Defeat usually begins in one of two ways: believing success to be impossible or assuming victory is assured.
On March 7, 1836, betting against Texas independence would have been a pretty safe call. The Alamo had just fallen the day before, on Sunday, March 6. A few days earlier, on March 2, 59 delegates had met to declare independence … but they quickly went on the run.
And then there was the Texian military: No one would have been impressed. They were ill-trained, under-prepared, and poorly outfitted. Over the next several weeks, the Texians engaged in a series of retreats. Not an inspiring sight.
And let us be equally clear about the Mexican forces in Texas: No one would have doubted
their superiority to the rag-tag Texans. The Mexican military was disciplined, well-trained, and better armed. It was led by General Santa Anna, a ruthless butcher.
But here’s the rub. Here’s where history was made. The Mexicans were complacent, and the Texians had almost nothing to lose.
You see, those Texian retreats had been tactical, giving the men time to coalesce, to train, to plan. They were down but not out. And they were in it to win.
By now they all knew about William Travis’ final letter from the Alamo, which he concluded by writing, “Victory or death.” Every day, everyone had to decide if they were willing to pursue victory or watch liberty die.
So, on
April 21, 1836, the Texians achieved independence at San Jacinto because they were willing to fight a last-chance, impossible battle against an enemy force certain it would never taste defeat.
The Texans demonstrated a bold, courageous commitment to their cause by exhibiting a shrewd willingness to exploit Santa Anna’s arrogance. It was a high-stakes gambit. Either independence would be secured through victory, or the cause of Texas would be lost in a disastrous defeat. There would be no draw.
In broad daylight, the Texians shouted, “Remember the Alamo!” and “Remember Goliad!” These were not clever slogans created by a marketing department but fresh grief blooming into righteous anger.
With Sam Houston
himself leading the infantry, the Texians charged on the napping Mexican army.
To simply note that the battle lasted less than 20 minutes doesn’t do justice to the scale of the victory. Nearly 700 Mexican soldiers were killed, another 200 were wounded, and some 700 were taken prisoner—including Santa Anna himself. By contrast, the Texians lost just nine men and saw only 30 wounded.
Of course, on March 7, 1836, all of that was in the future. None of it could be known. Everyone had to make a choice based not on what they saw but instead on what they were willing to do. The safe option might have been to slink away. The right choice was to prepare for the fight.
What was true in 1836 is true today: Freedom doesn’t come in timid
nibbles but through bold actions. Never in history has liberty been expanded in a gradual series of small steps over time; that’s how tyrannies take hold.
Liberty is born from boldness. When people decide they are willing to lose everything rather than live as serfs, that is when tyrants quiver and fall.
For the Lone Star State to shine even brighter in the years ahead, we must—like those Texians of 1836—commit daily to giving ourselves to the cause of liberty.