The Battle that Won Texas
Eighteen minutes to secure “no common destiny”
The ground was saturated from the heavy spring rains of 1836 and another northerner had blown through challenging the threadbare and tattered clothes the Texian soldiers wore. Jackets were scarce, and shoes often fell victim to the deep mud pits from which wagon wheels were dislodged. But leaving behind the artillery wasn’t an option even if the commander-in-chief himself had to loose the wheel. The Texas army had finally taken possession of the Twin Sisters, two six pounder cannons gifted from allies in Cincinnati, Ohio and Sam Houston wasn’t moving his army toward any enemy without those powerful reinforcements.
The army was restless to engage their enemy and avenge their fallen comrades at the Alamo and Goliad. Weeks of marching away from the enemy had left the soldiers questioning their leader. For almost two weeks the army settled on the opposite banks of Jared Groce’s large plantation on the Brazos River. Most of the Texian army were volunteers without military training. The Commander used this time to try and make a respectable army out of this band of lawless brawlers. He implemented a strict camp schedule and prohibited all alcohol and card playing. The soldiers drilled, organized, and reviewed current military techniques. Houston seized a steamboat loading cotton at Groce’s and ferried his men across the swollen Brazos River. Navigating swollen rivers and bayous had been both a repeated theme and decisive maneuver throughout this campaign.
Houston called his splintered army forces together on April 14th at a plantation four miles southeast of Hempstead. Not forthcoming on the direction he would march the army, the men feared a further retreat to the east. Many had become quite outspoken in their opinion of the Commander. Nevertheless, they obediently marched to New Kentucky, west of Tomball, where army leaders were anxious to see which road Houston would lead them.
The Fork in the Road
At “The Which-Way Tree”, one road went east to the Trinity River and on to Nacogdoches, the other, the right one, to Harrisburg, toward the enemy. This fork-in-the-road was near the home of Abram Roberts, who stood outside while the troops marched by, pointing his finger to the road and shouting, “To the right, boys, to the right!” Whether it was Abram Roberts’ persuasion, President Burnet, General Rusk, Sam Houston’s orders, or just mutiny of the mob, it was a pivotal move.
The little army band struck up a tune and the soldiers almost danced down the road through the mud in great anticipation to meet their enemy. All but one seemed elated with the route the army had taken.
Houston had acquired the oxen that he had hauling the cannons from Pamela Mann, a widow and inn keeper from Washington-on-the-Brazos. She gave the oxen with the understanding the army would march to Nacogdoches. Once she realized the army had turned toward Harrisburg, she caught up with Houston and began to give him a Texas-sized tongue lashing, demanding her oxen be returned to her immediately. The army stood silent and watched as Houston tried to reason with Mrs. Mann, who was decorated with a pair of pistols and large knife in her saddle. Unmoved by his pleas, she leaped from her horse and wielding her large saddle knife, cut the oxen loose. She remounted, whipped the beasts, and rode off leaving behind the artillery wagon stuck perfectly in the mud.
The Commander’s boots sunk deep into the mire as he and nearly a dozen soldiers labored to free the wagon. There was no choice but to pull the wagon without the oxen train through the mud themselves and with no sign of better weather. Over the next two days, the army covered fifty-five miles of flooded roads and arrived in Harrisburg, now the city of Houston, at noon. The town was in ruins, buildings still smoldering from the enemy’s arson. They had just missed them. A small base was set up in Harrisburg and the army camped overnight. It was after dark when army scouts, Ben Fulshear, Deaf Smith and James Wells, rode into camp with Mexican prisoners. The camp exploded in laughter at the sight, Deaf wore the much smaller and very elaborate clothing of his Mexican courier captee. The seized Mexican correspondence from the courier provided Sam Houston with just the encouragement he needed: the plans, location, and size of his enemy.
But finding willing units to guard Harrisburg proved harder than Houston expected. As the intended guard units received orders, they approach the General and begged the opportunity to fight their enemy. Among the units was Juan Seguin and his Tejano troops, who clearly communicated their zeal with an ultimatum to leave the army to return to their families if forced to stay in Harrisburg. Houston acquiesced and found a replacement.
The rest of the army fervently pressed on, finding fords, ferries or just swimming across the flooded bayous and creeks. “No difficulty could now restrain the long pent up ardor of our gallant band,” wrote Captain Jesse Billingsley. “Water and fire combined could have scarcely have deterred them.”
Houston halted his troops just before crossing Buffalo Bayou. He lined them up in a single column and there upon his horse delivered an impassioned speech from which came the battle cry, “Remember the Alamo!” Rusk followed with an equally emotionally charged speech, which quickly produced tears from every soldier as they cheered, “Remember the Goliad!”, “Remember La Bahia!”,“Remember the Alamo!” The sun was setting when the leaky, rickety flatboat ferried the last of the army across the bayou. The march continued into the early morning hours of the next day. It was April 20th.
Not until they arrived at White Oak Bayou was the army ordered to stop. The exhausted men collapsed on the cold, soggy ground, where they passed the last few hours of the night shivering, hungry and using their rifles as pillows…sleepless.
A Little Skirmish
At daybreak, the men continued to march without breakfast and in unseasonably cold weather to Lynch’s Ferry. They arrived to discover that they were ahead of their enemy! Through the telescope, soldiers saw a black twirling cloud rising from the New Washington area, where Santa Anna had just looted and torched the town and was marching his army right toward Lynch’s Ferry. Among the booty Santa Anna obtained from New Washington was a beautiful mulatto girl named Emily West. This twenty-something-year-old indentured servant was taken by Santa Anna as his “travel companion.” He loaded the rest of the plunder on a flat boat and sent it up the bayou, where it was effortlessly seized by patrolling Texian scouts.
On the raised banks of Buffalo Bayou, Houston moved his men into the protection of a thick grove of oak trees, dripping with Spanish moss, to await his advancing enemy. Houston peered out from the grove down upon the tall lush and vibrant green prairie grass before him. Framing this grassland were Buffalo Bayou, San Jacinto Bay and Peggy McCormick’s Lake. Heavy marshlands lined the banks and timber groves lay along the edges of the field. Houston positioned the Twin Sisters at the tree line and waited for his scouts to return with updated intelligence.
The Texians had been in the thicket less than two hours when they saw Mexican Calvary advancing onto the field. Laid out prone and motionless, the soldiers awaited orders from their commander. The first shots came from the anxious Twin Sisters. A light volley ensued; the sisters hit their mark and killed the two pack mules which pulled the Mexican cannon, “Golden Standard.” A Mexican General was also hit and severely wounded, but the thick grove provided perfect protection for the Texans from the enemy cannon shots. Colonel Sidney Sherman lead his troops in a valiant, but reckless, effort to capture the Mexican’s cannon. Colonel Neill, who had left the charge of the Alamo to Travis to tend to his ailing family, was struck in the hip by grapeshot. In total, four Texians were injured and several horses killed during the skirmish on April 20th. Although the soldiers were more than ready to fight, no orders were given by either side for a full engagement.
As evening fell over the battleground, both armies retreated and the Texians settled down to a nice meal thanks to the captured flour and bread from New Washington. Around the campfires the anticipation and frustration were palpable; the troops resolved to settle the score with their opponent in the morning…with or without orders from Houston. Long after the exhausted men fall asleep, Houston plotted and planned his moves for the following day. He woke late the next morning. He stared up at the sky, now clear and blue, and watched as an eagle soared high above the camp. Having lived among the Cherokees, he regarded this symbol as a very good forecast.
At 0900 the Mexican camp was full of excitement when almost five hundred reinforcements from General Cos arrived. The army may have been thrilled, but Santa Anna was furious! He had ordered Cos to come with 500 of his best infantry, but these men appeared to be newly recruited soldiers. They had been driven hard and arrived worn out and starved. Upon his arrival, Cos immediately made a request to Santa Anna to allow his men to rest and be properly fed, which Santa Anna granted.
The Texian camp was full of impatience. Waiting was excruciating. As the morning hours passed it was obvious that Santa Anna wasn’t planning an immediate attack but was fortifying his camp. Sam Houston ordered his favorite scout, Deaf Smith, to determine the new strength of the enemy forces. Smith reported that the enemy had 1,500 troops (actually about 1,250). Houston estimated Texian forces to be 783 (actually 930). At the request of Houston’s officers, he held a council of war at noon. They voted that if the enemy didn’t attack first, the Texians would attack first thing in the morning, April 22nd. The officers returned to their ranks to inform the men of the plan…which for them meant more waiting.
Although the war council rejected an idea to construct a bridge over Buffalo Bayou, in the event the army needed to retreat, they did agree on a plan to destroy another bridge. The commanders immediately dispatched Deaf Smith and six other men to destroy Vince’s Bridge. While historians debate the exact location of this bridge, they do know that it was the only structure which gave passage over the engorged area bayous. Its destruction prevented further reinforcements from arriving and any troops from fleeing for both parties. It was a weighty and ready decision: they were trapped.
It would be victory or death at San Jacinto.
Gathered around their campfires, the troops took a late lunch as the officers milled among them and watched the enemy camp. It was quiet. Colonel Burleson poled his first regiment captains while, Colonel Sherman did the same with the second regiment. The results of the poles were the same: attack immediately. The officers approached the General with their findings. The soldiers, repeatedly forced to postpone engagement for weeks, were near bursting with expectancy. The time had come, Houston would get no more reinforcements from the east, no more artillery, and no more training or drilling. He scanned his ranks. Caked in mud, some in tattered uniforms, some in buckskins, all bearded and filthy, this was the full of his army. And perhaps the first time in the whole campaign, they were finally united. They were all ready to fight.
Houston ordered his commanders to parade their companies. These words ignited a fire that had been kindled within each soldier, and it was evident across the face of every man as he leapt into line. Captain Moseley Baker, commanding the largest company, spoke boldly to his men:
Remember, you are fighting an enemy who gives no quarter, and regards neither age or sex. Recollect that your homes are destroyed; imagine your wives and daughters trudging mud and water, and your children crying for bread, and then remember that the author of all this woe is within a short distance of us; that the arch fiend is now within our grasp; and that the time has come at last for us to avenge the blood of our fallen heroes and to teach the haughty dictator that Texas can not be conquered and that they can and will be free.
Then nerve yourselves for battle, knowing that our cause is just and we are in the hands of an Allwise Creator, and as you strike the murderous blows, let our watchwords be “Remember Goliad”; “Remember the Alamo.”
Every man was given the opportunity to stay at camp if he was unwilling to fight and die. At 1600 Houston gave the orders they all had been longing for “Trail Arms. Forward!” No band played, no drum was beaten, the enemy was a mile across the prairie and Houston was banking on the element of surprise.
The spyglass still showed no activity in the enemy camp, no sentries, no guards, no pickets were spotted. Assembled in five columns, quietly they marched out into the tall waving grass. Sword drawn and sitting high upon his steed, Houston lead nearly one thousand men across the field toward the Mexican camp, completely unnoticed. The soldiers carried with them an assorted variety of rifles, tomahawks, swords, sabers, pistols and Bowie knives and, of course, the invaluable Twin Sisters in tow.
The request granted to General Cos to rest and feed his men had been utilized by the balance of the Mexican army. In the excitement of receiving their reinforcements, the enemy had quite literally let their guard down and after eating lunch, the whole Mexican army, reclined and fell sleep. Santa Anna was tucked away in his tent, quite possibly distracted by his new companion, Emily. (Legend has it that she is The Yellow Rose of Texas.)
Eighteen Minutes
Without warning, Sherman’s second regiment broke the silence with the first shots, immediately followed by the discharge of the Twin Sisters. As they charged into the sleepy camp, Sherman shouted, “Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!” The Mexican bugles blew in vain. Their camp was in a state of total chaos.
The Texas army continued to advance across the field as the Twin Sisters relentlessly fired upon the Golden Standard. The Mexicans, still unassembled, started to return fire. Houston’s horse, spattered with cannon grape shot, buckled beneath him. He quickly mounted another and continued to charge, but a shotgun ball struck Houston and killed his second horse. Now riding a third pony, he continued to lead his army, unaware he was wounded. The smoke covered battlefield was now a rhythm of shouts of “Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!” and of gun and cannon fire.
Soliders finding rifles too cumbersome to reload used them as clubs for hand-to-hand combat. The Mexicans retreated into the nearby timbers and plunged into the bayous, with the rebels hot on their heels. Some were shot while swimming and some drowned in the frenzy. The marshlands beyond the battlefield became like quicksand and swallowed up the horses that were used for flight. The fighting was ferocious and gory and many Mexican’s pleaded, “Me no Alamo! Me no Goliad!” but to no avail.
In just eighteen minutes, the results of the battle were astonishing and conclusive: Texas was the victor! It was now the General’s task to stop the excessive carnage. Colonel Baker’s pre-battle speech was still fresh on the Texas soliders’ minds. Santa Anna had given no quarter, shown no mercy, at Coleto Creek, the Alamo or Goliad, and so many Texians had resolved to do the same. All attempts by Houston to halt or regain order were ignored until they quenched their bloodthirst.
The battle smoke wafted up from the grassy plain and reality came into focus: the remains of 630 Mexicans peppered the field, with 208 wounded. The Texians, now aware of their overwhelming triumph, were overjoyed; they had trampled their enemy and ultimately only lost eleven men from battle. The rebels, finally satiated, honored the requests of the enemy to surrender and took Mexican Colonel Almonte and 730 men into custody.
As the sun sunk beyond the gruesome battleground and order was restored in the Texian ranks, one thing was glaringly apparent: Santa Anna was gone.
Search and Surrender
Houston was concerned about the whereabouts of Santa Anna but his blood-filled boot now demanded his attention. It was much worse than any had expected, with his leg bone pierced through his flesh just above his left ankle. The army surgeons dressed his wound. Delirious from pain and blood loss, Houston slipped in and out of consciousness.
Darkness was setting upon the camp when Deaf Smith, in his true dramatic flair, galloped in upon a large black stallion named Old Whip. The animal had been stolen days before by the Mexican army and was adorned as the dictator’s personal war horse. Smith, while out searching for Santa Anna, encountered the horse abandoned near the destroyed bridge. Ever confident he would find the tyrant in the daylight, Smith gathered volunteers and returned to keep over-night watch near Vince’s bridge.
The new day brought with it a steady stream of Mexicans soldiers found by scouts hiding in the tall grasses, among the thick trees, ducking along the bayous and marshes. They assessed and counted each prisoner in the enemy prison camp. A small man dressed in an odd assortment of clothing caught their interest. As the Texians marched him into camp, Mexican cheers erupted and the prisoners shouted, “El Presidente!” Unbeknownst to the scouts, they had captured Santa Anna!
After many confirmed his identity, General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna was then brought to the army headquarters. Reclined and resting beneath a large oak tree, the injured General Houston received him rather coldly. The excited soldiers began to crowd around the pair and, like a pack of wild dogs, looked ready to shred the dictator. They demanded his immediate execution. The distressed Santa Anna implored Houston for the lenient treatment of a prisoner of war. “Sir, yours is no common destiny. You can afford to be generous,” he whined. “You have captured the Napoleon of the West.” Enraged, Sam Houston retorted, “What claim have you to mercy when you showed none at the Alamo or at Goliad?” Despite his obvious disdain, Houston knew better. Santa Anna was worth far more for Texas alive than dead.
Under the branches of the headquarter oak, with the interpreters Lorezo de Zavala and Moses Austin Bryan, the two generals negotiated for nearly two hours. The first order was the immediate removal of all Mexican forces from Texas.
Word traveled quickly to the citizens of Texas, to those campaigning for the cause abroad, to the families of the Texian soldiers and to the world. They had whipped their oppressor, labored hard, from that was born a free new republic.
One visitor who arrived at camp a few days after the battle was Peggy McCormick, the owner of the land the battle was fought upon. Houston assumed he was about to receive her honors and praises, but instead he was blasted about the stench coming off the field. Houston spoke to her in beautiful poetic words and reminded her that her land would forever be memorialized as the place Texas won her independence. “To the devil with your glorious history, take off your stinking Mexicans!” demanded Peggy as she abruptly turned and walked away. It was many months before the skeletal remains of the Mexican soldiers were gathered and buried by the local citizens in a mass grave.
The Texas Revolution of 1836 ended in an eighteen-minute battle that set the wheels of destiny into motion for America to further extend her borders. Rarely in history has any one military engagement been more significant, or decisive, than the Battle of San Jacinto.
Ragged, rebellious, strong and independent were those original Texan seeds. They quickly took root and grew a nation that still grows today.
