General Sesma Arrives in San Antonio



The Chapel at the Alamo, before the U.S. Army replaced the roof and added the iconic facade in 1846.

February 23, 1836                       

     A hundred and eighty years ago today, William Barret Travis woke with a headache.  It was late, almost seven, but he’d been at George Washington’s Birthday party until almost one, and afterwards, spent at least two hours with that Mexican girl.  She charged him for it.  What ever happened to the girls who used to give it away?  Every woman he met had a price tag.  He must pay or do without.     

     Travis catalogued his “conquest” in his log book, dressed and went out into the bright sunshine, still nursing the headache.  The streets were filled with traffic, unusual for this time of day.  Wagons with entire families were loaded with household goods, heading out of town.  The population of San Antonio, about 2500 people, was 95 per cent Mexican-Texians—Tejanos—and Travis knew most of them were supporters of Santa Anna.   Now they were making a mass exodus from the city.  Travis chose to ignore the rumors that the Mexican Army was near.

     Travis believed that Santa Anna was too good a general to march his army across the wild horse desert this time of year.  Instead, he’d wait until spring, when the grass was green and the horses had fodder.  The “brush and pear” country was brutal anytime of year, but especially in the winter.  Santa Anna knew that, so he would wait, no matter what those lying Tejanos said.

     “Col. Travis, Col. Travis!”  John Sutherland hurried to catch up as Travis walked across Military Plaza, heading toward the Alamo to supervise the renovations he had ordered.  Sutherland was a medical doctor and had volunteered his services to the garrison at the Alamo.  “I been looking for you, Buck.  Juan Seguin says the Mexican army is over on the west side of town right now.  They say they’s at least a thousand of ‘em.  What we gonna do?”

     “First thing, let’s not go off half-cocked.  I trust Seguin, but I wouldn’t believe most of those Tejanos if they told me the sun rose in the east.  We need to check out the story.  Let’s climb up in the bell tower there and see what we can see.”

     Sutherland and Travis, along with a “reliable” soldier went into the San Fernando Cathedral and climbed the stairs to the landing, then took the ladder to the bell platform at the top of the tower.  It was the highest point in San Antonio and offered an unobstructed view of the city and the surrounding countryside.  There were no Mexican soldiers in sight.

Lt. Col. William B. Travis--in better days.

     “What did I tell you, John?  Those lying Tejanos were spreading rumors at the party last night.  I knew better than to believe them.  Look at those two fellows riding out the Del Rio Road.  Let’s watch them ‘til they get over that ridge.  If they’s any Mexicans out there, they’ll see ‘em.”

     Travis and Sutherland watched as the travelers followed the road to the top of the ridge.  Suddenly, the horsemen wheeled their mounts, used their spurs and rushed back toward town.  Within minutes, troops appeared at the crest of the hill.  The sun glinted off polished brass breastplates as hundreds of Mexican cavalry topped the rise.  According to the rumors, that would be General Sesma with 1500 men, Santa Anna’s advance guard.

     “We’ve got to get busy, Doc.  You send Red Smith out to see how many Mexicans there are and what they’re up to.   Spread the word for all our troops to gather supplies and get back to the Alamo.  The guys are scattered all over town, sleeping off hangovers from last night.  Crockett played the fiddle and we drank and danced ‘til way after midnight.  I’ll get back to my headquarters and work out a plan.  Bowie is sick or drunk—I can’t tell which, but either way, he’s not much help.”

     General Joaquin Ramirez y Sesma, with 500 cavalry and 1000 infantry troops, stopped at the outskirts of San Antonio while he considered his options.  His officers were pushing for an immediate attack.  The Texians were disorganized, and according to local spies, most were hung over from celebrating Washington’s Birthday last night.   Regardless of all this, the general was not eager to attack. 

     Sesma was a seasoned veteran, a Cuban, who believed in the old adage about victors and spoils.  Inventories needed to be taken.  Wagons and warehouses needed to be located and confiscated.   Plans for sale and delivery needed to be made.  The army did not need to rush into battle.  Occupation was much more profitable, and the Texians, while appearing to be vulnerable, might be setting a trap.

     General Sesma chose to wait until the main body of the army came to reinforce his troops and guarantee victory.  Instead of dashing headlong into San Antonio and crushing the scattered opposition, Sesma set up camp outside town, sent in a detail to hang the blood red “No Quarter” flag from the San Fernando Cathedral bell tower, and had his chef prepare tea.  His delay forced the siege and, during the next two weeks, cost Mexico over a thousand young soldiers.

     Travis, safely back at the Alamo, watched from the roof of the old chapel as the Mexicans unfurled the “No Quarter” flag.  “We can’t allow that challenge to go unanswered, Lt. Dickinson.  Fire the eighteen-pounder.  We’re not afraid of a bunch of Mexicans and we need to let them know it.”

     “I don’t have a target, Colonel.  I can’t shoot at the cathedral.”

     “Use your head Al.  Fire a round into the plaza, just to let them know we’re here and we’re dangerous.  Get it done!  I’m not accustomed to having my orders questioned.”

     The gun crew turned to and fired one of their precious cannonballs into the plaza.  It bounced off the stone pavement, and rolled harmlessly down the street. 

     Bowie was furious with Travis for wasting the shot and twelve pounds of powder, and he wanted to hear what the Mexicans had to say.  He arranged for Green Jameson, the engineer supervising reinforcement of the fort, to carry a flag of truce and meet with the Mexican officers.  Jameson explained that the cannon shot had been an accidental discharge, and the Texians were willing to hear whatever terms the Mexican army had in mind.

     The meeting was short.  The Mexican terms were surrender at discretion, meaning unconditional surrender.  Santa Anna would accept nothing less.  Jameson carried the news back to the besieged little fort and the officers met late into the evening, discussing options. 

     After the meeting, Travis composed his “Victory or Death” letter, which he would send out the next day.  He was sure “El Colorado” Smith could still slip through the lines and make it to San Felipe.  Travis wanted the letter to reach the American people.   Not just those who lived in Texas, but all freedom loving citizens of the United States.  He addressed the letter….”To the people of Texas and all Americans in the world…”  William B. Travis was suddenly playing on a larger stage.