Return to the Alamo

by Paul Bedford

  Finally the light began to ebb and I told myself that the time had come. Getting stiffly to my feet, I began stretching and twisting my body to loosen up, ready for the exertion ahead. Through the open door, I could hear the sounds of horses and men’s voices. My heart leapt. Could it be the rangers returning from their pursuit? But no, it turned out to be some freighters gratefully reaching the city limits before nightfall. Swiftly appraising the light, I decided that I could now safely leave the building without being spotted from The Alamo. Consciously closing the heavy door behind me, I strode off to the Plaza.

  A short time later I was back at the edge of the city, having obtained answers to three questions. Speirs had four men with him, the rangers had not returned and as far as Wetsall was concerned, he knew of nobody currently utilizing the Alamo Compound. It was generally accepted that Hays and his men used it as a powder store and so the citizenry kept well clear of it. I sincerely hoped that that was the case, as I would be treating every man in there as a deadly enemy.

  The activity had served to keep me occupied until the darkness had become total. Although there was a sizable moon, it was obscured by heavy cloud, which I fervently hoped would remain overhead. Ensuring that any lamps behind me would not highlight my presence, I commenced walking steadily towards The Alamo. I knew that my present line of march would take me directly to the long West Wall, where there was a small sally port, through which I had entered the compound some weeks before to meet with Captain Hays. As it offered the easiest and therefore most obvious point of entry, I intended to keep well clear of it.

  Instead, I began to veer off to my right, so as to come around the side of the south wall. It was here that I would find the remains of the breastwork, constructed to protect both the low wall and the barrack block immediately behind it. A ditch had been dug around it, which in the dark would create shadows, likely to assist a lone assailant. I thanked the Lord that, as a military man, I had been sufficiently interested in the old structure, to take the time to study it carefully in the months after I had arrived in Béxar County.

  After walking strongly for a brief period, I was able to discern the outline of the old mission ahead of me. As planned, I was on course to arrive at the conjuncture of the south and west walls. For a short while longer I continued, but at a much-reduced speed, until I could clearly make out the walls before me. Then, taking care that nothing solid should collide with my weapons, I carefully dropped down to the ground, so that I laid completely flat.

  Lying totally still, I watched and waited. Up against five men holding a hostage, I could count only on surprise as my ally. Although Speirs would doubtless be expecting me, he could not know when or from where I would approach. Which meant that he would have to spread his force very thinly to cover the main vantage points. Sooner or later one of his ill disciplined rabble would move, or clear his throat, or do something to give away his position.

  I did not have long to wait. From atop the mound I heard a muffled cough and simultaneously saw a slight movement. Visualizing the breastwork as horseshoe shaped, I placed the individual at the closed end, furthest away from the compound. From there he would be able to see the whole of the south wall, as well as the surrounding countryside. Or at least he could have done had there been any light.

  Silencing that man had to be my first objective. Tilting my body slightly, I retrieved my revolver and placed it on the ground next to Wetsall’s shotgun. They were too cumbersome and would have to be recovered after the deed was done. Although I retained the derringer in my pocket, for this task I would be relying solely on my hunting knife. Without taking my eyes off the human silhouette, I got slowly to my feet and crept forward. If there should prove to be anyone else on the south wall, I was finished.

  Silently I moved towards the ditch. Once there, I was confident that I would be able to find a way up into the strongpoint. When the Mexicans stormed the compound, they had used teams of fearsome soldiers known as pioneers to smash through the defences. The resultant damage had been left unrepaired, a fact that I was about to take advantage of. Creeping into the ditch, I now had to trust to luck, for if my prey should shift position I would be none the wiser.

  Using a combination of sight and touch, I was able to move stealthily up the earthen bank until I reached the remains of the wooden fence. Thanks to the previous assault there were enough gaps in it to allow me access. Holding myself in place as best I could with my left arm, I drew my knife, all the time watching for the slightest movement within the fortification.

  Then I saw him!

  A stooped figure shuffled into view, yawned once, then turned and climbed up onto an empty gun platform facing east. I would not get any better chance than that. My entire body seemed to tingle with feverish anticipation.

  Hardening my heart, I leapt through the gap in the fence and launched myself at the figure before me. Alerted by my footfalls he tried to turn, but his reaction time was woefully slow. Slamming into him with all my weight, I succeeded in crushing him against the wooden stakes. The wind was knocked out of him and along with it went any chance of resistance. Wrapping my left hand over his mouth, I brought my knife up to his throat and sliced in deep. Warm blood spurted over my chest, as a tremendous shudder of almost sexual intensity travelled through his frame. It continued for what seemed like an eternity before finally all movement ceased. My victim would have collapsed on the spot, had he not been trapped between the fence and myself. I was now irrevocably committed, and God help me if I’d killed in error!

  To avoid even the slightest chance of generating noise, I supported the limp body until I was convinced that all life had departed. Then I gently lowered him to the ground, all the while aware of his blood, warm and sticky, on my hands and shirt. I was trembling slightly, as to kill a human being in that manner was both very intimate and very unpleasant.

  Crouching down, I stared at the south wall and in particular the gate leading through it, for any sign that I might have been discovered. All I could hear was the faint sound of voices travelling on the still night air from San Antonio. Satisfied, I wiped my knife clean on the man’s jacket, sheathed it and then searched him for weapons. Tucked in his belt, I discovered two single shot percussion pistols. The modest increase in firepower that they represented was not worth the additional weight, but I knew that they might prove useful as weapons of ‘last resort’. Accordingly, I moved over to where I had entered the breastwork and placed them next to the fence. Then, easing through a gap, I slid back down into the ditch.

  Having recovered my discarded firearms, I retraced my steps and had soon re-entered the defensive structure. Through the gate lay the disused barracks block, built against part of the south wall. It was my intention to pass through that and make for the fortified church.

  ‘Usaph!’

  The voice had emanated from the barracks and caused me to freeze like a statue. Desperately I forced myself to think clearly. If I didn’t answer there were two possible outcomes. Either the speaker would investigate alone, in which case I could try my hand, or he would summon help and I would quite possibly have to flee.

  ‘Usaph, you whore’s son, answer me!’

  That was all the prompting I needed. Keeping my voice low I growled out, ‘Yo.’

  That drew a swift and impatient response. ‘Yo, he said. You playing with yourself or what?’

  Again I tried to inject a certain huskiness to disguise my voice, as I gave the most minimal of responses. ‘Huh?’

  At the same time I laid down my shotgun, and again drew my knife. Silently I padded towards the left hand side of the gate. From the building I could hear muffled cursing, but the man’s next remarks to Usaph were much louder, indicating that the speaker had moved closer. ‘English’ll have your cojones if you fall asleep!’

  He obviously intended investigating Usaph’s condition, so I pressed my shoulder against the wall and gripped my knife at waist height. The measured steps of someone moving carefully in the dark were
audible in the gatehouse. Even though the night was cool, I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead as the tension built up inside of me again.

  A large shape appeared at the entrance and then he was upon me. Lunging forward, I was aware of two things. The man was huge and he carried a revolver in his right hand. Using my left shoulder to barge his weapon aside, I plunged my blade into his vast gut. The overwhelming shock caused his right forefinger to contract and with a roar his revolver discharged close to my head. The blast from the muzzle was stupefying, yet I was also aware of various burning sensations on my face and neck.

  As pain engulfed my opponent he bellowed like a wounded bear, but kept on coming. In danger of being bowled over by such a man mountain, I gave my knife a vicious twist before pulling it free. Both of us had abruptly lost our night vision, with the effect that we were left struggling in a fog. My left arm was paining me abominably from such rough usage and I knew that my only chance of stopping the behemoth was to keep stabbing. So, like a berserker, I plunged the blade into his belly again and again. His warm blood spurted out over my hand and arm, but still he stayed on his feet. I couldn’t comprehend how any man could absorb such hideous injuries. Then, with an almost animal like keening sound, he dropped to his knees.

  To the accompaniment of a ghastly sucking sound, I withdrew my knife for the last time and staggered back. Like a tree that wouldn’t fall, the creature before me remained on his knees, swaying slightly as though in the face of a breeze. My vision was beginning to return, but I was left with a persistent ringing in my left ear.

  The revolver’s deafening report had undoubtedly destroyed my advantage of surprise and confirmation of this fact was not long in coming. From well beyond the barracks block came the sound of confused shouting, all of it in recognizable Texan accents. The individual that I was seeking abruptly curtailed all this. Speirs’s cultured, yet noticeably strident tones cried out, ‘Be silent, damn your eyes! If you expect a penny piece for this night’s work, you will close on me now.’

  Silence did indeed return to the compound, but one thing had irrevocably altered. I now knew for certain that any more killing that took place that night was justified, and also that the ‘English’ referred to earlier would not see another sunrise.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Whatever manoeuvres Speirs was contemplating, I knew that I was far too vulnerable out in the open. Momentarily I wondered whether the shot had aroused any interest in the city, but soon concluded that an occasional gunshot would not be unusual in a frontier settlement. Guardedly viewing the huge man still on his knees before me, I noticed that the revolver had slipped from his hand. The front of his linen shirt had almost disintegrated, with what was left apparently stained black under the night sky. From the short gasps of breath that he was taking, I realized that he was only just clinging to life. Impatient to be off and with absolutely no sympathy for his suffering, I kicked him hard in the chest with my right foot. Like a great oak crashing to earth, he fell back and to the side, coming to rest on the exact spot where I had first entered the breastwork. Swiftly I scooped up his Colt revolver, followed by my shotgun. Then, without any hesitation, I swept into the gatehouse, only to turn a sharp right through another door into the barrack block itself.

  As my eyes adjusted to the different level of gloom, I inspected my new surroundings. There was one doorway, with a battered wooden door hanging open. Two windows faced onto the compound. These both possessed metal fittings on either side, but the shutters belonging to them had long since been removed. Surprisingly the interior held a well-worn selection of chairs, tables and even a few wooden cot frames.

  Knowing that it would be suicide to venture out into the open compound without having any idea where my opponents were, I quickly dragged a table over to the doorway. Quietly pushing the door closed, I then pitched the table on its side and wedged it tight. As I stepped back into the room the unmistakable tones of Hugo Speirs boomed out. ‘Good evening, Major Collins. Because of course it can only be you. How else could I explain the loss of two new recruits to my cause?’

  As he paused for breath, I moved over to the first window. I had no intention of looking out, but I hoped to be better able to gauge where his voice was coming from.

  ‘Nothing to say, Thomas? What a shame. I was so hoping to renew our acquaintance. There are few people of culture in this godforsaken land.’

  The bastard was definitely located somewhere off to my right, very probably in the church, as I had considered earlier. But how was I to get to him?

  ‘If you won’t talk to me, perhaps this delightful young lady will loosen your tongue.’

  There followed a short period of silence, followed by a sudden scream of pain. Rage welled up inside me, but before I had chance to react Sarah’s voice called out. ‘Keep clear, Thomas, you hear? He means to have you when—’

  Her voice abruptly ceased, to be followed swiftly by that of Speirs. ‘You will throw down your weapons, all of them and walk out into the open. Otherwise this young lady will no longer be delightful, or even for that matter alive. Do I make myself clear?’

  The bantering tone had gone, replaced by one of deadly intent. I longed to throw myself on him like a rabid dog, but such thoughts would not serve. I had to retain a clear head. The danger in my replying was obvious, but I could not ignore such a threat. So, keeping clear of the windows, I launched into a spirited response. ‘My weapons are the only things keeping us both alive, as you well know. If you kill her you will never take me back. The rangers already know of your murderous activities and are on their way here as we speak. Your only chance is to leave now and try to make for the coast, alone! If you do that, you have my word that I’ll not hinder you.’

  Such a lie tripped easily off my tongue, but I nearly paid for it with my life. My impassioned defiance had made me careless. Only as I finished speaking did I remember that Speirs was not alone. A split second after I hit the dirt floor, a volley of shots smashed into the window surround and the stonework behind me. As the twin detonations rang out in the night, I felt shards of masonry tumble on to me.

  Tightly grasping my borrowed shotgun, I rolled to my feet and scrambled for the back of the room. From there I could see out, but would be invisible to anyone beyond the windows. I realized immediately where the assassin was concealed. Some twenty-five yards into the compound was a gun emplacement directly facing the gatehouse through which I had entered. Somewhere behind that earthen mound he was lurking, very probably recharging his weapon. A frontal assault was out of the question, especially as there was at least one other man out there in the dark. To return through the gatehouse and then out beyond the walls made no sense. Which left me with the roof!

  Placing a table next to the wall, I clambered up to test its resistance. As I could already touch the ceiling from the ground, the additional height enabled me to put my back to it. Immediately there was a satisfying crack, as the worn timber slats gave way. Only the roofs destined to support cannon had been reinforced by the Alamo’s defenders. Trusting to luck that no one would approach the windows, I turned all my efforts onto tearing a hole wide enough to climb through. In a matter of minutes I had forced a gap. By standing upright on the table, I could see that a low wall of sufficient height to conceal me, surrounded the roof.

  Thinking fast, I returned to the floor, grabbed a chair and then thrust that up through the opening. Following that with the shotgun, I then regained the table and heaved myself up onto the roof. Whatever happened now, I was safe from an immediate assault. Crawling over to the front of the building, I risked a quick look. Through the gloom and with the benefit of height, I could see a figure moving about behind the emplacement. The lack of any response to his ambuscade was obviously working on his nerves. With his weapon reloaded, he was undoubtedly itching to move.

  If I was to take advantage of my situation I had to act fast. Off to my right stood another one-storey building that had served as a kitchen. Moving back from the
edge, I got to my knees, took hold of the chair and hurled it with all my strength. As planned, it flew along a forty-five degree angle and crashed into the roof of that structure. My assailant’s response was instantaneous. The shotgun crashed out once and the kitchen roofline received a hail of missiles.

  Having sat down on the low wall, I then dropped just over six feet, rolled on my right shoulder and raced off down my left flank at another forty-five degree angle. Drawing parallel with the gun emplacement, I twisted sharply to the right, levelled my own shotgun and squeezed the trigger. With a roar, the first barrel discharged. Immediately I dashed a few paces to my left and dropped to the ground, so that I was now behind the emplacement. From there another shotgun blast sounded and from the position of the powder flash, it was aimed directly at the spot that I had just vacated. So now I knew exactly where he was!

  My own weapon recoiled brutally against my shoulder, as I detonated the second charge. I received an intoxicating whiff of sulphur as the powder smoke drifted over me, and from a few short yards away a high-pitched scream rent the night air. I was given no time to bask in my success as, again from off to my left, a revolver fired. The ball slammed into the ground close to my face, blasting bits of earth into my hair. My position was untenable, as the gunman appeared to know my location exactly. Abandoning Wetsall’s weapon, I jumped up and sprinted over to the gun emplacement and the continued screaming of its occupant.

  It was swiftly apparent why that man was in such distress. He had taken the bulk of my discharge in his face and although still alive, was just a tormented wreck. Quite obviously blind, he was pawing at his face, desperately trying to obtain some relief. My first inclination was to end his suffering, but the tenuousness of my own situation forced me to harden my heart. Somewhere over near the church lurked the last of the captain’s henchmen and the blubbering ruin next to me provided me with a way to destroy him.