Sunday, March 6, 2016, marks the 180th anniversary of the most famous event in Texas history: The fall of the Alamo, a crumbling former Spanish mission in the heart of San Antonio.
After a 12-day siege, 180 to 250 Texans were overwhelmed by 2,000 Mexican soldiers.
Mexican troops advancing on the Alamo
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 virtually every Alamo movie, its two co-commanders, James Bowie and William Barret Travis, are portrayed as on the verge of all-out war–with each other.
In John Wayne’s heavily fictionalized 1960 film, The Alamo, Bowie and Travis agree to fight a duel as soon as they’ve whipped the Mexicans besieging them.
James Bowie
William B. Travis
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 Travis’ regulars–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 almost every Alamo movie, Bowie repeatedly leaves the fort to ambush unsuspecting Mexicans.
In reality, he stayed bed-ridden and lay close to death throughout the 13-day siege.
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.
No reinforcements reached the Alamo.
Not so. On March 1, 32 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 Deviance 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 halfhearted 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.
When the Mexican army approached Fort Defiance, Fannin and 400 of his men panicked and fled into the desert. They were surrounded, forced to surrender, and massacred on March 27
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 (so named for the weight of its cannonball).
Santa Anna ordered the hoisting of a blood-red flag and the opening of an artillery salvo. The siege of the Alamo was on.
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, 169 miles east of San Antonio, Texan delegates assembled 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.
Sam Houston
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 try to 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 sick-bed be carried over to Travis. The other was a veteran of the Napoleonic wars–Louis Rose.

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REMEMBERING THE ALAMO: PART THREE (END)
In History, Military, Social commentary on March 9, 2014 at 4:00 pmOn 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:
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:
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.
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