The All-Star Garrison of the Alamo

Goliad, Old John's Saloon.

William Travis pushed open the saloon's swinging batwing doors, and a pungent wave of spicy liquor and choking tobacco smoke hit him, mingled with the stench of unwashed feet and cheap perfume.

The soldiers were busy amusing themselves with the prostitutes, the crowd twisting and turning wildly to the rhythm of upbeat music.

Soldiers hoisted the prostitutes onto their shoulders, and the brazen women didn't care in the slightest about their exposed charms; everyone was still immersed in the joy of victory, for now Goliad, San Antonio, and even all of Texas belonged to them.

Just three months ago, they had wiped out a 40-man Mexico garrison and successfully seized Goliad.

But now, Santa Anna was arriving with an 8,000-strong Mexico army; if one counted the stragglers gathered along the way, the newly conscripted slaves, and the Indians, the total number was likely no less than ten thousand.

William Travis felt deeply troubled, wanting to find the volunteer commander James Bowie immediately.

As William Travis searched 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.

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

But no one answered. In a fit of anger, William Travis drew the pistol from his waist and fired two shots into the ceiling.

"Bang! Bang!" The two gunshots silenced the rowdy crowd, though the circular chandelier hanging from the ceiling fell, instantly crushing a drunkard.

"Carry him out. Who is James Bowie?"

A dwarf raised his hand, and William Travis asked with some confusion.

"You are James Bowie?"

The dwarf shook his head rapidly and replied.

"Colonel Bowie is upstairs, but I don't think he wants you to disturb him."

William Travis was somewhat annoyed.

"I am Colonel William Travis, the highest-ranking military commander here, and I must see him now."

The dwarf shrugged and pointed toward the second floor.

William Travis marched angrily toward the room on the second floor and kicked the door open, only to find Colonel Bowie engaged in an indescribable act, forcing him 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, just three minutes."

Both sides shared an awkward smile, but their relationship had unknowingly drawn much closer.

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

James Bowie was more famous for the knife he invented than for himself; a blade with an upturned point and a guard, the Bowie Knife, would later be known as the most common type of American military knife.

James Bowie and William Travis arrived in the kitchen, where Bowie picked up two cups and handed one to Travis.

"Have a drink first; you can't talk with a dry throat."

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

Travis pushed the glass away and said.

"I don't drink. The men out there are in no condition to fight, and I have bad news for you: no one is coming to save us, and Santa Anna is bringing ten thousand men, while we only have two colonels and two hundred soldiers."

"Oh, I've heard. What of ten thousand men?" Bowie drained his glass with indifference.

"We lack sufficient soldiers, sufficient weapons, and our artillery consists of only three old antiques left behind by the Mexicans."

"Believe me, Travis, the Mexicans' cannons won't be any better than ours," Bowie said with a laugh, knowing the Mexicans were still using old antiques from Spain.

"But my men, plus your volunteers, total only 200. How are we to stand against Santa Anna's grand army?"

"I don't fear death, but even if I die, I'll make sure the Mexicans know I'm not to be trifled with. I'll tear a piece of meat off them, butter it, and eat it in one bite."

James Bowie was not lying; he truly did not fear death, and everyone who had met him praised him as a true Western cowboy, a desperado.

"But I don't want to die for nothing."

"Then hand your command over to me, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. Right now, those big shots are busy planning a nation, and we are here to stop Santa Anna. It's that simple."

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

"I don't fear death either, but I must say that Texas cannot exist without San Antonio. History will prove me right."

Travis downed the drink in one gulp and immediately coughed it back up.

"Not bad, a tough guy, ha!"

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

"Speak, like a man."

"I want you to keep silent. I am going to tell the soldiers that General Houston is already on his way with 2,000 reinforcements. I fear those cowards will desert; our mission is to buy enough time for the big shots."

Bowie hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

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

"Suit yourself. I don't think Houston is foolish enough to abandon San Antonio. You and I both know how important San Antonio is to Texas. Once Santa Anna occupies San Antonio, he will be in an invincible position."

However, the historical Santa Anna, after the Battle of the Alamo, underestimated his enemy and advanced rashly, eventually being ambushed by the militia led by the settler Houston, causing all his efforts to go down the drain and leaving Santa Anna himself forever nailed to the pillar of shame.

One day later, the American legend David Crockett arrived at Goliad with 20 Tennessee volunteers.

In legend, David Crockett could tear wolves apart with his bare hands, wrestle grizzly bears, single-handedly repel an attack by 300 Indian warriors, and foil a plot by Britain to assassinate the President of the United States all on his own.

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

Historically, the twenty Tennessee volunteers led by David Crockett were the last group of reinforcements to reach the Alamo.

But in reality, a force of 400 men was stationed just over ten kilometers from the Alamo, led by Colonel Maning.

Yet, this group neither aided Travis at the Alamo nor followed the orders of Houston to leave San Antonio and rendezvous with Houston's main force.

These men sat by and watched the destruction of the Alamo defenders, only to later become Santa Anna's punching bag.

Their only role in history was to burden Santa Anna with the infamy of massacring prisoners.

A volunteer force of one thousand men had just departed from Boston, but they would not arrive for another two months.

Apologies, there was a system error just now, and the draft was sent out directly.