In all four assault columns, scores of promising young officers in resplendent uniforms and from leading Creole families repeated the order to attack. In the early morning darkness, the Mexican ranks surged forward over the grassy prairie, covered in a low-lying mist, with discipline and determination. Composed of around 300 troops of the Matamoros Permanente and Jiménez Battalions, under Colonel Mariano Salas, Romero’s column closed in on the east wall, while Dúque’s column, consisting of around 400 soldados of the three “rifle” companies of the San Luís Potosí Battalion and all of the “Active” and the Toluca Battalions, advanced toward the north wall. Meanwhile, Morales’ column, the little more than 100 cazadores of the Jimenez, Matamoros, and San Luís Potosí Activo Battalions, headed toward the low, wooden palisade along the south wall and their ultimate objective, the main gate. Every side of the Alamo was being attacked at once.
As they hurled themselves toward the undisturbed Alamo that lay silhouetted against the distant black skyline, the onrushing soldados felt confidence in the righteousness of their cause and numerical superiority. Providing solace and a certain peace of mind at this moment, the omnipresent spiritual presence of Lady of Guadalupe inspired the Mexican troops onward, providing inspiration to both officers of Castillian descent and pure-blood Indians to drive the interlopers from Mexico’s sacred soil.
In the predawn darkness, the handful of Travis’ soldiers posted outside the Alamo as pickets and sentries to give first warning of an attack never knew what hit them. Like a “blue norther,” the sudden descent of the foremost Mexican light troops, or skirmishers, came swiftly out of the darkness. Death would come as quickly as unexpectedly for the pickets. Alamo garrison members were about to learn the hard way how Santa Anna’s surprise attack that annihilated the Zacatacas militia had been launched in the night to catch opposing pickets asleep.Wrapped in thin blankets for warmth against the cold ground and winds sweeping over the prairie from west to east, the pickets remained perfectly still in the narrow confines of their trenches. Discipline at the Alamo had always been loose and these men simply lacked the training, experience, and discipline to obey orders to stay vigilant. Consequently, they continued to doze in a sleep from which they never awoke.
Death came quickly. With skirmishers descending upon them like ghosts in the night, they were easily overwhelmed and quickly dispatched by the first wave of fast-moving Mexicans skirmishers, who knew how to silently eliminate advanced sentries, especially when asleep, before they gave warning. No one knows if these pickets attempted to sound an alarm before they met their Maker in the blackness that surrounded them. In part employing racial stereotypes that so often demeaned the Mexican character, one popular author speculated how a swift end came for those men stationed outside the Alamo’s walls: “One by one, it is known as certainly as if it was recorded, they were dealt with by Mexican scouts crawling up on them in the dark. A knife in the right spot and a hand on the throat to deny the sleeper even the bark of death, and it was all over. None of them lived to give a peep of warning.” 7
This popular version of the first Alamo deaths was almost certainly not the case, however. After so carefully orchestrating the attack to exploit the element of surprise, Santa Anna would not have risked that coveted tactical advantage by overwhelming the pickets with only a few scouts, needlessly running the risk that someone might fire a weapon to alert the sleeping Alamo garrison.
But these pickets and sentries, their number unknown, were most likely either bayoneted by enlisted men or sabered by officers from a heavy line of skirmishers, who were especially proficient at bayonet work. Clearly, these most advanced Mexican soldiers maintained excellent discipline in not only holding their fire but also in so quickly dispatching these advanced pickets, as directed by their officers. No one knows the names of those first few men who died outside of the Alamo, but they were probably all asleep and huddled together for body warmth when their lives had ended so suddenly.
In a letter written not long after the Alamo’s fall, E.M. Pease described the ominous tactical development resulting from the complete failure of the Alamo’s advance warning: “It was supposed that our sentinels worn out with fatigue had fallen asleep & were killed at their posts. [Before the sounding of] the first alarm within the fort, they were on and within the Walls in large numbers . . . “ 8
Indeed, the lack of discipline of the Alamo’s defenders outside the walls now came to haunt the garrison, which remained unaware of developments outside the walls at the most inopportune time. More conscientious officers, who possessed ample experience with night duty, were now fast asleep in the cozy warmth behind the closed doors of the various rooms of the compound—especially the Long Barracks for the enlisted men, a separate building for officers, and an artillery barracks—along the eastern perimeter. Clearly, from Travis, who was fast asleep in his own quarters, to the pickets outside the Alamo, no one had expected Santa Anna to attack at night. 9
So far, Santa Anna’s plan to catch the garrison by surprise was working to perfection. According to the traditional version of the Alamo’s story, everything up to this point was going exactly as designed until some over-enthusiastic Mexican soldiers began shouting, or so claimed Santa Anna, who was a master at shifting blame. But the notoriously self-serving general had only employed this long-accepted explanation as a convenient excuse for what was considered an unnecessary assault when under increasing criticism from his countrymen for his San Jacinto defeat. Writing a largely fictional battle-report, Santa Anna explained how the Mexican troops “moved forward in the best order and with the greatest silence, but the imprudent huzzas of one of them awakened the sleeping vilgilance [sic] of the defenders of the fort [resulting in a] loss that was also later judged to be avoidable and charged, after the disaster of San Jacinto, to my incompetence and precipitation.” 10
However, if some ill-timed outbursts of shouts among the Mexican troops occurred, it was not widespread—and hence not sufficient to alert the sleeping garrison—and only occurred later after the first soldados reached the walls. Experienced Mexican officers made sure that silence was maintained while their troops rushed forward. With an antiSanta Anna agenda, the ever-biased de la Pena described that a combination of wild shouting, the blaring of music from regimental bands, and the sounding of trumpets, and even premature volleys—allegedly fired at targets unseen—erupted simultaneously to alert the garrison, but this simply could not have been the case: Santa Anna would not have issued such orders to defeat his own plan for achieving complete surprise and to ensure that his troops would reach the walls before resistance was organized. De la Pena only used these examples to attempt to demonstrate Santa Anna’s incompetence.
In truth, virtually all garrison members were still asleep when the first Mexicans reached the walls. This development meant that the foremost attackers, who were leading the way for Colonel Dúque’s column pushing toward the north wall from the northwest, the skirmishers of the activo Toluca Battalion, initially met with no return fire during most of their dash to the wall. Moving rapidly forward in two lengthy lines, these skirmishers easily gained the north wall’s base before any fire opened upon them. One dependable company commander of the light infantry skirmishers was young Captain José M. Herrera. He led his cazadores (the Spanish word for chassuers) to the north wall, reaching a position under the silent guns of the north battery draped in darkness and silence.
Behind these swiftly advancing twin lines of skirmishers that had gained the wall’s base, the remainder of Dúque’s troops continued to push forward. Through the darkness, these attackers headed toward the north wall’s center, moving forward in column as fast as they could. The north wall, with its crumbling stone and abode bolstered by a timber and earth outwork, was the weakest link in the defensive perimeter, after the palisade. Consisting mostly of the activo Toluca Battalion, of around 365 men at top strength, Dúque’s column was not yet encountering any fire from the north wall during its sprint forward. The unm
anned cannons at the wall remained perfectly silent. Pushing forward from the east, Romero’s column likewise met no initial fire in surging toward the Alamo from the rear, or east, revealing the extent of the total surprise. To the onrushing Mexican troops, the absence of defenders’ fire seemed like a miracle, a special gift from a soldado-loving God and a special protective favor from the Lady of Guadalupe. 11
After moving quickly over the open ground, unencumbered by knapsacks or accouterments, the skirmishers of the activo Toluca Battalion sighed breaths of relief after gaining the north wall in the pitch-blackness. Clearly, they had been fortunate in achieving a remarkable tactical success in gaining the north wall’s base so quickly, reaping the benefits of Santa Anna’s tactical plan. Catching their breath, these skirmishers now waited at the base of the wall for the arrival of Dúque’s attack column that would shortly emerge out of the darkness. Meanwhile, selected soldiers of Dúque’s column carried ten ladders forward for the scaling of the wall.
Joining its skirmishers, Dúque’s column also reached the wall without taking fire. Here, they hurriedly began to set up their wooden ladders to scale the earth and timber outer work. Not only the dash across the open prairie but the placement of ladders against the north wall was a race against time, and Santa Anna’s men won it. As planned, the Alamo’s most vulnerable wall was now on the verge of being breached without the attackers having yet encountered any resistance.
With the advanced pickets wiped out so noiselessly, only one member of the entire garrison was now capable of performing the Alamo’s most important mission at this critical moment. Thirty-five-year-old Captain John Joseph Baugh, the commander of the remaining handful of New Orleans Greys, had stayed in San Antonio after the departure of Captain William Gordon Cooke, the Fredericksburg druggist. Having arrived in Texas with the Greys as a lieutenant, he now served not only as the Alamo’s dependable adjutant, but also second in command—both jobs in which he excelled. Although, like his commander, an aspiring gentleman planter of lofty ambitions, the capable Virginian did not get along with Travis. Like other volunteers, especially those feisty, independent-minded types from the crack New Orleans Greys, Captain Baugh had early clashed with Travis largely because the Alamo’s commander was a regular officer. The young Virginian Baugh was now the sole representative of the late morning watch, after the relief of the late night and early morning watch. This earlier shift of bone-weary men had gone off duty sometime just before 3:00 a.m. when Travis, after he made his usual rounds, retired for the night, exhausted from supervising more shoring-up of the battered north wall.
Evidently stationed in an observatory position atop the roof of the high, two-storied Long Barracks, where some light, make-shift defenses had been constructed, Baugh was not at a good vantage point—too far from the north wall where the main attack would be directed—to serve as the Alamo’s main lookout at this time. And on this night that was as dark as it was cold, therefore, he could see nothing out in the prairies to the east because Colonel Romero’s attack column on the east had yet to strike. No sound of clattering accouterments, which were not worn by the attackers, could be heard in that direction.
At this time, of course, Baugh had no way of knowing that the pickets, who perhaps he himself had stationed outside the Alamo, were already dead. Baugh never knew that these blood-splattered soldiers, upon whom the garrison had placed so much faith to give early warning, were now lying lifeless at the bottom of cold, muddy ditches. Symbolically, the opening phase of the struggle had opened with a slaughter of garrison members outside the fort and would eventually end with a much greater slaughter on the same open plain. 12
William Barret Travis, weighed down by command responsibilities, had retired more than two hours earlier to his headquarters, located in the building near the west wall’s center, seeking relief from exhaustion and the winter weather. Captain Baugh, if not asleep by 5:30 a.m. when the assault began, after more than two hours on watch, was not sufficiently vigilant—like everyone else—to ascertain that a general assault was underway until it was already too late.
Clearly, indicating their inexperience, both Travis and Baugh had placed far too much confidence in the pickets and sentries–without officer supervision—outside the Alamo’s walls. But with the noise emitting from pounding feet, ladders slapped up against the north wall, and Mexican officers now shouting orders to their men, Captain Baugh, very likely just awakened, at last finally recognized the onslaught against the north wall. He now heard the tumult of Mexican soldiers pouring forward by the hundreds. By this time, after reaching the north wall, Dúque’s soldados were yelling and shouting, as if celebrating so easily gaining their objective.
Now alert to the threat’s magnitude, a desperate Captain Baugh made a belated attempt to arouse the sleeping garrison in the practically sound-proof rooms of the Long Barracks. He very likely also tried to awake soldiers in the other sleeping quarters, especially the artillerymen who slept in the adobe building just to the north, and adjacent to, the Long Barracks. However, it was already too late to organize a solid defense along the Alamo’s expansive perimeter, which spanned nearly a quarter of a mile, especially after the Mexicans had already gained the north wall. Not panicking but keeping his head, and in accordance to military protocol as he was the fort’s executive officer, the Virginia captain dashed for Travis’ sleeping quarters, located next to the artillery command headquarters situated near the center of the west wall. The assault was so stealthy and swift that the thoroughly exhausted Travis was still asleep at the decisive moment, since no attack had yet been directed at the nearby lunette. 13
Unfortunately for the Alamo garrison, both artillerymen and infantrymen had been literally caught napping, while the Mexicans had already made significant tactical gains—especially in gaining the north wall without meeting serious resistance. By this time, dark, swirling masses of Dúque’s troops “had their ladders against the [north] wall before the Garrison were aroused.” 14
An account taken from Joe, Travis’ slave from Monroe County, Alabama, summarized on April 11, 1836 the totality of the success of Santa Anna’s stealthy tactics that had gained a permanent tactical advantage that would never be relinquished: “It was dark, and the enemy were undiscovered until they were close to the walls, and before the sentinels had aroused the garrison, the enemy had gained possession of a part of the ramparts.” 15
In another account that appeared in the Commonwealth of Frankfort, Kentucky, on May 25, 1836, Joe revealed how the attackers were already “under the guns, and had their ladders against the wall before the Garrison were aroused to resistance.” 16
The slave’s view was accurate, because it later became widely known that the garrison was only “roused from their sleep by the cry that, ‘the enemy [is] on the walls’.” Consequently, the son of Gregorio Esparza, who was a member of Captain Benavides’ Tejano company of hardy rancheros, Enrique Esparza, a noncombatant because of his young age, explained how thoroughly Santa Anna’s tactical surprise had gained irreversible dividends to seal the defender’s fate: “The end came suddenly and almost unexpectedly and with a rush [and] It came at night and when all was dark . . . .” 17
Consequently, the garrison members were suddenly “awakened to a nightmare” of almost unimaginable, surreal proportions in the blackness. 18 The Mexican plan based on stealth and surprise had worked to perfection. In the process, Santa Anna had overcome the major dilemma faced by military commanders assaulting a fortified position, solving a vexing tactical challenge that had existed for centuries: how to catch an opponent by surprise and overwhelm a defensive strongpoint and a garrison with a minimum loss of life. Santa Anna had already negated the Alamo’s two principal defensive strengths in only a matter of minutes: its large number of artillery and the deadly Long Rifles.
The Alamo garrison had completely fallen for Santa Anna’s trap, lulled not only into complacency, but also a deep sleep. Day after day during the siege, Santa Anna had simply worn the
Alamo garrison out both physically and mentally by the nearly two-week siege, sapping their spirit and fighting resolve in the process. Therefore, they had been asleep at the exact moment when they should have been ready for action. And the deadly Long Rifles, now stacked or lying useless beside their owners, were silent as the Mexicans set up their ladders and began to scale the north wall.
To negate such an assault, Colonel Travis or Bowie should have developed a sensible defensive plan in which half of the garrison slept while the other half manned the defenses. The failure to develop such a rotating defensive plan to counter a surprise attack, especially at night, doomed any chance for effective resistance. Or they could have emulated Napoleonic troops who were not allowed to take off equipment or even clothes to sleep when in the enemy’s presence and expecting an attack. But Travis was inexperienced in the art of war, and Bowie lacked knowledge in conventional warfare.
Clearly, such negligence was a fatal mistake that would ensure weak, almost token, resistance in defending the Alamo’s lengthy perimeter. Based on racial and cultural stereotypes, this situation had in part resulted from the average psychology of the Alamo defenders, who underestimated the intelligence and military skill of their opponents, from Santa Anna down to the lowest soldado private. Indeed, as late as February 12 and barely ten days before Santa Anna’s arrival outside San Antonio, Travis had assured Governor Smith “that with 200 men I believe this place can be maintained.” From beginning to end, garrison members never believed that the Mexicans would be so shrewd or tactically innovative as to do anything so enterprising as to attack in the darkness and catch them by surprise. After all, not even Indian warriors attacked Anglo-Celtic settlers at night or fought in blackness. Negative racial stereotypes about the Mexican character lulled the defenders, especially the leadership, into a state of lax complacency.
Exodus From the Alamo: The Anatomy of the Last Stand Myth Page 29