Heart of a Warrior

By Steven A. Brownrigg

The first complete biography of Col. William Gordon Cooke, leader of the New Orleans Greys, and a Founding Father of the Republic of Texas and the State of Texas. Never before told, this epic work brings new discoveries and fresh insights into Texas history through the life of the one of the most important figures in the War of Independence and the creation of the Republic of Texas. The hero of the Storming of Bexar, the Battle of San Jacinto, Commander of the Army of Texas, Chief Commissioner on the Texan-Santa Fe Expedition, and a major participant at the Council House Fight, the Battle of Salado, the Somervell Expedition, and Captain of Marines in the Texas Navy during the famous sea Battles of Campeche. Congressman, Secretary of War, and Adjutant General are just a few of his many titles. Enjoy a tour through every major event in the history of the Republic of Texas in this fascinating adventure story. Readers will be captivated by the drama and dangerous exploits of one of the most intriguing figures in Texas history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven A. Brownrigg
• Release date: Dec 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370356232

Steven A. Brownrigg

Steven A. Brownrigg is a native Texan, and author of Col. William G. Cooke's biography in the Texas State Historical Association's The Handbook of Texas. Over 20 years of research have gone into the writing of this ground-breaking saga. It's rare to find a story in Texas history that has never been told, and he has devoted countless hours to an in-depth investigation of every facet of this amazing biography.

Book preview

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Heart of a Warrior

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The untold story of

Colonel William G. Cooke

The last Commander of the Army of Texas,

and a Founding Father of the Republic of Texas.

New discoveries and fresh insights into Texas history in the first complete biography of one of the most important figures in the history of the Republic of Texas.

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by

Steven A. Brownrigg

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Please note…

a portion of all sales

will be donated to the

American Cancer Society.

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Copyright © 2016, Steven A. Brownrigg

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced

or distributed in any form or by any means

without express permission in writing from the author.

Unless noted otherwise, all images are in the public domain with no known copyright restrictions and are used under the Fair Use guidelines. If an image is found to be in violation and a copyright does exist, the owner may contact the author at [e-mail]. Upon providing proof in writing of the copyright, the image(s) will be removed until a fair and reasonable licensing arrangement is established.

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For Shirley Mae and Gertie Cooke

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The warriors have departed

In brave and gallant row,

Strong of arm and lion-hearted

To conquer the base foe.

Arms are clashing, swords are flashing,

Dealing death at ev’ry blow:

Scatter’d! flying! Dead and dying—

Mark! The foeman’s overthrow

Hear the war-cry loudly swelling—

"Remember Santa Fé;"

And the shouts of triumph telling

"We’ve conquer’d and are free."

—William Bollaert’s Texas

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

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PREFACE

A DREAM OF ADVENTURE

THE LAND OF PROMISE

THE NEW ORLEANS GREYS

SIEGE OF SAN ANTONIO DE BÉXAR

TO ATTACK WOULD BE SUICIDE

A MONTH OF MASSACRES

THE RUNAWAY SCRAPE

EIGHTEEN MINUTES

A NATION FROM THE WILDERNESS

THE COUNCIL HOUSE

THE ROAD TO THE RED RIVER

FOR THE HILLS OF SANTA FÉ

AN ENDLESS SEA OF GRASS

THE DEAD MAN’S JOURNEY

THE TRADE OF KILLING MEN

THE RÍO GRANDE

AGAINST THE IRONCLADS

SAM MADE THEM EQUAL

THE LAST DAYS OF THE REPUBLIC

THE 28TH STATE

WHAT IF…?

THE COOKE LEGACY

RECONOCIMIENTOS

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PREFACE

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THIS IS AN ADVENTURE story, more than a study of Texas history. All of these events, people, places, dates, and results have already been very well-documented by historians. They are the parchment upon which this narrative is written. Texas is fortunate to be so rich in history, and that these events were so well documented for the wilderness that it was.

However, there is the story of one man who was in every part of that history which has never been told.

You wouldn’t know him by name, but Sam Houston and Jim Bowie both knew him. Houston knew him very well, and Bowie was with him in San Antonio, before the Alamo. You can name any person in the Republic of Texas, and they either knew him or knew of him.

Almost every single one of his men valiantly gave their lives at the Alamo and Goliad, and it was only by pure chance that he didn’t die at their side.

But he fought in all of the other major battles that occurred in the Republic of Texas, including Béxar and San Jacinto. At Béxar, he saved the day, preventing a retreat and leading a charge which won the battle. Because of that, at San Jacinto he was promoted to Houston’s staff.

After the war, he commanded the Army of the Republic of Texas, and explored and mapped new territory. He opened the first new road in the Republic, from Austin north to the Red River. The next year, on an expedition to Santa Fé, New Mexico, he almost starved to death on the way, crossing the plains.

He survived only to be captured by the Mexican army, forced on a death-march of almost 1,600 miles to Mexico City, put in chains, and thrown into a Mexican dungeon on top of thousands of rotting corpses.

And when he was released, he went right back to war against Mexico, only now with an automatic death sentence over his head if he was caught. He was wounded riding alongside Devil Jack Hays of the Texas Rangers during their famous charge on the cannon at the Hondo River.

He went to sea as the Captain of Marines alongside Commodore Edwin Moore. Their epic victories in the sea battles off the coast of the Yucatán were the only thing that kept Santa Anna from attacking Texas again, in force, which they would not have survived.

He and his Marines also became the first combat unit in the history of mankind to use a certain brand-new weapon in battle. And it was a weapon that would forever change the course of history.

William Gordon Cooke was a warrior in the classic sense, descended from warriors. He was well-educated, from a successful family in Virginia. Handsome, well-liked, and a gentleman soldier, his imprint would remain forever a part of Texas. And yet his story, like General MacArthur said of old soldiers, just faded away.

It is so terribly sad that he never had a chance to write his own memoirs, for he had directly participated in more events in the history of the Republic than any other man ever had or would. It would have been an amazing cross-section of all the struggles for independence and the formation of the Republic of Texas, and eventually the State of Texas.

But he was too busy living the adventures to write about them. And so that is what I have attempted to do for him here.

So, I hope that you, the reader, find the same enchantment that I have in his story, and that you appreciate the scope and importance of all the accomplishments and adventures in which he participated during his time here.

I will warn you, however, that I’m a Texan myself, and speak the local lingo sometimes. So, if there’s any phrasing that doesn’t make sense, I’ll be happy to translate it for you.

Also, many of the quotations I’ve included were written way back then, in a grammar even more rudimentary than mine. Many words were misspelled, and while it’s customary for an author to put in a (sic) to mark each one, many of the quotations would end up having (sic) (sic) (sic) after every other word, and you’d get sick sick sick of reading them. So, I’ve left them out.

I also kindly beg your indulgence for the first chapter. It falls in the category of creative nonfiction. That is to say that the people, places, dates, and events are all documented and true in fact. The dialogue, however, is, of course, imagined.

But, given the times, when legends and stories were passed from generation to generation by the spoken word, I find it quite possible. Quite probable, actually.

Please enjoy.

One

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A DREAM OF ADVENTURE

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THE OLD MAN had stopped talking. Now, he leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, his greyed head laid back and slowly rocking side to side. The eerie, high-pitched song he hummed was more of a moan that escaped from his aged, cracked lips, barely audible.

The boy, seated with his back propped against the wide frame of the doorway, looked briefly at the old man, then back out over the fields of his family’s pastoral home in Fredericksburg, Virginia. He knew the song his grandfather sang.

He had been listening with a dreamlike gaze out over the fields as his elder told him a hundredth time about battles fought by the old man’s own great-grandfather, Sir Robert Riddell, an Earl of ancient Scotland, of the Clan Riddell. The old man loved to tell his stories, and the boy always loved to hear them. They were blood-curdling tales of screaming Scotsmen, kilts flying, swords and axes flashing in the sun as they roared down the hill. Blood flying as steel drove deep into English flesh. No quarter given, the battles raging for hours, hand-to-hand, until only the few were left standing. And now, he sang the high, screechy, shrill chant of the bagpipe. Eerie. Soul-piercing. Impossible to keep it from raising the hair on the back of your neck, as it was meant to do. Many enemies knew that sound, and what lay in wait for them.¹

Even Sir Walter Scott was moved to write of the Clan Riddell and their ferocity in battle:

Ancient Riddell’s fair domain

Where Aill, from mountains freed,

Down from the lakes did raving come,

Each wave was crested with tawny foam

Like the mane of a chestnut steed.²

He had often told the boy too, of his own battles in the War of 1812. How the volunteers from Virginia were pressed immediately into service with no training. They were simply sent out to join the lines of soldiers advancing with muskets blazing their smoke and deadly discharge.

And at Fort McHenry, they proved their worth, as Francis Scott Key saw, the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof thro’ the night that our flag was still there.³

The boy’s older brother, James, had also been in the war at Lake Erie. Tall-masted ships in a deadly game of chess, cannons roaring across the water in close quarters. Cannon balls screaming through masts and men.⁴

James had told him often about Master Commandant Oliver Hazard Perry. His blue banner, Don’t Give Up The Ship, flown high in pure defiance. And how they didn’t give up until the British were good and whipped.

Then, Perry’s simple, immortal note to General Hamilton, scrawled in pencil on the back of an old, dirty envelope,

Dear General: We have met the enemy and they are ours.⁵

The old man admitted that he couldn’t speak for James, but his thoughts back then had been of revenge for his own great-grandfather, the Earl, who had been banished from Scotland and all his lands seized for his revolts against the British long ago.⁶ The old man had never forgotten that, nor how his own grandfather had told him time and time again. Never give up. Never surrender. He leaned close now and patted the boy’s chest.

You’ve got the heart of a warrior in you, boy. That’s our blood in your veins.

His mother’s voice came from the kitchen, William! Get James and bring Papa to the table. Dinner is ready, and you still have your studies to do.

James had earned his Doctor’s license as well as his Dentist’s, Chemist’s, and Pharmacist’s licenses, and had opened a prosperous grocery and drug store in Fredericksburg. Now, William was already studying to follow in his brother’s footsteps when the time came.⁷

But for the time being, at fifteen years of age, he had other dreams. Of battles fought for a desperate cause against insurmountable odds. Of brave men charging into the enemy, steel and lead flying as their war banners fluttered overhead. And of the wide expanses of the wilderness and the mysteries they contained.

We are born to dream. It's in our genes, going back millions of years. We dreamed of crossing mountain ranges, deserts, and then, unmapped oceans. We had discovered a whole new world, and we clawed out a foothold that became our new home. Now, it was 1823, and a vast, unexplored, new country still lay just to the west. Half of the continent was still a wilderness. A man with the energy and spirit for it would find treasures there beyond his wildest dreams. But, there would be a price to pay. It would take a very special heart to win the right to lay claim to it.

Now, here was a young man, who, like all young men, dreamed of adventure. What would make this one man so very different was all in his blood.

The future of nations, and the histories of peoples would live because of his heart. The heart of a warrior.

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Two

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THE LAND OF PROMISE

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TEXAS, A TERRITORY of northern Mexico in the province of Coahuila, was already fabled for its riches, long before 1823. There were vast expanses of land and natural resources. Fertile, black gumbo soil that would grow anything. Plentiful waters, cold and clear, from hundreds of natural springs, and rivers filled with fish, turtles, even alligators. Hundreds of square miles of timber so dense a man could not pass through. Along with bee trees, wild grapes, plums, cherries, persimmons, dewberries, hickory nuts, walnuts, and pecans.

And game—droves of elk, deer, antelope, wild cattle, hogs, and javelinas. Cougars, panthers, jaguars, bobcats, and black bears. Turkeys, prairie hens, pheasants, dove, quail, and innumerable other birds. Thousands of wild mustangs running free. And buffalo in the millions. So many that they could cover the earth to every horizon, ranging over plains of grass so limitless and featureless that even experienced frontiersmen dared not venture into them, lest they become totally lost.

To hear it told, it was a country brimming with riches for the taking. The Land of Promise, Sam Houston would call it. All a man had to do was to go there and stake his claim.¹

And the Mexican government encouraged it. They made generous offers of land to any Mexican citizen who wanted to settle there. But the problem was that, even with the generous grants and as rich as the land was, it was difficult finding Mexican families who wished to live there.

Frequent attacks by Indians, especially the Comanches, made homesteading in Texas an extremely dangerous proposition. Never mind the Apaches, Kiowas, Cherokees, and sixty-seven other known tribes in Texas, including the Karankawas, or Kronks as they were called, and who were cannibals. Indians of all the many tribes were a danger that was always present.

But none were as fearsome as the Comanches. None even came close. The Comanches were a warrior-clan from the beginning of time. Conflicts between tribes were frequent and had always been a part of the natural course of their lives.²

Even the early Spanish Conquistadores, as brutal as they themselves could be, were aghast at some of the sights they saw. Alonso de León led four expeditions into Texas between 1686 and 1689. The last of these expeditions penetrated as far as the Guadalupe River, and is considered as marking the beginnings of Texas. At one point, their French guide took them to a village known to him, and where he was known and liked. As their hosts treated them to a feast while seated comfortably on buffalo robes inside the main hut, the chronicler made the note that, In front of the hut was driven a stake four varas (yards) high, on which were fastened sixteen heads of Indians, their enemies, whom they had killed.³

This had been the Comanches’ home for countless centuries, and they greatly resented intrusion. Striking with impunity, they burned settlers houses, stole horses, savagely tortured and killed the men, and raped and kidnapped women and children. They would brazenly raid in full daylight, but they also liked to strike at night, especially under a full moon. So often, in fact, that the full moon in Texas came to be called a Comanche Moon.⁴

They were supreme warriors on horseback, able to loose a dozen deadly-aimed arrows at a full gallop from under a horse’s neck, all in the time it took to shoot and reload one shot from a musket. A black-powder long rifle or musket was very ineffective against their fast-moving cavalry attacks.

It takes a while to load a one-shot rifle, and it’s a rather complicated process. Dr. Stephen Hardin in his wonderful book, Texian Iliad, gives an excellent step-by-step recitation along with several very nice illustrations. There are actually nineteen separate steps involved, almost all of which must be done carefully, which requires concentration. Done wrong, you will get a misfire or just a flash in the pan. And, when you have screaming Comanches riding down on you with a multitude of arrows zipping past, it’s easy to imagine losing your concentration. And then your scalp. It was also very difficult to hold a steady aim and shoot a long rifle from horseback, and totally impossible to shoot and reload without dismounting.⁵

So most battles were fought on foot, which gave the Comanches a distinct advantage. A small band of warriors on horseback could keep a much larger force on foot occupied for hours, until an entire tribe of old men, women, and children, dragging travois loaded with their tipis and all the camp gear, had long disappeared over the horizon. Then, the delaying warriors would simply disappear into the vastness of Texas, often with their opponents’ horses to boot.

To pursue them was also a hopeless endeavor, even suicidal. They deliberately crossed and crisscrossed their trails so much that very few men could track them. Other Indians such as the Lipan Apaches, the Comanches’ mortal enemy, had to be employed as trackers. Even so, the horses common to the Mexican cavalry and the plodding work-horses that settlers typically used were no match for the speed and endurance of a Comanche mustang. And so, as rich as it was, much of Texas was a virtually uninhabitable wilderness.⁶

Then, in 1821, Moses Austin from Virginia proposed an excellent solution. Austin’s family had been in the Unites States for five generations, and he had become a major part of lead mining and manufacturing. So much so that the years before the War of 1812 became known as the Moses Austin Period in the lead industry. But the War of 1812 and the depressed economic period afterward had put him out of business. He then attempted to prosper in the mercantile industry but was not doing well. In the meantime, he had learned about the wealth of natural resources and land for the taking in Texas, and its problems.

His idea was ambitious but basically simple—the settlement of Texas by a unique brand of people—immigrants from the United States who were not only hungry for land, but who were also quite able to defend themselves. This was a description which perfectly fit many U.S. citizens, especially those having gained military experience in the War of 1812.⁷

His proposal, however, was initially rejected by Governor Antonio María Martínez. But Austin persisted and enlisted the aid of the Baron de Bastrop, who was the current Alcalde (mayor) of San Antonio de Béxar. They had met in a chance encounter nineteen years earlier in New Orleans. The self-titled Baron, whose true name was Philip Hendrik Nering Bögel, was an immigrant from French Guiana who had done quite well in Texas. With his help, the two of them persuaded Martínez and the Mexican government of the merits of Austin’s plan.⁸

The appeal to the Mexican authorities was that, with Texas being too far north from Mexico City to be easily controlled and protected, these hardy settlers would self-govern the territory for them, thereby keeping it a Mexican territory under Mexican control. They would also provide a buffer between the northern Mexican provinces and the Comanchería, as the territory was also known. It was on the condition, however, that these settlers pledge allegiance to Mexico and convert to Catholicism. They would also be carefully chosen by Austin personally. As far as converting to the Catholic faith, that was only randomly enforced, and most of those who converted did so only for show. But they did take the Mexican constitution very seriously.⁹

And so, Austin negotiated land grants for 300 families from the United States to settle in Texas. He also convinced his son, Stephen, to agree to help, even though Stephen was not terribly enthusiastic about his father’s idea. He had been born in 1793 at his father’s lead mines in Virginia, and at age ten was sent to Connecticut for a formal education. He returned at age seventeen to work in the family store and eventually take over the family’s lead business. Until it went bust. He then moved to Arkansas, engaged in some land speculation and mercantile business, and was appointed as a circuit judge for a short term until he went to Texas to join his father’s new enterprise.

It speaks to Stephen’s character that, even after learning of his father’s death when he arrived in Louisiana, he kept his word and proceeded to San Antonio de Béxar to finalize the grants. There, he met with Governor Martínez who made Austin an Empresario with the power to grant titles in the amount of 640 acres for the head of each family, 320 acres for the wife, 160 acres for each child, and 80 acres for each slave. He also authorized Austin to collect 12½ cents an acre for his services, and to survey lands between the Brazos and San Antonio rivers, where he would establish the Austin Colony.

Austin then set about recruiting families who fit the qualities he wanted. They began to arrive in December of 1821, and by 1824, most of the grants had been issued. They came to be known as The Old Three Hundred, the first intrepid group from the United States to begin the settlement of Texas.¹⁰

Other Empresarios also quickly jumped on board, including the Baron de Bastrop himself, as well as Green DeWitt, Lorenzo de Zavala, John Grant, Silvestre De León, and many others who received generous amounts of land. During the interim, Austin had negotiated the grants up to the value of a league and a labor (4,605 acres) for each family.

Austin had also negotiated with the Mexican government to allow that any settlers’ debts in the northern states could not be collected in Texas. With the poor economic conditions that existed in the United States in the 1820’s, debt and poverty were widespread, and it was deemed necessary to give families a fresh start in Texas.

So, with minimal supervision from the Mexican government, the Texians, as they preferred to be called, arranged not only for their own subsistence and protection, but also for their own governments and militias, and their own civil laws and regulations under the Mexican Constitution of 1824. They were a new breed of settler, and were also called Texicans or sometimes just Texans. The resident Mexican families were most often referred to as Tejanos.¹¹

Austin also had the foresight to push the Mexican government, who had previously granted titles on loose sheets of paper, to allow meticulous record-keeping of land grants and surveys of the boundaries of deeds, the documents of which had to be approved by a land commissioner and kept in bound volumes, which can be found to this day in the General Land Office in Austin.¹²

Also, to this day, you can still find the famous Treaty Oak in Austin, a live-oak tree that was once part of a group of live-oaks near the Colorado River known as the Council Oaks. These trees had held a revered place in Indian lore for centuries and many tribal meetings, councils, and dances had been held here. It was here that Austin signed the first boundary line agreement with the local Indians, establishing a line running north-south through the place that would separate Indian lands from Anglo settlers’ lands. This agreement remained inviolate for years.¹³

And so, as time went on and settlement blossomed, the Texians did well to govern and regulate themselves. However, the Mexican government was undergoing major changes. Austin tried desperately to keep Texas apart from Mexico’s internal political struggles, but they were constantly drawn into the conflict. It didn’t help that many immigrants were flooding to Texas on their own, uninvited and without official sanction. By the middle of the decade, American settlers in Texas outnumbered Mexicans ten-to-one. Plus the United States was now also pushing Mexico to sell them Texas.

The Mexican government began to fear being overrun by Anglo settlers and so, on April 6, 1830, they banned any further immigration from the United States and imposed heavy tariffs and customs on Anglo merchants and settlers. To help accomplish this, in October of that year, Col. Juan Davis Bradburn, a Centralist, set up a garrison near the mouth of the Trinity River with forty soldiers to assist in the collection of taxes, and to prevent smuggling and illegal immigration. Centralists were those who were currently in power and who favored a strong central government with weaker states’ rights.

Then the troubles started. In January of 1831, a state-appointed land commissioner, José Francisco Madero, arrived to finalize the titles on some land grants that had been issued in 1828, prior to the 1830 decree. In his mind, these grants had already been approved and issued, thus they were not subject to the 1830 decree.

Bradburn, conversely, felt that the 1830 decree had nullified these grants. And so, with a rather heavy-handed approach to show his power and authority, he arrested Madero, who happened to be a Federalist—those in favor of stronger states’ rights such as essentially existed in northern Mexico already. Bradburn’s superiors quickly ordered him to release Madero, though.

But, before he left, Madero quickly authorized fifty more land grants, which was within his power and done in spite of Bradburn. Of course it greatly angered Bradburn, and it also set the stage for further conflicts, which soon occurred. Bradburn’s forces, which eventually grew to around 300 men, also included some convicts who were primarily used for hard labor. In 1831, an unfortunate event took place which justly enraged Texians and which they blamed on Bradburn’s convicts.¹⁴

Creed Taylor, in his memoirs, Tall Men with Long Rifles, retells the story of four of Bradburn’s men who attacked a woman alone in her house:

The woman fought with the fury of a demon and her loud screams attracted the attention of a small party hunting in the vicinity, who rushed to the scene. When they reached the house they found the door securely fastened on the inside and a terrible struggle going on within. Without a moments hesitation they seized heavy timbers, broke open the door, and rushed upon the demons. Three of the miscreants fled and escaped. The fourth, who according to the lady's testimony was the ring leader, was knocked down and securely bound. As news of the affair spread, a posse gathered at the scene. All were highly wrought and some of them wanted to hang the wretch to the nearest limb; one or two suggested that the fiend's head be cut off and hoisted on a pole in view of the fort.¹⁵

The captured miscreant was instead tarred and feathered, and run out of town on a rail. Literally. Then, another incident occurred which involved William Barret Travis, the future leader at the Alamo, who was practicing law in Anahuac. He was attempting to help a client with the recovery of a few runaway slaves from Louisiana. Slavery was not allowed in Mexico, but the Texians had been allowed to bring in indentured servants, which was a polite way of saying the same thing. So there were those in favor and those against.

A skirmish had occurred between the two factions, and prisoners, including Travis, were taken by both sides. When some of the Texians attempted to bring up cannon from the Brazos River settlements to end the conflict, they were met at Velasco by Mexican forces there under the command of Colonel Domingo de Ugartechea. On June 26, 1832, a battle ensued between an estimated 100-150 Texians and 91-200 Mexicans, resulting in ten Texians killed and eleven wounded, and five Mexicans killed and sixteen wounded.

It wasn’t a major battle in terms of the numbers involved, but it was the first blood to be drawn in what would become the Texas Revolution. Ugartechea was forced to surrender when his ammunition ran out, and was allowed to surrender with full military honors and to return to Mexico.¹⁶

Now, with these Anahuac Disturbances, as they were called, things were getting out of hand, and the settlers wanted a forum to discuss all the conflicts and their rising frustrations, so they held a convention in October, 1832, which Stephen F. Austin presided over. They, of course, wanted repeal of the prohibition against immigration and relief from the tariffs and customs. But, with all the disturbances and drama happening in the Mexican government, they also wanted separation from Coahuila and the authority to establish a separate state government in Texas. Austin knew these last two items would never be granted, and that the Texians were already maintaining an extremely precarious balance between independence and even stricter governmental control by Mexico. Oddly, the meeting by itself seemed enough to vent their grievances, and the proposals of the 1832 convention never reached the Mexican government. This was especially fortunate in Austin’s mind since none of the Mexican residents of Texas had attended the convention.¹⁷

But in the meantime, the friction and mistrust kept growing. The tariffs and immigration policies, along with the heavy-handed treatment by Mexican officials, was wearing every Texian’s patience very thin. So, another convention was held in 1833 and Austin again presided over it, again hoping to moderate the Texians’ demands. But this time a formal Constitution was drafted to accompany the Texians’ appeals, and Austin was forced, against his better judgment, to go to Mexico City and plead the Texians’ case.

That year, he met with the Mexican government and, although he persuaded them to repeal the immigration law and received the promise of reforms regarding the tariffs and customs, he was not able to convince them to allow a separate state of Texas. He had already known they wouldn’t, so he left satisfied that he had accomplished all that he could and began his return to Texas. Only now, he was arrested in Saltillo, accused of inciting insurrection, and imprisoned in Mexico City.

He was never formally charged however, and was eventually freed in 1835, returning to Texas on September 1 of that year, hoping to set the peace and get on with business. But, he had been gone for twenty-eight months, and when he returned, Texas was on the brink of war.¹⁸

In the few years that all these events had taken place, Antonio López de Santa Anna, a national hero because of his military victories, had solidified his power as a Federalist and replaced Centralist President Anastacio Bustamente in 1833. But, the very next year he declared that Mexico was not ready for a democracy, then reversed his position, and declared himself as an autocratic Centralist. He set up what was essentially a dictatorship in Mexico City.

When liberals in Zacatecas defied his authority, Santa Anna gathered his forces and moved to crush their rebellion. He did so quickly and followed his victory on May 12, 1835 with a campaign of extremely savage repression. He had learned from his previous commanders that mass executions were an acceptable tactic to be used when subjugating an entire territory. So he allowed his soldiers two days to rape and pillage Zacatecas. It’s estimated that more than 2,000 helpless citizens were killed or executed, and that over 2,700 were imprisoned during those two horror-filled days.¹⁹

Next he declared invalid the Constitution of 1824 to which the Texians had sworn loyalty, and also commanded that all illegal settlers be expelled from Texas. Lastly, and rather incredibly, he demanded that all Texians be disarmed. This was something that no Texian in his right mind was going to allow, especially living with the danger of hostile Indians who would love nothing better than to separate your hair from your head.

With these actions, the explosive elements of war had been firmly put in place and the fuse inserted. All it would take now was a spark to ignite it.²⁰

On the first day of October, 1835, Col. Ugartechea, who had returned to Texas and been given overall command of the Mexican army, sent a squad from his headquarters at San Antonio de Béxar to nearby Gonzalez to take possession of a small cannon. The cannon had originally been given to the citizens of Gonzalez by Mexico for protection against Indians. It was an old cannon and worn out to the point of being ineffective, other than to be used as a noisemaker to frighten away the Indians when they lurked about.

But the Texians refused to surrender it, and they sent the Mexicans back to Béxar, as the Texians called it, along with a letter declaring, We are weak and few in numbers but still nevertheless contend for what we believe to be just principles.²¹

This angered Ugartechea, who considered it an affront to Santa Anna as well as to his office and his authority in the region, so he next sent one hundred dragoons under the command of Lieutenant Francisco Castañeda to get the cannon. In spite of his anger though, Colonel Ugartechea still hoped for an amicable settlement, and so he ordered Castañeda not to use force unless absolutely necessary and to avoid a conflict if at all possible.

The citizens of Gonzalez, however, had learned ahead of time of the approaching force. And when the Mexican company reached the banks of the Guadalupe River, they found that the Texians had removed the ferry and any other boats, and had pulled them all to their side of the river downstream. The river was also swollen from recent rains, and now the fast-running, high water prevented them from crossing there.

The next day the Mexicans attempted to move upstream to an easier crossing of the Guadalupe. But the Texians beat their march, crossed the Guadalupe, and attacked them early on the morning of October 2. It was a brief skirmish resulting in two Mexican casualties. The only casualty for the Texians was one fellow who fell off his horse and got a bloody nose. The Texians had also sent riders speeding to nearby settlements to gather reinforcements, and now the settlers outnumbered the surprised Mexicans.²²

The Mexicans were now stymied. As they stood on a hilltop opposite the town, considering their options, they saw raised above the cannon a hastily-made flag with a single star, a drawing of the cannon, and the slogan COME AND TAKE IT. It was the first flag in Texas to display a lone star. The Texians then fired the cannon at them accompanied by a volley of rifle fire. At that point, Castañeda made the only choice he really had left. Outnumbered and outgunned, he retreated to Béxar.²³

There had been no real fighting save the small skirmish, but in Texians’ minds Anahuac had become the Lexington and now Gonzalez the Concord of the Texas War of Independence.²⁴ The fuse had been lit. William Wharton, who had come to Texas in 1827 and had been the President of the Convention of 1833, now wrote an appeal for volunteers to:

march immediately to the Camp at Gonzalez. Every person who cannot go himself, and who withholds a horse [or] gun from those willing to go will be considered a traitor to his country and therefore Infamous. Let no one however stop for want of a horse; Soldiers who are in earnest have often marched on foot ten times as far as from here to San Antonio.²⁵

Ironically, the very same day he wrote a long, emotional appeal which ended with the phrase, Liberty or Death. Almost that exact same phrase would soon be written as a plea to the entire world by a very famous martyr for Texas independence.²⁶ But for now, even the conciliatory Austin realized that there was no turning back. Retreat is now impossible; we must go forward to victory or die the death of traitors, he wrote.²⁷

Just like in the American Revolution, he knew that all of their work and all of their dreams would rest in the hands of a group of settlers with rifles.

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Three

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THE NEW ORLEANS GREYS

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WILLIAM COOKE had indeed followed in his brother James’ footsteps, at least in the family drug business. But his adventurous spirit had moved him from the gentrified, colonial air of Fredericksburg to the wide-open city of New Orleans. And in 1835, it was as wild and diverse as it was bustling.

Just a few short years earlier, the pirates Pierre and Jean Lafitte had conducted business there and in the waters off the coast. It was a unique mix of Anglos, French Creoles (black and white), Cajuns, river-men, businessmen, free men of color, and slaves. It had all the look and feel of a frontier town, yet it was one of the wealthiest and most modern cities in the U.S. It boasted natural gas for light and heat, one of the nation’s first railroads, and the nation’s first steam-powered cotton press.

It was the largest port in the south, and the population doubled during the 1830s, fueled by a boom of Haitian, German, and Irish immigrants, as well as immigrants like Cooke from the northern states. It was the perfect place to set up a thriving drug business in one of the wealthiest, busiest cities in the nation. It was also right on the edge of the frontier.¹

Just a stone’s throw to the west laid Texas. Settlers who were headed there often came through New Orleans as a jumping-off place. It was the great city from which so many adventures began. Plus, there was also a great deal of trade with Texas. As a result, Texas topics were frequent and of great interest, and they now included the issue of Texas independence.

Herman Ehrenberg, a young German immigrant to New Orleans, wrote in his memoirs that, Reports of the events in Texas filled the newspapers of the city, and the whole press, indifferent for once to party politics, supported the colonists in their uprising. The entire United States as well as the Texians had heard of Santa Anna’s carnage in Zacatecas, and it had stirred an outright resentment for his barbarity.²

On October 13, 1835, Thomas Banks, already an ardent supporter of Texas independence and the owner of Bank’s Arcade, a three-story building just off Natchez Street, announced a meeting there to discuss the most recent events and the new uprising in Texas. As Ehrenberg described,

At every corner of the evenly laid-out streets of New Orleans, placards two feet high called the citizens’ attention to a mass meeting which would be held at the Arcade at eight o’clock that evening. The gathering, sponsored by the Committee for Texas, had been arranged to help the prairie country in its struggle against Santa Anna’s tyranny.³

Many meetings to discuss Texas had already been held there, and so the meeting on October 13 drew quite a crowd. The news from Texas now was that they desperately needed volunteers to aid in their fight for independence.

By the end of the meeting, an estimated 120 men had enlisted. Weapons and uniforms were to be provided to them, and they formed into two companies of The New Orleans Greys, so called because of their all-grey uniforms. The first company was placed under the command of Captain Thomas H. Breece, and the second under Captain Robert C. Morris.⁴

Cooke was among the first to sign up, explaining in a letter he later wrote to his brother James that, I saw it as an opportunity for the enterprising to better their fortunes and immediately stepped forward and enrolled my name. He knew well the riches of this new frontier. And he had always dreamed of such an adventure.⁵

Two days later, the First Company of New Orleans Greys under Breece’s command set out overland from New Orleans, crossing into Texas at Gaines Ferry and then proceeding to San Augustine in east Texas where the local women had fashioned a beautiful, gold-fringed, blue silk flag for them. It was decorated with a soaring eagle carrying a banner saying God and Liberty in its beak, and the words First Company of Texan Volunteers! From New-Orleans crested above and below it.⁶

They were honored with a public dinner there and also at Nacogdoches where they dined on roasted bear and champagne. They also received horses for about two-thirds of the Company.⁷

The Second Company left two days after them, sailing from New Orleans aboard the Columbus and landing on October 22 at Velasco, about four miles upstream from where the Brazos River joins the Gulf of Mexico. Curiously, when they arrived there, elections were held again for officers for some unknown reason. Morris was re-confirmed as Captain while Cooke was now promoted to Second Officer of the Company.

It could be that Cooke had made an early impression on the men. They had only been together for nine days, and were all strangers to each other when the trip began. But his bearing, being educated and coming from a wealthy family from the East, may have had something to do with it. As future events would show, the men under his command would form a bond of respect and admiration for his leadership qualities. Those qualities had evidently had shown forth early in his acquaintance with them.

However, Cooke had no military experience, only what hunting skills he may have picked up as a boy in Virginia. Morris, on the other hand, a resident of New Orleans, had served for five or six years in the Louisiana Guards and was highly recommended as a fine Soldier & Tactician. Morris was the obvious choice to lead the Company, but it indicates that Cooke’s popularity was quick to grow among the men he served with.⁸

They proceeded further upriver by the steamship Laura to Brazoria, then marched overland to Victoria and Goliad, all of them being given horses by grateful citizens along the way. They arrived to join the Texian forces camped near Béxar two days before Breece.

Upon Breece’s arrival, Capt. Morris was promoted to Major in command of both companies of Greys, and Cooke was elected as Captain of the Second Company in his place.⁹

The Muster Rolls of all the companies encamped before Béxar can be found today in the Archives of the Texas State Library in Austin. Cooke’s shows sixty-three men in the Second Company. The most interesting facet of these rolls is that they show the true diversity of the men who came to Texas, listing as their origins several U.S. states as far north as Maine, but also men from Canada, Ireland, England, Scotland, Wales, and Germany.¹⁰

The United States truly was, and is, a melting pot of cultures. Texas would now be a fiery cauldron which fused them together in the cause of liberty.

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Four

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SIEGE OF SAN ANTONIO DE BÉXAR

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WHILE THE GREYS travelled in early October, 1835, delegates from all parts of Texas met again at San Felipe to discuss strategy and governance, and the future of Texas. It was called The Consultation. Various factions debated their wishes, the majority wanting to reconcile with Mexico. All agreed however, that since Santa Anna had declared the Constitution of 1824 invalid, Texas had the right to declare independence.

But they couldn’t agree on what course they should take, and how to best approach this tangled and terribly thorny issue. Consequently, their desire for moderation and compromise when hard decisions needed to be made left the territory rudderless and without any clear direction.¹

Meanwhile, when Santa Anna had learned of the disturbances at Anahuac, he had sent his brother-in-law, General Martín Perfecto de Cos, to Texas with five hundred troops and orders to disarm and expel the rebellious Texians.

As word spread throughout the settlements of Santa Anna’s decree and the resulting Texian revolt, then the victories at Velasco and Gonzalez, and now General Cos’ impending arrival, individual settlers and groups of all sizes and from all points of the compass began to converge on the little town of Gonzales. They knew that when General Cos landed, he would immediately head to Béxar to join Ugartechea, and that any attack on the Mexican forces there would have to come from Gonzalez where the volunteers were gathering.

All the delegates in San Felipe, in the meantime, finally voted in favor of independence and began to work furiously to organize a government for the rebellious new Republic of Texas. Sam Houston, the delegate from Nacogdoches, wanted to gather men and cannon and train an army as best as possible before attacking Béxar, and before Santa Anna arrived to wipe them all out. Instead, the Consultation voted to let Stephen F. Austin lead the Texian volunteers in Gonzalez to Béxar immediately and attack the Mexicans there first.²

Back at Gonzalez, the settlers whom Austin had hand-picked because they could take care of themselves in a fight, just as he had promised the Governor, continued to gather. They came from everywhere in Texas, some traveling a good distance to join in the fight. They knew that it wouldn’t be long before Cos joined with Ugartechea and moved to Gonzalez to get the cannon and punish the rebels.

The Texians now had around 300 men and, although most of them, like the delegates in San Felipe, wanted desperately to reconcile with Mexico, they realized that they had to take a stance against the impending attack. Rather than take a defensive position, the general consensus was that they should immediately move to Béxar and attack. But they badly needed to get organized, rather than try to assault the city with a rabble of different companies and no overall leadership.

To address this problem, a Council of War was formed and resolved to hold an election for leaders on October 11 at 4:00 p.m. The problem now became that each company of men wanted their own respective leader to command the overall force. William T. Austin (no relation) recorded that:

camp politics began to rage to an alarming degree; so much so that many declared that in the event of the defeat of their favorite they would instantly return to their homes, as they were unwilling to serve under any others.

It wasn’t vanity or some form of loyalty. It was simply because all the groups had come from so many different locations that no-one knew anyone else, and they had no confidence in anyone other than their own fellows.

The question was fortunately laid to rest when Stephen F. Austin arrived in Gonzalez at 1:00 p.m. the day of the election. His arrival was an event that was:

clamorously and joyously hailed by the whole army; he was favorably known to the army generally and in full confidence prevailed. With a view therefore to harmonize the camp and dissipate the dreadful spirit of rivalry which had existed throughout the day, the name of Colonel Stephen F. Austin was at once proposed for the command; this nomination was so acceptable generally as to have the effect to unite all parties and put an end to excitement and opposition.³

That same day another piece of good news arrived. The Mexican outpost at Goliad had been taken. A company of about twenty men had started out from Matagorda led by George Collinsworth, who had participated in the skirmish at Velasco. Somehow a rumor had reached Matagorda that General Cos had a war chest of $50,000 in silver that he was bringing with him. Collinsworth and his men had reckoned that they would join the fight, but going by way of Goliad first. Their bright idea was to rob Cos, or kidnap him and hold him for ransom. How twenty men were going to accomplish that against five hundred men is anybody’s guess, but it shows the true measure of the Texas mentality of invincibility. A mentality that would come to be both a blessing and a curse.⁴

On their way to Goliad, also called La Bahía, they came across a curious figure hidden in the brush all by himself.

Ben Milam was already well-known in Texas as an adventurer and soldier. He had also fought in the War of 1812 like many Texians, and had come to Texas early in 1818 to trade with the fierce Comanches on the Colorado River.

During that time, he became friends with David Burnet, another early adventurer who would soon become the President of Texas. As he did business over the years, Milam not only became well-known, but also very well-liked on both sides of the border. When the Mexican Revolution against Spain began, Milam even went to fight alongside the Mexican revolutionaries in order to help Mexico gain its freedom.

Through his contacts he was even granted Mexican citizenship and given a commission as a Colonel in the Army of Mexico in 1824. When he finished his service there, he went into land speculation, the same as many of the early Texas pioneers.

However, while he was in Monclova, the capital of Coahuila and Texas, working to arrange land titles for some new Texas settlers, the government was overthrown by Santa Anna. Part of Santa Anna’s decree to disarm and throw out the rebellious Texians was also that all Texian merchants in Monclova were to be immediately arrested.

So Milam was captured and sent to prison in Monterrey. Fortunately, in Monterrey he was placed under the guard of an old friend who allowed Milam the use of a horse and also gave him free roam of the town. Laundry