Chapter 8
The “Volunteer Army of the People” Seize the Alamo
Spontaneously, without plan, the colonist forces at Gonzales grew to 300 men who formed the “Volunteer Army of the People,” and elected the newly militant Stephen Austin to lead them. Their objective: to follow the Mexican dragoons all the way to San Antonio – to confront General Cós and the Mexican Army and to expel them from Texas.
On October 12, 1835, 10 days after the roar of the Gonzales cannon, they marched and rode to San Antonio – Travis alongside Austin. Bowie caught up with the volunteers two days later and was doubly welcomed as a great fighter and one, who with family connections in San Antonio, could obtain crucial information. During the two months of the siege, Bowie learned how the cannons were deployed at the Alamo and how forces were divided between the Alamo and San Antonio.
The day after the cannon shot in Gonzales, Santa Anna decided the anti-American laws of 1830 were not harsh enough. He unequivocally abolished all Texas legislatures, assumed all power in Texas to himself, and reiterated that Texans must immediately disarm and surrender their leaders or face all-out war!
Within the week, Sam Houston, a former Governor of Tennessee, a former U.S. Army military officer under General (now President) Andrew Jackson . . . and a recent Texan – answered with a proclamation promising “liberal bounties of land . . . to all who will join our ranks with a good rifle and one hundred rounds of ammunition.”
The War was on!
NOW ROSE RECEIVED WORD FROM BOWIE: “Come to our camp east of San Antonio!” In but a few weeks, again (as when he went to “Fredonia”) undoing years of stability, Rose quit his job, sold his ranch, purchased a new horse, ammunition, blankets and food . . . and prepared to join his friend and the Texas Revolution.
Rose celebrated his 50th birthday, astride his new horse, enduring the 400-mile ride to San Antonio: across the Trinity River (north of Le Champ d’Asile), across the Brazos River, past San Felipe de Austin (where a new revolutionary council was soon to begin), across the Rio Colorado, past Gonzales.
While Rose was riding, Austin directed Bowie to team up with Col. James Fannin of Georgia, who had briefly studied at West Point, arrived in Texas the year before and had already fought at Gonzales. Bowie, with Fannin and his company, were to look over the surrounding country and “select the best and most secure position . . . near Bexar . . . to encamp the army.” Bowie returned and proposed that Austin move north of San Antonio while Bowie would hold the Mission to the south at San Juan Espada, thus surrounding the enemy.
Austin, who had never led an army, approved only the southern strategy. Bowie moved to Espada, easily driving back the Mexicans, who had immediately attacked. While Bowie began re-enforcing Espada for future attacks, he impatiently proposed that Austin do something, anything: “either starve them out, whip them out, or dishearten and beat them in small parties.” But Austin would neither move nor even send reinforcements to Bowie. Bowie was critical of Austin for mobilizing only Bowie’s small group while keeping the rest of the army inactive.
On October 25, Austin called back Bowie, Fannin and other officers to decide whether to storm San Antonio or lay siege to (surround and blockade) it. Houston spoke for a withdrawal back to San Felipe to train the volunteers for combat while acquiring larger artillery. He was vigorously voted down by the rank and file. The majority, including Bowie, chose siege, although many advocated a prompt all-out assault.
With unforeseen bad timing, a new convention was soon to begin, but many of the soldier-delegates were reluctant to abandon the fight to legislate. Austin, a poor military leader but an excellent diplomat, called a Council of War where the volunteers implored the delegates to go to the convention. Many of the delegates, including Houston, left; Travis, who was a delegate from San Felipe, remained.
The Mexicans dug in deeper, with their largest cannon now in place on the roof of a church in San Antonio.
Austin finally brought his troops to Bowie at Espada, eight miles from the enemy, but he was reluctant to attack from that distance. He would, however, consider an assault from the mission Concepción – only two miles from San Antonio. Bowie and Fannin were to take 90 men, again find the most strategic location for the full army to set up camp and report back to Austin.
But instead of just scouting, Bowie prepared for his own small war. He divided his command into two wings along the river for a surprise attack. The next morning, however, it was Bowie who was surprised. He was surrounded by the enemy. During a great fog, 200 Mexican cavalry formed to their west, while some 75 infantry and artillery (with two cannons), attacked with grape and canister and split their forces in half. Bowie, unperturbed, swiftly rearranged his positions and with accurate fire drove back three Mexican charges and killed or wounded most of the infantry and artillerymen in 30 minutes. Then the Texans counterattacked with the war cry: “The cannons and victory!” – and achieved both.
Joining in the battle was Travis. Austin had authorized him to raise a command of volunteer cavalryman to ride to Concepción. He arrived in time to see the Mexicans in “a disorderly and precipitate retreat,” as Bowie described it, back to San Antonio. Travis added to their panic by joining the attack (also without orders from Austin). Against odds of 3 to 1 the Texans won the day.
The first true confrontation of the revolution had ended in triumph for the Texans. The next battle would be for leadership.
Bowie and Travis seemed to be in a friendly competition as to who could be most insubordinate to their commander in chief. Austin praised Bowie on the “brilliancy of the victory” at Concepción. But he confided to others that had his army been nearby when the Mexicans retreated from Concepción, the Texans could have taken San Antonio by now. By disobeying orders limited to finding a position for the army, Bowie cost them immediate victory – so rationalized the ignored Austin.
Undeterred, Bowie next led his men – again without authorization – into the outskirts of San Antonio to lure Cós out, but he would not budge. Then Bowie boldly moved his men to within 800 yards of the town and sent an unauthorized message to Cós for a parlay: that war was unnecessary – they just wanted his promise to follow the Constitution of 1824. Cós was not taken in by this somewhat amateurish attempt to move him from the protection of his fortress.
By November 5, Austin decided to resign his command, accurately gauging that he was not strong enough to control the likes of Bowie and Travis. Edward Burleson of North Carolina was chosen as Colonel of the volunteers. Then Austin changed his mind and decided to stay but Burleson would exercise operational command.
WHEN ROSE FINALLY RODE INTO CAMP NEAR San Antonio, the Frenchman reported immediately to the hero of Concepción who welcomed him, casting a pleased eye at the long knife at Rose’s side. “This is it, old man,” announced Bowie. “Soon we attack the Mexican stronghold at San Antonio and the Alamo and run the tyrants out of Texas. For now, relax from your long journey and be ready.”
As Rose rested, he realized he had unknowingly joined the Texas Volunteer Army of the People. An unmanageable rabble, Travis called them, a “mob [which] can do wonders in a sudden burst of patriotism or of passion, but cannot be depended upon, as soldiers for a campaign.”
The “mob” called themselves “volunteers” – who could un-volunteer at any time, and insisted on the right to elect their own officers and vote on such matters as “whether, when, or where to fight.” These colonist-soldiers turned out during a crisis but would leave again during the lulls or to care for the needs of their families. Some went home for winter clothes and equipment. Austin and Burleson were dependent on the cantankerous volunteers.
To Rose, who had followed Napoléon with blind obedience, this breach of military discipline was appalling – never more so than now, when an officer gave orders to attack but “cancelled it because a popular consensus had not been achieved.” However, the reluctance to attack was not without cause.
General Cós had 1,200 men, many cannons and superior fortifications, and he was too crafty to leave the safety of San Antonio and the Alamo fortress (as Bowie could confirm) for an encounter with the Texans. Similarly, the Texas command was sitting still, intercepting supplies intended for San Antonio, but otherwise waiting, fearful of launching a full scale attack on the heavily fortified Mexican positions with only half as many men as the enemy and merely a few pieces of light artillery.
Rose approved. This is how Napoléon would have done it. Wait until the right moment, wait for reinforcements, wait for decisive intelligence of the enemy’s situation. Rose recalled tales of Napoléon who every two weeks read the muster rolls of 800,000 soldiers and could find one name missing from the rolls; who, in readiness for a battle against Britain, ordered a study of all weapons in position on the English Channel and then noted the omission of a single battery of guns.
While Rose waited, he spent his time with a friend from Nacogdoches, William Carey, formerly of Virginia, and one of the first volunteers to ride to Gonzales “in a moments warning” to put the enemy to flight. When the Mexicans retreated to San Antonio, Carey was part of the force that followed them, intending to finish the fight. But, he bitterly complained to Rose, there has been only “confusion, contention and discord . . . to the grief of a few brave souls who were among the first that volunteered.”
Bowie was also fed up and decided he could better serve at the convention.
THE LATEST ASSEMBLY OF TEXAS LEADERS was meeting at San Felipe at a “Consultation” – so-named earlier, during more peaceful times, because the term “convention” inspired fears of revolution (and possible retaliation) from the Mexicans. Here a new government was being formed: Henry Smith, a former school teacher, was elected Governor and James Robinson, Lt. Governor. A permanent council with delegates from 12 municipalities sat as a Congress.
The Consultation chose Austin as a Commissioner to seek aid in the United States . . . and to get him off the battlefield. He was replaced by now-Major General Sam Houston as the new Commander-in-Chief to lead the meager “Regular Army of Texas.”
Houston, as one of his first acts, appointed Bowie as adjutant on his staff and asked him to secure the defenses of the fort at Goliad – a most strategic position. Any Mexican ship with supplies, after landing at the port of Copano on the Gulf Coast, had to proceed past Goliad, 80 miles southeast of San Antonio. (Earlier, while Cós was heading for San Antonio, the Texans had captured the Mexican garrison at Goliad, and seized the fort, along with supplies of weapons and ammunition.) Cut off from his supply link to the coast, there was speculation that Cós might abandon the Alamo and fall back to fight for Goliad until his reinforcements arrived.
But first Bowie returned to San Antonio to respond to a discovery by Texas’ chief scout and spy.
ERASMUS “DEAF” SMITH was born in New York in 1787, where as a child he suffered a disease that caused him to lose his hearing. In 1821, he settled in Texas near San Antonio, where he married a Mexican widow who bore him four children. Smith joined Austin’s army and took part in the battle of Concepción.
After “Deef,” as his friends called him, had spotted an attempt to reinforce San Antonio, Burleson assigned Bowie and 40 cavalrymen to stop a pack train, guarded by 150 Mexicans. Bowie caught them one mile outside of San Antonio attempting to deliver a badly needed cargo of grass cuttings as fodder for the starving calvary horses. Thought outnumbered 4 to 1, Bowie and his men killed 50 of the enemy and routed the survivors in what became known as the “Grass Fight.” As a bonus, the Texas troops acquired 70 new horses complete with feed.
Then Bowie rode off to fortify Goliad. He arrived just as the battle for San Antonio and the Alamo was about to begin – but no one apprised him.
OUTSIDE OF SAN ANTONIO, Rose and Jameson fumed while their leaders conducted meeting after meeting but never moved from their position . . . until finally in early December – after over a month of siege – they decided “to abandon the lines and retreat.” Angered, the Volunteers called for their own Council of War to debate the proposal – everything was done by vote. But before any further deliberations, two Texans escaped from San Antonio with the not-so-electrifying news that the Mexican soldiers were tiring, their morale was low, and their supplies were (obviously) dwindling. That was enough for Col. Benjamin Milam, 43, a native of Kentucky, who had recruited Bowie for the abortive 1819 attack on Nacogdoches.
Milam was as frustrated as Rose and Carey – but he had rank, if not command. He cried out: “Who will follow Old Ben Milam into San Antone”? About half the army in a reverse mutiny “marched out and declared their intention of storming the fort that night. Many of the officers made speeches against the project, friends begged and entreated others not to throw away their lives foolishly – all was in vain.”
Against all of Rose’s training and instincts, his Texan-side won and he too “voted” to attack, joining over three hundred (including Carey) answering “Aye” to Ben Milam.
On the morning of December 4, 1835, at day break, in bitter cold and drenching rain, Burleson ordered the attack: Col. James C. Neill and 400 troops kept Cós occupied at the Alamo while Col. Milam’s 300 men advanced on San Antonio, guided by “Deaf” Smith. The Texans attacked San Antonio from street to street, house to house, taking fire from the enemy. Rose fought alongside Carey.
“We marched in the town under heavy fires of their cannon and musketry,” wrote Carey, “but we succeeded in getting possession of some stone houses . . . that sheltered us a little from their fires . . . . We labored hard day and night for five days, still gaining possession.”
On the fifth day, the Texans mourned the death in battle of Ben Milam, “whose memory will be dear to Texas as long as there exists a grateful heart to feel, or a friend of liberty to lament his worth.” The first hero of the Revolution was slain in an attack on the centrally-located house of the Veramendi – Bowie’s family.
But, because of Milam’s call for battle, San Antonio de Bexar was taken; the Mexicans retreated to the walls of the Alamo. Although General Cós had “a far superior force,” he and his soldiers were now surrounded, cut off from their supplies (because of the earlier capture of Goliad) with no expectation of reinforcements – unaware that General Ramírez y Sesma, just across the Rio Grande, was on his way to the rescue.
On December 9, 1835, General Cós hoisted the white flag of defeat and negotiated a surrender. Cós relinquished 21 cannons, cannon balls, muskets and cartridges, and pledged to “not in any way oppose re-establishment of the Federal Constitution of 1824.” Santa Anna’s brother-in-law, under parole of honor, swore that he and his troops would never again come back to Texas; in return, he was permitted to safely withdraw with his troops, and take one “four-pounder and ten rounds of powder and ball,” along with the arms and private property of every soldier – to re-cross the Rio Grande back to Mexico City . . . in defeat and disgrace.
The terms of the “capitulation [inscribed in both] Castillian and English” two days later were agreed to by a majority vote of the volunteers. Voting against it was Carey. “A child’s bargain,” he told Rose. “However it’s done now . . . until we have another fight, which we [can] expect shortly.” Rose agreed with Carey: no honor had yet been shown by these Mexicans; before long, we’ll fight these same men with these same weapons, he said, prophetically. “They are cowards,” Rose added. “They outnumbered us two to one with vast amounts of ammunition.”
The Mexicans were not happy. An officer noted in his diary:
All has been lost save honor! . . . We were surrounded by some gross, proud and victorious men. Anyone who knows the character of the North Americans can judge what our situation must have been.
General Cós also tried to put the most favorable light on his surrender, rationalizing to his brother-in-law, Santa Anna, that “without the slightest hope of supplies . . . I have withdrawn from Bejar by means of an honorable agreement which I was forced to sign in order to save the honor of the arms which have been trusted to me.”
The first battle for the Alamo – also, the first major campaign of the Texas Revolution – was over.
AS THE TEXANS TOOK UP POSITIONS AROUND SAN ANTONIO, Carey was promoted to First Lieutenant of Artillery and elevated to second in command. Colonel Neill, who had fired the first cannon at Gonzales and had launched the attack on the Alamo, was selected by Houston to command the “Post of Bexar.”
Bowie returned from Goliad after the fighting had ceased, disappointed to have missed the battle but exhilarated with the result. He congratulated Rose, who, in turn, complimented Carey on his promotion and advised his Nacogdoches friend that he would be leaving temporarily, but would soon return. Bowie was returning to the Consultation on a personal matter and had asked Rose to accompany him.
The Consultation had begun in early November 1835 – after the victory at Gonzales and during the “waiting” at San Antonio. Although its members were more aggressive than those who had attended the earlier Convention, the majority of delegates were still hoping to come to terms with the Mexicans – but only on condition of a “provisional government [for Texas] upon the principles of the Constitution of 1824.” They demanded recognition of a Governor of Texas as chief executive and a General Council made up of representatives from the colonies.
Though the delegates declared that Santa Anna had “dissolved the social compact” with Texas, allegiance to Mexico was still possible, declared the Texans, if Mexico overthrew its dictatorship – in effect, pledging “loyalty to a nonexistent government.” Many Texans could not seem to comprehend that they were already at war with Mexico. The final decision – Independence or loose ties with Mexico – would be decided at the next session in March of 1836, at Washington-On-The-Brazos, 40 miles due north of San Felipe.
BOWIE WAS ATTENDING THE CONSULTATION on a personal mission: to obtain recognition of his commission as Colonel at the head of his own regiment of volunteers. His renown should easily have earned him such honor, but some in the General Council had taken exception to Bowie’s reputation as a brawler, as a land speculator and, most significantly, his former close family ties to the Mexican upper classes.
But that was before the victory at the Alamo. Days before Bowie arrived, the Council had rejoiced that “Bexar has fallen!”
Our brave citizen volunteers, with a persevering bravery and heroic valor, unparalleled in the annals of warfare, have triumphed over a force of twice their number and compelled the slaves of despotism to yield, vanquished by the ever resistless arms of freeman soldiers.
As the very first act of the Consultation, Houston offered a resolution praising Bowie for the victory at Concepción that led to final victory.
By the time Bowie was prepared to address the Council in late December of 1835, opposition to his commission had all but vanished. But unaware, Bowie defended his reputation by summing up his life. If any man was to dispute his version of events, let him dare stand now and confront the speaker to his face. Rose stood at the rear, his hand on his knife as if to smite anyone who challenged his friend.
A member of the Council wrote a report of the extraordinary session as an anguished Bowie first told the assemblage how he had served Texas:
He had cast his lot with Texas for honorable and patriotic purposes; that he had ever neglected his own affairs to serve his country in an hour of danger, had betrayed no man, deceived no man, wronged no man, and had never had a difficulty in the country, unless to protect the weak from the strong and evil-intentioned,
and then about his marriage to a Mexican woman:
That, yielding to the dictates of his own heart, he had taken to his bosom as a wife a true and lovely woman of a different race, the daughter of a distinguished [Mexican]; yet, as a thief in the night, death had invaded his home and taken his wife, his little ones, and his father-in-law,
and finally as to his motives:
and now, standing alone of all his blood in Texas, all he asked was the privilege of serving it in the field, where his name, so frequently besmirched by double-dealing, unspeakable cowards, might be honorably associated with the brave and true.
The overwhelmed Council enthusiastically granted James Bowie his Colonel’s commission.
However, Bowie’s joy would soon be tempered as the new Commander-in-Chief gave him a sorrowful assignment.