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REMEMBERING THE ALAMO: PART THREE (END)

In History on March 8, 2013 at 12:03 am

On the night before the final Mexican assault, one man escaped the Alamo to testify to the defenders’ courage.

Or so goes the most famous story of the 13-day siege.

He was Louis Rose, a veteran of the Napoleonic wars and the dreadful 1812 retreat from Moscow.  Unwilling to die in a hopeless battle, he slipped over a wall and sneaked through Mexican siege lines.

At Grimes County, he found shelter at the homestead of Abraham and Mary Ann Zuber.

Their son, William, later claimed that his parents told him of Rose’s visit–and his story of Travis’ “line in the sand” speech.  In 1873, he published the tale in the Texas Almanac.

But many historians believe it is a fabrication.  The story comes to us third-hand–from Rose to the Zubers to their son.  And it was published 37 years after the Alamo fell.

After a 12-day siege, Santa Anna decided to overwhelm the Alamo.

Some of his officers objected.  They wanted to wait for bigger siege cannon to arrive–to knock down the Alamo’s three-feet-thick adobe walls.  Without shelter, the defenders would be forced to surrender.

But Santa Anna insisted on an all-out assault: “Without blood and tears, there is no glory.”

The first assault came at about 5 a.m. on March 6, 1836.

The fort’s riflemen–aided by 14 cannons–repulsed it.  And the second assault as well.

But the third assault proved unstoppable.

The Alamo covered three acres, and held at most 250 defenders–against 2,000 Mexican soldiers.  When the Mexicans reached the fort, they mounted scaling ladders and poured over the walls.

Travis was one of the first defenders to fall–shot through the forehead after firing a shotgun into the Mexican soldiery below.

Death of William Barrett Travis (waving sword)

Mexicans broke into the room where the ailing Bowie lay. In Three Roads to the Alamo, historian William C. Davis writes that Bowie may have been unconscious or delirious.  Mistaking him for a coward, the soldiers bayoneted him and blew out his brains.

But some accounts claim that Bowie died fighting–shooting two Mexicans with pistols, then plunging his famous knife into a third before being bayoneted.  Nearly every Alamo movie depicts Bowie’s death this way.

Jim Bowie’s death

As the Mexicans poured into the fort, at least 60 Texans tried to escape over the walls into the surrounding prairie.  But they were quickly dispatched by lance-bearing Mexican calvary.

The death of David Crockett remains highly controversial.

Baby boomers usually opt for the Walt Disney version: Davy swinging Old Betsey as Mexicans surround him.  Almost every Alamo movie depicts him fighting to the death.

David Crockett’s death

But Mexican Colonel Jose Enrique de la Pena claimed Crockett was one of seven Texans who surrendered or were captured and brought before Santa Anna after the battle.  Santa Anna ordered their immediate execution, and they were hacked to death with sabers.

Only the 2004 remake of The Alamo has dared to depict this version.

Although this version is now accepted by most historians, some still believe the de la Pena diary from which it comes is a forgery.

An hour after the battle erupted, it was over.

That afternoon, Santa Anna ordered the bodies of the slain defenders stacked and burned in three pyres.

Contrary to popular belief, some of the garrison survived:

  • Joe, a black slave who had belonged to William B. Travis, the Alamo’s commander;
  • Susannah Dickinson, the wife of a lieutenant killed in the Alamo, and her baby, Angelina;
  • Several Mexican women and their children.

Also contrary to legend, the bravery of the Alamo defenders did not buy time for Texas to raise an army against Santa Anna. This didn’t happen until after the battle.

But their sacrifice proved crucial in securing Texas’ independence:

  • The Alamo’s destruction warned those Texans who had not supported the revolution that they had no choice: They must win, die or flee their homes to the safety of the United States.
  • It stirred increasing numbers of Americans to enter Texas and enlist in Sam Houston’s growing army.
  • Santa Anna’s army was greatly weakened, losing 600 killed and wounded–a casualty rate of 33%.
  • The nearly two-week siege bought time for the Texas convention to meet at Washington-on-the-Brazos and declare independence from Mexico.

On April 21, 1836, Santa Anna made a crucial mistake: During his army’s afternoon siesta, he failed to post sentries around his camp. That afternoon, Sam Houston’s 900-man army struck the 1,400-man Mexican force at San Jacinto.

In 18 minutes, the Texans–shouting “Remember the Alamo!”–killed about 700 Mexican soldiers and wounded 200 others.  The next day, a Texas patrol captured Santa Anna.

Resisting angry demands to hang the Mexican dictator, Houston forced Santa Anna to surrender control of Texas in return for his life.

The victory at San Jacinto won the independence of Texas.  But the 13-day siege and fall of the Alamo remains the most famous and celebrated part of that conflict.

Like Thermopylae, the battle of the Alamo proved both a defeat–and a victory.

REMEMBERING THE ALAMO: PART TWO (OF THREE)

In History on March 7, 2013 at 12:00 am

Americans “remember the Alamo”–but usually for the wrong reasons.

Some historians believe the battle should have never been fought. The Alamo was not Thermopylae–a narrow mountain pass blocking the Persian march into ancient Greece.  Santa Anna could have simply bypassed it.

In fact, several of Santa Anna’s generals urged the Mexican dictator to do just that–leave a small guard to hold down the fort’s defenders and wipe out the undefended, widely-separated Texas settlements.

But pride held Santa Anna fast to the Alamo.  His brother-in-law, General Perfecto de Cos, had been forced to surrender the old mission to revolting Texans in December, 1835.  Santa Anna meant to redeem the fort–and his family honor–by force.

In almost every movie made about the Alamo, its two co-commanders, James Bowie and William Barret Travis, are portrayed as on the verge of all-out war–with each other.

James Bowie

William B. Travis

In John Wayn’e heavily fictionalized 1960 film, The Alamo, Bowie and Travis agree to fight a duel as soon as they’ve whipped the Mexicans besieging them.

In fact, the frictions between the two lasted only a short while.  Just before the siege, some of Bowie’s volunteers–a far larger group than the regular soldiers commanded by Travis–got drunk.  Travis ordered them jailed–and Bowie ordered his men to release them. Bowie then went on a roaring drunk.

The next day, a sober Bowie apologized to Travis and agreed they should share command.  This proved a wise decision, for just as the siege started, Bowie was felled by worsening illness–typhoid-pneumonia or tuberculosis.

In Wayne’s film, Bowie repeatedly leaves the Alamo to ambush unsuspecting Mexicans.  In reality, he stayed bed-ridden and lay close to death throughout the 13-day siege.

Most people believe the Texans intended to make a suicidal stand. Not true.  From the first day of the siege–February 23–almost to the last–March 6, 1836–messengers rode out of the Alamo seeking help.

The defenders believed that if they could cram enough men into the three-acre former mission, they could hold Santa Anna at bay.

It’s widely believed that no reinforcements reached the Alamo.  Not so.

On March 1, thirty-two men from Gonzalez–the only ones to answer Travis’ call–sneaked through the Mexican lines to enter the Alamo.

Meanwhile, the largest Texan force lay at Fort Defiance in Goliad, 85 miles away.  This consisted of 500 men commanded by James Walker Fannin, a West Point dropout.

Fannin was better-suited for the role of Hamlet than military commander. Upon receiving a plea of help from Travis, he set out in a half-hearted attempt to reach the mission.  But when a supply wagon broke down, he returned to Fort Defiance and sat out the rest of the siege.

After the Alamo fell, Fannin dithered in Fort Defiance until it was too late.  Fleeing before the advancing Mexicans, his army was encircled on the open prairie and forced to surrender.  On March 27, 1836, Fannin’s entire force was massacred.

After it became obvious that the Alamo would not be sufficiently reinforced, the Texans still refused to evacuate.  “I’ll die before I run” might have been their official motto.

The Alamo garrison was fully prepared to confront the Mexican army.  False.

When the Mexicans suddenly arrived in San Antonio on the morning of February 23, 1836, they caught the Texans completely by surprise. The previous night, they had been celebrating the birthday of George Washington.

The Texans rushed headlong into the Alamo, hauling all the supplies they could hastily scrounge.

Santa Anna sent a courier under a flag of truce to the Alamo, demanding unconditional surrender.  In effect, the Texans were being given the choice of later execution.

Travis replied with a shot from the fort’s biggest cannon, the 18-pounder.

Santa Anna ordered the hoisting of a blood-red flag and the opening of an artillery salvo.  The siege of the Alamo was on.

Many Americans believe that San Houston, who was elected general of the non-existent army of Texas, desperately tried to relieve the siege. Not so.

Sam Houston

At Washington-on-the-Brazos, 150 miles east of San Antonio, the Texans convened a convention to form a new government. When news reached the delegates that Travis desperately needed reinforcements, many of them wanted to rush to his defense.

But Houston and others declared they must first declare Texas’ independence.  On March 2, 1836, they did just that.  Houston spent a good deal of the time drunk.

Did Travis draw a line?

Easily the most famous Alamo story is that of “the line in the sand.” On the night of March 5–just prior to the final assault–there was a lull in the near-constant Mexican bombardment.

Travis assembled his men and gave them a choice: They could surrender and hope that Santa Anna would be merciful. They could try to escape. Or they could stay and fight.

With his sword, Travis drew a line in the dirt and invited those who would stay to cross over to him. The entire garrison did–except for two men.

One of these was bed-ridden James Bowie. He asked that his his sick-bed be carried over to Travis.

The other was a veteran of the Napoleonic wars–Louis Rose.

REMEMBERING THE ALAMO: PART ONE (OF THREE)

In History, Social commentary on March 6, 2013 at 12:36 am

John Wayne fought and died there–cinematically.

So did Richard Widmark, Laurence Harvey, Fess Parker, Sterling Hayden, Jason Patrick, Billy Bob Thornton and Patrick Wilson.

Today–March 6, 2013–marks the 177th anniversary of the fall of the Alamo, a crumbling former Spanish mission in the heart of San Antonio, Texas.

The combatants: 180 to 250 Texans (or “Texians,” as many of them preferred to be called) vs. 2,000 Mexican soldiers.

On the Texan side three names predominate: David Crockett, James Bowie and William Barret Travis. “The Holy Trinity,” as some historians ironically refer to them.

Crockett, at 49, was the most famous man in the Alamo. He had been a bear hunter, Indian fighter and Congressman. Rare among the men of his time, he sympathized with the Indian tribes he had helped subdue in the War of 1812.

He believed Congress should honor the treaties made with the former hostiles and opposed President Andrew Jackson’s effort to move the tribes further West.

Largely because of this, his constituents turned him out of office in November, 1835. He told them they could go to hell; he would go to Texas.

James Bowie, at 40, had been a slave trader with pirate Jean Lafitte and a land swindler. His greatest claim to fame lay in his fame as a knife-fighter.

This grew out of his participating in an 1827 duel on a sandbar in Natchez, Mississippi. Bowie was acting as a second to one of the duelists who had arranged the event.

After the two duelists exchanged pistol shots without injury, they called it a draw. But those who had come as their seconds had scores to settle among themselves–and decided to do so. A bloody melee erupted.

Bowie was shot in the hip and then impaled on a sword cane wielded by Major Norris Wright, a longtime enemy. Drawing a large butcher knife he wore at his belt, he gutted Wright, who died instantly.

The brawl became famous as the Sandbar Fight, and cemented Bowie’s reputation across the South as a deadly knife fighter.

William Barret Travis had been an attorney and militia member. Burdened by debts and pursued by creditors, he fled Alabama in 1831 to start over in Texas. Behind him he left a wife, son, and unborn daughter.

From the first, Travis burned to free Texas from Mexico and see it become a part of the United States.

In January, 1836, he was sent by the American provisional governor of Texas to San Antonio, to fortify the Alamo. He arrived there with a small party of regular soldiers and the title of lieutenant colonel in the state militia.

On the Mexican side, only one name matters: Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, president (i.e., absolute dictator) of Mexico. After backing first one general and would-be “president” after another, Santa Anna maneuvered himself into the office in 1833.

Texas was then legally a part of Mexico. Stephen F. Austin, “the father of Texas,” had received a grant from Spain–which ruled Mexico until 1821–to bring in 300 American families to settle there. The Spaniards wanted to establish a buffer between themselves and warring Indian tribes like the Comanches.

These immigrations continued after Mexico threw off Spanish rule and obtained its independence.

But as Americans kept flooding into Texas, the character of its population changed, alarming its Mexican rulers.

The new arrivals did not see themselves as Mexican citizens but as transplanted Americans. They were largely Protestant, as opposed to the Catholic Mexicans. And many of them not only owned slaves but demanded the expansion of slavery–a practice illegal under Mexican law.

In October, 1835, fighting erupted between settlers and Mexican soldiers. In November, Mexican forces took shelter in the Alamo, which had been built in 1718 as a mission to convert Indians to Christianity. Since then it had been used as a fort–by Spanish and then Mexican troops.

Texans lay siege to the Alamo from October 16 to December 10, 1835. With his men exhausted, and facing certain defeat, General Perfecto de Cos, Santa Anna’s brother-in-law, surrendered. He gave his word to leave Texas and never take up arms again against its settlers.

Texans rejoiced. They believed they had won their “war” against Mexico.

But others knew better. One was Bowie. Another was Sam Houston, a former Indian fighter, Congressman and protégé of Andrew Jackson.

Still another was Santa Anna, who styled himself “The Napoleon of the West.”  In January, 1836, he set out from Mexico City at the head of an army totaling about 7,000.

He planned the 18th century version of a blitzkrieg, intending to arrive in Texas and take its “rebellious foreigners” by surprise.

His forced march proved costly in lives, but met his objective. He arrived in San Aotonio with several hundred soldiers on February 23, 1836.

The siege of the Alamo–the most famous event in Texas history–was about to begin.

DAVY CROCKETT: “REMEMBER THE 47%!”

In History, Politics, Social commentary on November 19, 2012 at 9:38 am

It’s a scene you couldn’t imagine seeing in John Wayne’s 1960 film, “The Alamo.”  Especially with The Duke playing a hard-drinking, two-fisted Davy Crockett.

John Wayne as Davy Crockett

But it occurs in the novel, Crockett of Tennessee, by Cameron Judd.  And it is no less affecting for its being–so far as we know–entirely fictional.

It’s the last night of life for the Alamo garrison–the night before the 2,000 men of the Mexican Army hurl themselves at the former mission and slaughter its 200 Texian defenders.

The fort’s commander, William Barret Travis, has drawn his “line in the sand” and invited the garrison to choose: To surrender, to try to escape, or to stay and fight to the death.

And the garrison–except for one man–chooses to stay and fight.  That man is Louis “Moses” Rose, a Frenchman who has served in Napoleon’s Grande Armee and survived the frightful retreat from Moscow.

He vaults a low wall of the improvised fort, flees into the moonless desert, and eventually makes his way to the home of a family who give him shelter.

But for the garrison, immortality lies only hours away.  Or does it?

An hour after deciding to stand and die in the Alamo, wrapped in the dark of night, Crockett is seized with paralyzing fear.

“We’re going to die here,” he chokes out to his longtime friend, Persius Tarr.  “You understand that, Persius?  We’re going to die!”

“I know, Davy.  But there ain’t no news in that,” says Tarr.  “We’re born to die.  Every one of us.  Only difference between us and most everybody else is we know when and where it’s going to be.”

“But I can’t be afraid–not me.  I’m Crockett.  I’m Canebrake Davy.  I’m half-horse, half-alligator.”

“I know you are, Davy,” says Tarr. ”So do all these men here.  That’s why you’re going to get past this.

“You’re going to put that fear behind you and walk back out there and fight like the man you are.  The fear’s come and now it’s gone.  This is our time, Davy.”

“The glory-time,” says Crockett.

“That’s right, David.  The glory-time.”

And then Tarr delivers a sentiment wholly alien to money-obsessed men like Mitt Romney and Donald Trump–who comprise the richest and most privileged 1% of today’s Americans.

“There’s men out there with their eyes on you.  You’re the only thing keeping the fear away from them.  You’re joking and grinning and fiddling-–it gives them courage they wouldn’t have had without you.

Maybe that’s why you’re here, Davy–to make the little men and the scared men into big and brave men.  You’ve always cared about the little men, Davy.  Remember who you are.

“You’re Crockett of Tennessee, and your glory-time has come.  Don’t you miss a bit of it.”

The next morning, the Mexicans assault the Alamo.  Crockett embraces his glory-time-–and becomes a legend for all-time.

David Crockett (1786-1836) lived–and died–a poor man.  But this did not prevent him from trying to better the lives of his family and fellow citizens–and even his former enemies.

During the War of 1812, he served as a scout under Andrew Jackson.  His foes were the Creek Indians, who had massacred 500 settlers at Fort Mims, Alabama–and threatened to do the same to Crockett’s neighbors in Tennessee.

As a Congressman from Tennessee, he championed the rights of poor whites.  And he opposed then-President Jackson’s efforts to force the same defeated Indians to depart the lands guaranteed them by treaty.

To Crockett, a promise was sacred–whether given by a single man or the United States Government.

And his presence during the 13-day siege of the Alamo did cheer the spirits of the vastly outnumbered defenders.

It’s a matter of historical record that he and a Scotsman named MacGregor often staged musical “duels” to see who could make the most noise.

It was MacGregor with his bagpipes against Crockett and his fiddle.

Contrast this devotion of Crockett to the rights of “the little men,” as Persius Tarr called them, with the attitude of the Republican candidate for President in 2012.

On May 17, at a fund-raiser closed to the press, Mitt Romney said:

“Well, there are 47% of the people who will vote for the president no matter what. All right? There are 47% who are with him.

“Who are dependent upon government, who believe that–that they are victims, who believe that government has a responsibility to care for them, who believe that they’re entitled to healthcare, to food, to housing, to you name it.

“But that’s–it’s an entitlement. And the government should give it to them. And they will vote for this president no matter what….

“These are people who pay no income tax. 47% of Americans pay no income taxes. So our message of low taxes doesn’t connect. And he’ll be out there talking about tax cuts for the rich. I mean that’s what they sell every….four years.”

Those who give their lives for others are rightly loved as heroes.  Those who dedicate their lives only to their wallets are rightly soon forgotten.

DAVY CROCKETT–AND THE “47%”

In History, Politics, Social commentary on October 3, 2012 at 12:01 am

It’s a scene you couldn’t imagine seeing in John Wayne’s 1960 film, “The Alamo.”  Especially with The Duke playing a hard-drinking, two-fisted Davy Crockett.

John Wayne as Davy Crockett

But it occurs in the novel, Crockett of Tennessee, by Cameron Judd.  And it is no less affecting for its being–so far as we know–entirely fictional.

It’s the last night of life for the Alamo garrison–the night before the 2,000 men of the Mexican Army hurl themselves at the former mission and slaughter its 200 Texian defenders.

The fort’s commander, William Barret Travis, has drawn his “line in the sand” and invited the garrison to choose: To surrender, to try to escape, or to stay and fight to the death.

And the garrison–except for one man–chooses to stay and fight.  That man is Louis “Moses” Rose, a Frenchman who has served in Napoleon’s Grande Armee and survived the frightful retreat from Moscow.

He vaults a low wall of the improvised fort, flees into the moonless desert, and eventually makes his way to the home of a family who give him shelter.

But for the garrison, immortality lies only hours away.  Or does it?

An hour after deciding to stand and die in the Alamo, wrapped in the dark of night, Crockett is seized with paralyzing fear.

“We’re going to die here,” he chokes out to his longtime friend, Persius Tarr.  “You understand that, Persius?  We’re going to die!”

“I know, Davy.  But there ain’t no news in that,” says Tarr.  “We’re born to die.  Every one of us.  Only difference between us and most everybody else is we know when and where it’s going to be.”

“But I can’t be afraid–not me.  I’m Crockett.  I’m Canebrake Davy.  I’m half-horse, half-alligator.”

“I know you are, Davy,” says Tarr. ”So do all these men here.  That’s why you’re going to get past this.

“You’re going to put that fear behind you and walk back out there and fight like the man you are.  The fear’s come and now it’s gone.  This is our time, Davy.”

“The glory-time,” says Crockett.

“That’s right, David.  The glory-time.”

And then Tarr delivers a sentiment wholly alien to money-obsessed men like Mitt Romney and Donald Trump–who comprise the richest and most privileged 1% of today’s Americans.

“There’s men out there with their eyes on you.  You’re the only thing keeping the fear away from them.  You’re joking and grinning and fiddling–it gives them courage they wouldn’t have had without you.

Maybe that’s why you’re here, Davy–to make the little men and the scared men into big and brave men.  You’ve always cared about the little men, Davy.  Remember who you are.

“You’re Crockett of Tennessee, and your glory-time has come.  Don’t you miss a bit of it.”

The next morning, the Mexicans assault the Alamo.  Crockett embraces his glory-time–and becomes a legend for all-time.

David Crockett (1786-1836) lived–and died–a poor man.  But this did not prevent him from trying to better the lives of his family and fellow citizens–and even his former enemies.

During the War of 1812, he served as a scout under Andrew Jackson.  His foes were the Creek Indians, who had massacred 500 settlers at Fort Mims, Alabama–and threatened to do the same to Crockett’s neighbors in Tennessee.

As a Congressman from Tennessee, he championed the rights of poor whites.  And he opposed then-President Jackson’s efforts to force the same defeated Indians to depart the lands guaranteed them by treaty.

To Crockett, a promise was sacred–whether given by a single man or the United States Government.

And his presence during the 13-day siege of the Alamo did cheer the spirits of the vastly outnumbered defenders.  It’s a matter of historical record that he and a Scotsman named MacGregor often staged musical “duels” to see who could make the most noise.

It was MacGregor with his bagpipes against Crockett and his fiddle.

Contrast this devotion of Crockett to the rights of “the little men,” as Persius Tarr called them, with the attitude of the Republican candidate for President.

On May 17, at a fund-raiser closed to the press, Mitt Romney said:

“Well, there are 47% of the people who will vote for the president no matter what. All right? There are 47% who are with him.

“Who are dependent upon government, who believe that–that they are victims, who believe that government has a responsibility to care for them, who believe that they’re entitled to healthcare, to food, to housing, to you name it.

“But that’s–it’s an entitlement. And the government should give it to them. And they will vote for this president no matter what.

“And–and–I mean the President starts off with 48%, 49%, 40–or he….starts off with a huge number. These are people who pay no income tax. 47% of Americans pay no income taxes. So our message of low taxes doesn’t connect. And he’ll be out there talking about tax cuts for the rich. I mean that’s what they sell every….four years.”

Those who give their lives for others are rightly loved as heroes.  Those who dedicate their lives only to their wallets are rightly soon forgotten.

BOMBING YOUR WAY INTO HEAVEN

In History, Humor, Politics, Social commentary on July 12, 2012 at 10:53 am

On June 6, at least two dozen Afghan civilians died in a suicide-bomb attack in Kandahar City, making this the deadliest day for Afghan civilians so far this year.

The target of that day’s attack was a small market and a hotel where Afghan security escorts for NATO supply trucks stopped between escort runs to rest and have tea.

Eyewitnesses described the death-weapon as a motorcycle with a wagon attached to it. The wagon was packed with explosives and detonated–either by remote control or the motorcycle rider.

Then, as people gathered to assist the victims, another suicide bomber on a motorcycle drove into the crowd and detonated more explosives.

A Taliban spokesman, Qari Yusuf Ahmadi, claimed responsibility for the bombing.

Originally the preferred weapon by Palestinian terrorists against Israeli civilians, suicide bombings have become the weapon of choice for Islamic “holy warriors” in Afghanistan.

But the tactic has also proven a public relations disaster for Islamic extremists.

More than 60 people died in Al-Qaeda-directed suicide bombings at American hotels in Amman, Jordan. But almost all of the victims were Jordanian civilians attending a wedding.

Other indiscriminate bombings in Iraq targeted Shia mosques and Sunnis who didn’t practice the Al Qaeda brand of Islam.

Islamics who didn’t object to the murder of “infidels” cursed Al-Qaeda for its slaughter of “the faithful.”

As a result, Osama bin Laden, in the last years of his life, despaired for the future of his organization. In October, 2007, he publicly apologized for his followers’ behavior in Iraq, attacking their “fanaticism.”

Ironically, the use of suicide bombings has declined in Israel for two major reasons.

First, the Isralies have literally walled off the West Bank population from israel by a series of huge, concrete slabs. The way the Israelis see it: Fewer Arabs = fewer suicide bombers.

Second, they have adopted the widespread use of bomb-sniffing dogs. But it is more than the keen noses of the dogs that act as a deterrant.

Within Islamic culture, dogs are seen as defiled–and defiling–creatures. Many would-be suicide bombers fear that if they set off their bomb too close to a dog, its “unclean” blood may be mingled with their own.

And thus “polluted,” they could not hope to enter Paradise and receive those promised 72 willing virgins.

Click here: Pups For Peace: Detecting Terror Before It Strikes.

If that sounds unbelievable, the following may put it into perspective.

In the classic 1956 Western, The Searchers, John Wayne plays Indian-hating scout Ethan Edwards. Early on, he and a party of Texas Rangers discover the corpse of a Comanche killed during a raid on a nearby farmhouse.

One of the Rangers–a teenager enraged by the carnage has seen–picks up a rock and bashes in the head of the dead Indian.

Wayne, sitting astride his horse, asks: “Why don’t you finish the job?” He draws his revolver and fires two shots, taking out the eyes of the dead Comanche–although the mutilation is not depicted onscreen.

”What good did that do?” the leader of the Rangers, a part-time minister, asks.

“By what you preach, none,” says Wayne/Edwards. “But what that Comanche believes–ain’t got no eyes, he can’t enter the Spirit land. Has to wander forever between the winds. You get it, Reverend.”

It’s a time-honored military truth: Know the mind of your enemy–and victory stands within your reach.

With suicide-bombing now a recognized–and widely despised–facet of Islamic culture, it’s past time to give these human time bombs their due.

And a song all their very own.

MULLAH IN THE SKY

(To be sung to the tune of “Spirit in the Sky”)

Hear the original song at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZQxH_8raCI

When I die in my suicide vest

Gonna go to the place that’s the best.

When I lay me down to die

Goin’ up to the Mullah in the Sky.

Goin’ up to the Mullah in the Sky

That’s where I’m gonna go when I die.

When I die in my suicide vest

I’m gonna go to the place that’s the best.

Prepare your bomb

You know it’s jihad.

Gotta have a friend in Allah.

So you know that when I die

Gonna blow the lousy infidels goodbye.

Gonna blow the lousy infidels goodbye

That’s what I’m gonna do when I die.

When I die in my suicide vest

I’m gonna go to my grave as a mess.

Never been a Christian

Or worse a Jew.

I’ve got a friend in Allah.

So you know that when I die

He’s gonna set up up

With those virgins in the sky.

Gonna set me up

With those virgins in the sky.

That’s what I’m gonna screw when I die.

When I die in my suicide vest

I’m gonna go to the place that’s the best.

Go to my grave as a mess.

Go to my grave as a mess.

REMEMBERING THE ALAMO – PART TWO (OF THREE)

In History on March 7, 2012 at 12:56 am

Americans “remember the Alamo”–but usually for the wrong reasons.

Some historians believe the battle should have never been fought.  The Alamo was not Thermopylae–a narrow mountain pass blocking the Persian march into ancient Greece.  Santa Anna could have simply bypassed it.

In fact, several of Santa Anna’s generals urged the Mexican dictator to do just that–leave a small guard to hold down the fort’s defenders and wipe out the undefended, widely-separated Texas settlements.

But pride held Santa Anna fast to the Alamo.  His brother-in-law, General Perfecto de Cos, had been forced to surrender the old mission to revolting Texans in December, 1835.  Santa Anna meant to redeem the fort–and his family honor–by force.

In almost every movie made about the Alamo, its two co-commanders, James Bowie and William Barret Travis, are portrayed as on the verge of all-out war–with each other.

James Bowie

William B. Travis

In John Wayn’e heavily fictionalized 1960 film, The Alamo, Bowie and Travis agree to fight a duel as soon as they’ve whipped the Mexicans besieging them.

In fact, the frictions between the two lasted only a short while.  Just before the siege, some of Bowie’s volunteers–a far larger group than the regular soldiers commanded by Travis–got drunk.  Travis ordered them jailed–and Bowie ordered his men to release them. Bowie then went on a roaring drunk.

The next day, a sober Bowie apologized to Travis and agreed they should share command.  This proved a wise decision, for just as the siege started, Bowie was felled by worsening illness–typhoid-pneumonia or tuberculosis.

In Wayne’s film, Bowie repeatedly leaves the Alamo to ambush unsuspecting Mexicans.  In reality, he stayed bed-ridden and lay close to death throughout the 13-day siege.

Most people believe the Texans intended to make a suicidal stand.  Not true.  From the first day of the siege–February 23–almost to the last–March 6, 1836–messengers rode out of the Alamo seeking help.

The defenders believed that if they could cram enough men into the three-acre former mission, they could hold Santa Anna at bay.

The largest Texan force lay at Fort Defiance in Goliad, 85 miles away.  This consisted of 500 men commanded by James Walker Fannin, a West Point dropout.

Fannin was better-suited for the role of Hamlet than military commander. Upon receiving a plea of help from Travis, he set out in a half-hearted attempt to reach the mission.  But when a supply wagon broke down, he returned to Fort Defiance and sat out the rest of the siege.

After the Alamo fell, Fannin dithered in Fort Defiance until it was too late.  Fleeing before the advancing Mexicans, his army was encircled on the open prairie and forced to surrender.  On March 27, 1836, Fannin’s entire force was massacred.

On March 1, thirty-two men from Gonzalez–the only ones to answer Travis’ call–sneaked through the Mexican lines to enter the Alamo.

After it became obvious that the Alamo would not be sufficiently reinforced, the Texans still refused to evacuate.  “I’ll die before I run” might have been their official motto.

When the Mexicans suddenly arrived in San Antonio on the morning of February 23, 1836, they caught the Texans completely by surprise. The previous night, they had been celebrating the birthday of George Washington.

The Texans rushed headlong into the Alamo, hauling all the supplies they could hastily scrounge.

Santa Anna sent a courier under a flag of truce to the Alamo, demanding unconditional surrender.  In effect, the Texans were being given the choice of later execution.

Travis replied with a shot from the fort’s biggest cannon, the 18-pounder.

Santa Anna ordered the hoisting of a blood-red flag and the opening of an artillery salvo.  The siege of the Alamo was on.

Many Americans believe that San Houston, who was elected general of the non-existent army of Texas, desperately tried to relieve the siege.  Not so.

At Washington-on-the-Brazos, 150 miles east of San Antonio, the Texans convened a convention to form a new government. When news reached the delegates that Travis desperately needed reinforcements, many of them wanted to rush to his defense.

But Houston and others declared they must first declare Texas’ independence.  On March 2, 1836, they did just that.  Houston spent a good deal of the time drunk.

Easily the most famous Alamo story is that of “the line in the sand.” On the night of March 5–just prior to the final assault–there was a lull in the near-constant Mexican bombardment.

Travis assembled his men and gave them a choice: They could surrender and hope that Santa Anna would be merciful. They could try to escape. Or they could stay and fight.

With his sword, Travis drew a line in the dirt and invited those who would stay to cross over to him. The entire garrison did–except for two men.

One of these was bed-ridden James Bowie. He asked that his his sick-bed be carried over to Travis.

The other was a veteran of the Napoleonic wars–Louis Rose.

REMEMBERING THE ALAMO – PART ONE (OF THREE)

In History on March 6, 2012 at 12:00 am

John Wayne fought and died there–cinematically.

So did Richard Widmark, Laurence Harvey, Fess Parker, Sterling Hayden, Jason Patrick, Billy Bob Thornton and Patrick Wilson.

Today–March 6, 2012–marks the 176th anniversary of the fall of the Alamo, a crumbling former Spanish mission in the heart of San Antonio, Texas.

The combatants: 180 to 250 Texans (or “Texians,” as many of them preferred to be called) vs. 2,000 Mexican soldiers.

On the Texan side three names predominate: David Crockett, James Bowie and William Barret Travis. “The Holy Trinity,” as some historians ironically refer to them.

Crockett, at 49, was the most famous man in the Alamo. He had been a bear hunter, Indian fighter and Congressman. Rare among the men of his time, he sympathized with the Indian tribes he had helped subdue in the War of 1812.

He believed Congress should honor the treaties made with the former hostiles and opposed President Andrew Jackson’s effort to move the tribes further West.

Largely because of this, his constituents turned him out of office in November, 1835. He told them they could go to hell; he would go to Texas.

James Bowie, at 40, had been a slave trader with pirate Jean Lafitte and a land swindler. His greatest claim to fame lay in his fame as a knife-fighter.

This grew out of his participating in an 1827 duel on a sandbar in Natchez, Mississippi. Bowie was acting as a second to one of the duelists who had arranged the event.

After the two duelists exchanged pistol shots without injury, they called it a draw. But those who had come as their seconds had scores to settle among themselves–and decided to do so. A bloody melee erupted.

Bowie was shot in the hip and then impaled on a sword cane wielded by Major Norris Wright, a longtime enemy. Drawing a large butcher knife he wore at his belt, he gutted Wright, who died instantly.

The brawl became famous as the Sandbar Fight, and cemented Bowie’s reputation across the South as a deadly knife fighter.

William Barret Travis had been an attorney and militia member. Burdened by debts and pursued by creditors, he fled Alabama in 1831 to start over in Texas. Behind him he left a wife, son, and unborn daughter.

From the first, Travis burned to free Texas from Mexico and see it become a part of the United States.

In January, 1836, he was sent by the American provisional governor of Texas to San Antonio, to fortify the Alamo. He arrived there with a small party of regular soldiers and the title of lieutenant colonel in the state militia.

On the Mexican side, only one name matters: Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, president (i.e., absolute dictator) of Mexico. After backing first one general and would-be “president” after another, Santa Anna maneuvered himself into the office in 1833.

Texas was then legally a part of Mexico. Stephen F. Austin, “the father of Texas,” had received a grant from Spain–which ruled Mexico until 1821–to bring in 300 American families to settle there. The Spaniards wanted to establish a buffer between themselves and warring Indian tribes like the Comanches.

These immigrations continued after Mexico threw off Spanish rule and obtained its independence.

But as Americans kept flooding into Texas, the character of its population changed, alarming its Mexican rulers.

The new arrivals did not see themselves as Mexican citizens but as transplanted Americans. They were largely Protestant, as opposed to the Catholic Mexicans. And many of them not only owned slaves but demanded the expansion of slavery–a practice illegal under Mexican law.

In October, 1835, fighting erupted between settlers and Mexican soldiers. In November, Mexican forces took shelter in the Alamo, which had been built in 1718 as a mission to convert Indians to Christianity. Since then it had been used as a fort–by Spanish and then Mexican troops.

Texans lay siege to the Alamo from October 16 to December 10, 1835. With his men exhausted, and facing certain defeat, General Perfecto de Cos, Santa Anna’s brother-in-law, surrendered. He gave his word to leave Texas and never take up arms again against its settlers.

Texans rejoiced. They believed they had won their “war” against Mexico.

But others knew better. One was Bowie. Another was Sam Houston, a former Indian fighter, Congressman and protégé of Andrew Jackson.

Still another was Santa Anna, who styled himself “The Napoleon of the West.”  In January, 1836, he set out from Mexico City at the head of an army totaling about 7,000.

He planned the 18th century version of a blitzkrieg, intending to arrive in Texas and take its “rebellious foreigners” by surprise.

His forced march proved costly in lives, but met his objective. He arrived in San Aotonio with several hundred soldiers on February 23, 1836.

The siege of the Alamo–the most famous event in Texas history–was about to begin.

DOGS VS. JACKALS

In Bureaucracy, History, Politics on May 25, 2011 at 12:11 am

There’s a scene in the classic John Wayne Western, The Searchers, that counterterror experts should study closely.

Wayne–in the role of Indian-hating Ethan Edwards–and a party of Texas Rangers discover the corpse of a Comanche killed during a raid on a nearby farmhouse.

One of the Rangers–a teenager enraged by the carnage has seen–picks up a rock and bashes in the head of the dead Indian.

Wayne, sitting astride his horse, asks: “Why don’t you finish the job?”  He draws his revolver and fires two shots, taking out the eyes of the dead Comanche–althugh the mutilation is not depicted onscreen.

The leader of the Rangers, a part-time minister, asks: ” What good did that do you?”

“By what you preach, none,” says Wayne/Edwards.  “But what that Comanche believes–ain’t got no eyes, he can’t enter the Spirit land.  Has to wander forever between the winds.  You get it, Reverend.”

Now, fast forward to May 1, 2011: U.S. Navy SEALS descend on a compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan, and kill Osama bin Laden, the Al Qaeda chieftain.

Among the details of the raid that most titilates the media and public: The commandos were accompanied by a bomb-sniffing dog.

The canine was strapped to a member of the SEAL team as he lowered himself and the dog to the ground from a hovering helicopter near the compound.

Heavily armoured dogs–equipped with infrared night-sight cameras –have been used in the past by the top-secret unit.  The cameras on their heads beam live TV pictures back to the troops, providing them with critical information and warning of ambushes.

The war dogs wear ballistic body armour that is said to withstand damage from single and double-edged knives, as well as protective gear which shields them from shrapnel and gunfire.

Some dogs are trained to silently locate booby traps and concealed enemies such as snipers. The dog’s keen senses of smell and hearing  makes him far more effective at detecting these dangers than humans.

The animals will attack anyone carrying a weapon and have become a pivotal part of special operations as they crawl unnoticed into tunnels or rooms to hunt for enemy combatants.

Which brings us to the ultimate of ironies: Osama bin Laden may have been killed through the aid of an animal Muslims fear and despise.

Muslims generally cast dogs in a negative light because of their ritual impurity.  Muhammad did not like dogs according to Sunni tradition, and most practicing Muslims do not have dogs as pets.  

It is said that angels do not enter a house which contains a dog. Though dogs are not allowed for pets, they are allowed to be kept if used for work, such as guarding the house or farm, or when used for hunting.

Because Islam considers dogs in general to be unclean,  many Muslim taxi drivers and store owners have refused to accommodate customers who have guide dogs.   In 2003, the Islamic Sharia Council, based in the United Kingdom, ruled that the ban on dogs does not apply to those used for guide work.

But many Muslims continue to refuse access, and see the pressure to allow the dogs as an attack upon their religious beliefs.

Counterterror specialists have learned that Muslims’ dread of dogs can be turned into a potent weapon against Islamic suicide bombers.

In Israel, use of bomb-siniffing dogs has proven highly effective–but not simply because of the dogs’ ability to detect explosives through their highly-developed sense of smell. 

Muslim suicide-bombers fear that if they blow themselves up near a dog, they might kill the animal–and its unclean blood might be mingled with their own, thus making them unworthy to ascend to Heaven and claim those 72 willing virgins.

Similarly, news in 2009 that bomb-sniffing dogs might soon be patrolling Metro Vancouver’s buses and SkyTrains as a prelude to the 2010 Olympics touched off Muslims’ alarms.

“If I am going to the mosque and pray, and I have this saliva on my body, I have to go and change or clean,” said Shawket Hassan, vice president of the British Columbia Muslim Association.

What are the lessons to be learned from all this?  They are two-fold:

l.   Only timely tactical intelligence will reveal Al Qaeda’s latest plans for destruction. 

2.  No matter how adept Islamic terrorists prove at concealing their momentary aims, they cannot conceal the insights and long-term objectives of the religion, history and culture which have scarred and molded them.

American police, Intelligence and military operatives must constantly ask themselves: “How can we turn Islamic religion, history and culture into weapons against the terrorists we face?”

These institutions must become as intimately familiar with the mindset of our Islamic enemies as the best frontier Army officers became with the mindset of the Indians they fought. 

General George A. Custer once freed several white female captives by threatening to hang the chiefs of the tribes responsible.  The Indians scorned death by knife or gunshot.  But they feared that the spirit of a hanged man remained forever trapped within his body, thus preventing him from reaching the Happy Hunting Ground. 

And Custer, knowing this, put this intelligence to effective, life-saving use. 

American Intelligence agencies must learn what our Islamic enemies most seek, most prize, and—above all—most hate and fear.  Then these agencies must ruthlessly apply that knowledge in defense of America’s survival.

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