie consequently wrote to Austin that afternoon. Good as his new position was, he found it sufficiently exposed that Cós must surely know his numbers, and that made him vulnerable. Bowie had already asked for a reinforcement once before. Now he reiterated his request, perhaps unwisely underlining his suggestion of “a more equeal division of forces,” and then repeating it once again in a postscript, asserting that it was necessary to keep his men satisfied.11 Throughout, though polite, Bowie could not help underlining words to emphasize his need for more men, which could well have had the appearance of an attempt to lecture Austin.