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Post by neferetus on Feb 8, 2006 17:25:10 GMT -5
The Battle of Concepción occurred on the twenty-eighth day of October 1835. It is considered to be the opening engagement in the siege of Bejar. On October 27th, Steven Austin, commander of the 400 man Texian force, ordered Captains James Bowie and James W. Fannin, Jr. to lead a 92 man detachment to scout and locate a more strategic position closer to Bexar. Texian volunteer Noah Smithwick writes of the engagement: Among the small parties joining us at Cibolo was Jim Bowie, who, accompanied by Joseph Hamm, ---- Donahue and several other Louisianians, all spoiling for a fight, had posted on at the first intimation of trouble. Bowie's prowess as a fighter made him doubly welcome, and Austin at once placed him on his staff. Without further incident worthy of mention we reached the San Antonio river at the old San Jose Mission, eight miles below Bexar. Here the main body halted while Col. Bowie with the companies of Fannin and Coleman went on up to reconnoitre and select a position from which to direct operations against the garrison.
Being a personal friend of Bowie's, the writer was permitted to accompany the expedition. The only opposition we encountered was from a party of Mexican soldiers who came up and fired on us at long range. We returned the compliment and they retired, leaving the road clear. We went on up, made our observations, and camped in a bend of the river on the east side, about a quarter of a mile above the old mission of Concepcion and distant some two miles from San Antonio, expecting the main army to follow right on, but for some reason Colonel Austin did not do so. Just about sundown we were startled by a dull boom and, ere we had time to frame a question as to its import, a cannon ball, shot from a gun mounted in the church tower two miles away, shrieked through the air overhead and buried itself in the earth a few rods beyond our camp. With a horrible hiss that no language can describe, another, and another followed, to the number of half a dozen; then, all was still. At dawn we were roused by the discharge of musketry, and directly our pickets came running in. One man had his powder horn shot away. Another fell as soon as we got into camp, and we thought he was killed; but, on examination, found that his only injury consisted in a sick stomach caused by a bullet striking and breaking a large Bowie knife which he carried stuck under the waistband of his pantaloons directly in front. The knife saved his life, but he was incapacitated from taking part in the fight. The dense fog masked the strength of the enemy. They crossed the river, which was very low, down at the mission and moved up on the open plain fronting our camp. We got our horses down out of range and, drawing close under the bank, which was five or six feet high, took up positions on both arms of the bend so as to get in a cross fire; Fannin's company occupying the lower arm and Coleman's the upper. When the fog lifted we found ourselves pretty well surrounded; though the bluff and heavy timber on the west side of the river secured us against attack in the rear. In front was a field piece flanked by several companies of infantry; and across the river, to cut off retreat, were two companies of cavalry - but retreat formed no part of our programme. The Mexicans now opened on us with cannon, but we lay low and their grape and canister crashed through the pecan trees overhead, raining a shower of ripe nuts down on us, and I saw men picking them up and eating them with as little apparent concern as if they were being shaken down by a norther. Bowie was a born leader, never needlessly spending a bullet or imperiling a life. His voice is still ringing in my deaf old ears as he repeatedly admonished us, "Keep under cover, boys, and reserve your fire; we haven't a man to spare;" and, had he been obeyed, not a man would we have lost. The Mexicans moved up till they came within range of Fannin's men, when, upon the Texans opening fire, they halted and begun forming for a charge. Seeing this, Bowie ordered Coleman to the support of Fannin, and, in executing the movement, the foolhardiness of some of our men caused the only casualty of the engagement. We scarcely waited, really, for orders, but broke for Fannin's position. Excited and eager to get a shot, some of the boys mounted the bank and cut across, exposed to the fire of the whole Mexican army. They got there before we did, who went around, but the first man I saw as I came around was Dick Andrews, lying as he had fallen, great drops of sweat already gathering on his white, drawn face, and the life blood gushing from a hole in the left side, just below the ribs. I ran to him and attempted to raise him. "Dick," I cried, "are you hurt?" "Yes, Smith," he replied, "I'm killed; lay me down." I laid him down and put something under his head. It was the last time I saw him alive. There was no time for sentiment. There was the enemy, outnumbering us four to one, charging our position, so I picked up my gun and joined my comrades.
"Fire!" rang out the steady voice of our leader, and we responded with a will. Our long rifles - and I thought I never heard rifles crack so keen, after the dull roar of the cannon - mowed down the Mexicans at a rate that might well have made braver hearts than those encased in their shriveled little bodies recoil. Three times they charged, but there was a platoon ready to receive them. Three times we picked off their gunners, the last one with a lighted match in his hand; then a panic seized them, and they broke. They jumped on the mules attached to the cannon, two or three on a mule, without even taking time to cut them loose, and struck out for the fort, leaving the loaded gun on the field. With a ringing cheer we mounted the bank and gave chase. We turned their cannon on them, adding wings to their flight. They dropped their muskets, and, splashing through the shallow water of the river, fled helter skelter as if pursued by all the furies.
Our pickets, who had been stationed at the old mission and cut off, now climbed upon the roof and gave them a parting volley as they ran past. I don't think it was ten minutes after we opened fire till the last Mexican who was able to run was across the river. The cavalry took no part in the fight, but joined the wild race for the fort, and, no doubt, came down the homestretch in the lead. They left about sixty killed and a number wounded, while our casualties were one mortally wounded and one slightly wounded; less than usually results from a bicycle race, or a football game.
Having no knowledge of civilized warfare, the poor wounded wretches thought they were to be summarily dispatched, and it was pitiful to hear them begging for the miserable lives that no one thought of taking. We had no means of relieving them, even if we had had an opportunity. We knew not what turn affairs at the fort might take, and where Austin was we had no idea. The utmost we could do was to give water to those who asked for it, which no one was brute enough to refuse. How our humanity was repaid, let Goliad and the Alamo testify. About an hour after it was all over, Austin came up with the main body. Had their arrival been a little more timely, our most sanguine expectations might have been more than realized; for the whole force of the garrison was out, and, being mostly infantry, while our men were all mounted, the enemy might have been cut off and well nigh annihilated. As it was, we who were in the fight were satisfied, but the other boys were loud and bitter in their denunciation of the course that had deprived them of a share in the glory. Soon the padre came out with a train of carts and attendants, and, after a parley with Austin, carted the dead and wounded Mexicans away to San Antonio, leaving us in undisputed possession of the field.
Poor Dick Andrews lived long enough to know that the fight was won. He recklessly, foolishly threw away his life, but his was the first freeman's life blood that wet the soil where the germ of the young republic was just bursting into life. We buried him at the foot of a pecan tree on the battlefield, where his bones were left to mingle with the silent dust,
"With not a stone to mark the spot."
The tree has no doubt long since gone to decay, the battlefield been converted into a cotton field, whose snowy fleece bears no trace of the crimson tide which that day soaked its sod. Thus the first gun, the first flag and the first martyr have all gone down to oblivion together.
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Post by Bromhead24 on Mar 8, 2006 14:15:58 GMT -5
Did you take part in the reenactment Ned?
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Post by Bromhead24 on May 21, 2006 8:55:03 GMT -5
With so many soldiers firing on both sides, it's a wonder that there were so few casualties. I think that was the norm in those days. They could have done more damage by throwing rocks...
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Post by neferetus on Jan 18, 2007 1:41:37 GMT -5
"The Cannon and Victory!" The Battle of Concepcion by J. R. Edmondson
The Texas revolution was largely a reaction to the tyranny of Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, the self-proclaimed "Napoleon of the West," who had overthrown the democratic Mexican constitution of 1824 and established himself as a dictator. To the Anglo colonists who populated the Mexican province of Texas, many of whose fathers and grandfathers had fought and bled for liberty in the American revolution, life under a dictatorship could never be tolerated. This sentiment was shared by many of the Tejanos, the proud Hispanic population of the province, who were just as willing to lay down their lives for the cause of freedom. The Texas Revolution had begun at Gonzales--the "Lexington of Texas"--on October 2, 1835. A Mexican force had demanded the surrender of a small brass cannon given to the people of that town for defense against the Comanches. The Texians had discharged their cannon, sending the Mexicans into a hasty retreat. The popular image of this battle has the Texians taunting the Mexican troops with a flag depicting a silhouette of a cannon barrel and the words, "Come and Take It." This cannon flag existed, but historical evidence suggests that it may not have been created until several days later. One week after the clash at Gonzales, a small force of Texians captured the Mexican garrison at Goliad. Flushed with success, the rebels set their sights on the only remaining Mexican stronghold in Texas, San Antonio de Bexar, eighty miles to the west. There General Martin Perfecto de Cos, Santa Anna's brother-in-law, commanded over 1,000 troops. Bexar, as San Antonio was generally called, was the largest city in Texas. It lay west of the Anglo colonies and remained primarily an Hispanic community. The town was built around two squares, the main plaza and the military plaza, which were nestled between San Pedro Creek to the west and the San Antonio River to the east. Across on the east bank of the shallow river stood the crumbling ruins of the mission San Antonio de Valero, more commonly known as the Alamo. Stretching in a line to the south of the city were four more dilapidated missions; Nuestra Senora Purisma Concepcion de Acuna, San Jose y San Miguel de Aguayo, San Juan Capistrano, and the furthest south, San Francisco de la Espada. Around 300 Texians had converged at Gonzales to form the "Volunteer Army of Texas." Stephen F. Austin, who a decade and a half earlier had brought the first Anglo colonists into Texas, was the unanimous choice to head the expedition against San Antonio. His election to the rank of general was understandable, considering his popularity, but in truth Austin was far more skillful at diplomacy than at military strategy. For almost a decade and a half Austin had dedicated himself to maintaining peace between the Anglo colonists and their Mexican host government. But after a year of imprisonment in Mexico, he had concluded that revolution was the only alternative left to the Texians, and he had been influential in converting many colonists to the cause. With the opening volley at Gonzales signaling the start of the rebellion, he proclaimed to the Texians, "Retreat is now impossible; we must go forward to victory or die the death of traitors. I will wear myself out by inches rather than submit to Santa Anna's arbitrary rule." On October 13, the Texian force marched out of Gonzales bound for Bexar, eighty miles to the west. Noah Smithwick, a blacksmith who once had forged a knife for James Bowie, provided a colorful description of the ragtag rebel force to which Austin had attached the impressive label, "Federal Army of Texas."
Creed Taylor, who served as an orderly under General Austin, also accompanied the march from Gonzales.
The Texian artillery consisted of nothing more than the tiny Gonzales cannon, mounted upon a flimsy four-wheeled carriage. The carriage broke down frequently, causing numerous delays. The fate of the cannon remains a subject of debate. According to some sources, General Austin reluctantly decided to abandon the cannon. To prevent its discovery by the enemy, it was buried along the banks of Sandy Creek. Other sources argue that the cannon was dragged all the way to San Antonio. In his latter years, Smithwick reflected back on the march to Bexar and noted that it seemed "a piece of egregious foolhardiness." Each step of the slow, arduous march brought the small Texian force nearer to an enemy composed of greater numbers of infantry, artillery and cavalry and well entrenched within a fortified city. However the Texians knew that Cos might rely only on his numerical advantage, march out of Bexar and engage Austin's army on the open prairie. On October 16, the army arrived at Cibolo Creek and camped for several days awaiting further reinforcements. That night the Texians were surprised by a prominent visitor. Creed Taylor remembered his arrival.
Sam Houston was a giant bear of a man with an ego to match his bulk. He had already established a reputation which had preceded him to Texas, but his real fame was yet to be born. As a young soldier in the Creek Indian War, his heroism, despite severe wounds, had brought him to the attention of his commanding officer, Andrew Jackson. Old Hickory had become Houston's mentor. Under Jackson's guidance, Houston had become a congressman and later governor of Tennessee. But a marital scandal--Houston's wife had left him three and a half months after their wedding--had ended Houston's political career. For a time he had lived and sulked among his adopted Cherokee bloodbrothers, who called him the "Big Drunk." Then, like so many others, he had come to Texas to start over. Presumably Houston hoped that a prominent military role would reignite his political career. Certainly Houston's visit to the Texian army was more for political than military reasons. He had come to persuade the volunteers that they should be fighting for the not yet popular notion of independence from Mexico. Houston argued:
Houston departed almost as abruptly as he had come, to carry his argument to San Felipe, where Texian leaders were convening to discuss the revolution. The reinforcements for which Austin had waited, three companies of men with two six-pound artillery pieces, arrived the following day, raising the strength of the Texian army to around 450 men. Perhaps the most significant volunteer to join the army while it was encamped along the Cibolo was Colonel James Bowie. Tales of his bloody duels and desperate Indian fights had made Bowie a living legend, and Bowie knives had become standard equipment on the frontier, though the term was being rather generously and generically applied to any large hunting knife. In truth, the stories upon which Bowie's legend was based often were more fanciful than factual, but no one doubted Bowie's unflinching courage or his ability as a competent military commander. A contemporary historian, John Myers Myers, has noted that "of all the Texians, Bowie had the most to lose and the least to gain by taking part in the revolt." Having married Ursula de Verimendi, the daughter of the vice-governor of the province, Bowie enjoyed a status far above the other Anglos in Texas, and he was exempted from the restrictions applied to the other Anglo colonists. But Bowie's beloved Ursula and the rest of her family had perished in a terrible cholera epidemic which had swept through Mexico in 1833. Some romantics have speculated that, having lost his reason to live, Bowie was seeking a cause for which to die. Whatever his motive, Bowie was welcomed into the Texian camp. Recognizing Bowie's popularity, his prowess as a fighter, and his natural leadership abilities, Austin appointed him as an aid-de-camp. Before departing the Cibolo, Austin sent a squad to reconnoiter the area ahead. Creed Taylor rode with this party as did a young man named Henry Karnes. Karnes was destined to distinguish himself in the revolution, and because of his bright red hair, he would become known to Mexican friend and foe alike as Captain Colorado. At the Salado River, the scouts overtook a small force of Mexicans driving a herd of cattle toward San Antonio. The Mexicans abandoned the cattle and fled in panic, but Karnes killed one of them, and another was captured. According to Taylor, the captive was very helpful.
The main body of the Texian army reached the Salado on October 20 and encamped there for a week. Austin sent word to Cos requesting a parley. The Mexican commander curtly responded, "I shall never treat with the ungrateful Texans save as rebels." Volunteers continued to arrive, swelling the ranks of the Texian force to about 700 men. Among the new recruits was Erastus Smith, commonly called "Deaf" (pronounced Deef) because of a hearing impairment. Old "Deaf" Smith was one of the most popular figures among the Texas colonists, and he was generally recognized to be one of the best hunters and trackers on the frontier. Like Bowie, Smith had taken a Spanish wife and had settled in the predominantly Mexican town of San Antonio de Bexar. Away on an extended hunt, he had returned to Bexar to find that a war had started, and his wife and children were in a city fortified by Mexican troops. Smith had initially hoped to remain neutral, but the situation had compelled him to take sides. He explained to Austin:
Austin added Smith to his company of scouts and spies, and old Deaf soon became recognized as "the eyes of the Texas army." General Cos apparently recognized that "Deaf" Smith posed a threat, for word leaked out of Bexar that Cos had posted a thousand dollar bounty on the head of "one Smith called El Sordo (the deaf one)." Smith casually responded with an offer of five hundred dollars for the head of Cos, claiming that was all it was worth. Accompanying Smith was Hendrick Arnold, a free black man who had married Smith's stepdaughter. Arnold would distinguish himself in the battles to come. Other support came from the Tejanos, Hispanics who supported the democratic Constitution of 1824 which Santa Anna had deposed in his rise to power. Juan Seguin, the son of the former alcalde of Bexar, Erasmo Seguin, arrived at the Texian camp with 37 volunteers. Other Tejanos drifted in from the local haciendas and from as far away as Victoria and Goliad until they numbered 135. Austin commissioned Seguin a captain of the federal army and placed him in command of the Tejano company with instructions to "contract with the inhabitants or owners of ranches" for quantities of corn and beans with which to feed the Texian army. This non-combative assignment may have been influenced by the distrust some Anglos felt toward the Tejanos. However feeding the army was one of Austin's major concerns. On October 22, he wrote Captain Phillip Dimmit, who commanded the Texian force which held the captured presidio at Goliad, to forward food supplies. ". . . I assure you the men here are beginning to suffer greatly for the want of bread etc etc. . . ." Austin wrote. He also advised Dimmit of Seguin's appointment to captain, adding, "Inform your men of this that he may be respected as such and as a devoted friend of the Constitution." Aside from feeding his army, Austin's other primary concern was determining the best approach to San Antonio. With both of these priorities in mind, on October 22 he placed Colonel James Bowie in command of Captain James Walker Fannin's first Division of the first Batallion with instructions to scout the missions south of Bexar. Fannin was the only officer in the Texas army who had attended West Point. It was a dubious distinction which Fannin did not fully appreciate, for it gave others the impression that he was a capable commander. In fact, he had dropped out of that institution after only two years, and, despite his pro-revolutionary zeal, he readily and frequently acknowledged his limitations as a leader of men. Therefore it may have been comforting for him, on a mission that would take him into dangerous proximity of the large enemy force at Bexar, to relinquish command of his division to so formidable a figure as Bowie. Austin ordered Bowie to proceed "to the missions of San Juan, Espada and San Jose." Bowie was to gain information regarding "the disposition of the inhabitants" toward the Texian cause, determine "the quantity of corn and other provisions," and "endeavour to procure a number of cartloads of corn and beans" to be sent back to the main body of the army. "It is important to keep possession of one of the missions as it will secure supplies of provisions and also protect the La Bahia road," Austin wrote. "You and Capt. Fannin will however use your discretion as to retaining possession at this time." Bowie arrived at Mission Espada, about eight miles below the city, around 4:30 that afternoon. A guard of five Mexicans who had been stationed there fled at the approach of the Texians, and the mission was occupied without incident. From the local citizens, who were "well disposed and quite communicative," Bowie gained considerable insight into the situation within Bexar. That night he and Fannin jointly wrote back to Austin that the city was well fortified, but the Mexican army also suffered from lack of food supplies. Bowie and Fannin suggested that Austin send them 50 additional reinforcements, then remove the main body of the army to a position north of the city. Between the two forces they could starve out the Mexicans. The next day Bowie and Fannin scouted the San Juan and San Jose missions, but found no stores of food at either place. They fell back to Espada and again sent a dispatch back to Austin asking for reinforcements and food supplies. The following morning Mexican troops approached mission Espada and engaged in a skirmish with the Texians. In their official report to Austin, dated "7. oclk A.M 24th octr 1835," Bowie and Fannin wrote:
On the morning of October 27, Austin moved the main body of his army from the Salado to join Bowie and Fannin at Mission Espada. Austin promptly gave Bowie the following written orders.
Ninety men were placed under Bowie, composed of the two companies commanded by Captain Fannin and Captain Robert M. Coleman. The young orderly, Creed Taylor, was there; and Noah Smithwick, the blacksmith; and red-haired Henry Karnes. There was also Dick Andrews, a large, jovial fellow, whose unfailing sense of humor made him popular with the men. "Deaf" Smith may also have been among the ninety, perhaps assigned to guide the company. They left the main camp at Mission Espada about noon. Noah Smithwick described their advance toward Bexar.
Why Austin failed to advance is not known, but Bowie was not particularly concerned. Nevertheless, because of their proximity to the enemy, he took no chances. Strategically, the horseshoe bend of the river proved an ideal location. The steep banks, five or six feet high, afforded excellent cover. A high bluff and thick timber on the west bank prevented the possiblity of an assault from the rear. Any attack would have to come from the plain above the east bank. With Fannin and the forty-nine men in his company secured in the south wing of the river bend, and Coleman with forty-one men dug in on the north wing, an enemy force attacking them from the plain would be caught in a lethal cross-fire. To guard against a surprise attack, sentries were hidden in the underbrush away from the river, and a sentinel was stationed in the bell tower of the old mission, where, in the daylight hours, he could command a view of the entire area. The night was clear and uneventful. But the dawn revealed that a heavy fog had enveloped the entire region along the river valley.
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Post by neferetus on Jan 18, 2007 1:43:52 GMT -5
PART II OF JACK EDMONDSON'S ARTICLE:
Within San Antonio de Bexar, General Cos had been advised of the Texian advance, and he planned to isolate and capture this advance party before the main body of the army arrived. The dense fog afforded him the opportunity to advance his troops on the enemy position without discovery. Around 6:00 am he dispatched Colonel Domingo de Ugartechea with a force of about 300 troops, including cavalry, infantry and two artillery pieces. The Mexicans moved as quickly and quietly as possible down the west side of the river. Ugartechea left his cavalry behind the Texian position, presumably to cut off any escape, for the dense woods lining the steep river bank effectively neutralized their offensive potential. The Mexican infantry and artillery under Lieutenant Colonel Don Jose Maria Mendosa continued to a point below the Texians and forded the river. They positioned themselves on the prairie about three hundred yards from the Texian position and formed a line with the two cannons in the center and the old mission at their right flank.
The Texians had been up before the sun, and they breakfasted on jerked beef and cornbread. Creed Taylor volunteered to join a small group going out to relieve the sentries.
Quote: When we reached the post on the high ground in the direction of the mission, we found Henry Karnes on duty. The fog was very dense and as we came nearer, Karnes was stooping and peering through the gloom as if trying to locate some object. In a low tone he told us to listen, that he believed he heard the sound of hoofs. A few moments later we were fired upon by a large body of Mexican infantry which had silently approached under cover of the fog, and the continued blaze of their guns made a lurid scene. Returning the fire we fell back towards the river bottom. Just before we scampered down the high bank, and while yet exposed to the enemy's fire, Karnes exclaimed, "Boys, the scoundrels have shot off my powder horn."
According to some accounts, that instance was the only time in his life that Henry Karnes ever cursed. However Creed Taylor was there, and he discredits the story.
Quote: I was within three feet of Karnes when this incident occurred, I heard the musket ball strike the horn, and heard distinctly his expression. He used some very strong invectives but I am quite sure he used no "cuss words."
Another Texian, Pen Jarvis, had an even closer call than Karnes. He was struck by a Mexican ball and knocked back into the river bed. His comrades thought at first that he was killed, but as they raced to him they discovered that the ball had been deflected by the Bowie knife which Jarvis wore in the front of his waistband. The impact had shattered the knife, causing cuts and bruises, so he had sustained a painful wound though not a mortal one. Thereafter he was known as "Bowie-knife" Jarvis.
The Mexicans began an erratic fire, but the thick fog masked the Texian position, and the bullets passed harmlessly overhead. The Texians secured their horses in the safety of the river bottom. Creed Taylor described other preparations.
Quote: In places along our front the brush was in our way and at other points the declivity was too steep for a foothold. With our hunting knives we soon cleared away the bushes and along the steep places we cut steps so that we could ascend, fire, fall back, and reload.
As the sun rose the fog lifted, revealing a force of some four or five hundred Mexicans, who now rushed up and began a furious attack, pouring a continuous fire--it was almost like a solid sheet of flame. It was my first taste of real war and it was a nerve-trying experience. [Colonel] Bowie urged the boys to be cool and deliberate and to waste no powder and balls, but to shoot to hit.
In his official report to Austin, Bowie noted that the battle commenced "at about the hour of eight o'clock, A.M. on Wednesday, 28th of October."
Quote: The discharge from the enemy was one continued blaze of fire, whilst that from our lines, was more slowly delivered, but with good aim and deadly effect, each man retiring under cover of the hill and timber, to give place to others, whilst he reloaded. The battle had not lasted more than ten minutes, before a brass double-fortified four-pounder was opened on our line with a heavy discharge of grape and cannister, at the distance of about eighty yards from the right flank of the first division. . . .
Noah Smithwick also described the fire from the Mexican artillery.
Quote: The Mexicans now opened on us with cannon, but we lay low and their grape and cannister crashed through the pecan trees overhead, raining a shower of ripe nuts down on us, and I saw men picking them up and eating them with as little apparent concern as if they were being shaken down by a norther. Bowie was a born leader; never needlessly spending a bullet or imperiling a life. . . . he repeatedly admonished us, "Keep under cover, boys, and reserve your fire; we haven't a man to spare."
Under the cover of their artillery fire, the Mexican infantry began an advance on Fannin's position, in preparation for an attack. Perceiving the threat, Bowie ordered some of Coleman's men to reinforce Fannin. Noah Smithwick was among those who raced to Fannin's aid. He and most of the reinforcements followed the curve of the river bed, but a few of the Texians took a dangerous shortcut.
Quote: Excited and eager to get a shot, some of the boys mounted the bank and cut across, exposed to the fire of the whole Mexican army. They got there before we did, who went around, but the first man I saw as I came around was Dick Andrews, lying as he had fallen, great drops of sweat already gathering on his white, drawn face, and the life blood gushing from a hole in his left side, just below the ribs. I ran to him and attempted to raise him. "Dick," I cried, "are you hurt?" "Yes, Smith," he replied, "I'm killed; lay me down."
There was no time for sentiment. Smithwick placed something under the dying man's head to make him as comfortable as possible, then grabbed his rifle and scrambled up the river bank to help repel the attack. Three times the Mexicans charged bravely and determinedly into the withering fire from the river bank; three times they were repulsed with heavy losses. The Mexicans manning the cannon fared no better. "It seemed that at one one volley every artilleryman hit the dust, and those who took their places shared a like fate," recalled Creed Taylor. During the entire engagement, the Mexicans were only able to fire the cannon five times. Noah Smithwick added:
Quote: Three times they charged, but there was a platoon ready to receive them. Three times we picked off their gunners, the last one with a lighted match in his hand. . . .
Then the Texians suddenly took the offensive. In his official report, Bowie described the Texian war cry as "The cannon and victory!" Creed Taylor remembered:
Quote: When they were driven back the third and last time, and while their officers were vainly trying to rally them on their colors, which had been placed on the cannon, Jim Bowie shouted, "The cannon, boys! Come on and let's take the cannon." And with a wild cheer the men rushed forward, siezed the color standard, wheeled the gun, which was loaded, and turned it on the enemy who fled in the direction of San Antonio. The fight was over.
The Mexicans had sustained about 70 casualties in the battle. Only one Texian was wounded, "Bowie-knife" Jarvis, and only one killed, Richard Andrews, who painfully lingered long enough to learn of the Texian victory.
The battle of Concepcion, or the Horseshoe, as it was then called, was the first major engagement of the Texas Revolution, but it was not a decisive victory. Shortly after the fight, Stephen Austin and the main body of the Texian army arrived on the field to reinforce Bowie and Fannin. Had Austin's force arrived earlier, they might have been able to capture the entire Mexican assault force. With his army reduced by nearly a third, General Cos might have been compelled to surrender San Antonio on that very date. Instead, Cos resolved not to risk his troops outside of the fortified city, and both armies dug in for a long siege.
The fight near the mission Concepcion set the stage for the more significant battles of the Texas Revolution. On December 5, the Texian army stormed San Antonio de Bexar. After four days of fierce street fighting, General Cos surrendered, and his army was paroled back to Mexico under the oath that they would never again raise arms against the people of Texas.
However most of the Texians understood that the war was not over. Santa Anna would never surrender Texas so easily. He would perceive the surrender of Cos as a personal disgrace, and bent on vengeance--and the eradication of all the rebels in Texas--he would personally lead a new army back to San Antonio.
Anticipating the coming conflict, the Texians began fortifying the old mission on the outskirts of Bexar which they had captured from Cos, the mission they called the Alamo.
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Post by neferetus on Jan 18, 2007 2:02:18 GMT -5
Did you take part in the reenactment Ned? Nope. Usually the local San Antonio reenactor groups stage mock battles on the anniversaries of Concepcion, the Grass Fight, the siege of Bejar and, of course, the Alamo.
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Post by Bromhead24 on Jan 18, 2007 23:46:19 GMT -5
Good beans Wellington..
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Post by neferetus on Jan 20, 2007 21:15:51 GMT -5
Ever notice how the Texians always seemed to do best when they were on the initiative? But lock them up in forts and they were goners.
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Post by neferetus on Jan 21, 2007 15:26:14 GMT -5
Back in 1986, I did a Cocepcion battlefield tour with my Danish friend, Kaj Anderson. We visited the actual spot where Bowie, Fannin and the other Texians were positioned and also traced where the Mexican force once stood. I'll see if I can find some photos of the battlefield.
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Post by Greg C. on Jan 21, 2007 16:41:46 GMT -5
Ever notice how the Texians always seemed to do best when they were on the initiative? But lock them up in forts and they were goners. you could compare that to the british in the revolutionary war. they frightened the hell out of american armies when they marched in formation and were coming right at you. they were unbeatable that way on an open battlefield. but once you got them in the forest, and guerilla tactics kicked in, they were done for.
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Post by Bromhead24 on Jan 21, 2007 20:02:43 GMT -5
Ever notice how the Texians always seemed to do best when they were on the initiative? But lock them up in forts and they were goners. you could compare that to the british in the revolutionary war. they frightened the hell out of american armies when they marched in formation and were coming right at you. they were unbeatable that way on an open battlefield. but once you got them in the forest, and guerilla tactics kicked in, they were done for. They couldnt comprehend that kind of fighting tactic, they where only trained in the shoulder to shoulder, gentlemans rules of engagment type of warfare and they couldn't adjust. It wasn't untill the 2nd Boer war 1898-1902 that the British finally figured it out and adjusted tactics.
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Post by neferetus on Oct 12, 2007 16:27:26 GMT -5
The anniversary of the Battle of Mission Concepcion is just around the corner. (October 28, 1835) I had to laugh when I read a portion of Wikipedia's 'unbiased' version of the conflict... [glow=red,2,300]The poorly trained and dispirited force there under General Martin Perfecto de Cós was mostly made up of convicts. The revolt in Zacatecas a few months before had diverted most of Mexico’s resources, so the 647 men in San Antonio were ill-equipped to fight 30,000 Texian settlers and their Tejano allies.[/glow] Glory be! They were outnumbered far worse than even the defenders of the alamo. You think?!
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Post by neferetus on Feb 12, 2008 21:49:10 GMT -5
For those of you who have never had the opportunity to visit Mission Concepcion, Ted Cole has graciously provided the following 5 photos:
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Post by neferetus on Feb 12, 2008 21:49:39 GMT -5
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Post by neferetus on Feb 12, 2008 21:50:06 GMT -5
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Post by neferetus on Feb 12, 2008 21:50:45 GMT -5
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Post by neferetus on Feb 12, 2008 21:51:21 GMT -5
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Post by seguin on Feb 13, 2008 0:44:33 GMT -5
That´s a beautiful mission! Most of it seems to be intact. It´s quite impressive!
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Rick
Junior Member
Posts: 170
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Post by Rick on Mar 25, 2008 21:04:36 GMT -5
Ned, on the ABA's recent visit to Concepcion, did Hardin lead the tour over the ground of the battle that Bowie and Fannin fought there in 1835? Bowie apparently displayed some real understanding of tactics, cross-fire, etc. from everything I've read about the battle -- which has always made me wonder what might have happened had he taken Widmark's advice and fought a cut, slash 'n run campaign in the spring of 1836, rather than opting to be forted up.
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Post by neferetus on Mar 25, 2008 23:04:09 GMT -5
Disappointingly, Dr. Hardin only briefed us about the battle from the windows of the bus, pointing out the horseshoe defense line that the Texians took along the San Antonio River bank. As the river has long since been diverted to a new channel, you had to use your imagination and ignore the tennis courts that now obscure part of the Mexican position.
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