TSRA NM Team guy Keith Stephens won the match for the third time. He's closing in on David Tubb's number of wins.
The Fairchild babes. A trend is popular when it starts attracting good looking women, so there you go.
...and has rugged, handsome men: David Guthrey and his grandson.
Junior Team Winners. Clayton Rogers, Misty Skelton, Coach Chris Chesney on the end.
Overall class winners.
Misty Dawn in her camo walking cast and safety gear.
Bailey Fairchild gets her game-face on at 200 offhand.
Shawn Taylor with a Captain Morgan vibe going in his hat.
Randy Schiebel ponders the deeper meanings of deeper meanings during a parachuter cease fire at 300 yards.
Clay Hefner ponders a nap. (OK, MANY folks have emailed telling me this is NOT Clay Hefner, it's Gregg Foster. You know what? It doesn't matter........)
......Because THIS is Clay Hefner.
Paul Leberge waits for people to quit talking so he can tell another story.
Michelle Boyd keeps it real.
The line on Sunday before the rain.
Dave Wilson drives the bus.
Travis Rogers looks down AT the 200 yard line.
The whole Hogg: Six and a half feet of Mitchell Hogg firing offhand.
Nez Rongero firing his M1A.
All the Boys are scattered worldwide but Michelle Boyd was right on the 200 yard line.
At Camp Swift this weekend. Friday was 4-man team day. 50 shots each for an aggregate score. The championship began Saturday. It was for a two-day score over Saturday and Sunday. About 100 folks were shooting in four relays. The wind was up and standing scores at 200 plummeted. It came right up the range from the South. I think I shot 300 yards with no wind on the rifle in a gust. Only came off 600 with 1 1/2 minutes right wind. Sunday threatened 100% chance of rain by 11:00. Dave Wilson and Ken Gaby called the match on Sunday after everyone finished the 200 yard line and saved us and the targets a good soaking. The Sat-Sun total was 900 points. Keith Stephens won the Championship for the third time in the last four years. Congrats to Keith and thanks to everyone who worked and helped put on the match. Alan Wilson, Keith and Karl Schultz did a good job entering the results and posted them yardline by yardline.
Match Director Ken Gaby. A lot of work gets done just so shooters can show up and shoot.
Roger Lankford waits for a cease fire in a Paul Leberge story.
TSRA Highpower Director-to-be Rick Tanner.
The pits.
Close-up of the camo walking cast. We are in Texas...no doubt.
Karl Schultz and Stan Jaroz.
Clay Hefner, Texan and competitor.
TSRA Director Karl Schultz.
Junior shooter.
They are never going to pry our rifles from our cold dead hands: Junior shooter waiting on 200 rapid fire.
Stan Jaroz and his M1A
Clayton Rogers, the Magnificent.
Appleseed Veteran Lauren Lecren.
Skelton shooting offhand....nearly barefoot.
Warren Vandiver up front and Clayton Rogers in the back.
Alan Wilson firing his match rifle offhand.
Overcoming your equipment.
David Keys plotting shots.
Karl Schultz on the line with Alan Wilson scoring.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
.45 vs Kevlar Vest.
Cousin Wallace tests the vest.
Well, I've been entertaining/educating myself again at the range. Last Saturday I went to test some 6.5X55mm Swede loads and carried a couple of handguns to "plink" with after running the test loads over the chrono. After I finished testing the M96 Swede I grabbed the handguns for some fun.
I have an old discarded kevlar panel from long expired body armor that stays at my range. Body armor isnt warranted after 5 years so isnt approved/guaranteed for duty use after the expiration date. Somehow I ended up with this panel about 3 or 4 years ago & it has laid out in the sun/weather ever since. Over the yeras I have shot the panel with various calibres and bullet types, mostly handgun. Most 9X19mm, .357 Mag/Sig, .30 Carbine, etc will penetrate about half the layers and stop. The bullets typically will be mushroomed and display a cross-hatch pattern where the fibres of the Kevlar resisted the relative soft projectile.
Since I had my beloved S&W M1911 with me and some 230gr Hardball rounds, I hung up the old vest panel on the fibreboard target backer and backed up about 5 yds before shooting a spot that hadnt been damaged on the panel. Mucho to my surprise, the big & heavy bullet bounced off!!! It didnt even penetrate a single layer of the old expired body armor. This was with a plinking load that Clocked just over 760 fps from my 5" barrel....about what you would get from one of the short/chopped .45 carry pistols popular today. The bullet was very slightly mushroomed as you can see in the attached photo. Thinking this just couldnt happen with a full power 230 hardball load, I again put the vest against the target backboard and shot it again, this time with a full power 230gr Hardball at about 850 fps. Same result...just mushroomed the bullet a bit more. Not even a single layer penetrated.
Now, I still love the old .45 and it will guarantee a .45 calibre "leaking hole" in somebody....if they arent wearing armor. I do have to say I was disappointed in it's lack of penetrating ability though. It knocked the crud out of the panel and caused a dent about an inch in dia & half-inch deep in the fibreboard that was behind the panel. It would have hurt & bruised a person pretty bad even though there was not a single layer pierced. With that being said, I believe the heavy .45 bullets will penetrate BETTER in some mediums. I've been to 3 wound ballistic seminars and believe, based on my observations, the .45 will do better when encountering automotive glass than some of the lighter/faster calibres. No bullet does what it is otherwise designed to do when it hits glass. It becomes a shapeless "glob" and the heavy glob of the .45 seems to be deflected less...at least that's been my observation.
As crooks get more sophisticated and sometimes wear body armor, it's something folks need to keep in mind. ( I'm thinking the guy at Tyler, Smith Co courthouse that enguaged the madman with his .45 and failed to stop the guy before the gunman killed him. He was eventually killed by riflefire by Tyler patrolmen shortly afterward...correct me Robert L. or Justin U. if I'm wrong). We recently (about 2 weeks ago) arrested a felon in possession of body armor so it's getting more common.
Anyhow, thought you gun nuts might find this interesting. As always, comments welcome.
Wallace
Well, I've been entertaining/educating myself again at the range. Last Saturday I went to test some 6.5X55mm Swede loads and carried a couple of handguns to "plink" with after running the test loads over the chrono. After I finished testing the M96 Swede I grabbed the handguns for some fun.
I have an old discarded kevlar panel from long expired body armor that stays at my range. Body armor isnt warranted after 5 years so isnt approved/guaranteed for duty use after the expiration date. Somehow I ended up with this panel about 3 or 4 years ago & it has laid out in the sun/weather ever since. Over the yeras I have shot the panel with various calibres and bullet types, mostly handgun. Most 9X19mm, .357 Mag/Sig, .30 Carbine, etc will penetrate about half the layers and stop. The bullets typically will be mushroomed and display a cross-hatch pattern where the fibres of the Kevlar resisted the relative soft projectile.
Since I had my beloved S&W M1911 with me and some 230gr Hardball rounds, I hung up the old vest panel on the fibreboard target backer and backed up about 5 yds before shooting a spot that hadnt been damaged on the panel. Mucho to my surprise, the big & heavy bullet bounced off!!! It didnt even penetrate a single layer of the old expired body armor. This was with a plinking load that Clocked just over 760 fps from my 5" barrel....about what you would get from one of the short/chopped .45 carry pistols popular today. The bullet was very slightly mushroomed as you can see in the attached photo. Thinking this just couldnt happen with a full power 230 hardball load, I again put the vest against the target backboard and shot it again, this time with a full power 230gr Hardball at about 850 fps. Same result...just mushroomed the bullet a bit more. Not even a single layer penetrated.
Now, I still love the old .45 and it will guarantee a .45 calibre "leaking hole" in somebody....if they arent wearing armor. I do have to say I was disappointed in it's lack of penetrating ability though. It knocked the crud out of the panel and caused a dent about an inch in dia & half-inch deep in the fibreboard that was behind the panel. It would have hurt & bruised a person pretty bad even though there was not a single layer pierced. With that being said, I believe the heavy .45 bullets will penetrate BETTER in some mediums. I've been to 3 wound ballistic seminars and believe, based on my observations, the .45 will do better when encountering automotive glass than some of the lighter/faster calibres. No bullet does what it is otherwise designed to do when it hits glass. It becomes a shapeless "glob" and the heavy glob of the .45 seems to be deflected less...at least that's been my observation.
As crooks get more sophisticated and sometimes wear body armor, it's something folks need to keep in mind. ( I'm thinking the guy at Tyler, Smith Co courthouse that enguaged the madman with his .45 and failed to stop the guy before the gunman killed him. He was eventually killed by riflefire by Tyler patrolmen shortly afterward...correct me Robert L. or Justin U. if I'm wrong). We recently (about 2 weeks ago) arrested a felon in possession of body armor so it's getting more common.
Anyhow, thought you gun nuts might find this interesting. As always, comments welcome.
Wallace
Friday, April 6, 2012
New Videos up.
Nice one from Shiprock. Couple more including Occupy Wallstreet Tyler and a tour of Pueblo Bonito at Chaco Canyon. The Blackfork6 Channel on Youtube.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
The invention of fire-making
Hardly anyone can make fire now without a match, but this might be near the start of that skill for the people who could.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Darkroom guns.
A negative of Ali when she was 11 or so.
Roadside pistol range near the lake.
Printing Friday and then today, Sunday with the Panola Monthly Highpower Rifle Match in between.
I keep a good firearm in my darkroom since I am shut up inside there with no retreat. A Garand.
20X24 of a county road near the lakehouse.
Darkroom at Blackfork Studio.
Roadside pistol range near the lake.
Printing Friday and then today, Sunday with the Panola Monthly Highpower Rifle Match in between.
I keep a good firearm in my darkroom since I am shut up inside there with no retreat. A Garand.
20X24 of a county road near the lakehouse.
Darkroom at Blackfork Studio.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Cousin Wallace Shoots his Swede.
Finally got a small window of oportunity to get in a range session yesterday after work. Someone had given me 25 rds of 1948 vintage 6.5X55mm ball ammo with the pictured silver bullets. I'm assuming they weigh 156grs. Pictured is my M96/38 that I've had for several years. I aquired a M96 (the old long bbl version) in a trade a couple of weeks ago & hadnt had the opportunity to try it out. It's not as photogenic as the one in the pic.
It was a bit windy but very pleasant yesterday afternoon so I tacked up a couple of targets @ 100yds to check these two Swedes out. Every round of the 63 yr old ammo seemed to be full power. It grouped a bit better than .30-06 M2 Ball but wasnt stellar. I'm gonna tinker a bit with 140gr CoreLokts as I have a buncha them aquired in a trade. Also have a more limited supply of Nosler 140 BTHP Match to see what potential these old rifle have. Sight picture is relatively good with a well designed front post, thicker than most, with a flat top.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Day 13: Deguello.

Bowie Knife.
Our plan is simple. Two men up, two reloading and one extra where needed. Me, Milsap, King, Teague and Young Kellogg. Between us we have sixteen rifles, a pistol each and two shotguns. Knives and clubs. Ax. The shotguns will be held for a tight spot. Our post is a room built into the wall, catwalk on top. Wall is about nine feet in our section and in good shape more or less. Two bricked up windows. Trees close. Irrigation ditch and river are as close as fifty feet from the wall. We've burned some of it and cut firewood. Couple of the trees are big enough to be cover.
Saturday night King was over the wall on picket. We have an open room and an alcove with our fire banked up. It's not much fire because firewood is so dear but neither have has it gone out since we came in. Anyone on picket comes back with an armful. All sleeping on bedrolls and saddles. We were rolled up. The last thing I remember was Milsap pushing the ends of the fire in. I noticed that the Mexican artillery was quiet.
I woke up to a start in the moonlight. The fire was down to coals. Someone was yelling in the plaza and I could hear men beyond the wall on the North. Rifle shots began to crackle, then volley. We were all on our feet and Milsap and Teague were up the log looking over the wall. Milsap turned and looked down at me and said, "shotguns."
Kellogg and I started passing up rifles. Milsap and Teague fired in turns. I took a mouthful of rifle balls and started reloading. Powderhorn, ramrod, patch. I could hear Mexicans crying out below the wall and men running. Our cannons went on the North wall and then the big 18-pounder on the corner. Mexican rockets lit up the sky. One fell in front of the chapel into a haze of gunsmoke from the Tennesseans and you could see them firing over the parapet. Their cannons lit up the cloud in a big flash.
We fell behind on the loading. A ladder rattled against the top of the wall. Teague ran down the catwalk, pulled his pistol and shot. Another ladder rattled up and fell off sideways. I could hear chopping at the bricked windows.
Teague waited at the top of the next ladder, pushed a bayoneted musket aside and threw the man by a jacket lapel down on us. It was the first Mexican I had seen. His throat was cut and he staggered to his feet, both hands at his wet neck. He smelled like a hard-ridden horse of blood and sweat and salt. Kellogg's eyes were big but I ignored the Mexican and he fell by the fire. There was cursing in Spanish and yelling outside and a volley that showered us all in rock chips and dust. Teague fell on the roof and got back up, slowly, hat gone.
The bricks in the window began to kick in. I tossed the last rifle up to Milsap and picked up the ax. Half the window was clear and a hand appeared on the sill. I ruined it with a hack. Musket fire began to flash and pop but Kellogg and I were against the wall. A man came crawling through. I was surprised he had his tall hat on. I gave him the ax with both hands and he fell on our side. Another man. Kellogg shot him in the ear with his pistol, so close that I though he shot me. A bayonet, searching. A volley. A thrown ax. More bricks fell. Kellog threw a brick back out. Beyond the window, men growled like dogs.
Two Mexicans jumped from the top of the wall muskets in hand. I shot one with my pistol before he got to his feet. Two men came through the window squeezed together. I cleaved the closest with the ax and hung up the other long enough to smash his head with a second stroke. Someone pushed them in but the window stayed empty. It was suddenly quiet. The soldato pointed his musket at me, then Kellogg, then me, backed away. There was a barfight on the roof with logs creaking and dust sifting down but I didn't have time to look. More of our cannons down near the chapel went and riflery crackled and popped. I suddenly thought about King out past the wall.
The moonlight and dawn light were just about even.
Milsap yelled from above, "They're over the North wall!" We turned and saw our boys falling back, the North end filling up with massed men. Not us. A shot came through the window and young Kellogg dropped. Milsap and I caught him up. The Chapel. His head hung and I think he was gone but we went for it anyway dragging him by his deerskin shirt for the sake of his young wife. I snatched up a rifle and tucked the ax under my arm. We ran right past the Parson's hat rolling in the dust.
We didn't make it. Milsap caught a ball in the leg and we went down in a tangle. When I rolled out of it I was in a crowd of soldiers. I axed a man, clubbed another, stuck a knife in a third and had to chase him for it, was clubbed, maybe shot. I felt burned from behind. Probably a bayonet. I tripped over a body and fell with my blade under me and thought I'll just rest a second, catch my breath. Over me men staggered and fought. A soldier fell, close. If he moved I was going to stick him. I reached out and got a handful of his hair. Somehow, I could see myself from above in the light of a rocket and started thinking about walking under that white tree up off the North Wall. The cannons went and men cursed and wept but I really didn't care. The tree was so white and shining, shining in the moonlight and dawn and I just went up there walked toward it in the morning light.
In the end, they started throwing the dead in the river. Burning the Texicans wasn't easy but it was a small job compared to the Mexican casualties. The General Staff had declared that the townspeople should be commandeered to bury them in the camposanto but that effort quickly broke down. There simply were too many.
The river clogged with bodies, but it was downstream and the Army was packing up to campaign west, concerned with finishing the war and going home.

Inside the fort the garrison was sleeping, protected by pickets outside the wall and the officer on watch. There was no particular reason to anticipate a Mexican attack.
A 5:00 the units got on their feet and got in line. At 5:30 rockets from the river battery signaled the start of the assault. One of the Northern columns began cheering when they passed the battery where El Presidente was observing and the defenders were alerted. The Texican pickets simply vanished.
Inside the fort the alarm was sounded and men struggled to their posts to find ladders rising from the enemy below the walls. The cannons were touched off and shotguns and rifles began to bark. The weak point- Crockett's low palisade next to the Chapel, stopped the South attack cold. That attack shifts to the west and uses a stone house near the 18-pounder on the corner for cover. The other columns scattered and began to stall in the face of grapeshot and small arms fire. Each defender has several rifles at hand loaded. Townfolks say the firing sounds like firecrackers. Santa Anna sends in the reserves. The reserves seemed to have fired into assault waves in front of them. One of those things.
The Mexican officers kept at it and began to make some headway. Travis falls at his post on the North wall. Enough defenders fell that cannons couldn't be reloaded and gaps appeared in the thin lines. Cazadors with crowbars and axes chopped through shuttered windows and crumbling adobe. Massed troops finally pushed through the shattered North wall.
There was no rebel reserve to be committed or contain intrusions. The Texicans fought from the walls and then fell back into the convent, chapel and Long Barracks or held out in rooms along the walls. As Santa Anna's men flooded in some defenders tried to escape in the pre-dawn and were killed by cavalry in the open. Mexican gunners turned unspiked cannons on the Long Barracks. Bowie was killed in his room. The last place to fall was the chapel where Bonham and Dickenson held out with the women and children. Cannon breached the door and the chapel fell.
Santa Anna tried to enter the fortress at 9:00 but was driven out by riflefire. He later gave a speech to the victorious troops from an elevated battery in one end of the plaza.
At least one cat was shot by Mexican troops.
Susanna Dickenson and her child survived with other women and Travis' slave Joe. The captured Mexican soldier Brigido Guerro lived. Some captured Texicans seem to have been executed. At least one man was credited with escaping.
Update: Mexican army counts 180 defenders dead.
Update II: Bowie's nurse Madame Candaleria is among the survivors.
Update III: As the most famous National figure at the battle, Crockett is reported dead in front of the Chapel, at a post on the West Wall, captured and executed, escaped, fallen in the Chapel with the last of the defenders.
Update IV: A last defender is found hiding under the river bridge by a woman washing clothes. He is shot.
Update V: Survivors are questioned by Santa Anna at the Musquiz house in town. The women are given blankets and two Mexican silver dollars and set free.
Update VI: Esparza falls in the Chapel during the last fighting. His brother-in-law, a Mexican officer, brings out his wife and children and recovers his body for burial in the family plot.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Day 12: A Line and a Tree.
They ain't coming. Bonham rode in two days ago with the news. We can quit straining our eyes for news to the Southwest. Every post is talking it over. Nobody understands why they aren't coming and the little knots of men are trying to decide what to do. Stay or try to get out.
I've noticed fellows going down to the pen to look at their horse and gear. Maybe we will all make a run for it. Galls everyone, for true. I'd like to hear a good reason, one of these days, for leaving us down here.
Word spreads that Travis wants to talk to the fort at dusk. We leave a man at each post and walk down the end of the Long Barracks near the chapel to an area that the Mexican cannons don't reach.
We've never been all together in one place before. The Greys and the Tennesseans. The fresh bunch from Gonzales scattered around. The locals from town. Teague and King and the Parson. Crockett. Travis. The Chapel bunch and the top of the Long Barracks boys. Bowie wrapped in a blanket in a chair with the Brujita Candaleria behind him. Dickinson. Bonham. Archer. Milsap. Everyone has his rifle. Lots of handshaking and talk.
Gives you a little shiver. I'm proud to stand among these rough armed folk. They came up here with flags a-waving but so far, we've turned them back.
We crowd a little closer and Travis lays it out. Fannin isn't coming. He doesn't know why. That doesn't mean nobody is coming and we can expect some to trickle in. He has sent word out and gotten word in reply, expects to send and hear more. Nobody has to stay. He knows we have families and duties. Thought we would all be home by now. He's staying but that's just for him. No dishonor in leaving and there will be another time to fight. Doesn't think the Mexicans will spend what it takes to root us out but they might. He knows everyone has had time to talk it over and now we need to know. He's short and to the point. Before I realize he takes out his sword and draws a line in front of us.
There's just a quiet moment and then we realize he's waiting. His linen shirt glows in the dark. Shining sword in his hand.
Crockett walks over first without speaking. Some of his boys a step behind. I hear someone say "come on, Bull," and the Greys all cross. Quiet, just a crunch and a squeak. I see the Parson's tall hat.
From our wall we face into town across the river but to the far North there's a treeline that has been picking up a trace of green. An old pear up there has bloomed out white the last few days and I've been thinking about walking past that white tree into the grey woods. I believe I could get to that white pear a little past two on a quiet night and be gone as smoke before the sun came up. Maybe with a few others. Tie some rags on the horse's feet. Shoot and scatter if they raised an alarm.
But instead King and I shift our rifles and walk over. In a minute it's settled. Only Bowie and Candeleria and one other shadow standing back. Moses Rose.
Bowie sits. It's dead silent until he says plainly, "how about a hand here?" and three men rush over to pick his chair up and carry it across as we make a space. Candelaria brushes past me, anger coming off her like a hot stove. I get a chill and a picture: "she'll outlive us all."
Moses Rose. We're all standing looking. He doesn't move. "I've had enough, boys." he says. Nobody speaks until Crockett: "I'll scalp yours Mose."
And just like that it was decided. Men walk back toward their posts. Everyone seems happier and at ease. King and I tread back to our hole with young Kellogg ahead. Teague says, "how about a bite of that cold beef?"

It's Friday, March 5, 1836.
I've noticed fellows going down to the pen to look at their horse and gear. Maybe we will all make a run for it. Galls everyone, for true. I'd like to hear a good reason, one of these days, for leaving us down here.
Word spreads that Travis wants to talk to the fort at dusk. We leave a man at each post and walk down the end of the Long Barracks near the chapel to an area that the Mexican cannons don't reach.
We've never been all together in one place before. The Greys and the Tennesseans. The fresh bunch from Gonzales scattered around. The locals from town. Teague and King and the Parson. Crockett. Travis. The Chapel bunch and the top of the Long Barracks boys. Bowie wrapped in a blanket in a chair with the Brujita Candaleria behind him. Dickinson. Bonham. Archer. Milsap. Everyone has his rifle. Lots of handshaking and talk.
Gives you a little shiver. I'm proud to stand among these rough armed folk. They came up here with flags a-waving but so far, we've turned them back.
We crowd a little closer and Travis lays it out. Fannin isn't coming. He doesn't know why. That doesn't mean nobody is coming and we can expect some to trickle in. He has sent word out and gotten word in reply, expects to send and hear more. Nobody has to stay. He knows we have families and duties. Thought we would all be home by now. He's staying but that's just for him. No dishonor in leaving and there will be another time to fight. Doesn't think the Mexicans will spend what it takes to root us out but they might. He knows everyone has had time to talk it over and now we need to know. He's short and to the point. Before I realize he takes out his sword and draws a line in front of us.
There's just a quiet moment and then we realize he's waiting. His linen shirt glows in the dark. Shining sword in his hand.
Crockett walks over first without speaking. Some of his boys a step behind. I hear someone say "come on, Bull," and the Greys all cross. Quiet, just a crunch and a squeak. I see the Parson's tall hat.
From our wall we face into town across the river but to the far North there's a treeline that has been picking up a trace of green. An old pear up there has bloomed out white the last few days and I've been thinking about walking past that white tree into the grey woods. I believe I could get to that white pear a little past two on a quiet night and be gone as smoke before the sun came up. Maybe with a few others. Tie some rags on the horse's feet. Shoot and scatter if they raised an alarm.
But instead King and I shift our rifles and walk over. In a minute it's settled. Only Bowie and Candeleria and one other shadow standing back. Moses Rose.
Bowie sits. It's dead silent until he says plainly, "how about a hand here?" and three men rush over to pick his chair up and carry it across as we make a space. Candelaria brushes past me, anger coming off her like a hot stove. I get a chill and a picture: "she'll outlive us all."
Moses Rose. We're all standing looking. He doesn't move. "I've had enough, boys." he says. Nobody speaks until Crockett: "I'll scalp yours Mose."
And just like that it was decided. Men walk back toward their posts. Everyone seems happier and at ease. King and I tread back to our hole with young Kellogg ahead. Teague says, "how about a bite of that cold beef?"

Santa Anna at age 35
Based on the information given by the women the decision is made. The attack will come in the early morning hours tomorrow March 6. The weather has abated. It's about 50 degrees.
The batteries are ordered to step up their rate of fire. It's possible that the La Villita battery is merged into the East side Potero street guns. The batteries have fired for several days to keep the defenders awake.
The attack will be made in the early morning hours before dawn. The assault will be split into four columns of about 1000 men each. 1500 will attack from the north making the total 4500.
General (Ramirez y) Sesma is either ill or declines and the attack from the town side will be lead by the British adviser Col. Adrian Woll. Ladders, crowbars and axes are distributed. Mexican units stood down at twilight. The soldiers will be marched out and in place by 5:00am. The commanders will enforce noise discipline during the march.
The Mexican General staff rides around the fort for one more look at the ground.
The garrison received one courier. No help was coming. There seemed to have been discussion about surrendering or escaping. Travis assembled the men and gave a speech outlining the situation. Several accounts have him drawing a line in the sand with his sword and asking those who will stay to cross over. Everyone except Bowie, who is on his cot, and Moses Rose cross. Bowie asks to be carried across the line. Rose decides to take his chances over the wall after dark.
Travis writes until nearly midnight and sends a last set of dispatches and letters with 16-year old Jim Allen, riding bareback.
Update: Moses Rose has picked a good time. As the Mexican units stand down and go to bed early the town seems empty. Rose walks out along the dark river.
Update II: Bowie and Crockett talk privately for a long time after Travis speaks.
Update III: Tapley Holland, a 26-year old man from Grimes County was the first to cross the sword line. My maternal Grandmothers maiden name was Holland. My brother's name was Holland Irwin Langham, from an old family name. My daughters middle name is Holland. Tapley Holland is an artilleryist, one of six children in a family who came as a settler in Austin's "Old Three Hundred." This is our relative.
Update IV: At twilight the artillery fire dwindles, then ceases.
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