Another defender jumped to his death from the top of the church, falling around 22 feet to the ground below. This well-publicized incident has made relatively little sense to historians because it resulted in not one but two deaths. The most accepted theory has been that the act was suicide. But suicide was highly improbable because the man—long thought to have been Captain Dickinson— had a child in his arms. Consequently, this incident has been described as the “most bizarre story of the Alamo,” remaining one of the battle’s mysteries. However, a rather simple, but logical, explanation exists.
The most sensible explanation was that Captain Dickinson, if this was the jumper as so long believed, was attempting to follow those men who had streamed out of the palisade by way of the gate at the church’s southwest corner. After all, he had stayed at his position at Fortin de Cós as long as possible helping to protect the escapees with his artillery fire from the church’s rear. And he had leaped down near the chapel’s southwest corner, where stood the palisade’s sally port, in full view of many Mexicans now in the plaza and courtyard. By this time the Mexicans, with bayonets flashing and vengeance in their eyes, had gained entry into the church, driving him to his desperate escape attempt. Since he had his “young son in his arms,” in de la Pena’s words, this incident only makes sense if he was attempting to save not only himself but his son, and this meant following those who had dashed out through the palisade. 87
But all later escapees, following upon the heels of the first 62 men and second group of 50 soldiers who fled, had even less chance for survival, with the cavalry now fully alerted and waiting. In some amazement, Santa Anna described how “a large number” of garrison members met their deaths from his cavalry “in the immediate areas” outside the Alamo’s walls.
These words reveal that a fair number of other garrison members were killed as individual escapees and were not part of the two largest groups to flee the Alamo. Santa Anna’s words also indicate that the ever-tightening ring of Mexican cavalry and lancers had moved closer to the Alamo’s walls by this time, after witnessing the first two escape attempts, as preventive measures to ensure no more defensive stands from the irrigation ditch or any other cover. After all, for General Sesma’s cavalrymen and lancers, it proved far easier to kill escapees close to the walls as opposed to chasing them across the prairie, or in attempting to drive them out of the irrigation ditch and its surrounding vegetation. 88
FINAL FLIGHT OF DEFENDERS
The final sizeable flight of Alamo defenders never got as far as the first two groups, because the Mexican cavalry and lancers had advanced so close to the Alamo’s walls, while awaiting more panic-stricken men to attempt to make a break for it. All the while, more than 100 musicians, including Fifer Apolinario Saldigna, but mostly drummers and “Horn players,” continued to play lively airs to mock an ugly slaughter of those remaining inside the compound and those yet alive on the open prairie. 89
Meanwhile, one of the most heroic acts at the Alamo took place inside the doomed fort. Rather than the mythical heroics which have been endlessly embellished as part of the romanticized last stand mythology, Ireland-born Major Evans, though wounded, rose to the challenge. Like so many Irish revolutionaries before him, Evans was not running or giving up this morning, demonstrating a feisty Celtic-Gaelic fighting spirit. In fact, he was determined to take as many Mexican soldiers with him as possible. With his last thoughts perhaps on his beloved Ireland and with a flaming torch in hand, Evans made a dash for the powder magazine. With the black powder reserves located at the southwest and northwest corners of the church, the Green Islander attempted to blow-up the remaining supply. But the 36-year-old was shot down before he fulfilled his mission. Ironically, a soldier not born in either Texas or America, but across the sea, gave his life in one of the most heroic actions on that March 6 morning. 90
While the two fights were dying down by this time between the groups of escapees and the Mexican cavalry and lancers on the open prairie, yet another clash—the third, smallest, and last outside the Alamo this morning—was about to begin. General Sesma, from his vantage point from the high ground of the Alameda, now saw yet more defenders attempting to escape, “who were coming off the fort from the left . . . “ 91
This semicircular “fort” on the left was an earthen lunette or a “Semicircular palisade and narrow trench,” that was positioned near the west wall’s center. Here, on the wall that faced San Antonio, around 400 yards away across the San Antonio River, this lunette—smaller than the one protecting the main gate on the south wall—hugged the outer fort as the only entry and exit point of pickets along the sprawling west wall, not far from Travis’ headquarters. 92
As along the southern perimeter for the first two groups of escapes, the western perimeter had been devoid of attackers for some time, allowing an opportunity for a handful of survivors to make a dash for safety. Indeed, from the assault’s beginning, General Cós’ column had veered away from the west wall in overrunning Fort Condelle at the Alamo’s northwest corner and then pushed into the plaza to attack the Long Barracks and church. With the main attack on the north wall and with Morales’ belated strike at the Alamo’s southwest corner, almost the entire length of the west wall had remained wide open, especially the lunette, which became a natural exit point. With Cós and Morales having struck at opposite corners of the western wall—the Alamo’s longest walled side—most of its length had been attack-free longer than any perimeter. This tactical development resulted in some defenders, who had not retired back into the plaza, remaining in place in buildings along the western perimeter until forced to flee out the lunette when Mexicans gained the plaza behind them or after the Long Barracks was finally overpowered. Men fleeing the western lunette naturally made for the brush, trees, and cover along the nearby San Antonio River, which offered a better chance for survival than the open prairie around the Alameda.
Some evidence, from San Antonio’s mayor in 1836, Francisco Antonio Ruiz, indicated that Crockett might have been killed at the lunette located at the west wall’s midpoint. If so, this might well indicate that Crockett was shot and killed by Mexican cavalry, who were close to the wall by this time, while attempting to escape. Following the Mexican soldier’s practice of calling isolated strongpoints “forts,” Ruiz later claimed he saw Crockett’s body in “the small fort opposite the city,” which would have been the lunette at the west wall’s center. He also reported that Crockett’s body “was found in the west battery,” which indicated that at least one artillery piece was located in the lunette. 93
But because the sun had risen higher to reveal a fuller view of the surrounding area, including the Alamo compound, the last flight of garrison members was the most ill-timed of the three sizeable attempts. By this time, the first two groups of Alamo escapees were either wiped out or in the process of being eliminated; consequently, an even larger percentage of Santa Anna’s cavalry was poised nearby, sabers drawn and lances at the ready, and closer to the walls after their bloody work in completing the destruction of the first groups of escapees. In General Sesma’s words: “Then the Superior Captains of Lieutenant Colonels of the Regiment of Dolores, Don Manuel Montellano, Don Jose Fato, and second lieutenant Don Jose Guijarro, were detained with another company in order to charge those who were coming off the fort from the left [the west wall lunette], and who were also killed by these officers and troops upon showing themselves, and whose companions had not exceeded them in anything.” 94
In his March 11 report to Santa Anna, General Sesma complimented those who had escaped the Alamo only to meet a tragic fate outside of its walls: “It is in vain to show Your Excellency the desperate resistance of these men because you were in the middle of the risk dictating my orders and you were a witness who [saw] better than any other the deeds of each man.” 95 Therefore, Sesma saw no need to exaggerate or embellish the cavalry’s role today if Santa Anna was also a witness. The general’s statement also indicated that Santa Anna was in the Alameda a
rea. Most significant, therefore, Sesma had only described not only what he had seen in regard to the exodus from the Alamo, but also what Santa Anna had seen. This, of course, meant that the number of men he saw escaping was not an embellishment to make either himself or his men look like they accomplished more than was actually the case. (And unlike the de la Pena memoir, Sesma’s words came from an official battle report written only days after the Alamo’s capture, and not a politically inspired or biased document.)
Besides the factor of sheer panic, such a wide discrepancy between the number of escapees and Mexican cavalry losses has provided some evidence that a good many of the men—more than half the entire Alamo garrison—were out of ammunition by this time, which also might partly explain why they departed the Alamo in the first place. This scenario seems more likely with the last two groups of men who fled the Alamo rather than the first group, because of the tactical situation and time sequences.
When Mexican troops converged and struggled to kill the last defenders in the Long Barracks, hospital, and church, their attention became more focused on the Alamo’s eastern side. Combined with the confusion, deafening noise, and thick smoke of battle, this tactical development allowed a slight opportunity for the last group of survivors, probably mostly west wall defenders, to dash for safety by way of the lunette, and perhaps even the elevated position of the 18-pounder at the southwest corner, after Morales’ troops had descended upon the Long Barracks and the church. Of course, these three distinct flights of defenders only hastened the end of those who remained inside. So many men had fled the Alamo that many attacking Mexicans could not fathom what happened to all the defenders. A perplexed Lieutenant Colonel José Juan Sánchez-Navarro, not only a respected member of Cós’ staff but also a promising poet, wrote how “By six-thirty in the morning not a single enemy existed” in the Alamo. And Sergeant Felix Nunez of Dúque’s column, gained the distinct impression that “all the Americans had taken refuge in the church” by this time, because they could be seen nowhere else. 96 It seemed to those Mexican soldiers now inside the Alamo that many garrison members had simply disappeared off the face of the earth—a mystery best explained by the mass exodus from the Alamo.
Knowing the bitter end was fast approaching, some survivors inside the buildings tried in vain to surrender to the swarm of Mexican soldiers. Some cornered defenders in the Long Barracks waved white cotton socks in futile attempts to surrender. Trapped inside the church from which there was no escape, Anthony Wolfe and one of his sons—the other had already been killed by bayonets or bullets, or both—attempted to escape, but in vain. Out of desperation, both leaped from the church’s top, very likely in a last-ditch attempt to join the exodus. But both young men of the Jewish faith were killed in a hail of bullets. 97
Combined with having gained the element of surprise over the garrison even though it had long expected an assault, Santa Anna had effectively orchestrated the combined use of infantry and cavalry to reap success in what was essentially a night battle. Shortly after the fighting ended on March 6, therefore, Santa Anna boasted to the Mexican Minister of War and Navy how perhaps the majority of the Alamo garrison “fell under the sabers of the cavalry that was placed in that position just for this purpose [and] I am then able to guarantee that very few will have gone to notify their companions of the outcome.” 98
Not surprisingly, the flurries of isolated fighting outside of the Alamo continued for some time. But, of course, it was a one-sided contest outside the walls from beginning to end. It took time for the Mexican cavalrymen and lancers to locate survivors in gullies and aqueducts and amid underbrush, and to kill all of those who fled outside the walls. The slaughter was accelerated by the fact that the cavalrymen’s horses were in good shape and relatively fresh, having been confiscated from haciendas on the long push north to replace their broken down animals that had carried their riders hundreds of miles.
Ironically, the slaughter outside the Alamo’s walls lasted for hours, while the fighting inside the Alamo lasted less than a half hour. Moreover, those dying outside were the only garrison members killed in broad daylight. Alamo nurse Juana Navarro de Alsbury, the daughter of a Mexican officer who had married Dr. Horace Alsbury, an Alamo garrison member luckily dispatched on a scouting mission when Santa Anna laid siege (though destined to be killed in the Mexican-American War of 1846), recalled that scattered firing continued till mid-day. 99
In his first March 6 battle report, written at 8:00 a.m. and before the slaughter had ended, a smug Santa Anna merely summarized how: “Victory goes with the Mexican Army [and] a great many who had escaped the bayonet of the infantry fell in the vicinity under the sabres of the cavalry.” What was most revealing was the fact that he emphasized how “a great many” Alamo defenders escaped to die outside the Alamo’s walls and “in the vicinity,” which meant the Alameda area along the Gonzales Road. 100
Another translation of Santa Anna’s first report was also illuminating: “And in the immediate areas [outside of the Alamo compound] there was a large number that still has not been able to engage and hoping to escape the bayonets of the infantry, fell under the sabers of the cavalry that was placed in that position just for this purpose.” 101 Along with General Sesma, Santa Anna had viewed the three flights from a good vantage point on the Alameda, taking satisfaction in his well-conceived plan. However, Santa Anna’s most revealing words have been both overlooked and dismissed by historians who have so strongly embraced the mythical Alamo.
And in a most revealing March 23, 1836 circular to the people of Vera Cruz by Department Governor Joaquín de Muñoz y Muñoz, he expressed pride in the chasing down and slaughter of so many Alamo escapees, including by lancers from his own proud city: “The invincible eagles of the Republic have been placed once again in the fortress of the Alamo. And the glorious national colors wave triumphant on the wall which was the hope of some rebel colonists [who were] pursued and destroyed in all directions” on the bloody morning of March 6. 102
Alamo historian and premier artist Gary S. Zaboly summarized how: “A substantial number of Alamo defenders—perhaps as many as one hundred—attempted to escape [and the] skirmishes that followed between the fleeing Texans and the Mexican cavalry comprised an entirely separate phase of the Alamo battle, but one no less vicious than the action taking place within the compound.” 103
Again, the soldiers who fled the Alamo for their lives were anything but cowards. Most of all, they were ordinary men—more farmers, clerks, and merchants than either frontiersmen or trained soldiers. They had died for their adopted homeland, Texas, serving to the bitter end, when they could have, and probably should have, earlier deserted and just gone home. But they did not go. Instead these men who participated in the desperate breakouts died just like their comrades inside the Alamo. By fleeing from the Alamo, these escapees had only vacated a doomed position in the hope of surviving to fight another day on better terms.
Finally, the last outbursts of fighting outside the Alamo sputtered to an end long after the slaughter inside had concluded. And the fondest wishes of countless Mexican officials and military leaders had been realized with Santa Anna’s resounding victory. They had long prayed “that these perverse [revolutionaries] will be destroyed” to the last man. 104
All Mexico would celebrate Santa Anna and his Alamo success. For instance, an editor in the March 22 issue of El Mosquito Mexicano boasted: “We congratulate the world for the bandits Mexico has forever laid to rest” on the cold, misty morning of March 6. 105 And in the March 22, 1836 issue of the La Lima de Vulcano, Mexico City, the editor trumpeted the Alamo victory, proclaiming, “The rebel standard [the New Orleans Greys’ flag] lies prostrate before our national flag; they have bitten the earth they profaned [and thanks to] the fire and steel of our valiant men, their black souls have expired.” 106
Santa Anna never felt more confident of future success. Another victory had been reaped over the Anglo-Celts at San Antonio, as when he had been a teenage sol
dier under Arredondo. A land he loved, all of Texas now loomed before him, seemingly for the taking. Texas resistance had been wiped out at the Alamo, and any place where these illstarred revolutionaries could be found. Basking in his victory, Santa Anna now perhaps thought of “the beauty of this country,” which “surpasses all description,” that had been all but regained for Mexico—or so it seemed, after the last rebel defender of the Alamo had been killed not inside but outside the Alamo’s walls. 107
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The Alamo’s Most Bitter Legacies
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From the beginning, no Alamo myth has been more time-honored than the belief that all the Alamo defenders willingly sacrificed themselves for the greater good, ensuring the birth of a new Texas republic, and buying time for Houston to create an army. But in the insightful words of historian Bill Groneman, “The traditional and incorrect view of the Alamo battle is that every man there made a conscious choice to die gloriously in its defense. Any scenario which deviated from that preconceived notion, such as the willing surrender of any of its defenders, has hardly been tolerated over the years.” 1
Groneman also argued against an enduring controversy of the Alamo story, Crockett’s supposed execution, which the author refuted in his 1994 book, Defense of a Legend: Crockett and the de la Pena Diary. But in fact, the most groundbreaking aspect of the Alamo’s story should never have been the manner of Crockett’s death—in itself unimportant—but the fact that such a large percentage of the garrison attempted to escape the Alamo only to meet their deaths outside the walls. Indeed, historians, scholars, and the public have missed the point in regard to the real importance of the de la Pena account, focusing mostly on how a single garrison member died instead of the more important story, about so many “of the enemy who attempted to escape.”
Exodus From the Alamo: The Anatomy of the Last Stand Myth Page 41
