Because they had placed their faith in an indefensible position, the trapped Anglo-Celts could only cling to the fatal illusion in the faint hope of the arrival of reinforcements from Goliad: Fannin and his command, around three times the size of the Alamo garrison. Unfortunately, however, Texas lacked not only a unified overall military command, but was also deprived an acting provisional government—which had collapsed into chaos and seemingly endless in-fighting in February—to support it or hurry up aid and reinforcements to the Alamo. Even worse, the relatively few troops in Texas were hopelessly divided into two garrisons, San Antonio and Goliad—offering Santa Anna a perfect model for divide and conquer.
Texan leaders were divided not only about the best strategy—offensive or defensive—but the proper place to fight the war—Texas or Mexico—and even where to make a defensive stand if the location was ever agreed upon, which it was not. Some people in Texas wanted to declare independence, others did not. Therefore, by early 1836, the Alamo garrison was most of all expendable, representing the relatively few soldiers in Texas who supported the disposed Governor Smith, now facing possible impeachment. Making things worse, they aligned themselves against the commander-in-chief, Houston, who had wanted to evacuate San Antonio and the Alamo. 66
Houston had predicted that “Dissension will destroy Texas,” and, of course, the Alamo garrison. These young, inexperienced volunteers, or unruly members of “the ultra-democratic mob,” were already expendable. For Houston, these independent-minded novices, who had rejected him as commander, had no permanent part in his long-range strategic plan of creating a professional, regular army of disciplined veterans. Many Texan politicians viewed the Alamo soldiers as “not only slackers but as inept and possibly corrupt.” Houston wanted neither San Antonio as a strategic position nor its diminutive, always-troublesome garrison, and neither, or so it seemed, did the people of Texas. 67
Unfortunately for Alamo garrison members, the personal qualities—weakness, folly, blindness, doggedness, and overconfidence—of top civilian and military officers, such as Neill, Bowie, Houston, Fannin, and Travis, plus the feuding politicians, all contributed to sealing their fates in the end. Commanding the Texas Regular Army and not the volunteers at the Alamo, Houston saw the tiny garrison at that remote outpost as expendable, pawns to be sacrificed for the greater good, especially his own. Even their immediate commanders, Neill, Bowie, and Travis, had let the Alamo men down. Indeed, there would have been no Alamo to defend and no destruction of the garrison without the disastrous chain of miscalculations and erroneous decisions of leadership. The Alamo commander had failed to move sufficient supplies, including food, water, and ammunition, for an extended defensive stand at the Alamo, despite knowing that Santa Anna’s Army was on his way north. Some provisions were collected, but most remained in the town, with Travis and Bowie believing they yet had plenty of time to move them into the Alamo. Garrison members had simply grabbed what they could during a wild dash for the Alamo before being cut off by Mexican cavalry upon Santa Anna’s arrival on February 23. 68
The garrison now paid a high price for Travis’ belief, as expressed to Governor Smith only ten days before on February 13: “By the 15th of March I think Texas will be invaded,” and not before. 69He was wrong.
But in truth, Travis had actually believed that Santa Anna, if he marched upon San Antonio, would do so in the summer of 1836. He only emphasized the March 15 date to order to pressure the governor to send supplies and aid as soon as possible. John Sutherland described the true situation in which “no danger was apprehended [because so] Many had persuaded themselves, that Santa Anna would never attempt to conquer Texas [because] he was afraid to meet us.” Incredibly, therefore, Travis and his men actually were convinced that Santa Anna, having learned his lesson with Cós’ defeat, would “postpone his operations until the summer.” 70
Despite being in part responsible for the upcoming disaster, when it was already too late, a prophetic Governor Henry Smith implored the people of Texas to awake to the growing threat facing Texas and rush to aid them, so as “not to permit [the Alamo garrison] to be massacred by a mercenary foe.” 71And then, acting Governor James W. Robinson, designated by the Council to replace Smith— who had been dismissed by that ever-dysfunctional body of bickering statesmen and then promptly dissolved it—predicted “disastrous consequences” for not only the Alamo garrison, but also Texas. 72
But such frantic pleas were not only too late, but also largely in vain across Texas. By this time, the Alamo garrison continued to be expendable to the established, longtime Texas leaders and residents, because the government had laid plans that had been more in line with remaining under Mexico’s jurisdiction in the hope of preventing exactly what had happened: a large Mexican Army suddenly descended upon Texas like a howling “blue norther.”
Therefore, the band of volunteers of the Alamo were largely expendable to not only the old Texian settlers, but also the government at San Felipe de Austin, which planned to establish a regular army for Texas and not a volunteer one. It was no wonder that the Alamo garrison now found itself abandoned, doomed by a combination of top-level political and military decisions by those both at the Alamo and at highest governmental levels. Consequently, especially because it had fallen apart, the Texas government never raised funds for the purchase of black powder, cannonballs, other munitions, or further reinforcement so vitally needed by the garrison. 73
Launcelot Smither, who had been dispatched to Gonzales to secure reinforcements for San Antonio in February, was realistic about the stern challenges facing the Alamo garrison. From Gonzales, he sent a note to Nacogdoches with the unforgettable, prophetic words: “If every man cannot turn out to a man, every man in the Alamo will be murdered.” 74
Smither’s sentiments only echoed earlier warnings by Tejano women, who lamented to the passing Anglo-Celts and handful of Tejanos as they dashed through San Antonio’s streets on February 23, to take final refuge in the Alamo when Santa Anna’s troops first appeared: “Poor fellows, you will all be killed.” 75
Nevertheless, the Alamo garrison was convinced otherwise. Incredibly, and indicating more their cultural bias rather than military experience, both Bowie and Travis yet believed that any number of Mexicans could be defeated, even though they only had around 150 men, approximately 850 soldiers short of what it would have taken to adequately man the sprawling perimeter. Based upon an overestimation in their own military prowess, and a gross underestimation of the Mexican fighting man of mostly Indian descent, this unbreakable, taken-for-granted faith—despite its delusional character—was based upon the belief that their weapons, such as Long Rifles, muskets, and cannon, could easily prevail over any Mexican Army, even if the odds were ten to one. And these men, from leading officers to the lowest private, were convinced that all Texas, both Fannin at Goliad and east Texas settlements, could quickly rally to their support. Such hopeful beliefs—although entirely illusionary and faulty—helped to ensure that the Alamo garrison would undertake no attempt to escape during the thirteen days of siege. 76
What was unmistakable was the fact that Santa Anna’s masterstroke in pushing so swiftly north was brilliant, catching an unwary, smug opponent completely by surprise. Perhaps B. H. Duval said in best in a late winter 1836 letter: “Contrary to the expectation of every one, he has invaded the Country when least expected.” 77
Most of all, by early 1836, Travis, Bowie, and their men had badly misjudged their opponent. They should have learned from the bloody lesson of what Santa Anna had done to fellow Mexican citizens at Zacatecas, crushing a huge, well-organized force of militiamen who were defending its own homeland with ease. But more important, so far in this late winter campaign deep in Texas, Santa Anna had indeed lived up to his reputation as the “Napoleon of the West.” To the generalissimo’s thinking, “Zacatecas was only the beginning,” and the Alamo would be next. 78
Caught by surprise of the Mexican onslaught like everyone else, Captain Carey very
likely no longer believed his confident boast on January 12, 1836, of how: “ . . . I think a small number of us can whip an army of Mexicans.” Ironically, as the young artillery commander and bachelor of the “Invincibles,” and from Washington-on-the-Brazos, Captain Carey now understood the ridiculousness of such words. 79
The cocky Texian’s confidence—mirroring that of the Alamo garrison—was revealed in the pages of a newspaper: “Our enemies have a well appointed cavalry–raised by voluntary enlistment. We do not fear their infantry; it is composed of convicts, forced into the army as a punishment for their crimes.” 80 Bragging to an amused Little Rock, Arkansas, newspaperman back when the future looked so much brighter, Crockett had boasted that he would “have Santa Anna’s head” before the war was over. 81
Now at long last, a new sense of reality had come to the ill-prepared Alamo garrison. Meanwhile, Santa Anna had the Anglo-Celts exactly where he wanted them: trapped in an all but indefensible position. Therefore, he felt great relief to discover that his opponent had made the fatal mistake of attempting to defend the Alamo instead of retiring to the more formidable Mission Concepcion. And, unfortunately for the young men and boys of the Alamo garrison,Travis and Bowie followed Neill’s folly of defending the Alamo “to the last” and deciding not to surrender, regardless of the circumstances to sound the death knell for the Alamo garrison. 82
Indeed, no one was more responsible for the decision to both make a stand at the Alamo and never surrender than Colonel Neill, whose persuasive influence had proved decisive on others, including Bowie, Governor Smith, and other Council members. However, by this time, Neill was no longer the Alamo’s commander. In fact, he was no longer at either the Alamo or San Antonio.
On February 11, the colonel, older than most of the men at the Alamo, had calmly mounted his beloved Tennessee Walker. He then rode away from his command, never to return or be seen by them again. He simply rode home, galloping away from the deathtrap that was in large part his own making. The excuse given was that family members were ill, stricken by some unknown aliment. The man most responsible for setting the stage for the Alamo disaster took himself out of harm’s way. Before riding away from the Alamo and leaving the 26-year-old Travis in command, Neill told his men that he would return in twenty days. But by that time, garrison members would have only three days of life remaining in this world. In attempting to gather provisions for the garrison, Neill was delayed past his promised twenty days, until after the Alamo’s fall. This former second in command of Fannin’s First Regiment of Texas Artillery would be nowhere in sight, like his West Point-educated commander, when Santa Anna and his army reached San Antonio. 83
Even more ironic, as artillery commander of the “Army of the People,” Neill’s guns had played a role in pounding the Alamo and Cós’ garrison into submission in December 1835, inflicting the damage upon the walls that would later compromise the Alamo’s defense on March 6. Therefore, the man largely responsible for damaging the Alamo’s walls and demonstrating that the compound was a deathtrap, especially for a small garrison, was also the same individual who played the leading role in convincing influential others, both military men and politicians, that yet another defensive stand should be made at exactly the same place where the enemy had been so recently defeated. He left behind a new Alamo commander, who had begged the governor for a “recall” from the San Antonio assignment, and who knew so little about artillery that he had declined an appointment as the “first Major in the Artillery Regt.” Ironically, as penned in a February 12 letter, William Barret Travis believed that Neill would be gone only “for a short time.” Again, Travis was wrong. 84
5
* * *
An Ineffective Siege
* * *
Ironically, in view of what was to come, an old Anglo proverb of early Texas that focused solely on the balmy weather, warm breezes, and healthy benefits—especially appropriate for the San Antonio area—proclaimed: “If a man wants to die there he must go somewhere else.” 1
In reality, nothing could be further from the truth in regard to the little Tejano town of Béxar. San Antonio was the graveyard of generations of Mexican, Tejano, and Texas revolutionaries and rebels, especially Anglo-Celts, who foolishly challenged Mexico City’s authority. In fact, the very name Béxar had long been synonymous with revolution— and accompanying disaster—sparked by “foreigners” and outside agitators, especially from the United States.
Writing in 1848, General Filisola, Santa Anna’s second in command during the 1836 campaign, was right on target when he summarized the grim reality for so many Anglo-Celtic revolutionaries, who had been seduced by the alluring dream of an independent Texas from Spanish and then Mexican control. The systematic crushing of each new revolt came with so much bloody ease, that it almost seemed to be “a sign perhaps that Providence destined for all the entrepreneurs in Texas a disastrous end, and that the occupation of Texas was to be the cause of the horrible and damaging bloody scenes that have occurred following the treaty of 1819.” 2
The harsh reality facing the revolutionaries in San Antonio was fully appreciated by a bemused Jon Whitefield Scott Dancy. In his March 27, 1837 diary entry he wrote an undeniable truth: “It is a little strange that San Antonio and its vicinity, one of the most beautiful places upon earth, a place where a man might so easily enjoy as many of the bless ings of life as this world can yield; it is strange that this place so lovely, should be the scene of more bloodshed, than any other perhaps on the American continent.” 3
But in fact, it had always been precisely this strange, irresistible appeal that had made San Antonio a bone of contention and one of the great killing grounds in all the southwest. In regard specifically to the Alamo garrison’s eventual fate at Santa Anna’s hands, a much more accurate, but grim, adage was offered from the pages of the Troy Daily Whig: “The course of Texas is plainly marked out. She shall drive every Mexican soldier beyond her limits, or the people of Texas will leave San Antonio the bones of their bodies.” 4
By February 23, everything had changed for the Alamo’s soldiers with a blinding swiftness that had sent them reeling. With Santa Anna reaching San Antonio before the people of Texas expected, the surprise had been complete, changing the destinies of the Alamo men forever. Compared with only a few months ago, the war that these men had previously known—the intoxicating 1835 campaign that reaped easy victories and caused celebrations across Texas—had morphed under Santa Anna into a far more dangerous undertaking.
Unlike in the recent past, this war was now more serious, and a more deadly business than ever before. The war’s character had changed completely from the time when the victors had naively allowed General Cós’ vanquished Mexican troops to march out of San Antonio with the promise—a chivalric 18th-century gesture—that they would not return to Texas. Now, of course, General Cós and his soldiers filled Santa Anna’s ranks: Seguin’s warning had gone unheeded. Even worse for the Alamo garrison, Santa Anna and his troops were especially eager to avenge their humiliation at having lost San Antonio. One soldier, Jesse Benton at Nacogdoches, Texas, already sensed as much, writing in a February 22, 1836 letter how: “Colonel Cós and his troops we are informed have broken their parole and are returning against us [therefore] The country on the Rio Grande is given up to a brutal soldiery.”
Bolstered with too much optimism and complacency, the Alamo’s amateur soldiers had continued to play by the same old rules while garrisoning San Antonio until it was too late. Santa Anna had now brought a new type of warfare to Texas, involving ancient ways of dealing with revolutionaries, as the Alamo garrison would learn. The red flag of no quarter that Santa Anna raised from the bell tower of the San Fernando Church represented this brutal new reality. This banner proclaimed that there would be no mercy, no prisoners in this war. Travis and his soldiers had been caught off guard by the sudden transformation. This new reality was secured when Travis penned his famous February 24 dispatch to “The People of Texas and all Americ
ans in the world,” in which he stated: “I shall never surrender or retreat. . . . I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country—Victory or Death.” With such defiance, punctuated by a cannon shot on February 23, he had sealed the doom of both himself and the garrison.
For his part, Santa Anna’s desire was to make an example of the Alamo men for political purposes, as a lesson to other Texians and Tejanos in arms. Therefore, he needed to reap a victory that was as thorough as it was swift. One example of how the Alamo defenders were caught amid a raging Mexican civil war was the fact that Mexican families were so divided by the conflict that sons served on opposing sides at the Alamo. What has been often overlooked about the Alamo’s story was that the Tejano people had been revolutionaries long before the arrival of Houston, Travis, Bowie, and Crockett in Texas. Like America’s own “brother’s war” from 1861–65, the current civil war pitted Mexican family members against one another. A defender of the Alamo, for instance, was Tejano artilleryman Jose Gregorio Esparza, yet his brother, Francisco Esparza, sided with Santa Anna, serving under General Cós at the Alamo during the 1835 campaign. 5
Not only Francisco, as a proud member of the unit, but also the entire Tejano militia company, Leal Presidios Company of Béxar, had been reactivated to join Santa Anna’s army when it first reached San Antonio. As if Santa Anna did not already have sufficient numbers of troops, he gained additional soldiers from the militia company and from the Tejano population, making good his losses on the lengthy winter march to San Antonio. 6
Exodus From the Alamo: The Anatomy of the Last Stand Myth Page 23
