Chapter 22
A Star Is Born
We view ourselves on the eve of battle. We are nerved for the contest, and must conquer or perish. It is vain to look for present aid: none is at hand. We must now act or abandon all hope! Rally to the standard, and be no longer the scoff of mercenary tongues! Be men, be free men, that your children may bless their father's name.
-Sam Houston
SanJacinto, Texas-The Afternoon of April 21, 1836
Hawk, prodding Hank, exclaimed, “Wake up, Hank! General Houston has sent down word. We are going to fight. We Texans will win here and now, or there will be no more Texas. This is it Hank, this is what we’ve been waiting for – our leaders have finally grown some spine! I’ve been itching for this fight ever since the Alamo.”
“I for one wish we had done it two months ago,” Hank responded, “I’m hungry, tired, and I have blisters on every square inch of my feet. Why couldn’t we have done it before, when I was ready and able?”
“Shut up and put your boots on, Hank. Just be glad we got a chance at all. Keep your head down, and let’s get some revenge for our fallen friends.”
Within the camp, soldiers everywhere were scurrying to prepare for the coming battle. Despite the commotion, all was quiet, everyone now well aware that Santa Anna’s army was close enough to hear any noise emanating from the Texan camp. Surprise was essential, as the Texans were outnumbered by at least two-to-one.
The troops now began forming up. The enemy was just over the ridge, perhaps a half mile away. Would they be forming up as well, or was General Houston correct in his supposition that it would be a surprise attack? No one was certain.
Suddenly, the troops by now completely formed up, the breeze momentarily died down. There was absolute silence. Here and there a soldier crossed himself, praying for the best in the coming mortal combat. A single crow called out from a tree off to the left, “Caw, caw.” Not one soldier moved, the silence stretching out for what seemed an eternity.
The order now rippled across the front ranks, very softly, each battalion commander announcing barely above a whisper, “Forward, march!” This had never been an orderly army, and it wasn’t about to become one now. Accordingly, the troops moved out in route step, as if going for a walk in the park, a line of men nine hundred yards long spreading across the prairie as it launched itself forward.
Slowly, the tops of the Mexican flags came into view, and then the tents, and suddenly, as one, the troops on the front lines realized that the Mexican Army was not formed up – they were sleeping!
By now the enemy was less than four hundred yards distant. How long could they go undetected? Should they run, or should they keep strolling along? The commanding officers continued to stride forward, the troops following in loose formation. Another minute passed, and they were another hundred yards closer. The Texans could now begin to see where the Mexicans were sleeping. Over by a tree, a solitary enemy soldier seemed to be relieving himself. Nearly everyone could see him, just taking his time, completely oblivious to the coming onslaught. The troops advanced silently onward, the element of surprise reaching absolute incredulity. It was just plain crazy.
Suddenly, the lone Mexican pulled his pants tight and whirled about. As he did so, he spotted the advancing Texas Army and, screaming in abject fear, he raced to the rear. It was now clear to everyone that the Army of Texas had to MOVE, and that is precisely what they did.
With little more than two hundred yards to go, the entire army simultaneously broke into a sprint. In a matter of seconds a single rifle shot sounded, and suddenly the fight was on. A few rifle shots followed, but most Texans just kept on running. It was by now only fifty yards to the enemy tents, and amazingly, no one had as yet been aroused from their siesta.
The entire Texan Army now fired seemingly as one, knocking down everything that stood. Whole tents were blown down. Horses fell, mortally wounded. Anything that had moved was struck. Perhaps three hundred hapless soldiers were shot in the initial volley. Next, the Texans charged with bayonets. The enemy had no time to even load their weapons. They were struck wherever they appeared by the sheer force of an entire army bearing down on them at full speed. Within seconds, an additional two hundred defenders were slashed to death.
The Texans now hooted and hollered as victory became a distinct possibility. Everywhere, there were shouts of “Alamo” and “Goliad”. Revenge was in every man’s heart. It was revenge for their fallen brethren, and there was no stopping now. Anyone that was caught was butchered. They chased their prey in every direction, as far as their legs would carry them, until they were completely breathless. What had started as mortal fear now ended as subhuman bloodlust. It was a complete route, the battle ending in little more than a quarter of an hour.
On the Left Flank
Hank noticed that there appeared to be several large tents near the rear of the enemy encampment. Sprinting forward at full speed, he spotted a soldier coming out of the tent nearest to him. Hank could see that he was armed with a rifle, and since Hank was charging directly toward him, Hank realized he had no choice but to deal with him. He immediately slowed and attempted to reload his rifle and, observing that the soldier was coming straight for him, he frantically pushed his wadding home and shot the soldier in the chest at close range. As the soldier went down there eyes met briefly, and Hank realized that he recognized him – he had been Hank’s intended executioner at Goliad – the soldier who had marched out onto the prairie with Hank, and for the second and final time he had acted incomprehensibly.
Later, when the firing had stopped, having time to contemplate the battle in detail, Hank began to wonder why that soldier hadn’t fired his rifle when he’d had the chance. Wandering back to that part of the battlefield in quest of answers, he inadvertently came upon Hawk, who decided to follow along when he was apprised of Hank’s description of the events. It didn’t take long to find the soldier’s body.
Examining him closely, the pair determined that the now deceased soldier appeared to have been quite young, certainly under the age of twenty. Now, the heat of passion dissipated, Hank pondered the senselessness of it all – why on God’s earth did young people have to die in such circumstances? Peering down at the placid visage before him, it came incomprehensibly to him that, perhaps in another time and place, this unfortunate young man might have been a friend to him.
Peering closer still, he noticed that he lay somehow differently from the way he had fallen when Hank had shot him. He was lying on his back, as if looking up at the sky, and his eyes were open, staring skyward – perhaps even towards heaven. The look on his face – he appeared to be smiling - made Hank pause reflectively. Perhaps in those final seconds, his lifeblood draining away, he had found salvation.
Hank’s role in the young man’s demise now trapped within his own consciousness forever, he dropped to one knee and, touching the man’s prone body, he prayed that the young man had successfully reached his ultimate destination – God speed.
Glancing down one last time, Hank noticed his right hand grasping something hanging from his neck. Hank leaned down and grasped the object. It was some sort of medallion. He decided to retain it as a keepsake of the battle. Gently passing it over the soldier’s head, he held the medallion in his own hand, thenceforth rising to depart.
At that moment Hawk came up behind Hank and, gazing down on the visage of the soldier, he sucked in his breath in shock.
Staring in confusion at Hawk, Hank exclaimed, “What is it, Hawk?”
“Nothin’,” Hawk replied. “I thought for a moment that I recognized him.”
“You knew this fella?”
“Naw, I was confused for a second, Hank,” Hawk replied and, bending down to examine him closer, for once he failed to hawk and spit.
Hank recognized that look – Hawk was lying - but before he had a chance to inquire as to why, Hawk changed the subject, exclaiming, “I think I can
see why he didn’t shoot you, Hank, ol’ boy.”
Completely losing his train of thought, Hank blurted, “What! Why?”
“Well, he’s still holding his rifle in his right hand, and damned if it ain’t even got a round in it.”
“That’s strange,” Hank murmured, and recalling his encounter on the battlefield, he added “He was pointin’ the damn thing directly at me, so I had to shoot him!”
“Hauuggh (spit), Well, he damn sure couldn’t have shot you,” Hawk opined bluntly.
At this, Hank bent down and examined further, suddenly exclaiming, “Look here at his left hand, Hawk - it’s bandaged.”
“Yeah, I see that. Must’ve been wounded recently, I expect.”
Gently unwrapping the bandage, Hank exposed the bizarre injury and, scratching his head in bewilderment, he declared, “What the…seems his left thumb has been cleanly severed. Why in God’s name would anyone cut off their left thumb?”
“You got me, Hank. In ancient times they used to cut off the right hands of thieves and robbers. But thumbs - I never heard of such a thing.”
“Well, I swear,” Hank uttered disconsolately, “Seein’ as how he’s now passed, don’t suppose we’ll ever know,” and so saying, he placed the medallion about his neck and stroked it self-consciously.
San Jacinto-the Following Morning
Creeping through the trees in the morning fog, Hank found it difficult to remain focused. The events of the previous day continued to make his head spin. He still couldn’t get over the realization that they had won, that the war might even soon be over.
Still, he and Hawk had been assigned the responsibility by General Houston of capturing escapees from the battle. Accordingly, here they were, up at sunrise, performing their duty, perhaps one last time.
Traipsing ahead, Hawk suddenly raised his hand, signaling Hank to halt. Placing his index finger to his lips, he signaled silence. Hank assumed that he could see or hear something, though Hank couldn’t tell what it might be in this pea soup of a fog. Hawk continued to creep forward, Hank waiting impatiently.
Hank heard Hawk suddenly announce calmly, “Hey there, son, hold tight, we’re Texans, and we’re coming right in to help out.” Hank, having no idea what this meant, continued to await further direction from Hawk.
A youthful voice, emanating from the fog-shrouded depths, responded boldly, “Yes, sir, come right ahead. Been waitin’ for you,” and the voice sounded strangely familiar.
Hawk now motioned Hank forward and, gun at the ready, he strode into a clearing. A youngster held a rifle, and he was pointing it at four escapees. Although three were in uniform, one wore a white camisa, the simple outfit of a camp follower.
Coming up behind, Hank suddenly realized who it was and, breaking into a dash, he called out excitedly, “Auggey, is that you? Auggey!” and by now Hank was sprinting. Reaching Auggey at a dead run, he swept him into his arms, crushing him with a mighty embrace laced with relief and adoration.
Auggey, accepting his father’s embrace stoically, managed a brief smile, but nonetheless managed to maintain focus on the task at hand.
Hawk now interceded, offering, “Son, you just take a moment with your paw. I’ll watch your prisoners for you.”
Appearing relieved at this, Auggey turned to his father and exclaimed breathlessly, “We thought you was dead at Goliad, Paw! What happened?”
“Well, I suppose I was, but the darn fella that was supposed to shoot me somehow missed the mark. Don’t know how he could have done such a thing from such close range. Anyways, I ran off, and later on a woman helped me to escape. That’s when I ran smack dab into General Houston’s army, and here I am,” none of which explained much at all to his son.
Inclined to think that such a poignant reunion was better enacted at a more convenient time, Hawk chimed in, “Haauggh (spit), alright gents, I do believe we have time for this later. At the moment we have some dangerous prisoners to take care of here.”
“Right,” answered Hank and, sensing Hawk’s concern, he announced, “Auggey, this here is my good friend Hawk. He’s got lots of smarts, so you mind him, hear?”
“Yes, sir,” Auggey responded, and at this he somehow seemed to revert to his youthful appearance.
Suddenly realizing the absurdity of his statement, Hank asked inanely, “What you doin’ out here in the woods anyway, Auggey?”
“Why, I’m soldierin’, Paw!” Auggey responded with apparent pride.
“Soldierin’! Well I’ll be horse-whipped,” his father responded with apparent admiration, “Just exactly how long you been soldierin’, Auggey? You done growed up while I was gone.”
“Been soldierin’ since yesterday afternoon, when the battle started. I sneaked off from Maw this morning. Had to see what was happening.”
“Your maw…” Hank blubbered and, suddenly realizing his omission, he queried wide-eyed, “Is she here?”
“Yes, sir, I expect so,” Auggey responded matter-of-factly, “I been takin’ good care of her, just like you told me.”
His world at long last coming into focus, Hank gurgled incredulously, “Is she…is she all right, Auggey?”
Still attempting to appear adult-like, Auggey affirmed, “Why ‘course she is, sir!”
Interceding again, Hawk suggested politely, “Excuse me! This is all exceedingly nice, but I don’t like the look of these prisoners. Could we get on with it, gents?”
Regaining his military posture at this, Auggey offered abruptly, “Paw, I got somethin’ to tell you.”
“What’s that?” Hank asked, steeling himself for bad news.
Auggey announced casually, “Sir, this man in the white outfit, I think he may be General Santa Anna.”
At this revelation, Hawk and Hank blurted simultaneously, “What!”
Auggey volunteered, “Well, when these here soldiers thought I wasn’t listening, they called him El Presidente. So I started watching real close-like, and it appears they are careful not to offend him. It seems they do whatever he says, so I’m thinking he might be the real thing.”
San Jacinto Battlefield-Shortly Thereafter
General Houston, resting on a cot beneath a tree, worried that his injured foot might become infected. Although the doctor had told him that his foot might have to be amputated; he tried hard not to think about it.
The victory had been surprising – not that his men had won - but that it had been so easy and so overwhelming. Still concerned that the remainder of the Army of Mexico was out there somewhere, he was aware that there were still perhaps three thousand of Santa Anna’s troops that were unaccounted for. For that reason it was vitally important that they find Santa Anna as quickly as possible.
Glancing across the meadow, Houston suddenly noticed a rider coming on fast. Perhaps this would be the news that he was hoping to hear. He peered as the rider pulled up nearby. The rider was, as so often seemed to be the case of late, Deaf Smith. Advancing directly toward Houston at a brisk pace, he was obviously winded from a hard ride.
“General,” Smith panted profusely, “They’ve got him! They caught Santa Anna! Sylvester’s got him. He’s bringing him in now.”
“Excellent!” Houston exclaimed and, repeating himself excitedly, he added, “Excellent, Deaf! Now we can put an exclamation point on this battle and an end to this war! Bring the general to me as quickly as possible.” Houston thought for a moment, then added, “Deaf, ride back out there and make sure he don’t get away, can you do that?” and, not waiting for an answer, he inquired impatiently, “How far out are they now?”
“Sir, no more than a mile. Should be here in fifteen or twenty minutes, I reckon.”
“Well, ride back out there. Take some men with you. We can’t afford to lose that man.”
“Oh, sir, they got him,” Smith responded, “The enemy forces won’t get him back.”
“I’m not worried about the enemy, Deaf. I’m worried about our own m
en! If they get wind of it, they might kill him before he gets into camp. Go get the general and you get him here alive, you hear me?” and Houston was screaming quite loudly so Deaf could hear him. Suddenly realizing others might overhear, he murmured, “Now go get him, quick!”
“Yes, sir!” Smith responded and, turning on his heel, he raced to his horse, jumped on it and set off in haste.
Minutes later a large party of horsemen rode into camp. Despite his inconspicuous clothing, Houston immediately recognized Santa Anna among them. Deaf Smith came forward with James Sylvester. They escorted Santa Anna who, appearing exhausted and frightened, was nonetheless serene.
Seeking comfort, Houston had now shifted to the ground. Propping himself against a tree, he inquired sonorously, “Does anyone here speak Spanish?”
Stepping forward, Hawk Banks announced, “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Ah, yes, I remember you soldier, what’s your name?” asked Houston.
“Banks, sir, Hawk Banks.”
“Ah, yes, Lieutenant Banks. If you will, please inform General Santa Anna that I apologize for not getting up to welcome him.”
“Yes, sir,” Hawk responded, proceeding to translate forthwith.
Santa Anna replied quietly, “General, I also must apologize for the circumstances under which we meet.”
Houston, impressed by his counterpart’s ingenuous demeanor, was nonetheless furious with Santa Anna. Such a scoundrel deserved nothing less than death in his opinion, but Houston understood full well that he was worth far more alive than dead. Accordingly, he played his part to the hilt and, having concluded the small talk, he turned to Sylvester and asked, “Sylvester, how did you come to catch him?”
“Sir, it seems this boy here done it,” replied Sylvester. He pointed to Auggey, who was standing sheepishly off to the side, as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Come forward, boy, and you, too, Hank,” Sylvester called. As requested, the pair approached the general.
“Ah, Private MacElrae,” Houston said affably, “I recall you from our first meeting last month. You were at Goliad, if memory serves. And what part do you play in this poignant denouement?”
Since Hank had no idea what a ‘poignant denouement’ was, he went straight to the heart of the matter, announcing, “Sir, this here is my son, Auggey,” and, turning toward his son, he added, “Auggey, this here is General Sam Houston, Commander of the Army of Texas. I expect that we can now say the Army of the Republic of Texas, am I right General?”
At this, his fellow compatriots chuckling in accord, Houston smiled and responded, “Why, yes, Mr. MacElrae, I believe that term is entirely accurate. So you have a son, and a fine looking one, I might add. And how do you come to be here, Mr. Auggey MacElrae?”
Auggey, appearing embarrassed, nevertheless spoke clearly when prodded by the general, “Sir, I was just tryin’ to help out. Me and Maw got lost down in the bayous, and when the Mexican soldiers started racin’ through the trees, I thought I’d help out as best I could. There was so many of them that the Texans couldn’t seem to contain them all.”
The General, appearing interested, nonetheless seemed perplexed, causing Sylvester to break in with, “General, seems Auggey here captured Santa Anna!”
At this announcement General Houston lurched forward so hard he almost stood up, but then realized that would not be wise given his current state. Instead, he exclaimed excitedly, “What! Well, I’ll be! If that don’t beat all. Well, congratulations, Mr. Auggey! You have done the Republic of Texas a great service.”
Houston now turned to Deaf Smith and motioned him forward. Whispering something in Smith’s ear, the latter nodded and ducked into the general’s tent. He emerged a moment later with a small tin, which he carefully handed over to General Houston. Houston opened the tin and commanded, “Mr. Auggey MacElrae, will you please come forward?”
Auggey, appearing bewildered, dawdled.
Undeterred, Houston repeated, “That’s right, sir, please come right over here and stand beside me. Yes, sir, right here.”
Visibly daunted, Auggey came forward hesitantly. Word having spread throughout the camp that Santa Anna had been captured, an enormous crowd of soldiers now surrounded General Houston.
Speaking loud and clear for all to hear, Houston now announced, “Mr. Auggey MacElrae, I hereby commission you as an honorary Lieutenant in the Regular Army of the Republic of Texas.”
Appearing shocked, Auggey now turned towards his dad and beamed proudly. The crowd grinned and whooped in admiration.
General Houston now continued, “In appreciation of your great act of heroism, I, Sam Houston, Commanding General of the Army of the Republic of Texas, do hereby award you the very first medal for bravery in the Army of the Republic of Texas.” Having said this, General Houston leaned forward and pinned a medal on Auggey’s shirt.
The crowd now grabbed Auggey and hoisted him on their shoulders and, as one, the entire camp erupted in a solemn salute, “Hip hip, hooray. Hip hip, hooray. Hooray for Auggey!”
The proceeding now growing into a boisterous celebration, Auggey was quickly pushed off to the side as General Houston realized his need to deal with Santa Anna.
Hawk, recognizing his chance to speak to Auggey, inquired, “Auggey, could you come over here for a second?”
“Yes, sir,” Auggey said, perplexed by his hulking inquisitor.
“Auggey, I know you must be overwhelmed by all of the excitement today, but I got one more little chore I need to attend to,” Hawk said mysteriously, “I got a sort of a gift here I need to give you,” and so saying, he pulled a small critter from his pocket and handed it to Auggey.
Grinning with excitement, Auggey exclaimed, “Mephistopheles!” He pulled something from his pocket so as to make room for Mephistopheles.
“What’s that?” asked Hawk.
“It’s a man’s thumb,” Auggey responded matter-of-factly, absentmindedly stroking his friend Mephistopheles.
“Is that a left thumb, by any chance?” Hawk inquired suspiciously.
“Yes, sir,” Auggey replied and, bemused by Hawk’s inquiry, he asked idly, “Why?”
“Oh, nothing,” Hawk responded, “It just reminded me of something.” He paused momentarily and muttered to himself, “Will wonders never cease!”
Auggey, inserting the thumb back into his pocket alongside Mephistopheles, suddenly exclaimed, “Wait, how’d you get him - Mephistopheles?” concern spreading across his visage.
“Son, let’s just say that Mephistopheles is one of the very last to escape the Alamo alive. As such, he is a hero of the newly formed Republic of Texas.”
Auggey gazed downward sadly and, glancing back toward Hawk, he couldn’t seem to catch his voice. Recognizing what this meant, Hawk grabbed him and pulled him to his chest, offering, “Now now, Auggey. I know, I know. Nate’s gone, son. But he died well, fighting for Texas. And the last thing he asked me to do was to make sure that Mephistopheles was well cared for. So we have a powerful responsibility. We simply must care for Mephistopheles here in honor of one of Texas’ greatest heroes.”
Off in the distance, a rider was coming in on a horse, but no one was paying much attention. There was too much back-slapping and jabbering pervading the crowd surrounding General Houston. The rider kept coming on, as if completely unconcerned, as if headed to Sunday service. As the rider drew near it became clear that it was not one of Houston’s soldiers. It was instead a woman.
Approaching the Crowd
Unable to make out what the commotion was, Julie nonetheless recognized they were not enemy soldiers, but when she climbed down from her horse, she was surprised to see Auggey standing directly at the center of the crowd. She came forward, the men parting to make way for her as she did so. Others saw her, jostled to see what was going on, and the crowd abruptly silenced.
She approached Auggey and, frowning at him, she was nigh onto boxing his ears, when she discerned the m
edal on his chest. Clearly annoyed, she commanded, “Where in tarnation have you been, Auggey? I’ve been waitin’ for you since daybreak! And what is that on your shirt there?”
A familiar voice behind her cooed softly, “Now, now Miss Julie, there’s time enough for that. Me and Auggey will explain everythin’ in due course.”
Recognizing the voice, she knew who it couldn’t be, but she turned and sure enough it was, it was her own husband Hank. She stared at him sternly. He in turn stared straight back, smiling silently.
Advancing a half step forward, she suddenly halted, exclaiming brusquely, “Mr. Hank MacElrae, where in God’s green acre have you been all these months?” and, now clearly in her element, she babbled onwards, “You come up behind me like you been on a Sunday picnic or somethin’, actin’ like we hadn’t been apart for seven months, makin’ out as if you’re alive, when you done been dead and in the ground for nigh onto two months. You sir, have got some serious explainin’ to do!”
Standing her ground, she frowned with feigned irritation, hands placed imperiously on hips. An entire army now stood motionless, each erstwhile combatant extrapolating the setting in his mind to his own anticipated domestic reunion in the not-too-distant future.
There was Hank and Auggey, as well as Hawk, Deaf Smith, Juan Seguin, Sam Houston, even Santa Anna, and a host of others, Texians and Tejanos, all assembled together, in this, the final scene of a bona fide revolution.
Hank stared shyly at Julie, a hang-dog expression creasing his face. Demonstrably cowed, he pushed his hands deep into his pockets, as he was known to do when embarrassed. Therein, he felt the medallion, the presence of which somehow supplied him with unforeseen courage. He could tell she was pregnant, and he knew that he was undoubtedly the father. He had never been more in love with her than at this very moment, touched as he was by her feigned dissatisfaction with him.
A hint of a twitch breaching the corner of her mouth, it worked its way into a sort of a smirk, then, almost interminably, into a lopsided half-smile, at which Hank pulled his hands from his pockets. Squeezing the medallion in one hand, he kicked the dirt with one boot, and blurted out apologetically for all to hear, “Aw, heck, Julie - I’ve done been fightin’ a revolution!”
She paused and, surveying the entire group dismissively, she replied laconically, “What, this here little scrape? Surely you gents got somethin’ better to do!”
At this, offense taken, the crowd grew silent, but then a voice, cutting through the stillness, exclaimed piercingly, “Dang, if she ain’t right boys! We ain’t done yet – we got to build the Republic of Texas!” and at this pronouncement, the entire Army of Texas broke into cacophonous accord, yelling and hollering, comprehension sinking for the first time – that it was at long last over.
Hank, momentarily frozen in place, lunged for Julie, encircling her within a grateful embrace, Julie returning his adoration with a sly grin. Auggey, observing his parents’ mutual affection, wrapped his arms around both, joining affectionately in the unexpected reunion.
Off to one side, a solitary figure, tears brimming at the realization that his once-in-a-lifetime adventure was at an end, grumbled to himself, “Hauuggh (spit)!”
Hawk Banks - Founding Texas Page 25