Rose stared at him. “Are you mad at me for leavin’?”
“Every man has to hoe his own row, Louis. I’m stayin’ here.” He reached out his hand, and Louis Rose shook it, then turned and walked rapidly away.
Jake stood for a moment in the silence. He knew as soon as the first rays of dawn came up the air would be full of cannon roar and the crackling of musket fire and the screams of dying men. He was not afraid, but he felt a great sadness. After a time he turned and went to the room where Bowie lay on his cot. He pulled the chair up and asked, “How you doin’, Jim?”
Jim Bowie was so weak he could hardly speak, but he managed to whisper, “Since I lost my wife and kids, Jake, nothin’ has meant much to me. I don’t much mind dyin’.”
Jake Hardin sat in silence for a long time, thinking of his own life. Then he looked at his friend and said, “I lost my wife and kids, too, Jim, so I guess dying doesn’t mean much to me either.”
The two men sat bound together by strange ties. Both of them knew they had come to the end of everything.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
Santa Anna sipped his coffee and carefully went over his plan as he looked down at the map spread on the table before him. He had decided that his infantry would be divided into four columns, with eight hundred men in each. The cavalry would hold back, ready to pick off the Texans if they tried to break out and flee. The air was chilly, and Santa Anna shivered. He glanced over to the east and saw a faint glow, and suddenly he heard one man cry out, “Viva Santa Anna!” Others began to echo the cry, and Santa Anna laughed aloud as he heard the sound of thousands of feet as his army rushed toward the Alamo. “Now we will see,” he cried, his face exultant at the victory soon to be his.
Travis was sleeping when he heard his name being called. In one motion, he came up off the cot and grabbed his sword and his double-barrel shotgun. He ran to the north wall and saw the enemy approaching. It looked as though a massive wave of torches was rushing toward the Alamo as the rays of the sun glinted off thousands of raised bayonets.
“Hurrah, my boys, hurrah!” Travis yelled as he cheered his men to their posts. Some of the men had stacked a half-dozen loaded rifles by their side, and as the rifles crackled all along the walls, Mexicans fell like ripe grain. The men manning the cannon on the church waited until the column attacking from the east was dangerously close. Then Travis signaled for them to fire, and the cannon roared murderous shots on Santa Anna’s army. The first ranks went down, and then the ranks behind them. Officers and privates fell and were trampled as the surge of soldiers pressed forward. The first assault never reached the walls, but mass musketry had knocked many Texans off the walls. Travis was crying out to his men, when suddenly a shot struck him in the head. He pitched over backward into the dusty yard and made no further movement.
Jake had taken his place with the small group where Davy Crockett was firing and reloading like a deadly machine. His Tennessee riflemen were laying down a constant fire, but the Mexicans kept pouring in. A cry went up then. “Travis is dead! Colonel Travis is dead!”
“I reckon it was his time to go,” Davy said. He rammed a ball into his musket, replaced the percussion cap, and fired before adding, “I shore wish we was outside. I hate to be all hemmed in.”
Just then they heard strange music coming from the Mexican army band. Jake looked over at Davy Crockett and said, “I don’t know what the music is all about, but I sure don’t like the sounds of it.”
“It’s the Deguello,” Crockett said, a grim look on his face. “One of the Mexicans fighting on our side said it’s the fire and death knell, signaling total annihilation. Santa Anna has ordered his troops to give no quarter.”
As the somber music continued, a deafening roar went up from Santa Anna’s reserve that came rushing toward the Alamo. The Mexicans struggled up the wall, and at the same time attackers hurled themselves at the northwest corner and poured over faster than the Texans could work the guns.
Jake fell back along with Crockett and the other defenders until they stood alone. He glanced at Davy Crockett and saw the light of battle and no sign of fear at all.
Jake did not have time to reload. He grabbed his musket by the barrel and smashed a private dressed in white who came rushing toward him. Suddenly Jake felt a searing pain as a bayonet struck him in the stomach.
He gasped and swung his musket again, smashing the man who had bayoneted him. He saw Crockett go down, bayoneted many times, and then he felt nothing as the great roaring in his ears faded to total silence.
The Mexicans now went mad shooting and bayoneting the helpless Texans, their cries of victory echoing throughout the Alamo.
Jim Bowie heard the sound and moved feebly, knowing what it meant. The door burst open then, and Bowie, who had been a fierce fighter all his life, lay helpless. He saw the Mexicans come pouring in, and a dark-faced man with fierce eyes raised his rifle with its bayonet, but Bowie could not move as it descended into his chest.
Susannah Dickerson, the young wife of an Alamo defender, held her daughter tightly. The screams of the Mexicans and the roar of battle had struck her almost dumb. She had no hope now, for she knew that the church where she had taken refuge would be broken into. She and a handful of women and children had fled there. Now the door burst open, and a party of soldiers ran in. Susannah held her child, shielding her with her body, expecting instant death. She was shocked when the soldier’s strong hand grabbed her, and an officer said, “You come with me.”
“Where are you taking me?” she cried.
“You will see.”
The officer dragged Susannah outside of the church with her daughter clutched tightly in her arms. As she looked around, she saw Mexican bodies sprawled all over the compound. As she left she saw Jim Bowie’s body being carried outside. The Mexicans screamed and tossed him high on their bayonets. She turned her head away quickly, and as she was hurried along, she saw Davy Crockett’s body stretched out among a host of his foes. For twenty minutes she was terrified, fearing that death would come at any moment. Then suddenly a group of officers came through the gates.
“General Santa Anna will speak with you now,” the officer said. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over in front of Santa Anna, then saluted. “General, here is one of the captives, as you commanded.”
Santa Anna stood there in his full military garb looking exultant. He knew that hundreds of his men had been killed at a terrible price in taking the Alamo, but the Napoleon of the West seemed happy. His order for “no quarter” had been carried out, and he proudly held his head high as he looked around the Alamo.
“Woman, what is your name?”
“Susannah Dickerson,” she said, holding her daughter tightly.
“What are you doing here?”
“My . . . my husband, he was here.”
“He is dead with every other man who was foolish to stay here and fight. I am releasing you. I want you to go to Gonzales and tell whoever leads your ragtag army that this is what will happen to them. You understand me?”
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Susannah whispered, “Yes.”
“Take her out and give her a horse. Let her have our guide if anyone is left.”
“There is also a slave, sir,” the officer said.
“Let him go with her. Leave, woman,” Santa Anna ordered.
Susannah Dickerson stumbled out of the compound like one in a nightmare. She did not look back but mounted the horse, scarcely aware of the slave who was behind her.
He came close and said, “Come, ma’am, I’ll take you to Gonzales.”
Inside the compound, Santa Anna walked around looking at the bodies strewn everywhere. He saw Mateo and said, “Today has been a great victory, Mateo.”
“Sí, Your Excellency,” Mateo said, but he was sickened by the slaughter. He saw that Santa Anna had no thought for the hundreds of men who had died to win his victory for him. Mateo had found Jake’s body and was determined to giv
e him an honorable burial. He could not help but think of the Hardins, who had been so kind to him and to his family. He hardened himself, and then he turned to take Jake’s body outside but stopped when he heard Santa Anna’s next words.
“I want every Texan burned,” the general said loudly to all his officers who had gathered around him.
Colonel Francisco stared at Santa Anna. He was a short, husky man with a fierce fighting spirit, but this order stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Burned, My General?”
“You heard what I said, Colonel. Send men out to find firewood.
Make a fire and put the Texans on it. Bury our men, but I want all of these Texans burned.”
Something changed inside Mateo at that moment. He was superstitious about burying people properly, but he knew now that there was no hope of burying Jake Hardin.
Turning, he walked away, appalled at what he had just heard. As he slowly made his way toward the gate, he saw the body of William Travis.
He stopped and stared down at the man, thinking of how strange it was.
Here is the man that drove me to leave my family and join Santa Anna, and now he is dead and I am alive.
He did not dare leave the compound, for Santa Anna had ordered all his men to witness the burning of the Texans. He watched as a huge pile of firewood was dragged in by privates. The bodies were stacked on it and more wood on top. Then one of the men started the fire. The dry wood crackled, and soon a huge blaze lifted upward. The smell of burning flesh sickened Mateo. He stood there watching, and one of his officers, Lieutenant Rio, came to stand beside him. “Well, Mateo,” he said, “this is the end. The Texans will run like rabbits when they hear what we have done here.”
Mateo turned and gave the officer a cold look. “These men fought like demons, Lieutenant. Texans are not afraid to die, and when we meet them in battle again, we will meet an army of them. No, it’s not the end.”
Lieutenant Rio was taken aback. His jaw dropped, and he said harshly, “I think you admire our enemy!”
Mateo did not answer for a moment, then he whispered, “I fear them, Lieutenant, and so should you—and so should General Santa Anna!”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
While Bowie, Crockett, and Travis were battling at the Alamo, Sam Houston was engaged in a different kind of struggle at Washington-On-The-Brazos. The convention that met there was not the first of its kind, but the men who had gathered for the purpose of settling the fate of Texas knew that Colonel William Barret Travis had given all he had, and that the Alamo was lost. Sam Houston was instrumental in defeating a wild motion that the convention adjourn and hasten, gun in hand, to the Alamo. Houston denounced this seemingly patriotic move as folly and treason and convinced the members that the Alamo was in its present danger because Texans had not formed a government sooner.
Santa Anna’s invasion and victory at the Alamo had made one thing clear in the minds of all. It had forever broken whatever ties bound the Texans to Mexico. The commission worked all night, and on March 2 they came out bleary-eyed but determined. The document they had produced was modeled after the words of Thomas Jefferson back when the Republic itself was being born. With a united vote, Texas declared itself an Independent Republic the morning of March 2, 1836.
For the first time the fate of Texas was set forth in clear terms. There would no longer be a Mexican state, but an independent nation. Sam Houston was appointed commander in chief with complete power to command all armed men in Texas, regular or volunteer. On the very next day, Houston set out on his mission, and Texas was never the same after this historic day.
Riding to Gonzales, Houston was shocked to find no more than thirty-seven men who had organized to help Travis. To his dismay he realized he had no army, at least not yet. He wrote an urgent letter to Colonel Fannin at Goliad, saying simply, “Blow up the fortress and join me at once. I need your five hundred men.”
At Goliad Colonel Fannin seemed to have lost his mind. He had certainly lost all military judgment, and most of the men under him realized it. Consequently, the morale of the men was low. He foolishly sent one-third of his force to Refugio, a nearby town, to help civilians to flee the Mexican forces headed their way. Fannin’s men were immediately snapped up under General Urrea, who was one of Santa Anna’s better officers. Those who were not taken captive scattered and fled through the woods and the swamps. At this point Urrea turned toward Goliad.
Brodie and Clay had been lounging against the wall of a building, when Clay suddenly looked up. “There comes somebody ridin’ in mighty hard.”
“It’s probably another messenger from Colonel Travis,” Brodie said hopefully.
The two men got up and moved closer, and the scout came off his horse in one swift movement. He ran quickly to meet Colonel Fannin. “Colonel, the whole body you sent out has been taken by General Urrea.”
Brodie saw Fannin’s face go pale and his lips tremble. “All taken! How could that be?”
“That Mexican general ain’t no dummy,” the scout said, shaking his head. “And he’s headin’ here. I think we’d better get out of here quick, Colonel.”
Fannin seemed to have lost his powers of thought. He simply stared at the scout, then nodded and turned around and walked away. As he disappeared inside the hut that he used for his headquarters, Clay said, “That man’s lost it, Brodie.”
“I think he has,” Brodie nodded.
“Be a good time for us to cut out and leave here,” Clay said.
“If we do,” Brodie said stubbornly, “I’m goin’ to the Alamo and fight with Pa.”
Clay grinned and said, “You’re one stubborn cuss, Brodie. I guess I have no choice but to stay and see what happens.”
Late that afternoon, Fannin called all the men together and announced his plans in a loud voice. “Men, we’re going to leave here, and we’re going to take every one of the heavy guns with us.”
“That’s a mistake,” Clay said quietly to Brodie. “If we want to move fast, we’ll have to leave those guns. Why, there’s not enough oxen to pull ’em.”
Some of Fannin’s own officers tried to tell him the same thing, but he stubbornly refused to heed their advice.
Indeed, when they got ready to march out, Colonel Fannin totally ignored his own orders. “We’ll start our withdrawal today. It’ll be a speedy retreat. We won’t take our cannons with us.”
“Well, I’m glad of that,” Clay said. “We’d never have made it trying to haul them with General Urrea barreling after us.”
But as soon as he had given the order, he told his troops to bury the cannons so the enemy could not use them.
At dawn the next day the column pulled out, but to everyone’s shock Fannin had changed his mind again and decided to go back and take the cannons with him. It was a time-consuming process to dig them up, load them on wagons, and secure them with ropes. The whole time the men worked, they grumbled at Fannin’s incompetence as a leader. His officers again tried to convince Fannin that they were losing precious time, but Fannin would not listen to any advice from his officers. Even as they were struggling along, pulling the unwieldy supply train, scouts came in with reports that General Urrea was on his way to Goliad.
“We’d better move out of here and fast,” Clay said to Brodie. “Fannin will get the whole bunch of us caught.”
Brodie did not answer. He seemed to be sunk in some sort of deep thought, and Clay made no more attempt to persuade him. The shambles of the army struggled across the plains, and at high noon the two rear scouts came in, and Brodie heard them give their report.
“General Urrea will be here with a large force before the sun goes down.”
One of the scouts said, “I know this country. You can’t let yourself get trapped in this open field, Colonel. Head for those trees along the river. You may be able to get away.”
“I never divide my army,” Fannin shouted. “I don’t respond to panic. Now, we’ll double-time.”
Bu
t it was too late. The oxen were no longer able to haul the useless cannon, and Fannin finally had to order a halt. Clay looked around and shook his head. It was one of the bleakest stretches of the route. “There’s no protection at all out here in the open. Why are we stopping?” he complained. “No trees, no water. Not even a gully to use for a trench. Brodie, let’s get out of here.”
“All right,” Brodie said. “I think you’re right, but we’ll have to get Tim and Clyde. They’ll want to go with us.”
Brodie went off to find his two friends, but by the time he found them, Fannin had commanded his officers to have the the men form a square in the middle of the field. Brodie, Tim, and Clyde were caught up by the officers and forced into position. Clay saw them and came to stand beside them, saying, “This is crazy! They’ll surround us and cut us to pieces.”
Fannin had three hundred and sixty men, whereas Urrea commanded well over a thousand trained soldiers. As Brodie watched, the Mexicans arrived and did exactly what Clay had said. They surrounded the entire force of Texans and began to fire. Nightfall came quickly, and many Texans were down. Those who knew how to work the cannons were wounded, so the cannons were useless.
Brodie came over to Clay and said, “You were right, Clay.” His face was drawn and white, and he shook his head. “We should have left here when we still had the chance. Let’s try it now.”
“Too late,” Clay said. “Anybody that steps outside of this square gets shot dead.” Several Texans had tried it and had gotten nowhere. “We’ll just have to wait and see how the cards fall.”
Dawn came, and Clay peered out and shook his head. “Urrea’s brought up his heavy cannons. He can cut us to pieces now.”
He had no sooner spoken than the Mexican cannons exploded. Fragments of metal ripped through the camp, killing and maiming. The Mexican gunners had the exact range, and Fannin’s officers went to him and said, “We’ll have to surrender, Colonel.”
“Never! We’ll fight to the death!” he ordered.
One of the officers shook his head. “You’ve lost your mind. Men, raise a white flag.”
Deep in the Heart Page 38