If Sutherland was correct in his estimate that some two-thirds of garrison members were on the sick list at the siege’s beginning, then some sick and walking wounded had escaped the hospital and slipped out through the darkness unseen by the attackers, traversing the relatively short distance across the courtyard to the palisade.
In the darkness and wreaths of battle-smoke that yet shielded them from the attackers’ eyes, this concentration of garrison members near the palisade at the church’s southwest corner was completely understandable under the circumstances. For the most part, and before an enduring legend transformed them into mythical killing machines like Thermopylae’s Spartans, the Alamo men were in general more conservative and sensible compared to their more reckless comrades who had embarked upon the Matamoros expedition with relatively few troops only to meet with disaster from Santa Anna’s right wing. These young men and boys at the Alamo had only wanted to survive the war—after having decided to remain in remote San Antonio which was far safer than attacking Mexico—collect land for their military service, and settle down to live the rest of their lives in peace. No one wanted to needlessly sacrifice themselves and die a noble death for an apathetic Texas, which had yet to declare its independence, as far as they knew. And now these young soldiers so far from home suddenly found themselves facing a grisly death at the hands of an enraged soldiery bent on their destruction.
Meanwhile, additional Mexicans surged toward them, and with time running out, these refugees from the west, north, and south walls and any escapees from the Long Barracks who managed to get out in time, continued to unite as one near the palisade. Amid the relative safety of darkness, these survivors gathered together in the open ground at the southern end of the plaza, either in front of the church or in the palisade’s rear. A thin window of opportunity existed for this massing of survivors because the main struggle still raged at the Long Barracks, whose doomed defenders had unwittingly bought precious time for this concentration, drawing most of the Mexicans’ attention. Unobserved by Santa Anna’s troops in the blackness, this tactical situation allowed time for scores of garrison members to assemble near the low, wooden palisade. Clearly, now was the time to make a break for it before it was too late, and these desperate men, fortunate in having survived in the death trap so far, knew as much.
As Santa Anna later explained without exaggeration, one of the long-overlooked realities of this bloody morning was how “a large number” of the garrison attempted to get out of the Alamo alive, “hoping to escape the bayonets of the infantry . . .” 10
In fact, a large-scale flight from the Alamo had been fully expected by Santa Anna and was an all but inevitable result of not only the disastrous situation within the compound but due to earlier decisions. For instance, de la Pena described how Travis had informed his men on March 5 that if no help arrived, then “they would surrender the next day or would try to escape under cover of darkness.” Quite simply, since the surprise attack negated any chance of the garrison’s surrender as a body, only one logical alternative remained: an opportunity which, ironically, Santa Anna’s nighttime assault—providing a shield of darkness— had provided. 11
So far the overrunning of the Alamo had been surprisingly brief, perhaps only fifteen minutes had passed since the unleashing of the 5:30 a.m. assault. However, 6 a.m. was approaching, and around that time, the first faint light of day. 12
Therefore, the natural primal instinct of flight, rather than fight, was now the only alternative for the survivors gathered at the palisade. However, the tragic fate of those men now planning to flee the indefensible Alamo was already preordained, just like the slaughtered Mexican militiamen at Zacatecas, where Sesma’s lancers and dragoons had demonstrated their efficiency and ruthlessness in slaughtering opponents, including the wounded, especially after they broke and fled. And now Mexico’s most apt killers of rebels, who were also the most resplendently uniformed soldiers in Santa Anna’s Army, were positioned on commanding ground around the Alameda. Sesma’s proud lancers looked like the famed French and Polish lancers at Napoleon’s zenith of power. The colorful, elegant uniforms of Sesma’s men disguised the fact that they were merciless killers. As in the past, these lancers were again inspired by the bugles blaring the Deguello, which was commanding them to kill without pity.
And now on March 6’s early morning, the situation would be much worse for far fewer rebels of a different race, culture, and religion. Long before reaching San Antonio, Santa Anna had desired to get the Alamo garrison out in the open, an ideal scenario in which it could be easily destroyed: American riflemen without cover matched up against the “superior equestrian skills” of tough cavalrymen and well-trained lancers for whom even Texas cavalrymen were no match. As early as November 1835, an American in Texas wrote of an ugly reality that was about to be enacted on the early morning of March 6 outside the Alamo’s walls: “But in our open prairies, riflemen cannot withstand a vigorous charge of cavalry,” especially on this cold morning. 13
As directed by the melodramatic Santa Anna, the brass regimental band of the Dolores Cavalry continued to play the Deguello’s haunting strains, inspiring the soldados to kill without mercy. Little more than a funeral dirge for those about to attempt to escape the Alamo, this surfuneral dirge for those about to attempt to escape the Alamo, this sur year holy crusade—between Spaniards and Islamic warriors, before the Christians finally swept the Moors out of Spain during the Reconquesta. No quarter had long distinguished this brutal religious conflict that raged across the plains and mountains of Spain for what seemed like an eternity. Inspired by the Koran’s harsh justice to “infidels,” the Moors had long perfected the brutal art of no quarter by way of beheading unfortunate captured Christians.
Now on this increasingly violent morning, the unforgettable tune from a haunted, vindictive past represented a brutal killing time thousands of miles from Spain. Instead of disdaining the dark-skinned fighting men of Santa Anna’s Army, the color-conscious Anglo-Celts would have been far less overconfident had they realized that the conquering Islamic armies had included large numbers of fighting men of African descent. And contrary to the mythical Alamo, the playing of the eeriesounding Deguello would set the mood for the killing of more northamericano rebels outside the Alamo than inside. 14
Like a well-oiled machine, Santa Anna’s cavalrymen and lancers were well prepared—both in terms of experience and in position placement at the Alameda—for the bloody work that lay ahead. Santa Anna’s horsemen—“a well appointed cavalry” in one American’s words—had brutally “finished the job” of exterminating hundreds of the hapless Zacatecas Mexican militiamen: an ugly, but highly effective, performance, which was about to be repeated by these hardened cavalrymen from far-away Mexico. 15
Ever since he had taken command, the politically minded Travis, over-zealous to make a name for himself, although the Alamo’s command had been thrust upon him almost by accident, had been the chief obstacle for the many garrison members—the majority in fact—who had long wanted to either attempt a surrender, or to make a break for safety rather than be killed to the last man as proclaimed by Santa Anna’s red flag. This considerable divergence of opinion in no small part explained the overall feeble defensive effort, because a good many soldiers—choose not to rush to the walls to die with Travis to attempt to do the impossible. With Travis, along with other officers, now dead at the north wall, in the plaza, and in the Long Barracks, the way was now clear for common soldiers to make a break for it.
As ever-independent minded volunteers, Alamo defenders had earlier refused to take orders from Travis and other officers they deemed unsuitable, ensuring that they would act largely on their own during the moment of crisis such as this. Inexperienced and with little discipline, surviving garrison members now readily agreed with the wise sentiments of Crockett—a common sense soldier and “high private”—who had earlier voiced a widespread opinion that especially applied at this moment: “I think we had better march ou
t and die in the open air [as] I don’t like to be hemmed up” like the doomed Creeks at the gruesome killing fields at Tullusahatchee and Horseshoe Bend. 16
Contrary to the mythical Alamo, Travis had held the Alamo “against the will of his subordinates,” in the words of de la Pena, who later learned as much from Travis’ own slave, Joe. But now the Alamo’s commander was dead, and the men could make decisions entirely on their own, especially about living or dying in a worthless old mission. 17
One modern historian, W.H. Brands, recently surmised that: “Quite conceivably, Travis was considering a fighting retreat [east down the Gonzales Road]. After all, by now the chances of surviving a Mexican attack appeared negligible; the Alamo simply could not be held. The men could either die where they were or die trying to get out—and in the latter case some might survive. There would be no dishonor in trying to save his force now that it had become clear—as a result of the refusal of the provisional government, of the rest of the army, and of the citizens of Texas to relieve the garrison—that the Alamo could not be saved [therefore] once the shooting started [there would be] little control over what the men did. Would they fight harder in the Alamo, with no hope of surviving, or on the road to Gonzales, with some hope?” 18
Amid such chaos, noise, and confusion, what made this ad hoc group of around 62 Alamo defenders near the palisade possible was the fact that the gathering was very likely based upon a pre-determined plan of escape made by the common soldiers and not officers. But if officers were part of this decision, then they most likely would have been volunteers rather than regulars. Instead of facing a night attack, the men had only shortly before expected to reach terms with the enemy, and “being allowed to march out with their arms and go join their government,” wrote Sergeant Manuel Loranca of Sesma’s cavalry. 19
Indeed, Travis’ slave Joe stated that the Alamo’s commander had made the decision that if no reinforcements arrived on March 5, then they would attempt one last negotiation with Santa Anna the next morning, and if that effort failed then they would “try to escape” from the Alamo on the night of March 6. This desperate scheme would in part explain why these men formed up at the palisade as if according to a prearranged plan. The development even raises the interesting, if remote, possibility that Travis might have formed these men and led them out of the Alamo himself. After all, as far as anyone really knows, because of the problems with the testimony of Joe, who very likely never went to the north wall (especially as a soldier like he claimed), Travis could have fallen at any stage of the fight. 20 While the contemporary evidence points to his death early in the battle at the north wall—quite likely by suicide—it must also be acknowledged that in the darkness and confusion of that morning, other scenarios may have occurred.
Historian William C. Davis has speculated that Travis “may even have suggested that if the enemy breached their defenses, the men should resist as long as possible, then go over the east wall and try to get away as best they could toward Goliad.” 21
But most likely, this plan to escape was a common soldiers’ arrangement. The men of the garrison had to think and act for themselves in the heat of combat, especially after the walls were breached. And this apparently also meant ignoring whatever the upstart Travis had ordered them to do that morning, including rushing forward to defend the north wall that could not be held. This last-ditch plan for flight evidently had been established for some time, and by the common soldiers in the ranks who wanted neither glory nor higher rank, but to live on for their wives and children. 22
While Travis’ eloquent letters and defiant cannon shot on February 23 had proclaimed his fiery determination to hold the Alamo to the bitter end, the common soldiers in the ranks felt differently about such a needless sacrifice for no tactical or strategic sense. Unlike Travis and other, the average man in the ranks—especially the volunteers whose dependability was questioned by their Alabama commander—were not seeking glory or immortality, or pursuing personal ambition at any cost. Most of all, these soldiers wanted to survive and fight another day, and this was not possible if they remained inside the Alamo by either fighting or surrendering. To better understand the real Alamo that so thoroughly contradicts the mythical Alamo, this struggle must be analyzed from the bottom up—or from the view of the common soldiers—and not from that of the Alamo’s leadership, which traditional historians have glorified for so long. Most significant, Travis’ own “insulting” replies to Santa Anna had sealed the Alamo garrison’s fate long before the final attack, and this death-sentence—organized not by the enemy but by their commander—had not sat well with garrison members. 23
Therefore, most likely, this daring plan of escape had been developed by the men in the ranks for some time, thanks to the growing sense of abandonment, ever-dwindling supplies of ammunition, futility of resistance against impossible odds, and the prospect of no reinforcements arriving in time during the siege. And the best chance for escape had been a break-out at night to gain the Gonzales Road for a flight east to safety. In a strange twist of fate, moreover, Santa Anna’s pre-dawn attack now provided an opportunity for escape after all.
Knowledge of the planned escape attempt was well known both inside and outside the Alamo before March 6. After all, Santa Anna had decided to launch his attack in the predawn hours partly because he had received reliable intelligence about a nighttime escape attempt. That daring plan had been postponed by Travis from March 5 until the next night, perhaps so that garrison members could finally get some rest to maximize their chances for a successful escape.
In addition, the plan might have been not only worked out in detail, but also even rehearsed to some extent, which would explain how the attempt was formed in the near-darkness with the battle raging around them. Word of Travis’ death, as well as knowledge of Bowie’s incapacitation, would have given survivors more cause to decide to attempt to get out of the death trap as soon as possible.
Once again, rather than a manifestation of cowardice in such a nowin situation, such a perfectly logical decision was fully understandable under the circumstances. What has been so often overlooked in explaining what exactly happened in regard to the exodus from the Alamo was the fact that the Alamo’s defenders were not soldiers in the conventional sense—and even some of the best trained troops would have broken in such a situation. Therefore, even de la Pena felt some sympathy for these men “inexperienced and untried in the science of war.” Contrary to the enduring Alamo myth, the defenders were anything but hardy frontiersmen who knew had to handle a Long Rifle—now in short supply—with expert skill, swing a tomahawk, and slash with a knife. In fact, five defenders were city boys from Philadelphia, and many others hailed from large urban areas, where a rifle’s use was hardly a requirement of daily life. Instead, these amateurs under arms were mostly clerks, merchants, farmers, craftsmen, teachers, and lawyers instead of well-trained fighting men. The large number of immigrants, especially the Irish, also indicated the lack of military backgrounds. The fact that so many defenders chose to flee rather than fight at this point was perfectly in keeping with their civilian backgrounds, natural proclivities, little military experience, and citizen-soldier inclinations. Contrary to the traditional Alamo mythology, possessing a death-wish or desiring to die as a martyr for Texas were the lowest of all priorities at this time.
But perhaps best explaining the flight rather than flight impulse was the fact that the Alamo garrison had been on the verge of surrender. After lawyer-turned-courier Lieutenant James Butler Bonham, of South Carolina, and a twenty-nine-year-old former member of the Mobile Greys, brought the news on March 3 that Fannin would not reinforce the Alamo from Goliad, plans for both a surrender and an attempt to escape were formulated by garrison members. However, such decisions played a role in sabotaging the possibility of a solid defense. Not only was the Alamo garrison divided in regard to the very leaders they supported, but also by multiple strategies: 1) stand-and-fight at the Alamo to buy time for Texas; 2) surrender to Sa
nta Anna before he attacked; or 3) make an attempt to escape the Alamo at night. Volunteers, like their leader Bowie and including Crockett and his Tennesseeans, were most inclined to make a last-minute attempt to negotiate with Santa Anna, while the regulars, Travis followers, were more resolute.
Continuing to fight inside the fort, of course, ensured that it was only a matter of time before the entire garrison was overwhelmed. Since the defenders knew of the no-quarter policy, remaining inside the compound meant risking capture, especially if wounded. Then, the worst of all fates was expected: torture, before being killed by the victors. For these men, the common frontier analogy between the Mexicans and Native Americans early existed. So pervasive was this conviction that even Crockett’s death would later be attributed by American newspapermen in part to a tomahawk wound! The fear of torture had been a regular feature of warfare with Native Americans, ever since the AngloCeltic people had migrated west from the eastern seaboard. Unfamiliar with either Tejano or Mexican culture or ways of war, the naive Alamo men, therefore, had long viewed the Mexican soldado like the Native American warrior in this regard.
Very likely among these 62 men assembling at the palisade and forming into line were a large percentage, if not all, of the 32 volunteers from Gonzales. More than any other garrison members, they possessed more good reason to attempt this desperate bid to escape and reach the Gonzales Road, which, after all, led straight to their homes and families some 70 miles to the east, unlike other Alamo defenders far from home.
Exodus From the Alamo: The Anatomy of the Last Stand Myth Page 36
