Exodus From the Alamo: The Anatomy of the Last Stand Myth (43 page)

In addition, the overall lack of resistance very likely could also be attributed to not only damp ammunition from winter conditions, but also because the defenders used the vastly inferior Mexican reserves of powder left behind by Cós’ troops, who took the best Mexican powder with them, thanks to Cós’ covert directive to circumvent the capitulation agreement. As if that was not bad enough, Matamoros Expedition members, acting on Johnson’s and Grant’s “arbitrary measures,” had later taken most of the best powder for themselves, the fine-grained, double DuPont Powder from the Brandywine Powder Mills, which was far superior to the coarse Mexican power. After all, on March 3, Travis had requested black powder from the government, citing only ten kegs remaining. If the defenders attempted to use the powder from the paper cartridges of the thousands of rounds left behind by Cós, they then very likely discovered that it was “damaged” and “useless” at this critical moment. Poor quality Mexican powder was so impotent that Texians had earlier in the revolution discovered that they were entirely safe “from any injury by their guns.” Therefore, the Alamo’s defenders had been left with the worst powder, after the best had been taken not only by paroled Mexican troops but also Matamoros Expedition members, leaving them ill-prepared to meet the attackers.
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Ironically, after the north wall was overrun by the tide of Dúque’s, Cós, and Romero’s attackers, the second penetration of Mexican troops surging into the compound came at what was considered one of its strongest points, the southwest corner. Traditional historians have overlooked the importance of the role of the well-trained cazadores of Colonel Morales’ column, viewing this attack as merely a feint because it struck the Alamo’s south side and failed in its central objective of overrunning the main gate. In fact, this was not a diversion or feint, because Morales and his soldados had been given a key assignment—to capture the very entrance to the Alamo. And Colonel Morales’ column consisted of elite troops. Indeed, in a rare compliment from a seasoned cavalryman, Sergeant Loranca, bestowed an honorary name upon the men of the San Luís Potosí Battalion. He described them as the “Firmas,” because of their reliability and combat prowess, almost a crack Grenadier Guard.

In the end, Santa Anna’s faith in these troops was rewarded not at the main gate, as he had planned, but at one of the Alamo’s strongest defensive points. This position at the compound’s southwest corner was guarded by the garrison’s largest cannon, the 18-pounder. It had been set in place to fire over the wall because no embrasures existed at this wood and earthen firing platform accessed by a lengthy ramp. Morales understood the advantages of overrunning the Alamo’s southwest corner and the garrison’s largest artillery piece: a guarantee to further unhinge the belated, floundering defensive effort.

Here, at the Alamo’s southwest corner, resistance was almost nonexistent because of tactical developments elsewhere, especially the overrunning of the north wall. By this time, most of the artillerymen and defending infantry in this sector had evidently retired back toward the Long Barracks and the church area, after ascertaining that the north wall had been overwhelmed and Mexicans were now charging through the plaza to gain their rear. Even if the gunners had remained in position, the 18-pounder was faced in the wrong direction, west toward San Antonio and not toward Morales’ attackers.

Morales’ men had earlier eased within short striking distance of the southwest corner, after having moved west along the protective cover of the irrigation ditch to take cover behind the stone house, out-flanking this elevated defensive position and the Alamo’s largest cannon from the south. And in the darkness, the mere handful of artillerymen at the 18– pounder, if yet manned, very likely never saw Morales’ small column shifting west and moving along the irrigation ditch, taking cover behind the house, and eventually targeting the southwest corner’s flank until it was too late. Such a stealthy approach in the dark doomed this artillery position. To justify the epic resistance effort of the mythical Alamo, some historians have speculated that defenders at the south and west walls left their positions to bolster the north wall’s defense, but this was almost certainly not the case, because that sector, known for lack of good firing positions for riflemen, had already been overrun in short order. Being too little and too late, any reinforcements rushing to the north wall would have been subsumed into the oncoming mass of soldados. Instead, these defenders headed toward the Long Barracks and church rather than waste their lives defending another wall that could not be held.
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Taking the initiative on their own, like so many other attackers this early morning and in a “daring move,” in General Filisola’s words, Colonel Morales’ men emerged from around the stone house, only a short distance from the fort’s southwest corner. They then advanced straight north against the Alamo. Encouraged by the lack of resistance along the south wall, Colonel Morales capitalized on his bold move. These light troops scaled the wall from both the south and west, overrunning the elevated artillery position with a cheer that could be heard above the crackling gunfire.

Leading the way and inspiring his troops onward, Colonel Miñon, second in command of Morales’ column, was the first man to jump inside this elevated strongpoint, after climbing the shaky ladder planted against the stone wall. Resplendent in a fine uniform like Santa Anna’s other high-ranking officers, Miñon was not hit by a bullet, musket-butt, or Bowie knife, because resistance was almost totally lacking by this time. Incredibly, this key bastion was all but undefended at the critical moment.

Surprised by the absence of defenders, Miñon, a veteran officer who knew how to lead men in combat, described with pride—as he could not see what was transpiring at the north wall—how “I managed to achieve, along with his force, that it was the first one that was successful in victory inside of the enemy perimeter.” The example of a full ranking colonel having been the first inside the compound in this key sector indicated one secret of Santa Anna’s success on this day: reliable, hardened high-ranking officers who led the way rather than commanding from the rear. The same was true in the performance of high-ranking officers in the attack on the north wall.

As directed by Morales and Miñon, these victors of the San Luis Potosi Battalion at the compound’s southwest corner took firing positions at high points along the perimeter. Perhaps they planted the Mexican tricolor, with its majestic golden eagle perched atop a cactus with a snake in its beak, beside the captured 18-pounder, symbolizing their success. Then, well-trained for this close-range business of killing even in the dark, these reliable light troops, or chasseurs, blasted away from elevated perches atop the walls and the cannon’s firing platform. What relatively few surviving defenders who had been at or near the compound’s southwest corner now headed east across the plaza and toward the Long Barracks and church.
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New Englander Colonel R.L. Crompton was the only Anglo who witnessed what had happened at the Alamo’s southwest corner. He was surprised to see how easily “the Mexicans effected a lodgment on an undefended part of the wall.”
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He viewed the action, illuminated by flashes of gunfire, from the vantage point of the window of a mud-and-thatch jacale (Tejano house) in Pueblo de Valero, which was located south of the Alamo, just outside the main gate and along the Gonzáles Road just west of the Alameda. From here, this young man from Massachusetts could easily view events swirling around the Alamo’s southwest corner. Crompton was a solitary volunteer reinforcement who had never reached the Alamo. In riding down the Gonzáles Road in pitch blackness previous to March 5, he had been hit by gunfire from Sesma’s cavalrymen, who guarded the road to keep reinforcements from entering the fort. Fortunately, as a veteran of San Antonio’s capture in December 1835, he knew of a Tejano friend who gave him shelter at his home in Pueblo de Valero.
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Such evidence has revealed that resistance might have been nonexistent because the 18-pounder gunners might have never even reached their positions. Quite likely, with the artillery barracks on the compound’s opposite side, these artillerymen might have not been awakened in time, or had been cut-off from reaching the southwest corner artillery platform by Mexican troops swarming from the north wall. Now, after seizing the 18-pounder and the compound’s southwest corner, Colonel Morales’ men, from good firing positions atop the walls and rooftops, poured a hot fire from their elevated perches, blasting down into the dark plaza at the whiteness—face and necks—of Travis’ men. Some time later, San Luís Potosí Battalion soldados would advance to take possession of the main gate and the lunette from the rear.
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In overall tactical terms, the relatively easy overrunning of the compound’s southwest corner also partly explains why the Mexican advance once inside the walls was so swift and overpowering, meeting light resistance. Nothing could now stop the attacker’s momentum, especially when facing only a relative handful of dazed, half-asleep defenders, who hardly knew what had hit them. But with large numbers of Mexicans inside the Alamo’s walls and descending into the plaza from the north, some dazed Anglo-Celts elected not to flee into the Long Barracks, but instead retired back toward the main gate, which was free from attack by Colonel Morales’ soldiers, who had concentrated at the Alamo’s southwest corner. In the darkened tumult, neither Captain Baugh nor any other officer could stop or fully comprehend the fastmoving tactical events now swirling out of control around them.
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Even worse, the defenders’ position along the southern perimeter— at the lunette guarding the main gate, along the palisade, and along the rooftops—was destined to be compromised from behind, after Colonel Morales’ chasseur troops overran the Alamo’s southwest corner. Ironically, the most formidable weapon in the Alamo’s artillery arsenal, already facing the wrong direction and far too heavy to turn, might well have not fired a single shot. As a partial testament to the overall feeble defensive effort was the fact that Santa Anna’s smallest attack column— the San Luís Potosí Battalion chasseurs—had made a significant tactical gain.

Consequently, when Morales’ troops overwhelmed the Alamo’s vulnerable southwest corner, they also flanked the defenders along the west wall on the left. This tactical development resulted in some of the remaining west wall defenders fleeing back into the plaza, heading north for the Long Barracks’ relative safety, or south toward the palisade’s sally port, hoping to escape the deathtrap. Some of these retiring soldiers were almost certainly wiped out in the plaza by Mexicans, who had poured over the north wall on the left. Overall, and especially only with a relative handful of men, Colonel Morales’ success was impressive, and small wonder that he later described this struggle as “the glorious battle of the Alamo.”
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Overwhelmed by debilitating “combat shock,” no organized lines of defense, concentrated volleys, or standing fire took place among the stunned Anglo-Celts, who had been so thoroughly worn down both physically, emotionally, and psychologically by the nearly two-week siege, the lack of sleep, and their hopeless plight. Especially with the Mexicans pouring over the walls, the flight or fight impulse had been triggered among the remaining survivors. And now flight was not only instantaneous but also automatic—an unthinking, natural response to survive—under dire circumstances. A panic triggered by the surprise attack in darkness became more widespread, enhanced by the sights and sounds of vengeful soldados giving no quarter. All the while, the “screams of the crazy, exultant Mexicans increased every moment [with] the yell [compared to] the yell of a mountain panther or lynx.”

By this time, almost every surviving defender had bolted away from the north wall, west wall, and southwest corner, heading either toward the south wall and church or the Long Barracks. De la Pena described the rout of the stunned band of Anglo-Celts, caught in the open in the pitch-blackness of the nearly three acres of the open plaza, writing how the “terrified defenders withdrew at once into quarters placed to the right and to the left of the small area that constituted their second line of defense. . . . Not all of them took refuge, for some remained in the open, looking at us before firing, as if dumbfounded at our daring.”
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What was transpiring in the plaza and buildings little resembled a battle. With so many Mexicans now swarming through the plaza with wild shouts of victory and revenge, the Anglo-Celtic defenders were so easily overwhelmed that the contest now began to resemble more of a massacre than anything else. Quite naturally among the survivors, escape from such a no-win situation became paramount. Relatively few defenders, therefore, now retired into the relative safety of the Long Barracks, as traditional accounts have claimed. One of the great Alamo myths was that after the north wall was overrun, the survivors acted upon prearranged plans that if the Mexicans came over the walls, they would retire to make a last stand in the Long Barracks.

Some historians have even described the Long Barracks, or the old convent building, as the Alamo’s previously designated “second” defensive line; but almost certainly neither Travis nor any other officer gave such a command in the confusion. After all, such a decision to retire into the Long Barracks’ confines was not a tactical solution but suicide. At best, shelter in the two-story building could provide a few more moments of life; meantime, entire sectors of the perimeter remained attack-free at this time, offering inviting avenues of escape. The Alamo’s south side—especially the palisade and the main gate—had been clear since Morales’ men had veered toward the compound’s southwest corner. Therefore, both the main gate and the low palisade of wooden stakes, just a short distance from the Long Barracks, now became ideal escape routes.

Consequently, only a relatively handful of men took refuge in the Long Barracks—including those who never left it that morning in the first place. In part because of the confusion, smoke of battle, and darkness, those who entered the Long Barracks, never to leave it, evidently failed to see so many of the surviving garrison members now making for the Alamo’s opposite side, the south, to escape from the heavier Mexican attack pouring across the plaza from the north wall. Very likely these soldiers did not know that so many comrades were now fleeing past them in the blackness, heading toward the palisade.