Chapter 45: Chapter 44: The Alamo's All-Star Defenders

Goliad, Old John's Bar.

William Travis pushed open the bar's swinging leaf doors, and a pungent stench of alcohol and choking smoke rushed toward him, mingled with the smell of sweaty feet and cheap perfume.

Soldiers were carousing with prostitutes, the crowds twisting together frantically to the sound of upbeat music.

Soldiers hoisted prostitutes onto their shoulders; the boisterous women cared nothing for the sudden exposure of their bodies. Everyone was immersed in the joy of victory—now Goliad, San Antonio, and even Texas belonged to them.

Just three months ago, they had wiped out a Mexican garrison of forty men and successfully seized Goliad.

But now, Santa Anna was approaching with a Mexican army of 8,000 men. If one counted the remnants gathered along the way, the newly conscripted Black slaves, and the Indians, the total would likely exceed ten thousand.

William Travis felt a sense of mounting dread; he wanted to find the commander of the volunteers, James Bowie, immediately.

As William Travis searched his way inward, he had to dodge drunks and prostitutes who might collide with him at any moment. The damp floor beneath his feet was slick with grease and rum, nearly causing him to slip.

William Travis shouted, "Colonel James Bowie, are you here? I am Colonel William Travis, I need to speak with you."

But there was no answer. In a fit of frustration, William Travis drew the pistol from his waist and fired two shots at the ceiling.

*Bang! Bang!* The two gunshots silenced the clamorous crowd, though the circular candle holder hanging from the ceiling fell, instantly knocking over a drunkard.

"Carry him away. Who is James Bowie?"

A dwarf raised his hand. William Travis asked with some confusion, "Are you James Bowie?"

The dwarf shook his head quickly and replied, "Colonel Bowie is upstairs, but I don't think he wants to be disturbed."

William Travis grew annoyed. "I am Colonel William Travis, the highest military commander here. I want to see him now."

The dwarf shrugged and pointed toward the second floor.

Fuming, William Travis marched toward the upstairs room and kicked the door open, only to find Colonel Bowie engaged in an indescribable act. He had no choice but to close the door and wait outside.

About three minutes later, Colonel Bowie opened the door.

"Colonel William Travis, sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not long. Only three minutes."

The two shared an awkward laugh, but unconsciously, the tension between them eased significantly.

"Let's talk in another room; let her rest for a while," Colonel Bowie suggested.

James Bowie—more famous for his invention than for himself—was known for a knife with an upturned tip and a guard. The Bowie knife would be known to posterity as the Bowie knife, the type of American saber most commonly seen today.

James Bowie and William Travis went to the kitchen. Bowie picked up two cups and handed one to Travis.

"Have a drink first. You can't talk on a dry throat."

Bowie then opened a bottle of rum and poured a glass for both himself and Travis.

Travis pushed the glass away and said, "I don't drink. Those people outside are in no condition to fight. And I have bad news for you: no one is coming to save us. Santa Anna is bringing ten thousand men, and we only have two colonels and two hundred soldiers."

"Oh, I've heard. So what if it's ten thousand?" Bowie said indifferently, draining his glass in one gulp.

"We lack sufficient soldiers and weapons. We only have three old cannons left by the Mexicans."

"Believe me, Travis, the Mexican cannons won't be any better than ours," Bowie said with a smile, knowing the Mexicans were still using Spanish antiques.

"But my men, plus your volunteers, only amount to two hundred. How can we face Santa Anna's great army?"

"I am not afraid to die, but even in death, I will make the Mexicans know I am not to be trifled with. I'll tear a piece of flesh from them, smear it with butter, and eat it in one bite."

James Bowie was not lying; he truly did not fear death. Everyone who had met him praised him as a true Western cowboy, a man of desperate courage.

"But I do not wish to die in vain."

"Then hand your command over to me, Mr. Gentleman. Right now, those big shots are busy studying how to build a nation, and we just need to stop Santa Anna. It's as simple as that."

Bowie reached for Travis's glass again, but Travis snatched it away.

"I am not afraid of death either, but I will say this: Texas cannot exist without San Antonio. History will prove me right."

Travis downed the liquor and immediately coughed.

"Not bad, a real tough guy, haha!"

"Bowie, I have a request," Travis said hesitantly.

"Speak up, like a man."

"I want you to remain silent. I am going to tell the soldiers that General Houston is on his way with 2,000 reinforcements. I am afraid the cowards will run, and our task is to buy enough time for the big shots."

Bowie hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Fine, I won't expose you. But if someone wants to leave, that is their freedom; you cannot stop them."

"As you wish. I don't think Houston is stupid enough to abandon San Antonio. You and I both know how important San Antonio is to Texas. As long as Santa Anna occupies San Antonio, he will be invincible."

However, in history, Santa Anna, after the Battle of the Alamo, became overconfident and aggressive, only to be ultimately thwarted by a successful raid led by the colonist Houston and his militia. This caused all his efforts to go to waste, and eventually, Santa Anna himself was forever branded with the mark of shame.

One day later, the American legend Davy Crockett arrived in Goliad with twenty Tennessee volunteers.

According to legend, Davy Crockett could tear apart wolf packs, wrestle brown bears, single-handedly repel the attack of three hundred Indian warriors, and alone thwart a British plot to assassinate the American President.

Such a legendary figure was also the only American officer to surrender to Santa Anna during the Battle of the Alamo.

In history, the twenty Tennessee volunteers led by Davy Crockett were the last group of reinforcements to reach the Alamo.

In reality, a force of four00 men was stationed just a dozen kilometers from the Alamo, led by Colonel Maning.

However, these men neither assisted Travis at the Alamo nor followed Houston's orders to leave San Antonio and rendezvous with Houston's main force.

They sat by and watched the garrison at the Alamo perish, only to later become a target for Santa Anna's wrath.

Their only role in history was to allow Santa Anna to carry the infamy of massacring prisoners.

A thousand volunteers had just departed from Boston, but they would not arrive for another two months.