Sunrise Over San Antonio

By Robert Wallace Meyer

Emil, like most Texans, grew up studying the battle of the Alamo. He often dreamed about reliving that historic struggle, hoping to achieve a better outcome. When suddenly presented with the opportunity to do so, he gladly accepts. He will soon meet the celebrated heroes of that conflict, along with others who were equally as brave. He will help solve some problems for the small force that attempted to hold against overwhelming odds, and later witness the birth of the great city of San Antonio. Dreaded Comanche raids posed a constant threat to the heroes who remained, and soon, a devastating Civil War will loom to threaten all they have accomplished.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Wallace Meyer
• Release date: Apr 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310672521

Book preview

Sunrise Over San Antonio

A Novel

Robert Wallace Meyer

Copyright 2015 Rober Meyer.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. All images, logos, quotes, and trademarks included in this book are subject to use according to trademark and copyright laws of the United States of America.

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Contents

Prologue

Prelude

Acid Reflux

Scouts Out!

Scouts Return

Burning Bridges

Misery on the Plains

Operations

Battlefield

Mud and Guts

Goliad and Stealth

Alamo Bound

Eye of the Cat

Is Our Credit Still Good

Warm Ups

A Rousing Triumph

The Beauty of a Campfire

The Skunk Works

Busy Days Pass Quickly

The March Pompioso

It Hits the Fan

A Delicate Balance

Serenading His Excellency

Cute Li’l Fellers

Gottathinemout

A Night of Pure Hell

A Beautiful Sunrise

Santa Anna’s Big Wedding Night

Taking Stock

Blankets and Dreams

Things Get Tougher

More Explosions

Meatgrinder-Inferno

Aftermath and Exit

Bowie’s Break-Out

Looking for Houston

The Brazos

San Jacinto

Homeward Bound

A Small Delay

Repairing the Horrors of War

Reporting War Stories

Rescue

A New Beginning

Beehive

Farmers and Rangers

Guilt and Consequences

As Ye Sow...

Details

Midway!

On the Beach

New Orleans

Shopping New Orleans

A Trip Back

A Thoughtful Return

Power Politics

Expanding the Sphere

We Are the Gold!

Adam

Pig Pig Pig

An Ominous Development

El Paseo

Glory Glory Glory!

Little Drops of Water, Little Grains of Sand

Pacco

Civilizations in Conflict

Enhancing the Normal

Rebuilding Lives

Serpents and Skulls

Shoulder's Last Dance

Rescue Mission

Epilogue One

Epilogue Two

Epilogue Three

Epilogue Four

Prologue

Care givers and peace makers are unique and wonderful people. I have been fortunate to know many of each and some of both persuasions in my long life. This book is dedicated to those persons.

Care givers by their very nature put others first. They nurture, and help one’s injured body to heal. Without them, families, hospitals and other institutions simply could not function. Bless them all for the chance they give the rest of us to have the best life possible. Thank you, Mother, and all others like you. We shall never forget.

Peace makers try to find the possible middle ground between ideas and people. We are grateful for all such persons that have crossed our path. Would that there could have been more of them in years past, and in the future. They also put others first, in their own special way.

This book is an historical fiction. A dream that was always there, but alas, can never be. It is written, dear reader, more from hope than what the facts would allow. Enjoy the characters for their strengths and weaknesses and know that the real story here is one of care givers and peace makers.

As I believe that we all have within us the stuff of which noble dreams are made, enjoy this story not for what was, but for what might have been.

RWM

Prelude

Only moments remain before dawn over Alamo, March 6, 1836. Heavy mist and ground fog stand ready to welcome the sun. Soft moans come from inside the old fortress, then silence. A lone bagpiper stands ready atop the south wall. Two crows flying over investigate the chaos within those battered confines. They see many men lying on the ground, caught in grotesque poses of agony and death. A dog barks, a small baby cries.

Then silence, as a small crescent of sun slips above the horizon, signaling the piper to play. His drones begin sad music born of souls in agony and sorrow. As his fingers begin their dance over the chanter, a strange thing happens. Men lying below, seemingly dead, are summoned to rise by the music.

The sun creeps higher, as slabs of light lance through the mist. The music becomes louder, and more slowly rise. Then a chorus of men humming along with the bagpipes is heard, marrying shrill, harsh notes with rich, lower tones from the soldiers.

This moves more of them to rise, adding their voices to the others, all more visible now as the mist evaporates. Men move about to welcome the new day and a SUNRISE OVER SAN ANTONIO.

Acid Reflux

To sleep, perchance to dream... —William Shakespeare

The accountant drew the short straw.

A mild little man, he sported the stub of a pencil behind his ear. Earnest eyes peered over the top of wire-rimmed glasses as he shuffled to his desk and sat. A cold, hollow feeling entered his stomach as he cradled his face and stared ahead. No, it is not fair, he reflected. But if I do not dismiss this good man, someone else will. Then I also lose my job.

His arms crumpled in sorrow as his face neared the desktop. A dear wife and two young children entered his mind as he summoned strength for the unpleasant job to be done. One ragged breath was all he could manage before the dreaded footfall and a small bell on the door announced the presence of a good man he had grown to cherish as a friend.

A smiling face above massive shoulders, sang, Fri-day, pay-day, ever-body hap-py! After two long strides, Emil slid to a stop in front of the accountant to ask, Howya doin’ today?

The accountant struggled to his feet and shuffled to the pay window. The toe of his shoe scuffed the floor as the man gazed down and slid an envelope under the window. He drew a deep breath to say, Emil, this is your last pay envelope. I am sorry.

Six feet-four inches, two hundred twenty-five pounds of carpenter man stepped back from the window, surprised, and asked, Why?

The accountant lowered his chin and spoke to the floor, Emil, the bosses are hiring ten carpenters up from Laredo and letting three of you regulars go. They can make more money that way by paying the others off the books. You know, less wages, less taxes, less bookkeeping. They want to advance the project faster. I shall be sorry to see you go.

Emil leaned on the counter, Any point in talking to the bosses? I cudda used a couple more weeks of work.

The other shook his head sadly, I’m afraid not, Emil. You have ten minutes to gather your tools and be off the property. I am sorry.

Emil picked up his pay envelope and checked the amount as the accountant slid the little window shut. A catch engaged with a metallic snick that sounded like a jail door slamming shut. He picked up his toolbox and walked through the gate, nodding to the guard as he left.

Damn! Another couple weeks and I could get the truck fixed. But, no sense in worrying about that now, just get me a paper and look at the want ads again. His toolbox rode atop one broad shoulder as he wearily walked down the street. It was a hell of a way to end the week.

The beguiling aroma of onions and cumin cooking with meat and garlic wafted onto the sidewalk, as one of San Antonio’s many excellent mom and pop restaurants beckoned. He entered, slid his tools under the table, and ordered a combo platter with extra salsa. A large beer helped wash down the delicious, savory food.

Later, he found a package store and bought a six-pack of Pearl for later. Along the way, he sat on a bench beside the river and reflected. Another load of gah-dam illegals coming to take our jobs, I bet. He did not blame them as much as the greedy men who hired them. Or even those as well. A buck is a buck.. Maybe the laws should be better enforced—but when we have the finest government money can buy, who in hell was going to see to that? He threw a rock downriver in disgust, startling a pair of ducks off the water as they sounded their own separate protest. You tell ‘em, ducks.

Emil made his way to a modest hotel and entered his room. As he turned on the light, skittering noises on the linoleum floor announced the departure of cockroaches. Just like illegals on the job when the van from La Migra drives up. He walked down the hall for a quick shower, then popped open a can of Pearl as he tuned in some easy music from the retro station. Maybe that would take the edge off a bad day. Later, another Pearl while the Mills Brothers sang:

"Across the alley from the Alamo, lives a pinto pony and a Navaho,

The flies keep wandering to and fro, for the people passing by..."

Nice, but see what’s on TV—maybe an old movie on the replay station. Ah! ‘The Alamo’, with John Wayne. Nah, they do that every year, first week in March. Click, click, And it’s the same dang thing with Alec Baldwin as Travis—wouldn’t THAT just turn your stomach? Click, click. "Now we got another with Billy Bob Thornton as Crockett and a whole flock of over-made-up, over-acting actors living at the Alamo and got no dust on their clothes. Terrible!

Go back to John Wayne and see if I can help him win that thing for a change. Wouldn’t that be a kick? But why the heck leave 188 guys to die in an old church in the first place? And Fannin, stumbling around at Goliad as well? Why would Houston divide his force into threes? It makes no earthly sense. Ah well, here comes the whole dang Mexican Army... again... Git ‘em Jawn, blast a few for me! Cudda won that thing with a little more planninggg..." as he nodded off.

Emil had difficulty sleeping in hotel beds. He had to lie kitty-corner, and still could not stretch out. But sleep came, from a combination of exhaustion and inebriation.

He was in a twilight zone, just short of full sleep when he became aware of someone in his room and mumbled, Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?

The other moved a little closer, Emil, I am your dream facilitator. Now, are you serious about winning that battle at the Alamo?

Damn right! But are you a guy or a gal? I can’t tell by the clothes or haircut.

More focus please. Do not trouble yourself with such details. We all use the androgynous mode because it seems to lower tensions during staff meetings. As for the battle that you seem determined to win, my records show you have considerable skills in combat. Our charts indicate we may send you back in time, to Alamo one month before Santa Anna’s arrival. Do you wish to go?

Yeah, I got nuthin’ better to do.

Very well, close your eyes and relax. This will not take long.

Emil felt weightless as he whirled and tumbled through cloud-filled space, until a gentle hand took an elbow as his bare feet touched the ground. He glanced up to see a familiar outline nearby. Hot damn! We are at the old Alamo!

But Emil was stunned. He was stark naked! Sun-of-a-gun! Whoa there! Hey, dream lady, person, whatever—I got no clothes, no money, no nuthin’. I feel weird as hell.

Relax, Emil, she said with an admiring glance. Here, take this blanket for a few moments. I’ll be back.

Soon, he buttoned a loose cut wool shirt over canvas pants and gazed down upon a pair of comfortable boots, nodding his appreciation to the dream lady as she handed him a wide brimmed hat.

She pointed to a nearby door. Emil, you may walk over there and begin your efforts to help these men. You have one month to prepare for Santa Anna and another to defeat him. Then I must transport you back. Understood?

Emil nodded and ambled toward the Alamo. Once inside, he spotted a group of men lounging in a shaded area. They were not saying much, but Emil could smell tension in the air. He approached quietly, but was soon spotted by one of the lean, glinty-eyed frontiersmen.

These were not happy men. Their command was divided between Jim Bowie, who was probably the best qualified to lead, and William B. Travis, a much younger man. Travis was supposed to have the final say on things but some questioned him, though many agreed the man was talented. Bowie had recently lost his entire family to disease and was despondent over that. He tended to drink too much when depressed.

One of the men stood, looked at the newcomer carefully, and leaned over his rifle to spit. Who be yew? he asked, slowly wiping his chin.

Name’s Emil Joseph, come to join your fight against the Mexican Army.

The frontiersman spat again, then spoke, Yew look like a right stout lad, bigger’n any of us. But I don’t see no knife, no gun, no hoss. How yew gonna hep us against Santa Anna? Kin ye even shoot one of these? as the man held his rifle up.

Emil shifted his weight and smiled, I got none of those things now, and I can’t shoot that gun, but I can learn. Polite, but pointed laughter ensued.

Jim Bowie was badly hung over and looked to be in a mean mood. He rose to say, Somebody give the man a knife. I want to see what he’s got.

Emil held out both hands, Whoa, hoss! I came here to help you fight, not fight you. And I was born at night, but not last night. I don’t need no knife fight with no Jim Bowie. Chuckles were heard all around.

Several knives were offered but Emil refused them all, saying, Mr. Bowie, if you want a contest, let’s see who can run all around the Alamo the fastest? Bowie just glared. How about we make it one hundred yards? Loser buys the beer? Bowie said nothing and stepped forward, holding that fearsome knife.

Emil tried again, Let me take one day to learn to shoot your rifle—then we do a target—loser buys the beer? Bowie advanced and made a serious move with his knife. The thrust was parried by a backhand blow to Bowie’s wrist. Emil grabbed that wrist and bent it inward toward Bowie’s body. He must drop the knife quickly or his wrist would shatter. He dropped the knife. Emil picked it up and hurled it toward a shuttered window. The blade penetrated over four inches.

Lieutenant Colonel William B. Travis was inside working at his desk and had heard the ruckus, but recognized Bowie’s voice and ignored it. He needed no more trouble with that man today.

Bowie was embarrassed and his mood darkened even more. He reached inside his boot to find a razor and took a slash at his adversary. He missed, and Emil was on him, gripping his arm in a crossbar hold. The razor dropped as Emil ducked under the arm to twist it the other way. Bowie bent over to save that arm and was rewarded with a fierce kick to the midsection. His breathing was momentarily paralyzed, but he did manage to throw up a few things while he lay on the ground.

Two men tried to club Emil with their rifles. Big mistake. The first swung and missed, but a kick to the inside of the man’s knee did not. Emil grabbed that rifle as its owner sank to the ground. The second man swung a mighty blow which Emil parried with the rifle, then thrust the muzzle into the attacker’s chest, forcing him up and back. A quick butt stroke to the groin laid him on the ground near his two friends.

One of the men yelled inside to Travis, Some stranger took just two knives from Bowie and left him pukin’ on the ground!

Travis walked outside to see two men lying next to his co-commander. Standing, arms folded, eyebrows raised, he allowed, "I shall have no soldiers left when Santa Anna arrives. Then he motioned the new man to his office.

They shook hands and Travis noted that Emil Joseph had an easy smile and huge, powerful shoulders. He was rawboned, lean and fit. Emil, where do you come from? he asked.

Down a little south east of here, they are gonna name the town Schulenburg, I think.

Where did you learn to fight like that?

Well, back when we lived on the coast, this China man came through and Pa let him live with us for a year or two. I learned a lot from him and kept practicing.

Can you teach your techniques to the Alamo defenders?

Emil thought for a moment and shook his head. We don’t have enough time. But what I could do is look at what they need most and teach only that. Besides, you should not go one on one with Santa Anna. He has too many men and the things I do are intense and exhausting. You will lose if you fight him that way.

How do you think I should fight him?

Dunno, just got here. Gimme couple days. You got any scouts out looking for Santa Anna?

No, I doubt he is coming. A long winter march would be hard for him, replied the commander.

I think he is coming, countered Emil. We should meet later, after I have a chance to look around some.

As Emil left Travis’ office, a compact Mexican, perhaps in his mid-twenties, approached and smiled, "Senor, I see what you do to those men. Will you teach me? Me llamo Lerma, Carlos Lerma. I can teach you to load and fire the guns. It is not so hard."

Howdy! You got a deal. My name’s Emil Joseph. Where can we get something to eat? They walked to the central ovens and found some hard boiled eggs and cornbread, which they washed down with strong, hot coffee.

But a later walk around the fortress was plumb discouraging. It was built long ago so Spanish soldiers could defend against Indian raids. The limestone walls were massive, but would not withstand modern cannon for long. It was worse where they had crumbled into disrepair. One large breach was guarded by four medium artillery pieces stationed close to what had once been a wall. It is nice we put them here, observed Lerma, with a wry smile. Now, Santa Anna don’t need to bring his cannon along. He can capture these and turn them against us. This fortress becomes a big trap for us if he can penetrate or scale our walls.

Emil nodded and noticed lots of human waste and garbage lying around. Chamber pots were only sometimes emptied over the walls. Lerma agreed it was unsanitary, but said they were lucky to get some of the men to even do that. Emil asked, Where are your patrols and guard posts?

Lerma sighed and shook his head sadly. The command is so divided that we cannot do even the small, necessary things.

Emil asked his new friend what he knew of Santa Anna and his army. Lerma replied, This general is not our only modern leader to think himself Napoleon of the West. He seems to be a talented man and mucho vain. People say he will field a considerable army, one that is designed to overwhelm. He has infantry, cavalry, engineers, and artillery. Santa Anna is able to coordinate his forces to bear upon an enemy. Many think his men are the equal of European armies.

The conversation reached a lull as both men considered what they had seen. Then Lerma spoke, Senor Emil Joseph, I think I like to call you Shoulders. You got nice name, but I think Shoulders fit you better. Do you mind?

The man looked to his new friend, smiled, and said, Pard, you can call me anything except late for dinner. So Shoulders it was.

He wanted to see the well. Ya know, Lerma, a fortress can be weakened from within. Starvation, disease, and lack of water can hurt folks to the point they can’t repel an assault. The well turned out to be old and serviceable, but it had fallen into disrepair. If we get a couple of well monkeys down there to clear the debris and sand, repair walls--I bet we can double the output. Ya can’t have too much fresh water.

And so it went. Everywhere there were idle men, angry and discontented—and much work to be done. Both agreed they should keep the men busier so they don’t bitch as much.

Shoulders wanted to give Travis a written list of projects, but first they went to visit Bowie, who was in his room recovering. One of the men called to him. Jim, that sumbitch what kicked yer ass today wants to see you. Want me to run him off?

Naw, let him in—I want another look at him anyway.

Shoulders walked in and said, Jim, I hope you are feeling better. I shouldn’t be doing Santa Anna’s work for him.

Bowie had sobered up some by then and allowed, Shucks, I was out of line.

They spoke of other things for a brief time. Then Shoulders quietly asked, Jim, tell me about your family. I heard they got real sick, as he respectfully looked down at his boots.

Bowie took a deep breath. Yeah, I lost ‘em all. Even moved them some distance away from where they was, because we heard something was coming. It got ‘em anyway. They had fever and cramps. Died before I could get there.

It’s a damn shame, Jim. I am sorry you lost them. Shoulders waited a moment and continued. Have you seen how dirty this place is? In my opinion, we could get that same typhus or whatever it was, in here among us. If it comes, I doubt we could even put up a fight.

Bowie nodded. What do you want to do about it?

I want to build some pit privies. They’d have to be emptied every few days and the waste burned. Nasty work, but beats hell out of getting people sick. Would you support such a plan, to keep the boys as healthy as possible?

Yup.

Jim, you probably got more experience fighting skirmishes than anyone here. But I do not think any of us have seen the like of what Santa Anna is bringing. What should we do different to help ourselves and how should we do it?

Bowie scratched his head. Hoo boy! Just about everything. But since you ask, we need to find out where he is at, and what he’s got. Right now, we don’t even know if he’s coming this year! And we need to strike him from a distance, bleed him before he even gets here! This bidness of waiting so’s we can get off two or three volleys before he is over our walls and upon us is just gonna git us all kilt!

Lerma’s eyes got big and Shoulders nodded thoughtfully. They both figured he was right. Shoulders paused a minute, then continued, Jim, if Travis would agree to you having a mounted command, say about thirty men, could you be effective? Bowie nodded. Would you submit your plans to his discretion? A slow nod. Would you then quit raising so much hell around here and help with some of these other things?

Bowie grinned. You know, I ought do that anyway. Shake, Pard.

As the two left, Lerma asked what came next.

We go see Travis and tell him what was said here.

Later, someone asked Bowie if he was really going along with all that stuff. He replied, Here is about the biggest, fastest, toughest, sumbitch ever—and with a few more like him, hell, we might win this thing!

Travis was surprised to see them back so soon, but listened with interest to all suggestions, particularly the things having to do with Bowie.

He just wants a small command, Shoulders told him. You have discretion, but try to leave him pretty much alone once you have approved his plans. He’s done a lot of fighting and skirmishing before, and will adapt well. He wants to scout Santa Anna’s whereabouts and strength. You should let him have a few men to do this. We go on from there. We’ll be busy all night planning and will have something written for you tomorrow.

As the two departed, Travis cast his eyes upward and whispered, Thank you.

Scouts Out!

Men and snakes become very deadly.

As they walked away from Travis’ office, Lerma remarked, I think that went good.

Shoulders agreed. I want to keep things moving. Can you get me one of each of the weapons we will use to defend Alamo? And do we have anything the Mexicans are using? I’ll find an open spot by the north wall so’s you can teach me to fire them. I know some things, but not all things.

Lerma returned an hour later with a load of assorted flintlock pistols, muskets, one rifle, one Jaeger, and some fighting knives. Shoulders found loading the weapons to be fairly straightforward and quickly mastered that. Shooting the pistols was another matter. Most seemed unreliable past twenty-five yards.

The smoothbore muskets did better because of the longer barrel and were fairly accurate to fifty yards and a little beyond. The long rifle brought a smile to Shoulders’ face as he scored some good hits at well over one hundred yards. Then he picked up the Jaeger, a side-by-side double barrel shotgun in twelve gauge.

Lerma showed how to do several different loads with this versatile, deadly piece. One large slug was a devastating round, but impractical. A better choice was nine balls in thirty-caliber which made an interesting pattern on the wall from fifty yards. Then he showed a turkey load of smaller shot, meant for large birds. That one also cast an interesting pattern, best at no more than fifty to sixty yards. Then Lerma loaded one barrel with the buckshot, the other with birdshot. You go hunting this way—comes the deer or wolf, use the bigger shot—comes the turkey or goose, use the small ones. Just remember which is which.

Shoulders liked the gun, the way it handled and swung, a well-balanced design. The barrels were shorter than some, so it moved and pointed easier. Lerma found clay pots to throw in the air and his friend broke most of them in flight. Most important, the idea for a new, devastating load was building inside the mind of a warrior.

He and Lerma set up their meeting in the chapel. I’m going to see Travis and Bowie, Shoulders said. We need five men from each of their groups to plan some scouting. I want to represent Travis, but have Bowie run the meeting. You should be in there for Bowie.

Lerma nodded. His eyes reflected a deeply intelligent nature, but guarded, very guarded. The eyes almost never smiled. They assessed.

Shoulders met briefly with Travis. We meet in one hour to set up Bowie’s cavalry. We need five of your men in the chapel. I’d like to be there to help monitor your interests. We will submit a written report tomorrow morning, which you may approve or decline. Fair enough?

Travis thought for a minute, then agreed. After all, he would have four other men inside the meeting.

Shoulders found Bowie eating his supper. He made the same deal, except suggesting Lerma be one of his men because he had lived in the main area of interest to the scouts. Bowie was to run the meeting. Shoulders gave him a small piece of paper. It read: Scout the enemy, repair the walls, sanitation, clean the well. Bowie read it and smiled again, then showed his own similar list, which included names of thirty men he wanted. Lerma was at the top of the page.

As the meeting began, Bowie said, ’Preciate ya’ll bein here, I hope we can help figure out how to win this damn thing. Firstly, I think the command needs information on Santa Anna’s location. Lerma, you got any idea on where he might be coming from?

Santa Anna will probably come across the Rio Grande at Eagle Pass or Laredo. Both are about 150 miles away from San Antonio. Since his armies come from different parts of Mexico, he might use more than one crossing.

A few old maps sort of clarified things, mainly there was a huge area to cover. Lerma suggested, Send teams of two scouts each to the Laredo and Eagle Pass approaches. Try to speak with locals. Juan Seguin and I would blend in well to make one team.

Some discussion followed, and the vote to scout Santa Anna passed. Then Bowie did a strange thing, for him. You all know, Will Travis and me have not always got along real well. But he has showed us a little leg here, and I want to do something he wants. What might that be?

One of the Travis men rose. Repair the walls. He would like to start there, but does not know how. Any engineers among our men?

No one spoke at first, then one replied, I know of two stone masons. They never did anything this big, but they might know a few things.

Bowie nodded and asked, How many of you here want typhus? The men were shocked and recoiled at the inference. Then why do we tolerate all this crap and filth around us? It can only get worse! My family is dead because of conditions like these! We should support efforts to clean us up and fix the walls. I will man the first shovel and light the first fire and place the first stone!

It got very quiet as all helped write a plan for Travis. Bowie would have one day to select his scouts and they would depart the next. Work on the other projects would begin as soon as possible.

Travis read the report and signed it, Please proceed.

Bowie quickly picked his five scouts and they went to work selecting horses and equipment. Every decision balanced the weight of an item carried with how it would help a man defend himself, or how well he would eat.

Just before dawn on departure day, Travis and Bowie were at the gate to shake each man’s hand and wish him well as they left. Bowie had the rest of his men saddled up because he wanted to patrol the area and see how well the men could ride and work together. Shoulders quickly noted they were mounted infantry and not cavalry. He would have to do something about that, but what?

Travis presented Bowie with his few maps of the San Antonio area. He asked Bowie to fill in the gaps, so they would have accurate elevations, distances, and show where the gullies are. Might come in handy later if you need to mount a sortie or two.

Bowie nodded. Maybe we are not so far apart on tactics after all.

Travis led Shoulders to his office. How the hell did you line that up? He got five men for a small mission and I got two big things I have been wanting all along!

Shoulders mumbled something about, Bowie hates to lose.

Then he asked to discuss Travis’ basic organizational structure. Please consider groups of ten men who will select one leader. Five leaders meet to elect a ‘fifty’ to represent them at your council meetings. The fifty could be an older, wiser man. He is a direct representative from them to you, and will vote on all important matters. You would make your case to the fifties, but would only vote if there is a tie. I’ll present this to Bowie when he returns. He will like it because he will have three strings under his command, thus insuring his ability to elect a fifty. You will like it because you get some help running this place. Three or four hundred soldiers are way too many for you to manage.

Travis looked up. Three or four hundred?

Yep, was the cool reply, We need to get you more men. Crockett has been camped south of town for a week. I’d bring his men in for a shooting contest and whatever the hell else it takes to keep them here. Then send Crockett and Bowie to Goliad and try to talk Colonel Fannin into joining us. He’ll probably refuse, so then they should ask to speak to his men. They will listen to Davey and Jim. Maybe we get can you another hundred or so that way. Think about it.

Travis nodded as Shoulders continued. Lerma showed me a nice shotgun called a Jaeger. How many do we have?

We have ten, and I had to fight my staff for each one of them. Mr. Frank is holding another ten for me at his general store. I like the double barrel design

I agree with you. Will you join me at the north wall in an hour with some of your men? I think they’ll want more Jaegers when I am done.

One more thing. I found a very large cast iron tub in one of the storerooms. Can I fix it up to heat water? We bring in well water, have a fire underneath, and use the warm water for showers and laundry. A little more cleanliness won’t hurt. We trap the wash water and use the flow to remove some sewage.

Travis was thoughtful and a little wide-eyed at all of this, but he approved.

The big man bolted from Travis’ office to retrieve the Jaeger that Lerma left for him. He hung some wicker produce baskets on the wall and paced off fifty yards as Travis arrived with his group. Shoulders loaded his Jaeger, being careful to show his audience the placement of six balls of thirty-caliber buckshot, along with about twenty smaller turkey pellets. He blasted two baskets from fifty yards distance, demolishing them both and making a significant scar on the wall behind. He reloaded quickly and aimed between two other baskets and killed them both with one shot. Another two baskets to the side met the same fate.

If the enemy massed his formations against us, we might kill or wound two or three of them with one round from this shotgun. I might reduce my reload time from over thirty seconds to about twenty if I had premeasured powder and shot—and practiced some. Now, I ask you all to visualize three ranks of ten men, each firing and quickly reloading, to pour near continuous volleys into a Mexican Army formation. What effect might that have?

Travis did not hesitate. He summoned an aide. Go pick up the ten Jaegers that Frank is holding at his store and ask him to order us ten more. He turned to Shoulders. Do you have any more surprises today?

No, but it is still early.

As they both walked back to his office, Travis wondered aloud. How might Bowie be doing?

I think he’ll be back soon. He’ll grow tired of making maps and ordering thundering cavalry charges, only to finally figure out he has a fine unit of mounted infantry. They cannot fight from the saddle. They will fire one volley and have to dismount to reload. Damned inconvenient. Someone may run all the hosses off while they find their powder horns. It’ll be a terrible mess! Then the Mexican cavalry can come and stick him in the ass with those long lances. Those things don’t need any reloading. What we need is to git his men some Jaegers and teach them how to reload in the saddle.

Can you do that?

Maybe, but first we got to make him want to do it.

Bowie’s company returned mid-afternoon. His horses were lathered, his men dusty, thirsty, and hungry. Shoulders walked up as Bowie told one of his officers, We carry way too much gear. The hosses is out of shape for what we ask them to do. Y’all go take care of your animals, officer’s call after supper in my room.

How’d it go, Jim? Shoulders asked

Aw, we always have a few rough spots, first time out, you know.

Shoulders thought big disaster, but said, Can you spare me a moment with one or two of your men? I got something that might help.

Bowie was in no mood, but agreed. Just a few minutes, I’m tired.

They walked to the north wall where Shoulders briefed them on what the Jaeger could do. The previous damage was still visible and impressive. Shoulders killed a few more enemy produce baskets and demonstrated a fast reload, saying, Jim, some of your boys are faster than I am with this stuff. Think about it, you got two barrels, not one, and each contains six slugs and some turkey shot. One quick reload in the saddle and you got twenty-four slugs down range instead of one or two. And I think the enemy hosses will go nuts if we hit ‘em with either size shot.

Bowie nodded, then grabbed the gun and fired a few rounds. He grinned at the way it handled. It’ll be much better than a long rifle from horseback. Reckon we could git some of these?

Shoulders sucked some air through his teeth and hesitated. Dunno, Jim. Travis wants them for his men—just ordered more, but they aren’t here yet. Now if your men could learn a quick reload on the ground, maybe they could figure how to do that from the saddle. Then he’d have to give you a few, it seems. Premeasured and packaged rounds might be the way to go. You know--cloth or paper you could just grab in the middle of a fight?

Shoulders then took his leave under the quit-while-you-are-ahead theory, and reported to Travis. We are creating a fine fighting force that will change the face of the coming battle, both inside and outside of Alamo.

Bowie encouraged his men to learn the quick reload as darkness fell. When one man was heard to complain about the lack of light, Bowie yelled, Sheee-ittt! Do you think the Mexicans gonna only attack your sorry ass in the daytime? Learn to do it fast—in the dark! He sent for the rest of his men to learn the new skills.

***

Fifty miles southwest, Lerma and his group found a small spring shortly before sunset. They made camp and prepared to leave the next day. Four of them would spread out to cover as much ground as possible, the fifth to remain at camp. When large armies march, they have an impact in every direction. Some people flee ahead, trying to get away while others hide to avoid having their property stolen to provision all those hungry men and animals. Lerma thought they should check river crossings and other choke points to see if there was any word. But they must be careful. Santa Anna might have his spies out, or worse, mounted patrols. They enjoyed their last hot meal. It would be cold camps ahead.

The small group of soldiers enjoyed the cool of evening and its soft, balmy breezes. But Santa Anna was not their only worry. They had been conditioned by years of living in this area to be aware of dangers brought by local flora and fauna. Most plants sported thorns or other defensive gear. The animal world featured many ways to sting or bite. The consequences of a rattlesnake strike or a scorpion sting were painful, even life threatening. A slow staccato castanet-like sound warned man and beast, You are too close. This passes into an agitated buzz that signals, Imminent death. The scorpion is silent as it crawls into shoes or boots as they lay about. A man soon learns to tap the heel to see if there is company before putting that item on. It only takes once.

Shoulders intercepted Bowie near Travis’ office. The man was determined, Gonna git summa-them Jaegers for my men! Shoulders urged patience, but Bowie thundered, Yew don’t understand! One of my men can reload in the saddle and thinks he might be able to do it with the hoss movin!

Shoulders had to suppress a laugh, Now, Jim, we all had a full day today. We have lots of things to consider. Give Travis a little time. Tomorrow, before you leave on patrol, give him the maps you drew and tell him you will have more ready real soon. Then, ask if you can borrow two Jaegers so’s maybe your boys can learn to fight from the saddle as they patrol. Try small bites, my friend. He wants to win as bad as you.

Next morning, Shoulders watched as Travis handed two of the new shotguns to Bowie and shook his hand. Some of Bowie’s men had been had been up for hours, casting lead shot and packaging loads.

Travis walked over to Shoulders, How did you do that?

Shoulders shrugged. I remembered he wants to win as bad as you do.

Scouts Return

Any man who offers his blood in service is forever my brother!

Lerma and his boys got an early start the next morning. He and Seguin would concentrate on the roads from Laredo, the other two would head toward Eagle Pass. They began at an easy canter searching for an army out there in the vast wilderness. Sully would set up a base camp near the spring.

Late that afternoon they found a bridge had been recently built over a significant river. The road past this point was a near straight shot to Laredo and Mexico. Four miles upstream, a ford had served people of the area for many years. The two men of Alamo carefully examined both crossings and Lerma made some notes.

***

At about that same moment, Bowie returned to the Alamo. He was smiling when Shoulders helped him tend to his horse. We figgered out how to reload in the saddle and I see what you meant by that. Now we can almost do it at an easy lope in case we need to be moving.

Good man! Now go tell Travis you need nine Jaegers and one hour to prepare a demonstration for him. Get your nine best men to the north wall and form ranks of three at fifty yards’ distance. You command each rank to fire their two shots slowly, then retire to reload. Call it ‘rolling thunder’, or ‘rolling death,’ whatever you want. It will scare the hell out of everyone. Then ask if you can learn to do that on horseback and on foot for all your thirty men. See what he says. I bet the answer will be yes.

Bowie’s smile grew larger as he left, saying, Finish with my hoss—I got to go see a man about some guns!

An hour later, word of the demonstration had attracted plenty of interest. Bowie took what was left of the enemy produce baskets and piled them at the wall. As his first rank knelt, he commanded, Make ready—fire! Three huge guns thundered. Recover... make ready, fire! The three shoulder-cannons roared again. The men exited left and right to reload as the second rank stepped forward. Again the guns sounded and having demolished the baskets, they tore chunks from the wall. The third rank advanced to fire as the first rank completed its reload.

Travis had seen enough and called a halt, Before you blow my wall away!

Bowie smiled and replied, Colonel, my men would like to give you the capability to form three ranks of ten each, mounted or afoot, to be used to defend the Alamo as you deem best.

Travis nodded. As soon as possible.

Shoulders said not a word.

* * *

Lerma did not want to attract any attention, so they made a cold camp that evening by the river. He started thinking about that darn bridge. He would bet Santa Anna wanted to use it because it was wide and strong enough for his heavy cannon and wagons. If the bridge were unavailable, he would have to use the ford or go a long way around, possibly both. In either case, the men of Alamo would have more time to gather resources and prepare.

Lerma did not want to ride much farther, but agreed to go until noon the following day. He and Seguin split up and would meet back at the bridge that evening. An hour later, Lerma spotted something coming. Lots of dust rose on the horizon and there was an occasional glint of sun on metal. He found a small rise and climbed up with his spy glass. Thankfully he saw only sheep and goats, with three men on horseback and others on foot working those marvelous herding dogs. They looked as if someone were chasing them.

Lerma took a big chance. He approached the group, hands in sight, Can you rest a moment to speak with me? Why such a hurry?

A company of lancers came a week ago to claim our animals. Santa Anna had signed a voucher to pay for them. We replied the stock was sold at market a week before and we were waiting for our money. So the lancers took some pigs and horses and left. Our stock was really grazing in a high pasture, so we moved the next day and now we are here. We hope to stay ahead of Santa Anna, headed south, to avoid his army.

Lerma opined, I think he comes down this road.

The others agreed. We have several days, maybe a week for the main army to arrive here. The general’s army can make about ten miles a day on these poor roads, but his lancers move much faster. The herdsmen moved to leave.

Lerma observed, "Senors, I see your pobrecito perros seem thirsty. Would you give them a drink from my canteen?" Two nodded and also took a little water for themselves. Lerma asked more questions and found that Santa Anna had indeed crossed the Rio Grande two days ago. Quantos soldado? he shouted as they departed.

"Muchos," they responded as they moved their stock across the barren, parched land searching for a place where they would be left alone.

Lerma pressed his horse as he rode back to the bridge. He wanted to somehow destroy that span--but how? He could start a fire even now, but it probably would not damage much before it was extinguished. He had no equipment to saw or chop, so he knew what must be done. Seguin later agreed. More drawings were made, distances paced off, depths plumbed. Then they rode to the ford for more measurements and across some open country to intercept the road home.

When they made their way back to the spring, Sully was both surprised and glad to see them. He understood the urgency of what they decided to do. He fed them, watered their horses, and saddled the two most rested ones he had. Lerma and Seguin would gallop through the night to deliver a message to Alamo so those brave men could decide. Weapons and food stayed behind as they departed with only a little water to sustain them.

They entered Alamo in the early morning hours. Travis, Bowie, and Shoulders were called to the chapel for their news.

Lerma made his presentation to men who had slept soundly only minutes before. They were rudely shocked by the implications of his words. All knew Santa Anna meant business. He had crossed the big river in force to kill them all.

Travis’ audience grew as word of Lerma’s arrival spread. Gentlemen he said. Your commander needs you now, more than ever. Are there any suggestions? The chapel grew quiet as men soberly pondered a very good question.

At last Lerma spoke. If we could destroy the bridge after he has committed to that line of march, we may delay him by about a week, perhaps more. Brave men would have to ride into the teeth of his vanguard, accomplish a difficult job, and try to return safely. It will not be easy. We should do this only if we make good use of any time we gain.

Men shifted uneasily around the room as they considered his words. At last Bowie rose to ask, Do you think we should burn the bridge, blow it up, or make cuts to weaken the supports? Lerma simply nodded. Bowie added, Then take ten men and bring back the tools we will need to do that. Push them tables together and pile your stuff there. Now, Shoulders, you help me figure out how to arm this mission, not knowing who or how many we may have to fight.

Travis asked if Bowie were volunteering.

He replied, Heck no, boss, I’m just trying to get a better handle on things. But I guess if you send any out there, it would be us. I need some time to plan. It is a couple hours to sunrise. Best we talk then.

Travis just smiled and nodded.

There was a flurry of activity as Bowie’s tables were loaded with saws, axes, hatchets, blankets, gunpowder, lamp oil, tar, rations, anything they thought might help.

Bowie asked J. Kenneth Lee to be the acting medical officer. Lee approached Captain Dickinson’s wife and other ladies of Alamo to beg some needles, thread and bandages. He threw in a few new fish hooks, thinking he could grind off the barb and sharpen them for use in suturing wounds. Lee put all that plus a few fairly clean tools and some whisky in a medical bag and threw it on the table.

Lerma told Shoulders, We will probably face Santa Anna’s light cavalry lancers because he likes to deploy them to his front. They are fast, maneuver well, and carry those gosh-awful lances. Some have pistols and carbines.

Bowie organized his gear and arms. One stack was got to have, another like to have, and another maybe. Items migrated from one group to another. Early on, they decided to take a medium wagon. It was the only way to get what they needed down there and sadly, might be needed as an ambulance on the way back.

Bowie pled for all twenty Jaegers. Travis reluctantly agreed and thought the patrol should have twenty men, with five extra horses. Bowie asked for Lee and Henry in addition, to be medical staff/soldiers. He also wanted Shoulders and the recently-arrived Davey Crockett. Shoulders pled for the lightest cannon they had, a one-pounder. Travis thought for a minute, then nodded.

Travis strode up front to address the gathering, Gentlemen, a moment of your time, please. Up until now, the possibility of conflict was a distant concept. We have concerned ourselves with more immediate and possibly less important things. This mission presents me and my staff the concern that some, perhaps many, and possibly all the brave volunteers may be wounded, or even perish very soon in a difficult effort. He paused for a moment, then continued.

From this moment forward, any man among us who offers his blood in service to this command is forever my brother! We few, we privileged few, will be bound together--come what may, through all eternity! And in years yet to come as we may gather with our families on feasting days to proudly bare our arms and reveal our battle scars--dearly won as we stood with our fellows at the Siege of Alamo! God be with us in our struggle!

No one spoke a word as Travis stepped outside to confer with staff. Henry looked to Lee, I got some of that down, what about you?

Lee replied, I’m working on it. Keep writing, I’ll check with you in a minute. Damn! That was good—I didn’t know he had it in him.

The wagon was finally loaded, and Shoulders departed mid-morning, trailing his puny little cannon behind. A small, sleepy Mexican named Lerma was dozing beneath some blankets in the back of the wagon. The rest of Bowie’s command finished arming and provisioning, to follow at noon, headed back to the spring.

Later, Shoulders’ wagon met three comrades returning from the spring. He motioned to Sully who shrugged, took a deep breath, and turned his horse to join them.

Burning Bridges

Santa Anna esta un muy malo hombre.

The first rally point was ten miles south. All gathered for one final check. Bowie rose in his stirrups, shouting, All animals and gear ready to ride over one hundred miles for the Alamo?

A low rumble replied All ready. And with a wave of Bowie’s hat they were off!

They were able to maintain a fair pace, slowing every hour or so to let the animals blow. Shoulders, Bowie, and Lerma rode together for a piece. Bowie had often been critical of Travis for his lack of experience and other things. But tonight was different. I think our guy just became a real commander, he offered.

Around midnight, the man riding point found a spring they were looking for. Passers-by had dug it out and someone made a place for a wooden bucket to catch the modest amount of water that was emitted. That full bucket was replaced by an empty one as men and horses came for a drink.

Lerma had travelled this road before. Last chance to water up before we hit the river, he advised. They figured another forty, maybe fifty miles through some desolate areas. By mid-morning they guessed about ten more miles to the river. Bowie called a halt to send scouts north and south, another up the tallest tree he could find.

Bowie’s past served them well now. No fires, gents, no flashing anything. Spyglass has to point away from the sun or be shielded. I don’t want his folks to know we’re here just yet. Find you some cover and rest a spell.

Lerma returned from the north about noon. Your bridge is eight miles west, pretty well built, and connects with this road. The ford is four miles north of that. I found two eastbound riders and was able to speak with them. They saw Santa Anna’s army from a distance two days ago and guessed the vanguard would arrive late tomorrow or the following day. I told them I hoped to be gone by then.

Lerma pulled his dusty hat from his head. We have to defend the ford. Otherwise, they’ll just cross there and fall on our flank—maybe in large numbers. My friends at the bridge did not see lancers, and thought they were probably out foraging. Some might get here tonight, the rest in another day, so we best get to work.

The men sucked a little air through their teeth and nodded.

Lerma continued, "I’d like eight men working on