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

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Exodus From the Alamo: The Anatomy of the Last Stand Myth Page 28

by Phillip Thomas Tucker


  All the while, Santa Anna, who received an adrenaline rush from battle, could hardly wait to unleash his multipronged assault calculated to strike each side of the Alamo compound at once. He wrote: “I took pride in being the first to strike in defense of independence, honor, and rights of my nation.” 87

  While an enthusiastic Santa Anna embraced the battle cry of “On to the Alamo,” the more practical common soldiers, mostly peasants in the ranks, like Felix Nunez, interpreted it in an entirely different light: “On to the Alamo was on to death.” Thanks to officer’s vigilance not to be observed, the moonlight shined off no earrings, rings or “other types of feminine ornaments that lowered the military profession” among the common soldiers in the silent, motionless ranks. 88

  One pureblood Aztec, who might have desired to wear such “ornaments,” in the Army of Operations was Felix Rodriguez. Ironically, he would die in San Antonio not during the Texas Campaign, but in the early 20th century. 89

  At this time, the emotional and psychological symbolism and mystique of the legendary ancient Aztec warrior was yet alive and well in Santa Anna’s ranks, serving as a powerful motivator. This was the legacy of the proud Anáhuacense soldier. Long before the Spanish Conquistadors arrived, Mexico was the “country of Anáhuac.” One Mexican leader promised his troops vengeance upon the “horde of adventurers” who awaited a dismal fate at the hands of “the thousands of soldiers [of Mexico who] will make them bit[e] the dust. The foolish ones which in their delirium have provoke[d] the courage and mettle of the ANÁHUACENSE soldier.” Therefore, future Mexican conquests in Texas, including at the Alamo, would be widely viewed as the “Eagle of Anáhuac hav[ing] extended its wings.” Reaping a victory at the Alamo promised these fighting men the widespread reputation as the “Saviors of the Fatherland.” 90

  Ironically, racial pride in the Indian past existed on both sides of the Alamo’s walls. Father and son Gregorio and Enrique Esparza, of San Antonio, were equally proud of their own Indian heritage. Enrique explained how: “Many of my people are of mixed blood. I am of Indian and Spanish blood [and] We are proud of that ancestry.” 91

  In time and after wiping out the Alamo garrison, Santa Anna himself would be viewed across Mexico as the invincible “father of Anáhuac,” a title which appeared in the April 30, 1836 issue of Mexico City’s La Lima de Vulcano. 92

  But not all Indians of Santa Anna’s Army occupied the lowest ranks. Santa Anna’s trusty aide-de-camp, Colonel Juan Almonte, was half Tlaxcala Indian. In a strange paradox, Santa Anna’s Army of Operations consisted of a multiethnic and multicultural fighting force much like the Alamo garrison. 93

  Most important for the upcoming clash of arms, Santa Anna’s four assault columns contained a good many reliable veterans, in both his Creole-dominated officer corps and in the enlisted ranks of peasant soldiery. These ranks had been culled in this increasingly brutal civil war, waged since 1832, leaving a hardened cadre of both officers and enlisted men of permanente and activo units alike. More so than the militia commands, the regular army units retained a large measure of pride, while embracing a stronger sense of national identity and nationalism. Some of Santa Anna’s top lieutenants had even helped to defeat Napoleon’s forces in Spain, waging both conventional and guerrilla war. Part of a fraternity, Santa Anna had served with many of these privileged Creoles of the upper class, such as Colonel José Juan Sánchez Navarro, as junior officers in the Royal Spanish Army and as a military school classmate before fighting together against the Spanish to help win Mexico’s independence.

  Second in command of Colonel Morales’ column assigned to attacking the south wall was Colonel José Vicente Miñon, who had been born in the port city of Cadiz, Spain, in 1802. Miñon was already famous throughout the army for past battlefield exploits that defied the odds, especially in holding 400 Spanish soldiers at bay with only 30 men at the battle of Arroyo Hondo during the struggle for independence. Miñon also knew how to wage war unconventionally, battling for years against Indians, including the fast-moving Comanche. And he had played a key role in smashing the Zacatecas militiamen, where he had bloodied his saber on fellow countrymen who dared defy the republic. Commanding a force of handpicked mounted marksmen, Miñon led a cavalry charge that captured nearly fifty cannons at Zacatecas. Even though a member of Santa Anna’s staff while serving as the commander’s adjutant, he was eager for front line duty, lusting for action against Texas rebels.

  Not surprisingly, he had been at the head of the initial company of Matamoros Battalion cazadores—the Spanish name for hunters or light infantry and riflemen—who stormed into San Antonio and chased Bowie’s and Travis’ men into the Alamo. Miñon’s demonstrated initiative on February 23 caused an impressed Colonel Morales, who believed that this was the “most righteous of campaigns,” to request his leadership as second-in-command for this attack column of chasseurs— the French name for hunters, or light infantry and riflemen-—of the San Luís Potosí Activo Battalion. 94

  In addition to experienced officers like Miñon, a good many reliable, veteran soldados of the noncommissioned ranks were now posed before the Alamo. For instance, one of Santa Anna’s trusted noncommissioned officers—who had drilled and molded their peasants into disciplined soldados—was Sergeant Santiago Rabia. Having served beside then lieutenant Santa Anna in Texas in 1813, Rabia’s lost religious fervor was now rekindled in the cold darkness near the Alameda. As a member of the elite Tampico Lancers, he would shortly lose what little compassion remained in his heart for his fellow man, because these tough Mexican lancers would shortly perform the bloodiest work of any of Santa Anna’s soldiers on the morning of March 6. 95

  Also among Santa Anna’s infantry were soldados of pure African descent. Known as pardos, or Mexicans of African heritage, they would have been called mulattos in the United States. Continuing a distinguished legacy, blacks had fought in Mexico’s war for independence against Spain as both officers and enlisted men, and even before then as well. For instance, during the American Revolution when Spain was allied with France and America against England, the Spanish Army included an African American militia company of free blacks, the Moreno Libres of Vera Cruz, and a battalion of blacks from Havana, Cuba, which served in North America. 96

  With Mexico’s best military commander at their head, these soldados were supremely confident of success this early morning. Esprit de corps and a sense of righteousness had lifted motivation among the Mexican troops to new heights. The average American soldier, not to mention their Protestant religion and English and Irish cultural traditions, were held in utter contempt by Mexicans in part because of racial, cultural, and religious prejudices that were returned in kind. For instance, Secretary of War Tornel boasted how, “The superiority of the Mexican soldier” could not compare to the American citizen-soldiers, who were “ignorant of the art of war, incapable of discipline, and renowned for insubordination.” 97

  However, in truth, Santa Anna’s soldados now suffered from an inferiority complex of sorts. After Cós and his men had been humiliated and sent back to Mexico in disgrace, the early morning would finally present a long awaited opportunity to prove the falsehood of the Anglo-Celtic stereotype about the alleged inferiority of the Latino fighting man. A proud Sapper officer, De la Pena was incensed over the fiction that Mexican soldados “lacked the cool courage that is demanded by an assault.” In a February 17 address to his troops, even Santa Anna mocked the overconfident Texians, because they considered “us incapable of defending our soil.” 98

  Meanwhile, Travis and his men, including the pickets outside the Alamo, slept deeply in the darkness. These advanced pickets had been more concerned about staying warm and resting than anything else on this cold night. Within the relatively warm, thick abode walls, no one heard any noise from nearly 1,500 Mexican soldados almost within a stone’s throw of the walls. Even more surprising, no one heard the hundreds of Mexican cavalrymen and lancers, or their horses. 99

  Compared to the handful o
f untrained regulars at the Alamo, a large percentage—a little less than half—of Santa Anna’s Army consisted of regular units or permanentes. These regular infantry regiments were organized in 1833. Therefore, by the 1836 Texas Campaign, Santa Anna benefited from the fact that much of his army consisted of trained regular troops: a striking contrast to the mostly volunteer Alamo garrison. These regular troops were augmented by militia units, or activos: the Toluca, Tres Villa, San Luís Potosí, and Guadalajara Battalions. Of these, the Toluca Battalion, Colonel Dúque’s own unit that he had long commanded, was the best activo command. However, neither the Mexican regular infantry nor militia could compare to Santa Anna’s best, nonspecialized troops, the half dozen regular cavalry regiments. The savvy general, always an old cavalryman at heart, could count upon these horse commands without hesitation: the Vera Cruz, Dolores, Palmar, Iguala, Cuatla, and Tampico cavalry regiments. These units were not only the pride of Santa Anna and his army, but also of the Republic of Mexico. 100

  Santa Anna was eager to see what these fighting men of his 1836 Army of Operations—which had not yet fought a battle—could accomplish on the chilly early morning of March 6. As revealed in his February 1 report, for instance, a proud Santa Anna boasted with unbridled enthusiasm that “it has been years that I have not seen in the Republic a body of troops that are so brilliant in their discipline and equipment” as his newly formed Army of Operations. 101

  * * *

  Images from the Alamo

  * * *

  An 1886 depiction of the mythical storming of the Alamo. In this drawing the Alamo church is the focal point of the battle and distinguished by its trademark bell-shaped facade, built by the United States nearly a decade and a half later.

  An admirer of Napoleon, Antonio López de Santa Anna lamented the overall lack of resistance on March 6, describing the Alamo’s capture as nothing more than a “small affair.” Daughters of the Republic of Texas Library at the Alamo

  An Italian with Napoleonic War experience, General Vincente Filisola was one of Santa Anna’s most gifted top lieutenants. He possessed more sound military experience than all of the Alamo’s commanders combined. Amon Carter Museum, Fort Worth, Texas

  A member of the Republic of Mexico’s most lethal warriors, the Lancers, who upheld their lofty reputation outside the walls of the Alamo on the morning of March 6. Amon Carter Museum, Fort Worth, Texas

  Along with the Lancers, the Mexican Dragoons also played a leading role in eliminating escapees from the Alamo. Amon Carter Museum, Fort Worth, Texas

  This rare woodcut was the earliest depiction of the battle of the Alamo, though it more closely resembles a battle between French and English forces during the Peninsular War in Spain. Author’s collection

  The Alamo’s largest cannon, the 18-pounder that stood at the compound’s southwest corner. Daughters of the Republic of Texas, the Alamo Museum, San Antonio

  Tejano Enrique Esparza who was the son of Alamo defender Gregorio Esparza. Enrique left vivid personal accounts of the battle for the Alamo, but these have been too often ignored. Texas State Library and Archives Commission

  Santa Anna’s flag of no quarter was raised from the bell tower of San Fernando Church, proclaiming that the Alamo garrison would be killed to the last man. Photo by Jim Landers, courtesy of the City Centre Foundation, San Fernando Cathedral, and Executive Director Amelia Nieto-Duval

  Oil painting based on an image from the movie set of John Wayne’s 1960 Alamo movie. Author’s collection

  A view of the Alamo from the rear, by the artist James Gilchrist Benton. The palisade had previously stood where the man in the sombrero is standing, connecting the church with the fort’s south wall. Note the makeshift log footbridge spanning the irrigation canal in the foreground. Amon Carter Museum, Fort Worth Texas

  Battle flag of the Permanente Matamoros Battalion which was part of Romero’s assault column on March 6. This fine silk banner was captured at San Jacinto, where fortune no longer smiled upon Santa Anna. Texas State Library and Archives Commission, Austin, Texas

  William Barret Travis’s ring. Toward the end of the 13-day siege, Travis removed this ring from his finger, placed it on a string, and hung it around the neck of Angelina Dickinson, the 15-month-old daughter of Captain Dickinson and his wife Susanna. Angelina became famous as the “Babe of the Alamo.” The ring was donated to the Alamo Museum in 1955.

  A depiction of the fighting outside the Alamo when fugitives from the fort encountered Santa Anna’s cavalry, by the artist Gary Zaboly. Author’s collection

  An early 20th—century view of the rear of the Alamo church. Author’s collection

  An 1849 sketch of the crumbling, forgotten Alamo church by Edward Everett, before it was transformed into a shrine.

  The initial goal of so many escapees, the western end of the Alameda, shown here in Herman Lungkwitz’s 1857 painting, near where a large percentage of the Alamo garrison was killed. San Antonio Public Library

  A depiction of the death of Lieutenant José María Torres, who was killed while attempting to take down the Alamo garrison’s flag atop the Long Barracks. Illustration by Ted Spring, courtesy Tim J. and Terry Todish

  A modern depiction of the first large flight of escapees from the Alamo, by the artist Gary Zaboly. These men have slipped through the sally port on the left of the stockade and crossed the irrigation ditch, only to meet Santa Anna’s cavalry which had been positioned to intercept fugitives. Note the covering fire provided by Captain Dickinson’s artillerymen atop the church. Author’s collection

  6

  * * *

  The Predawn Assault

  * * *

  In the hours before dawn on March 6, 1836, Santa Anna’s men had little time for thinking about the future welfare of their lovers, wives, and children who remained with the army. Instead, shivering in the cold and contemplating their own fates, they had enough to worry about what would happen to them in the next hour or so. Since they had been ordered to rely upon “principally the bayonet,” these soldados, especially the veterans, knew what lay in store. Tormented by their thoughts, Santa Anna’s men more heavily weighed the legendary marksmanship of the Anglo-Celts, whose reputation in handling the Long Rifle had preceded them.

  In the crack Zapadores Battalion, for instance, an uneasy Lieutenant Colonel de la Pena decided not to wear a white hat which might identify him as an officer, making him a target in the upcoming attack. An increasingly nervous de la Pena advised his friend, Lieutenant María Heredia, to do the same, because he believed “he and I would die” in the attack if such precautions were not taken. But the young lieutenant merely “laughed good-naturedly” and ignored the advice. In a fine dress uniform with shiny eagle buttons, the young lieutenant continued to wear his white hat: a decision he would soon come to regret. 1

  Eager to reaffirm his reputation as the “Napoleon of the West,” and like the manic French emperor whose instincts had served him well until the brutal guerrilla war in Spain and the disastrous Russian invasion, Santa Anna’s impatience and aggressive instincts had in fact gotten the better of him. Savvy veterans in the ranks, including leading officers, believed that an assault was unnecessary. For example, de la Pena lamented how “In fact, it was only necessary to wait the artillery’s arrival at Béxar for these [Alamo men] to surrender.” 2

  Sensing that his own “Sun of Austerliz” was about to rise, Santa Anna now prepared to give the long-awaited order to attack at around 5:30 a.m., thereby avenging General Cós’ December loss of San Antonio and redeeming the republic’s honor in its first major blow to regain Texas. 3

  At the Mexicans’ north battery, which stood “within musket range” of the Alamo’s north wall, Santa Anna ordered a five-foot-long Congreve rocket to be fired into the black sky for all to see, except, of course, the sleeping Alamo garrison. The red and yellow rocket soared high into the black sky as a quiet signal to begin the assault. The black powder had been removed from the rocket so that the exploding charge
would not alert the garrison. 4

  All the while, Alamo garrison members like Captain Carey and his “Invincibles” continued to sleep deeply on this cold night, unaware that all hell was about to break loose. In a lengthy letter written to his brother and sister, and as if possessing a portent of his own death, Carey had promised “that if I live, as soon as the war is over I will endeavor to see you all” once again. 5

  Perhaps no one in Santa Anna’s army was now more motivated to redeem his reputation and honor today than young General Cós. And as Santa Anna’s brother-in-law who was defeated in this same place only a few months before, he had much to prove both to himself and others. In his own February 1, 1836, words, he was “ready to vindicate myself [and restore] my vacillating reputation” for having lost San Antonio and the Alamo in the first place. To wash away that humiliation, Cós had been ordered to target the west wall as his column’s objective. As a bachelor and unlike so many others in his assault column, General Cós had no concern about leaving a wife as a widow or children as orphans if killed this early morning. Amid the prone formation of Cós’ troops, consisting of the three companies of the San Luís Potosí Activo Battalion and the 280-man Aldama Permanente Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Gregorio Uruñuela, one soldado wrote of the dramatic moment when around 5:30 a.m. a rocket shot up through the air and suddenly “Cós yelled—on your feet! And placing himself at the head of the forces, we ran to the assault[;] the distance [to the Alamo] was short.” 6

 

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