Alamo

The Battle of the Alamo

text & layout by

Liam Greenamyre

O nly a small group of the Alamo’s defenders remained.

Waves of Mexican soldiers had driven them back from the compound walls, through the cattle pen and horse stables, and finally to the Alamo chapel, where they had barricaded themselves in. As battering rams and the fort’s own eighteen-pounder cannon pounded the doors of the chapel, the Texans fired desperately through holes cut in the walls.

These men already knew their fate.

They had known this would be the outcome days before, as the siege of San Antonio de Béxar began, and as it dawned on the men that reinforcements would not be coming.

Across the fortress, James Bowie lay propped up in bed, stricken with pneumonia, waiting with knife and pistol drawn for the assault he knew would enter his room any minute. Eleven men drew their bayonets as a cannon blast finally toppled the doors of the chapel, and the room flooded with Mexican soldiers.

“Colonel Neill and myself have come to the solemn resolution that we will rather die in these ditches than give it up to the enemy.”

- Col. James Bowie

S everal months earlier, the garrison at the Alamo in

San Antonio de Béxar lay quiet. The compound was a mission turned into a makeshift fortress, occupied by a garrison of no more than a hundred men. It had been designed to withstand attack from native tribes, not from an army of thousands, bearing muskets and artillery.

The Mexican army had been driven from the soon-tobe-declared Republic of Texas, but general Santa Anna, the self-declared ‘Napoleon of the West,’ had begun to assemble an enormous force of men to retake the territory. Although most of the troops had been forced into conscription without training, they were well equipped and vastly outnumbered the disorganized Texan army.

The terms of this conflict had quickly become violent and vindictive. The war had degenerated into a brutal hand-to-hand conflict, without quarter, and with certain death following surrender. By early 1836, it had become obvious that a siege was approaching. The Alamo’s commander, Colonel James C. Neill, approached Sam Houston of the Texas provisional government, to request reinforcements and supplies.

Houston sent James Bowie and thirty men not to help defend, but to remove the artillery and dismantle the complex. Yet Colonel Neill made a plea to Bowie, insisting that the fort was of critical strategic importance, and that without it Texas would be indefensible. Bowie was soon convinced, and wrote back, “Colonel Neill and myself have come to the solemn resolution that we will rather die in these ditches than give it up to the enemy.”

The interior of the Alamo, where the Texan soldiers made their last stand.

Neill left to gather reinforcements and supplies, leaving Colonel William B. Travis in command, and several small groups of reinforcements arrived including Davy Crockett. Crockett was a famous Tennessee frontiersman, a fighter of Indians, and an elected member of Congress. He always wore his trademark coonskin hat, and carried his rifle “Betsy” with him wherever he met, even within the Capitol building. During his reelection campaign, he vowed that, if defeated, he would take up the cause of the Texans. Having lost the election, Crockett made good on that promise and joined the small band of Texans sworn to defend the Alamo. Crockett was offered a role as commander of the fort, but he declined, declaring, “I am among you to live or die; I have come to your country to identify myself with your interests, and the only honor I desire is that of assisting to defend, as a fighter in the ranks, the liberties of my fellow citizens and the freedom of this beautiful country.”

From the colonial era, the area known today as Texas was governed by the Spanish, who were the first to construct missions and civilian settlements. Attacks from hostile Comanche tribes, the harsh landscape, and the area’s distance from other Spanish settlements made it one of Spain’s least populated colonies.

To help prevent Indian attacks, Mexican Texas encouraged immigration, granting large plots of land to those who could recruit Antonio López de Santa Anna, Mexico’s President and General of its army.

Right: Tennessee frontiersman and U.S. Congressman Davy Crockett.

settlers from the United States, Europe, and Mexican interior. The majority of the immigrants ended up coming from the United States, and made little attempt to assimilate into Mexican culture. That, combined with repeated American attempts to purchase the territory, left the central government leery of Texas.

When Santa Anna assumed power, he shifted the country away from federalism, which had allowed the Texans a comfortable degree of self-governance, and towards a dictatorship. The Texan people could not abide their loss of freedom; Sam Houston, on behalf of Texas’s government, wrote, “The time has arrived when the revolutions in the interior of Mexico have resulted in the creation of a dictator, and Texas is compelled to assume an attitude defensive of her rights and the lives and property of her citizens. War is our only alternative.”

First contact with the Mexican Army came in the fall of 1835, and the Texans had soon driven them out of the entire province. But Santa Anna quickly gathered an enormous force of fighting men, and began to plot his counterattack.

“I am among you to live or die... the only honor I desire is that of assisting to defend, as a fighter in the ranks, the liberties of my fellow citizens and the freedom of this beautiful country.”

- Davy Crockett

A courier was sent to find reinforcements, but nobody at the Alamo would survive to find his return. By late afternoon, there were fifteen hundred Mexican troops in Béxar.

B y early morning February 21, 1836, the Mexican

President-General and his men had reached the banks of the Medina River, twenty-five miles from the Alamo.

Residents began to flee the town, and Colonel Travis stationed a soldier in the San Fernando church bell tower, the highest location in town.

Several hours later, the soldier reported seeing Mexican troops a mile and a half outside of town. The commander, seeking to validate this report, sent two trusted couriers to confirm. They quickly found an army drawn up against which the fortress would be powerless. The men could not retreat, and did not have the horses to flee.

A courier was sent to find reinforcements, but nobody at the Alamo would survive to find his return. By late afternoon, there were fifteen hundred Mexican troops in Béxar.

Santa Anna raised a blood red flag, signifying no quarter and no surrender. Colonel Travis responded by firing the Alamo’s largest cannon, and the siege was on.

For nearly two weeks, the besieged Texan soldiers remained stationed in the Alamo, returning cannon fire and waiting for the final assault. A few skirmishes occurred outside the Alamo walls, but mostly the men on either side bided their time. It was then that Colonel William Travis wrote his now famous letter, “To the People of Texas & All Americans in the World”: Colonel William B. Travis’s “To the People of Texas & All Americans in the World.”

Fellow citizens & compatriots— I am besieged, by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna—I have sustained a continual Bombardment & cannonade for 24 hours & have not lost a man. The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken—I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, & our flag still waves proudly from the walls. I shall never surrender or retreat. Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism & everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid, with all dispatch—The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily & will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country—Victory or Death.

William Barret Travis

According to legend on March 5, Travis gathered his men and laid out what they all knew to be true— the final assault was imminent, and victory could not be hoped for. He drew a line in the sand and asked those willing to die for the Texan cause to cross and stand beside him. The men who crossed agreed to surrender only to death, never to the enemy.

Texan soldiers shoot from the Alamo walls at columns of advancing Mexican soldiers.

Right: A floor plan of the Alamo.

The last texans remaining were Crockett and his men, holed up inside the chapel. Yet they too would soon fall to the overwhelming force of the Mexican army.

T hat night, the Mexican

artillery stopped for the first time in weeks. Many exhausted Texan soldiers fell into their first uninterrupted sleep since the siege began. Meanwhile, under the cover of a moonless night, Santa Anna’s men began to assemble outside the fortress walls.

Just as the sun rose, cries of “¡Viva Santa Anna!” and the sound of buglers awoke the sleeping Texans. Within seconds, musket and artillery fire filled the air. Thousands of Mexican soldiers stormed the Alamo walls, laying ladder after ladder even as the Texans beat them back. The Mexicans were disorganized and fearful—their columns veered and mixed into one another, and many Mexican soldiers killed one another in the frenzy. Most of the Texans were trained soldiers and riflemen with fearful accuracy. For a while, it seemed as if the Texan soldiers might repulse Santa Anna’s attack. Yet the sheer number of Mexican troops allowed them to push forward against the walls.

General Juan Amador was the first to scale the fort’s twelve-foot barriers, using no ladder but his hands and feet on the rugged fortification. He penetrated the compound, slipped along the north wall, and opened a small gate. Mexican soldiers flooded into the Alamo plaza.

The Texans fell back and into the barracks and chapel. Those who couldn’t make it in time fled and headed west for the San Antonio River, only to be cut down by Mexican cavalry. Another group fled east, across the open prairie. They managed to turn around a small cannon and open fire on the advancing horsemen, but they too were felled on the desert sands. The last Texans remaining were Crockett and his men, holed up inside the chapel. Yet they too would soon fall to the overwhelming force of the Mexican army.

O nly one man escaped the Alamo to tell the story. Word

spread quickly not only of the cruelty of Santa Anna’s forces, but also the extraordinary bravery and heroism of the Texan soldiers. Although Santa Anna’s troops still outnumbered the entire Texan army nearly six to one, news of the Alamo’s last stand caused thousands to flock to the Texan cause. “Had Santa Anna treated the vanquished with moderation and generosity, it would have been difficult if not impossible to awaken that general sympathy for the people of Texas which now impels so many adventurous and ardent spirits to throng to the aid of their brethren,” wrote the New York Post.

The following month, near the Lynchburg Ferry, Texan forces launched a surprise attack on Santa Anna’s camp in the Battle of San Jacinto. Yelling “Remember the Alamo!” for the first time, the Texan soldiers quickly routed the off-guard Mexican army. Texan troops even managed to capture the dictator himself, and forced Santa Anna to order his men out of Texas, ending Mexican control of the province. While in captivity, Santa Anna declared, “That man may consider himself born to no common destiny who has conquered the Napoleon of the West. And now it remains for him to be generous to the vanquished.” To this, Sam Houston replied, “You should have remembered that at the Alamo.”

The door of the Sacristy, where Davy Crockett and the troops surrounding him finally fell.