Exodus From the Alamo: The Anatomy of the Last Stand Myth

by Phillip Thomas Tucker

  Another representative example of the fatal overconfidence and bloated sense of racial superiority that had so long dominated AngloCeltic thinking was the belief of some garrison members that, in the words of Micajah Autry, “Santa Anna has become intimidated” by the Texan victories of 1835. Therefore, according to this common attitude across Texas and the United States, Santa Anna would therefore never dare to return at the head of a Mexican Army. 12

  And even when it was realized that Santa Anna was preparing to push north, the Anglo-Celts seemed to care little about the impending threat. Confidence and a sense of racial superiority remained so pervasive, that nothing could deflate it. David P. Cummings penned from the Alamo, despite knowing that a large Mexican Army was about to descend upon San Antonio, how the defenders “are confident that Texas cannot only sustain what she now holds but [will] take Mexico itself [one day and] did She think [so] on conquest.” 13

  This, of course, was not only outlandish bravado, but also fatal delusion. But the false illusion of the supremacy of American arms and the superiority of the Anglo-Celtic fighting man over the mixed-race and Indian-Mexican soldier was too deeply culturally ingrained to not be embraced by the Alamo’s soldiers. Ironically, fueling this sense of AngloCeltic superiority based upon racism was the relatively easy 1835 victories, which had instilled a fatal overconfidence. During the campaign of 1835, a poorly motivated Mexican force—garrison troops—and overall poor leadership had made the task of driving all Mexican forces from Texas relatively easy.

  The famed Long Rifle, known mostly as the Pennsylvania rifle, where most were made, or the Kentucky rifle where it was first extensively used, was a legendary weapon across America by the time of the Texas Revolution. One of the great myths of American history was that the range, deadliness, and accuracy of the Long Rifle—the best hunting rifle in America—was sufficient to defeat a conventional army. The Anglo-Celtic generation of the Texas Revolution had been raised in the stereotypical belief that the great American military successes—the American Revolution and the War of 1812—had been won largely by the superiority of the Long Rifle over the smoothbore musket. Neither of these commonly held beliefs were true, however. Relatively few of Washington’s troops had been armed with Long Rifles, and these men had formed rifle companies and regiments, primarily from Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Virginia. And instead of the Long Rifle, the battle of New Orleans had been won chiefly by Jackson’s well-placed and expertly manned artillery, including large-caliber cannon, fired both by United States regulars and Jean Lafitte’s Baratarians. 14

  Nevertheless, the Long Rifle myth persisted among successive generations of Americans, and that enduring fable was alive and well by the time of the Texas Revolution. For example, one supremely confident “Texonian,” with his usual utter contempt for the Mexican fighting man, wrote in a September 8, 1835 letter how: “We look upon our independence as absolutely certain . . . Some fifteen hundred troops have been sent against us, but they have (unexpectedly) returned; being afraid to move against our riflemen, to the amount of 300 or more.” 15These confident words revealed a widespread contempt toward Mexican troops, regardless of their numbers—a dangerous illusion, promising, if not inviting disaster at the Alamo.

  Before the Alamo’s fall provided yet another example of the folly of adhering to myths based upon race and alleged superiority, more proof of this serious underestimation of the Mexican Army’s capabilities can be seen from the words that appeared in theRed River Herald: “Our riflemen are a deadly species of troops, as all the world knows.” 16

  And even the editors of the New Orleans Commercial Bulletin emphasized with unbounded confidence how: “The great strength of the Texian forces consists of their riflemen; and these placed in the thickets upon the banks of the streams, will be more dangerous enemies than the Mexicans have ever yet met. It is these which will render the country unconquerable!!” 17

  But the unquestioned faith in the Long Rifle and the combat prowess of the Anglo-Celtic soldier, especially when it pertained to inexperienced, untrained garrison members of the Alamo, was a most dangerous myth. Two enduring myths combined to serve as the foundation of the popular version of the Alamo: that the Alamo garrison consisted largely of frontiersmen armed with the Long Rifle, providing a rationale for overly inflated Mexican casualty figures. But in truth, the young men and boys of the Alamo were neither frontiersmen nor veteran Indian fighters. Instead, they were almost exclusively farmers, ranchers, clerks, and merchants, with relatively little military experience and even less intimate knowledge of the Long Rifle. Better suited for a hunting trip on the grassy prairie rather than facing Mexican troops of a conventional army, the Alamo defenders, including Travis, carried mostly shotguns—both single and double-barrel—and smoothbore muskets, loaded with “buck and ball” for a shotgun-like effect, without rifled barrels like the Long Rifle. 18

  Especially after the brutal 1813 Texas campaign, Santa Anna and other contemptuous Mexican leaders mocked the Long Rifle’s capabilities and the myth. As a life-long military man, the Creole president was never guilty of overestimating his opponent. Secretary of War Tornel openly derided the Long Rifle myth, proclaiming how the Mexican fighting man was far superior to the undisciplined “mountaineers of Kentucky and the hunters of Missouri.” 19

  Tornel’s opinion was not idle bravado based upon an over-active Mexican xenophobia. The most superior soldiers both north and south of the Rio Grande were not the Anglo-Celtic riflemen, but hard-riding Mexican cavalrymen. From beginning to end, the Mexican horse soldier repeatedly “hopelessly outclassed” the best fighting men that Texas could offer in both 1835 or 1836. This undeniable reality was common knowledge across Mexico, but yet had to be learned the hard way by the Alamo garrison. One of the few soldiers who realized as much and articulated this fact was B. H. Duval. With no illusions to cloud his thinking, he wrote how: “The greater portion of the Mexican troops are mounted, and of course have greatly the advantage over us.” 20

  However, most everyone else in Texas, especially at the Alamo, clung to dangerous illusions to the bitter end. E.M. Pease explained the overconfidence, including among the Alamo garrison, by the late winter of 1836: “The people of Texas having been so fortunate thus far, imagined their Independence already achieved & trusted for security on the weaknesses and disorder of their enemy, to this apathy is to be attributed the [future] reverses of our arms last spring which came well nigh ruining the country.” 21

  Indeed, never before had Texas and her people been more unvigilant or seemingly unconcerned about the possibility of danger, despite the fact that by early 1836 a serious threat existed just south of the Rio Grande. In a January 13 letter, an overconfident Autry wrote to his wife, Martha: “Some say that Santa Ana is in the field with an immense army and near the confines of Texas.” 22Autry was far more accurate than he realized. What the relative handful of garrison members at the Alamo failed to realize at this time was, it was reported, that the “motto to which the Mexican army were sworn, was ‘extermination to the Sabine, or death’.” 23

  Intoxicated by the romantic image of Napoleon, an increasingly ambitious Santa Anna possessed a grandiose vision for accomplishing fantastic military feats in the Texas campaign. In de la Pena’s words, Santa Anna “wanted our soldiers to act brilliantly once the time came to salute the Sabine and plant our eagles on its banks.” 24

  This was no exaggeration by the young lieutenant colonel. A concerned United States Council W.S. Parott dispatched a shocking December 14, 1835 report from Mexico City to Washington, D.C., warning that Santa Anna—remembering how British Napoleonic troops had easily captured and burned down Washington in August 1814— had bragged to both the British and French ambassadors that if he discovered that the United States government was supporting the Texas Revolution, he would lead his army to Washington D.C., and “place upon its Capital the Mexican Flag.” Clearly, Santa Anna took his Napoleonic Era lessons quite seriously. 25

  FALSE SE
NSE OF SECURITY

  Meanwhile, the men of the Alamo were not thinking about acting brilliantly or reaping glory. Because of their own xenophobia, ironically not unlike Santa Anna’s own, the Anglo-Celts ignored one undeniable truth that would prove fatal for them in the end: “Few men have spent so much of their lives fomenting or crushing rebellions” than Santa Anna. He was the master of this deadly art, as demonstrated upon the hapless militia at Zacatecas. 26

  Throughout the winter, Alamo garrison members continued to enjoy life to the fullest, despite the shortage of provisions, lack of clothing, and support from across Texas. But with discipline at the Alamo almost nonexistent and officers not taking their responsibilities seriously, garrison members continued to bask in the soft Texas sunshine of winter and the relatively mild weather so unlike back home. Month after month, the young soldiers of San Antonio lived more like tourists in an exotic Tejano paradise than disciplined military men stationed at an outpost, which now served as the vulnerable first line of defense along the distant frontier.

  Days spent drinking good old corn whiskey from Texas and the United States, Mexican mescal and tequila, eating spicy Tejano food—a mix of local dishes and those from deep in Mexico—dancing the night away at fandangos, and romancing the dark-eyed Tejano girls continued to leave little interest on enhancing the Alamo’s defensive strength. For the Alamo’s soldiers, both officers and enlisted men, no one seemed to be in a rush to improve the defenses. That could always wait until later, or so they believed. Meanwhile the Alamo’s defenses languished, and its deplorable defensive liabilities were ignored until it was too late. It was almost as if everyone believed, and certainly hoped, that Santa Anna would not head for San Antonio: a fool’s dream and an example of wishful thinking at a time when realistic military and strategic assessments were needed. Like the proverbial lesson of the ant and the grasshopper, the Alamo garrison members played the part of the grasshopper throughout early 1836. 27

  Meanwhile, both leaders and enlisted men took relatively little notice of the lowly Tejano peasants, who for some time had been quietly packing up their pitifully meager belongings and slipping out of San Antonio. They knew that Santa Anna was on his way with an army that far dwarfed the garrison’s size. Held mostly in contempt by the AngloCelts and upper class Tejanos, especially those whose ancestors had come from the Canary Islands, an ever-increasing number of the mixedrace and Indian people of San Antonio’s lower class had been departing their town since early January. 28

  Finally but belatedly, the commander at San Antonio began to understand why so many Tejano families were packing up and leaving town. As Colonel Neill, with a minuscule garrison of only 75 men, wrote in a January 14 letter to the governor and council: “There can exist but little doubt that the enemy is advancing on this post, from the number of [Tejano] families leaving town today . . . 1,000 [Mexican troops] are destined for this place.” 29

  Then, after gaining some intelligence from Tejano scouts, Bowie wrote a desperate letter to the self-destructing Texas government amounting to a plea for assistance, after learning that 2,000 Mexican soldiers were preparing along the Rio Grande to invade Texas: “Very large forces are being gathered . . . with good officers, well-armed, and a plenty provisions.” 30

  Actually the widely ignored expectation that Santa Anna would advance into Texas in the spring of 1836, and not in late winter, had also set the stage for the Alamo disaster. As written in a letter on December 13, 1835, revealing the truth that was common knowledge even as far away as Texas’ eastern border, forty-two-year-old Private Micajah Autry, a member of twenty Tennessee men who had formed a small volunteer unit at Memphis, Tennessee, the Tennessee Mounted Volunteers under the command of Ohio-born Captain William B. Harrison, age twenty-five–and not Private Crockett—, “ . . . it is thought that Santa Anna will make a descent with his whole forces in the Spring, but there will be soldiers enough of the real grit in Texas by that time to overrun all Mexico.” 31

  And from the pages of the New York Courier and Enquirernot long after San Antonio was captured in December 1835, an editor revealed the widespread combination of blindness and arrogance so pervasive among the smug Texian victors across Texas: “No other [military] expedition can be fitted out by Mexico against Texas until spring; and then the army of the Patriots will be sufficiently strong to repel them.” 32

  Also on December 13, 1835, North Carolina-born Autry, destined to die at the Alamo, penned in his letter from Nacogodoches to his wife Martha in Jackson, Tennessee: “Some say that Santa Anna is in the field with an immense army and near the confines of Texas, others say since the conquest of St. [San] Antonio by the Texians . . . Santa Anna has become intimidated for fear that the Texians will drive the war into his dominions and is now holding himself in readiness to fly to Europe.” 33

  More rational and realistic was Jameson, the bright, imaginative former attorney from San Felipe de Austin, who seemed to possess more wisdom than Neill, Bowie, and Travis all together. On January 18, he wrote to Houston how: “Since we heard of 1000 to 1500 men of the enemy being on their march to this place.” 34

  Such widespread, common knowledge of what Santa Anna was doing caused de la Pena to lament how “preparation for the campaign should have been secretly carried out” from the beginning. And Private David P. Cummings, age twenty-seven, wrote to his father, a friend of Houston, on January 20, 1836: “Letters have been intercepted to the Mexican citizens of Béxar informing them of the arrival of 2,000 troops on the Rio Grande, and now coming to retake that place, San Antonio.” 35 This letter was written from Gonzales. Clearly, the news had already spread that a Mexican Army was about to invade Texas, but relatively few preparations were taken in San Antonio.

  Only three days later, Neill was informed by José Antonio Navarro that the Tejano’s brother, Eugene in San Luís Potosí, Mexico, had just sent him a message that Santa Anna and 3,000 Mexican troops had reached Saltillo, while another 1,000 men were in the community of Rio Grande, preparing to advance north. Nevertheless, despite the increasing number of warnings, in Sutherland’s words, “little notice was paid to them.” 36

  Then, in a letter from San Antonio on February 14, Cummings qualified his previous letter, writing with an assured confidence how, “under different views from what I stated [on January 20 from Gonzales] in as a sudden attack was expected on our garrison here [at San Antonio] and were called on for assistance. It is however fully ascertained that we have nothing of the kind to apprehend before a month or six weeks as the Enemy have not yet crossed the Rio Grande 180 mi[iles]. distant from this place nor are they expected to make any movement this way until the weather becomes warm or until the grass is sufficiently up to support their horses [and] we conceive it however important to be prepared as a heavy attack is expected from Santa Anna himself in the Spring as no doubt the despot will use every possible means and strain every nerve to conquer and exterminate us from the land.” 37

  The only part of Cummings’ analysis that was correct was his conviction that Santa Anna planned to “exterminate us” from Texas. And, as revealed in a February 12 letter, Travis also was convinced that Santa Anna “threatens to exterminate every white man” in Texas. But thorough, defensive preparations continued to be ignored at the Alamo. Harboring his doubts, Bowie, for instance, was yet uncertain if Santa Anna planned to march upon San Antonio. He could not ascertain if Santa Anna would target San Antonio or swing up the gulf coast by way of Matamoros. However, Santa Anna would keep Bowie and the entire Alamo garrison guessing until it was too late, choosing to divide his army in a classic Napoleon-like maneuver, embarking upon both strategic alternatives simultaneously. 38

  Meanwhile, the Alamo’s defenders continued to remain supremely overconfident and complacent throughout early 1836. Incredibly, in the words of a New Orleans Greys member, the victors of the 1835 campaign, yet gloating over their success over Cós, which was thought to have intimidated Santa Anna, “considered ourselves almost invincible [which
was] an opinion which later on brought us and our friends very near ruin.” 39

  And Ireland-born Joseph M. Hawkins, more realistic than many United States citizens now under arms because of the Irish experience, wrote on January 24, 1836 with resignation how: “ . . . we may in a short time expect stormy gales from Mexico [but Santa Anna] will be warmly received and nobly encountered, and find that to conquer Mexicans is one thing, but Americans another, if the latter will only do their duty in preparing with energy,” which, ironically, would not be the case. 40

  While still below the Rio Grande, Santa Anna developed a well-conceived plan to catch the unprepared Anglo-Celtics of San Antonio and the east Texas settlements napping. In mid-February, Santa Anna and the main body of his forces crossed the Rio Grande at twin communities of Paso de Francia and Guerrero, the old Spanish town distinguished by stately colonial architecture and which contained Presidio de Rio Grande. Both towns along the Rio Grande were close to each other and southwest of San Antonio, about eighty miles upriver, or north of Laredo. This was a well-conceived crossing point. Thanks in part to an effective spy network and his own understanding of his complacent opponent, he knew full well that garrison members expected an advance upon San Antonio from the south along the Laredo Road from Laredo. Instead and most deceptively, he planned to sweep toward San Antonio from the west where least expected to appear. 41

  Crockett knew that if Santa Anna pushed toward San Antonio, then the place should be abandoned. And if the Mexican Army was not targeting San Antonio, which should have been the case because it was of no strategic importance, then perhaps the garrison could remain safely in place, because the war would then be waged near the east Texas settlements, if Santa Anna marched north from Matamoros and up the coast as expected. To the tactical reasoning of Crockett, a War of 1812 veteran, that revealed a measure of good sense: “If it is true that Santa Anna is coming to San Antonio, then our plans must be made one way. If he is not coming to San Antonio, they must be made another way.” 42