Sheets of flame still burst from the Alamo, and the rifles still poured
bullets on the swarming Mexican forces, but the breach had been made.
The Mexicans went over the low wall in an unbroken stream, and they
crowded through the sallyport by hundreds. They were inside now, rushing
with the overwhelming weight of twenty to one upon the little garrison.
They seized the Texan guns, cutting down the gunners with lances and
sabers, and they turned the captured cannon upon the defenders.
Some of the buildings inside the walls were of adobe, and they were soon
shattered by the cannon balls. The Texans, covered with smoke and dust
and the sweat of battle, were forced back by the press of numbers into
the convent yard, and then into the church and hospital. Here the cannon
and rifles in hundreds were turned upon them, but they still fought.
Often, with no time to reload their rifles, they clubbed them, and drove
back the Mexican rush.
The Alamo was a huge volcano of fire and smoke, of shouting and death.
Those who looked on became silent again, appalled at the sights and
sounds. The smoke rose far above the mission, and caught by a light
wind drifted away to the east. The Mexican generals brought up fresh
forces and drove them at the fortress.
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