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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30267 ***
+
+ Transcriber's Note:
+
+ This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction December 1961.
+ Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright
+ on this publication was renewed.
+
+
+ Remember the
+
+ Alamo!
+
+
+
+ By R. R. FEHRENBACH
+
+
+
+ THIS IS, I THINK, ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL COMMENTS
+ ON THE MODERN SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY I HAVE SEEN--A
+ REALLY BLOOD-CHILLING LITTLE TALE....
+
+
+
+ ILLUSTRATED BY SCHOENHERR
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+Toward sundown, in the murky drizzle, the man who called himself Ord
+brought Lieutenant colonel William Barrett Travis word that the Mexican
+light cavalry had completely invested Bexar, and that some light guns were
+being set up across the San Antonio River. Even as he spoke, there was a
+flash and bang from the west, and a shell screamed over the old mission
+walls. Travis looked worried.
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+"What kind of guns?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing to worry about, sir," Ord said. "Only a few one-pounders, nothing
+of respectable siege caliber. General Santa Anna has had to move too fast
+for any big stuff to keep up." Ord spoke in his odd accent. After all, he
+was a Britainer, or some other kind of foreigner. But he spoke good
+Spanish, and he seemed to know everything. In the four or five days since
+he had appeared he had become very useful to Travis.
+
+Frowning, Travis asked, "How many Mexicans, do you think, Ord?"
+
+"Not more than a thousand, now," the dark-haired, blue-eyed young man said
+confidently. "But when the main body arrives, there'll be four, five
+thousand."
+
+Travis shook his head. "How do you get all this information, Ord? You
+recite it like you had read it all some place--like it were history."
+
+Ord merely smiled. "Oh, I don't know _everything_, colonel. That is why I
+had to come here. There is so much we don't know about what happened.... I
+mean, sir, what will happen--in the Alamo." His sharp eyes grew puzzled for
+an instant. "And some things don't seem to match up, somehow--"
+
+Travis looked at him sympathetically. Ord talked queerly at times, and
+Travis suspected he was a bit deranged. This was understandable, for the
+man was undoubtedly a Britainer aristocrat, a refugee from Napoleon's
+thousand-year Empire. Travis had heard about the detention camps and the
+charcoal ovens ... but once, when he had mentioned the _Empereur's_ sack of
+London in '06, Ord had gotten a very queer look in his eyes, as if he had
+forgotten completely.
+
+But John Ord, or whatever his name was, seemed to be the only man in the
+Texas forces who understood what William Barrett Travis was trying to do.
+Now Travis looked around at the thick adobe wall surrounding the old
+mission in which they stood. In the cold, yellowish twilight even the
+flaring cook fires of his hundred and eighty-two men could not dispel the
+ghostly air that clung to the old place. Travis shivered involuntarily. But
+the walls were thick, and they could turn one-pounders. He asked, "What was
+it you called this place, Ord ... the Mexican name?"
+
+"The Alamo, sir." A slow, steady excitement seemed to burn in the
+Britainer's bright eyes. "Santa Anna won't forget that name, you can be
+sure. You'll want to talk to the other officers now, sir? About the message
+we drew up for Sam Houston?"
+
+"Yes, of course," Travis said absently. He watched Ord head for the walls.
+No doubt about it, Ord understood what William Barrett Travis was trying to
+do here. So few of the others seemed to care.
+
+Travis was suddenly very glad that John Ord had shown up when he did.
+
+On the walls, Ord found the man he sought, broad-shouldered and tall in a
+fancy Mexican jacket. "The commandant's compliments, sir, and he desires
+your presence in the chapel."
+
+The big man put away the knife with which he had been whittling. The
+switchblade snicked back and disappeared into a side pocket of the jacket,
+while Ord watched it with fascinated eyes. "What's old Bill got his
+britches hot about this time?" the big man asked.
+
+"I wouldn't know, sir," Ord said stiffly and moved on.
+
+_Bang-bang-bang_ roared the small Mexican cannon from across the river.
+_Pow-pow-pow!_ The little balls only chipped dust from the thick adobe
+walls. Ord smiled.
+
+He found the second man he sought, a lean man with a weathered face,
+leaning against a wall and chewing tobacco. This man wore a long, fringed,
+leather lounge jacket, and he carried a guitar slung beside his Rock Island
+rifle. He squinted up at Ord. "I know ... I know," he muttered. "Willy
+Travis is in an uproar again. You reckon that colonel's commission that
+Congress up in Washington-on-the-Brazos give him swelled his head?"
+
+Rather stiffly, Ord said, "Colonel, the commandant desires an officers'
+conference in the chapel, now." Ord was somewhat annoyed. He had not
+realized he would find these Americans so--distasteful. Hardly preferable
+to Mexicans, really. Not at all as he had imagined.
+
+For an instant he wished he had chosen Drake and the Armada instead of this
+pack of ruffians--but no, he had never been able to stand sea sickness. He
+couldn't have taken the Channel, not even for five minutes.
+
+And there was no changing now. He had chosen this place and time carefully,
+at great expense--actually, at great risk, for the X-4-A had aborted twice,
+and he had had a hard time bringing her in. But it had got him here at
+last. And, because for a historian he had always been an impetuous and
+daring man, he grinned now, thinking of the glory that was to come. And he
+was a participant--much better than a ringside seat! Only he would have to
+be careful, at the last, to slip away.
+
+John Ord knew very well how this coming battle had ended, back here in
+1836.
+
+He marched back to William Barrett Travis, clicked heels smartly. Travis'
+eyes glowed; he was the only senior officer here who loved military
+punctilio. "Sir, they are on the way."
+
+"Thank you, Ord," Travis hesitated a moment. "Look, Ord. There will be a
+battle, as we know. I know so little about you. If something should happen
+to you, is there anyone to write? Across the water?"
+
+Ord grinned. "No, sir. I'm afraid my ancestor wouldn't understand."
+
+Travis shrugged. Who was he to say that Ord was crazy? In this day and age,
+any man with vision was looked on as mad. Sometimes he felt closer to Ord
+than to the others.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The two officers Ord had summoned entered the chapel. The big man in the
+Mexican jacket tried to dominate the wood table at which they sat. He
+towered over the slender, nervous Travis, but the commandant,
+straight-backed and arrogant, did not give an inch. "Boys, you know Santa
+Anna has invested us. We've been fired on all day--" He seemed to be
+listening for something. _Wham!_ Outside, a cannon split the dusk with
+flame and sound as it fired from the walls. "There is my answer!"
+
+The man in the lounge coat shrugged. "What I want to know is what our
+orders are. What does old Sam say? Sam and me were in Congress once. Sam's
+got good sense; he can smell the way the wind's blowin'." He stopped
+speaking and hit his guitar a few licks. He winked across the table at the
+officer in the Mexican jacket who took out his knife. "Eh, Jim?"
+
+"Right," Jim said. "Sam's a good man, although I don't think he ever met a
+payroll."
+
+"General Houston's leaving it up to me," Travis told them.
+
+"Well, that's that," Jim said unhappily. "So what you figurin' to do,
+Bill?"
+
+Travis stood up in the weak, flickering candlelight, one hand on the
+polished hilt of his saber. The other two men winced, watching him.
+"Gentlemen, Houston's trying to pull his militia together while he falls
+back. You know, Texas was woefully unprepared for a contest at arms. The
+general's idea is to draw Santa Anna as far into Texas as he can, then hit
+him when he's extended, at the right place, and right time. But Houston
+needs more time--Santa Anna's moved faster than any of us anticipated.
+Unless we can stop the Mexican Army and take a little steam out of them,
+General Houston's in trouble."
+
+Jim flicked the knife blade in and out. "Go on."
+
+"This is where we come in, gentlemen. Santa Anna can't leave a force of one
+hundred eighty men in his rear. If we hold fast, he must attack us. But he
+has no siege equipment, not even large field cannon." Travis' eye gleamed.
+"Think of it, boys! He'll have to mount a frontal attack, against protected
+American riflemen. Ord, couldn't your Englishers tell him a few things
+about that!"
+
+"Whoa, now," Jim barked. "Billy, anybody tell you there's maybe four or
+five thousand Mexicaners comin'?"
+
+"Let them come. Less will leave!"
+
+But Jim, sour-faced turned to the other man. "Davey? You got something to
+say?"
+
+"Hell, yes. How do we get out, after we done pinned Santa Anna down? You
+thought of that, Billy boy?"
+
+Travis shrugged. "There is an element of grave risk, of course. Ord,
+where's the document, the message you wrote up for me? Ah, thank you."
+Travis cleared his throat. "Here's what I'm sending on to general Houston."
+He read, "Commandancy of the Alamo, February 24, 1836 ... are you sure of
+that date, Ord?"
+
+"Oh, I'm sure of that," Ord said.
+
+"Never mind--if you're wrong we can change it later. 'To the People of
+Texas and all Americans in the World. Fellow Freemen and Compatriots! I am
+besieged with a thousand or more Mexicans under Santa Anna. I have
+sustained a continual bombardment for many hours but have not lost a man.
+The enemy has demanded surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison is
+to be put to the sword, if taken. I have answered the demand with a cannon
+shot, and our flag still waves proudly over the walls. I shall never
+surrender or retreat. Then, I call on you in the name of liberty, of
+patriotism and everything dear to the American character--" He paused,
+frowning, "This language seems pretty old-fashioned, Ord--"
+
+"Oh, no, sir. That's exactly right," Ord murmured.
+
+"'... To come to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy is receiving
+reinforcements daily and will no doubt increase to three or four thousand
+in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain
+myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is
+due his honor or that of his homeland. VICTORY OR DEATH!'"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Travis stopped reading, looked up. "Wonderful! Wonderful!" Ord breathed.
+"The greatest words of defiance ever written in the English tongue--and so
+much more literate than that chap at Bascogne."
+
+"You mean to send that?" Jim gasped.
+
+The man called Davey was holding his head in his hands.
+
+"You object, Colonel Bowie?" Travis asked icily.
+
+"Oh, cut that 'colonel' stuff, Bill," Bowie said. "It's only a National
+Guard title, and I like 'Jim' better, even though I am a pretty important
+man. Damn right I have an objection! Why, that message is almost
+aggressive. You'd think we wanted to fight Santa Anna! You want us to be
+marked down as warmongers? It'll give us trouble when we get to the
+negotiation table--"
+
+Travis' head turned. "Colonel Crockett?"
+
+"What Jim says goes for me, too. And this: I'd change that part about all
+Americans, et cetera. You don't want anybody to think we think we're better
+than the Mexicans. After all, Americans are a minority in the world. Why
+not make it 'all men who love security?' That'd have world-wide appeal--"
+
+"Oh, Crockett," Travis hissed.
+
+Crockett stood up. "Don't use that tone of voice to me, Billy Travis! That
+piece of paper you got don't make you no better'n us. I ran for Congress
+twice, and won. I know what the people want--"
+
+"What the people want doesn't mean a damn right now," Travis said harshly.
+"Don't you realize the tyrant is at the gates?"
+
+Crockett rolled his eyes heavenward. "Never thought I'd hear a good
+American say that! Billy, you'll never run for office--"
+
+Bowie held up a hand, cutting into Crockett's talk. "All right, Davey. Hold
+up. You ain't runnin' for Congress now. Bill, the main thing I don't like
+in your whole message is that part about victory or death. That's got to
+go. Don't ask us to sell that to the troops!"
+
+Travis closed his eyes briefly. "Boys, listen. We don't have to tell the
+men about this. They don't need to know the real story until it's too late
+for them to get out. And then we shall cover ourselves with such glory that
+none of us shall ever be forgotten. Americans are the best fighters in the
+world when they are trapped. They teach this in the Foot School back on the
+Chatahoochee. And if we die, to die for one's country is sweet--"
+
+"Hell with that," Crockett drawled. "I don't mind dyin', but not for these
+big landowners like Jim Bowie here. I just been thinkin'--I don't own
+nothing in Texas."
+
+"I resent that," Bowie shouted. "You know very well I volunteered, after I
+sent my wife off to Acapulco to be with her family." With an effort, he
+calmed himself. "Look, Travis. I have some reputation as a fighting
+man--you know I lived through the gang wars back home. It's obvious this
+Alamo place is indefensible, even if we had a thousand men."
+
+"But we must delay Santa Anna at all costs--"
+
+Bowie took out a fine, dark Mexican cigar and whittled at it with his
+blade. Then he lit it, saying around it, "All right, let's all calm down.
+Nothing a group of good men can't settle around a table. Now listen. I got
+in with this revolution at first because I thought old Emperor Iturbide
+would listen to reason and lower taxes. But nothin's worked out, because
+hot-heads like you, Travis, queered the deal. All this yammerin' about
+liberty! Mexico is a Republic, under an Emperor, not some kind of
+democracy, and we can't change that. Let's talk some sense before it's too
+late. We're all too old and too smart to be wavin' the flag like it's the
+Fourth of July. Sooner or later, we're goin' to have to sit down and talk
+with the Mexicans. And like Davey said, I own a million hectares, and I've
+always paid minimum wage, and my wife's folks are way up there in the
+Imperial Government of the Republic of Mexico. That means I got influence
+in all the votin' groups, includin' the American Immigrant, since I'm a
+minority group member myself. I think I can talk to Santa Anna, and even to
+old Iturbide. If we sign a treaty now with Santa Anna, acknowledge the law
+of the land, I think our lives and property rights will be respected--" He
+cocked an eye toward Crockett.
+
+"Makes sense, Jim. That's the way we do it in Congress. Compromise,
+everybody happy. We never allowed ourselves to be led nowhere we didn't
+want to go, I can tell you! And Bill, you got to admit that we're in better
+bargaining position if we're out in the open, than if old Santa Anna's got
+us penned up in this old Alamo."
+
+"Ord," Travis said despairingly. "Ord, you understand. Help me! Make them
+listen!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Ord moved into the candlelight, his lean face sweating. "Gentlemen, this is
+all wrong! It doesn't happen this way--"
+
+Crockett sneered, "Who asked you, Ord? I'll bet you ain't even got a poll
+tax!"
+
+Decisively, Bowie said, "We're free men, Travis, and we won't be led around
+like cattle. How about it, Davey? Think you could handle the rear guard, if
+we try to move out of here?"
+
+"Hell, yes! Just so we're movin'!"
+
+"O.K. Put it to a vote of the men outside. Do we stay, and maybe get
+croaked, or do we fall back and conserve our strength until we need it?
+Take care of it, eh, Davey?"
+
+Crockett picked up his guitar and went outside.
+
+Travis roared, "This is insubordination! Treason!" He drew his saber, but
+Bowie took it from him and broke it in two. Then the big man pulled his
+knife.
+
+"Stay back, Ord. The Alamo isn't worth the bones of a Britainer, either."
+
+"Colonel Bowie, please," Ord cried. "You don't understand! You _must_
+defend the Alamo! This is the turning point in the winning of the west! If
+Houston is beaten, Texas will never join the Union! There will be no
+Mexican War. No California, no nation stretching from sea to shining sea!
+This is the Americans' manifest destiny. You are the hope of the future ...
+you will save the world from Hitler, from Bolshevism--"
+
+"Crazy as a hoot owl," Bowie said sadly. "Ord, you and Travis got to look
+at it both ways. We ain't all in the right in this war--we Americans got
+our faults, too."
+
+"But you are free men," Ord whispered. "Vulgar, opinionated, brutal--but
+free! You are still better than any breed who kneels to tyranny--"
+
+Crockett came in. "O.K., Jim."
+
+"How'd it go?"
+
+"Fifty-one per cent for hightailin' it right now."
+
+Bowie smiled. "That's a flat majority. Let's make tracks."
+
+"Comin', Bill?" Crockett asked. "You're O.K., but you just don't know how
+to be one of the boys. You got to learn that no dog is better'n any other."
+
+"No," Travis croaked hoarsely. "I stay. Stay or go, we shall all die like
+dogs, anyway. Boys, for the last time! Don't reveal our weakness to the
+enemy--"
+
+"What weakness? We're stronger than them. Americans could whip the Mexicans
+any day, if we wanted to. But the thing to do is make 'em talk, not fight.
+So long, Bill."
+
+The two big men stepped outside. In the night there was a sudden clatter of
+hoofs as the Texans mounted and rode. From across the river came a brief
+spatter of musket fire, then silence. In the dark, there had been no
+difficulty in breaking through the Mexican lines.
+
+Inside the chapel, John Ord's mouth hung slackly. He muttered, "Am I
+insane? It didn't happen this way--it couldn't! The books can't be _that_
+wrong--"
+
+In the candlelight, Travis hung his head. "We tried, John. Perhaps it was a
+forlorn hope at best. Even if we had defeated Santa Anna, or delayed him, I
+do not think the Indian Nations would have let Houston get help from the
+United States."
+
+Ord continued his dazed muttering, hardly hearing.
+
+"We need a contiguous frontier with Texas," Travis continued slowly, just
+above a whisper. "But we Americans have never broken a treaty with the
+Indians, and pray God we never shall. _We_ aren't like the Mexicans, always
+pushing, always grabbing off New Mexico, Arizona, California. _We_ aren't
+colonial oppressors, thank God! No, it wouldn't have worked out, even if we
+American immigrants had secured our rights in Texas--" He lifted a short,
+heavy, percussion pistol in his hand and cocked it. "I hate to say it, but
+perhaps if we hadn't taken Payne and Jefferson so seriously--if we could
+only have paid lip service, and done what we really wanted to do, in our
+hearts ... no matter. I won't live to see our final disgrace."
+
+He put the pistol to his head and blew out his brains.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Ord was still gibbering when the Mexican cavalry stormed into the old
+mission, pulling down the flag and seizing him, dragging him before the
+resplendent little general in green and gold.
+
+Since he was the only prisoner, Santa Anna questioned Ord carefully. When
+the sharp point of a bayonet had been thrust half an inch into his stomach,
+the Britainer seemed to come around. When he started speaking, and the
+Mexicans realized he was English, it went better with him. Ord was
+obviously mad, it seemed to Santa Anna, but since he spoke English and
+seemed educated, he could be useful. Santa Anna didn't mind the raving; he
+understood all about Napoleon's detention camps and what they had done to
+Britainers over there. In fact, Santa Anna was thinking of setting up a
+couple of those camps himself. When they had milked Ord dry, they threw him
+on a horse and took him along.
+
+Thus John Ord had an excellent view of the battlefield when Santa Anna's
+cannon broke the American lines south of the Trinity. Unable to get his men
+across to safety, Sam Houston died leading the last, desperate charge
+against the Mexican regulars. After that, the American survivors were too
+tired to run from the cavalry that pinned them against the flooding river.
+Most of them died there. Santa Anna expressed complete indifference to what
+happened to the Texans' women and children.
+
+Mexican soldiers found Jim Bowie hiding in a hut, wearing a plain linen
+tunic and pretending to be a civilian. They would not have discovered his
+identity had not some of the Texan women cried out, "Colonel Bowie--Colonel
+Bowie!" as he was led into the Mexican camp.
+
+He was hauled before Santa Anna, and Ord was summoned to watch. "Well, don
+Jaime," Santa Anna remarked, "You have been a foolish man. I promised your
+wife's uncle to send you to Acapulco safely, though of course your lands
+are forfeit. You understand we must have lands for the veterans' program
+when this campaign is over--" Santa Anna smiled then. "Besides, since Ord
+here has told me how instrumental you were in the abandonment of the Alamo,
+I think the Emperor will agree to mercy in your case. You know, don Jaime,
+your compatriots had me worried back there. The Alamo might have been a
+tough nut to crack ... _pues_, no matter."
+
+And since Santa Anna had always been broadminded, not objecting to light
+skin or immigrant background, he invited Bowie to dinner that night.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Santa Anna turned to Ord. "But if we could catch this rascally war
+criminal, Crockett ... however, I fear he has escaped us. He slipped over
+the river with a fake passport, and the Indians have interned him."
+
+"Sí, _Señor Presidente_," Ord said dully.
+
+"Please, don't call me that," Santa Anna cried, looking around. "True, many
+of us officers have political ambitions, but Emperor Iturbide is old and
+vain. It could mean my head--"
+
+Suddenly, Ord's head was erect, and the old, clear light was in his blue
+eyes. "Now I understand!" he shouted. "I thought Travis was raving back
+there, before he shot himself--and your talk of the Emperor! American
+respect for Indian rights! Jeffersonian form of government! Oh, those
+ponces who peddled me that X-4-A--the _track jumper_! I'm not back in my
+own past. I've jumped the time track--_I'm back in a screaming
+alternate!_"
+
+"Please, not so loud, _Señor_ Ord," Santa Anna sighed. "Now, we must shoot
+a few more American officers, of course. I regret this, you understand, and
+I shall no doubt be much criticized in French Canada and Russia, where
+there are still civilized values. But we must establish the Republic of the
+Empire once and for all upon this continent, that aristocratic tyranny
+shall not perish from the earth. Of course, as an Englishman, you
+understand perfectly, Señor Ord."
+
+"Of course, excellency," Ord said.
+
+"There are soft hearts--soft heads, I say--in Mexico who cry for civil
+rights for the Americans. But I must make sure that Mexican dominance is
+never again threatened north of the Rio Grande."
+
+"_Seguro_, excellency," Ord said, suddenly. If the bloody X-4-A _had_
+jumped the track, there was no getting back, none at all. He was stuck
+here. Ord's blue eyes narrowed. "After all, it ... it is manifest destiny
+that the Latin peoples of North America meet at the center of the
+continent. Canada and Mexico shall share the Mississippi."
+
+Santa Anna's dark eyes glowed. "You say what I have often thought. You are
+a man of vision, and much sense. You realize the _Indios_ must go, whether
+they were here first or not. I think I will make you my secretary, with the
+rank of captain."
+
+"_Gracias_, Excellency."
+
+"Now, let us write my communique to the capital, _Capitán_ Ord. We must
+describe how the American abandonment of the Alamo allowed me to press the
+traitor Houston so closely he had no chance to maneuver his men into the
+trap he sought. _Ay, Capitán_, it is a cardinal principle of the
+Anglo-Saxons, to get themselves into a trap from which they must fight
+their way out. This I never let them do, which is why I succeed where
+others fail ... you said something, _Capitán_?"
+
+"_Sí_, Excellency. I said, I shall title our communique: 'Remember the
+Alamo,'" Ord said, standing at attention.
+
+"_Bueno!_ You have a gift for words. Indeed, if ever we feel the _gringos_
+are too much for us, your words shall once again remind us of the truth!"
+Santa Anna smiled. "I think I shall make you a major. You have indeed
+coined a phrase which shall live in history forever!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Remember the Alamo, by R. R. Fehrenbach
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30267 ***