Frontier Fighting and the Battle of Gonzales (1835)
In the early 1830s, Texian settlers on the wild Texas frontier honed a unique style of fighting through constant conflict with Native American tribes. These settlers – mostly American frontiersmen in Mexican Texas – adapted guerrilla-style tactics characterized by small-unit maneuvers, swift ambushes, skilled marksmanship, and intimate use of terrain. By necessity, their command structure was decentralized and flexible, a sharp contrast to the formal European-influenced doctrines of the Mexican Army. This article explores in exhaustive detail how the frontier fighting methods of Texian settlers shaped their tactics during the Battle of Gonzales in 1835, the opening skirmish of the Texas Revolution often called the “Lexington of Texas.” We will examine the settlers’ Indian-fighting techniques – scouting, mobility, ambush, and improvisation – and compare them to the Mexican Army’s conventional tactics of the period. Key battlefield decisions, small-unit actions, and the real-time execution of strategy at Gonzales are analyzed, with emphasis on terrain use, unit organization, weapons (from Kentucky long rifles to muskets and cannons), and leadership. Ultimately, the Texians’ guerrilla tactics proved pivotal in the Battle of Gonzales, allowing a band of volunteer militiamen to outmaneuver and repel a contingent of Mexican dragoons. The lessons of this clash between irregular frontier fighters and traditional soldiers would shape the course of the Texas Revolution.
(Above: The Texians’ defiant “Come and Take It” flag, flown at Gonzales, symbolized their resolve to hold onto their cannon. This flag – depicting the little cannon and a lone star – became a rallying icon of Texas’s stand against Mexican authority.)
Texian Settlers and Frontier Fighting Tactics in the 1830s
Settlers in Mexican Texas during the early 1830s were forced to become frontier fighters to survive. Texas was a borderland plagued by frequent raids from indigenous groups like the Comanche, Karankawa, Tonkawa, and others. Isolated Anglo-Texan colonies (such as Stephen F. Austin’s and Green DeWitt’s colonies) had minimal protection from the distant Mexican government. Thus, the settlers took defense into their own hands, developing a guerrilla warfare ethos out of necessity. In 1831, for example, empresario Green DeWitt requested a small cannon from Mexican authorities specifically to help Gonzales settlers fend off Comanche raids. This cannon would later sit at the center of the Gonzales confrontation, but its very presence underscored how seriously the Texians took local Indian threats.
Ranger Companies and Militia: Decades of frontier conflict in North America had taught these settlers irregular tactics. Many were descendants of American “Long Hunters” and Revolutionary War militia, adept with the long rifle. As early as 1823, Austin had hired men to “act as rangers for the common defense” against Indian raids. By the 1830s, informal ranging companies of settlers patrolled the Texas frontier. These Texian “rangers” mixed techniques borrowed from various traditions – as one famous description put it, a Texas Ranger could “ride like a Mexican, trail like an Indian, shoot like a Tennessean, and fight like the devil”. This meant they were superb horsemen (often learning riding and roping skills from Mexican vaqueros), expert trackers and woodsmen (learning to read sign and move stealthily like Native warriors), deadly accurate with firearms (many hailed from the American South where marksmanship with the Kentucky long rifle was prized), and utterly ferocious in combat. Such qualities had been forged by relentless skirmishes on the frontier.
Mobility and Mounted Maneuver: Texian settlers frequently fought mounted or semi-mounted, giving chase to raiding parties or relocating rapidly to trouble spots. They treated horses as essential tools of war, enabling a fast response to hit-and-run attacks. Unlike conventional cavalry, these frontiersmen did not engage in Napoleonic saber charges; instead, they would ride to the fight, then dismount and take cover to shoot, or even fire from horseback in pursuits. Mobility also meant the ability to disperse and regroup quickly. Small bands of a dozen riders could scout a wide area, then reunite to ambush an enemy.
Scouting and Tracking: Living in hostile territory made scouting intelligence a survival skill. Texians became adept at reconnaissance – patrolling river crossings, following horse tracks, reading smoke signals, and gathering information from friendly natives or Tejano allies. They often posted lookouts and sent ahead “spies” to locate enemy camps. This culture of vigilance meant that by the time of Gonzales, the settlers kept a close eye on Mexican troop movements as well. Indeed, in late September 1835, Gonzales locals were alert enough to spot the approach of Mexican soldiers days in advance and formulated a response.
Ambush and Cover: The ambush was the preferred tactic of both Native raiders and Texian defenders, and the settlers learned well from this school of war. Rather than engage in open-field battle, Texian fighters would lie in wait along trails or conceal themselves in brush, then strike with the element of surprise. They became expert at using terrain and cover – tree lines, tall grass, ravines, and riverbanks – to hide their positions. In skirmishes with Comanches or Kiowas, for instance, a common Texian ploy was to feign weakness, then ambush the pursuers from cover. This approach would be vividly applied at Gonzales, when the Texians staged a night crossing and surprise dawn attack (essentially an ambush on the Mexican camp). Frontiersmen also mastered fire-and-maneuver tactics on a small scale: a couple of riflemen might fire from concealment, then relocate unseen to fire again from a new angle, creating confusion about their true numbers.
Marksmanship: Most Texian settlers owned long rifles, typically flintlock muzzle-loaders known as Kentucky or Pennsylvania rifles. These weapons had rifled barrels that imparted spin to the bullet, dramatically improving accuracy over the smoothbore muskets common in European armies. In skilled hands, a long rifle could reliably hit targets at 100 yards or more – sometimes out to 200 yards – far beyond musket range. The tradeoff was a slower reload (usually 1–2 shots per minute) and inability to fix a bayonet for close combat. Texian fighters turned this to their advantage: they engaged at distance, sniping at enemies with deadly precision before those enemies could close to musket or lance range. Their marksmanship had been honed by hunting game for food and by firefights with native raiders where every shot counted. By the 1830s, “one shot, one kill” was a point of pride for Texian frontiersmen, contrasting with the volume-fire doctrine of musket-armed troops.
Decentralized Command: Perhaps most importantly, Texian militia culture was highly decentralized. Leaders were often chosen by popularity or proven ability rather than formal rank; commands were seen as suggestions that each man executed with personal initiative. This stemmed from the reality that, in a wilderness fight, every individual might need to react independently. Small units of Texans could operate without direct orders, coordinating on the fly. For example, during raids settlers might split into self-directed pairs or squads that instinctively understood how to flank or support each other. At Gonzales, this ethos was evident when the settlers held a war council and actually voted on whether to fight the approaching Mexican force. Once battle began, Texians fought in loose order rather than rigid ranks, each man taking aim from cover as he saw fit. Such informal leadership could rapidly adapt to changing circumstances – a stark advantage in a fluid skirmish.
This frontier style of warfare was in many ways the opposite of traditional European military doctrine. It prioritized cunning, surprise, and individual skill over drill, mass, and strict discipline. Decades of conflict with Native Americans had made the Texians comfortable with asymmetric tactics: striking hard and fast, then melting away before a larger foe could respond. It also fostered a fierce confidence and camaraderie – the settlers trusted each other’s resourcefulness and courage, having defended their families side by side against Comanche war parties. By 1835, when political tensions with the Mexican government turned into open hostilities, the Texian colonists would apply this same toolkit of guerilla warfare against Mexican troops. Their experience fighting Comanches on the plains directly informed how they would fight Santa Anna’s soldados on that same ground.
The Mexican Army’s Traditional Tactics and Command Structure
Facing the Texian settlers in 1835 was the regular Mexican Army, a force organized and trained in the European military tradition. Many Mexican officers, including President-General Antonio López de Santa Anna, were admirers of Napoleonic strategy. The tactics and formations they employed had evolved from the professional armies of Spain and France, which emphasized order, discipline, and unified action. Understanding the Mexican approach – and its limitations on the frontier – is key to appreciating how the Texians’ guerrilla style outmatched it at Gonzales.
Organization and Formations: The Mexican detachment at Gonzales was a unit of dragoons (mounted infantry), but it adhered to the standard doctrines of the day. European tactics of the early 19th century relied on tightly controlled formations. Infantry typically fought in long lines or dense columns, shoulder-to-shoulder, so that volley fire could be delivered in unison. Cavalry (such as dragoons or lancers) were used for shock effect – charging to break enemy infantry or to pursue a fleeing foe. These methods assumed both sides would meet in the open. On the battlefields of Europe or central Mexico, armies maneuvered in the open plain and fired at relatively close range. In Texas, however, such close-order tactics were ill-suited to the wooded, broken terrain and the irregular enemy they faced.
Weaponry and its Influence: The Mexican Army’s primary firearm was the smoothbore flintlock musket, often the “Brown Bess” or its derivatives, which had been standard in global armies for over a century. This musket had a large .75 caliber bore firing a hefty lead ball. While powerful, it was inaccurate due to the lack of rifling; an experienced soldier might estimate an effective hitting range of only about 50–100 yards under combat conditions. To compensate, armies trained to fire massed volleys at the enemy to maximize the chance of hits. Musket rate of fire (2–3 rounds per minute at best) was a bit higher than that of rifles, and crucially, muskets could be fitted with bayonets – turning them into spears for close combat. The bayonet gave conventional infantry a decisive edge in melee assaults, provided they could close the distance. Mexican dragoons additionally carried sabers and sometimes lances, making them deadly at close quarters if they could charge home. Artillery, when available, would be deployed in the European fashion to soften enemy lines or fortifications with cannon fire.
To use these weapons effectively, Mexican tactics emphasized coordinated volleys and charges. Officers and non-commissioned officers maintained tight control over their companies. On command, ranks of soldiers would present, fire in unison, then reload while a rear rank fired – a tactic useless unless the enemy obligingly stood in range. Such coordination required drill and discipline; Mexican soldiers practiced these evolutions on parade grounds. Discipline was further enforced by hierarchy – orders flowed from officers to sergeants to men, and obedience was expected without question. This centralized command meant lower-ranking soldiers were not trained to take initiative or deviate from commands, unlike the freewheeling Texian volunteers. It’s telling that at Gonzales, when faced with unexpected resistance, the Mexican commander felt bound to adhere strictly to his orders rather than adapt aggressively.
“Linear” Warfare vs. Guerilla Warfare: In the context of North America, the Mexican Army’s style was akin to that of other professional armies (including the U.S. Army) during the era. An NPS historical analysis of the Brown Bess musket notes that due to its limitations, armies used “linear tactics, in which hundreds of soldiers stood in neat lines, shoulder-to-shoulder and out in the open” to deliver synchronized volleys. Such tactics demanded “tremendous discipline” – soldiers had to ignore the instinct to seek cover, and instead stand firm loading and firing in the face of incoming bullets. The Mexican troops in Texas were accustomed to this kind of warfare, having used it in battles against other Mexican factions and Apache or Comanche engagements where they could lure foes into set-piece fights. However, against the Texian insurgents, who refused to present a convenient target, this doctrine was at a disadvantage. The Mexican Army was essentially trained for set battles, sieges, and garrison duty – not for chasing elusive foes in the bush.
Command Structure: The Mexican command structure was a classic top-down military hierarchy. Officers were typically criollo (of Spanish descent) professionals or experienced veterans of Mexico’s wars in the 1810s-1820s. At Gonzales, Lt. Francisco de Castañeda led the Mexican detachment under orders from Col. Domingo de Ugartechea, the overall commander in Texas. Ugartechea had instructed Castañeda to retrieve the Gonzales cannon peaceably if possible and to avoid “compromising the honor of Mexican arms” – essentially, not to provoke a full battle unless absolutely necessary. This cautious directive reveals how constrained local Mexican commanders were by central orders. Castañeda followed protocol: upon arriving at Gonzales, he requested to speak to the alcalde (mayor) and attempted a parley rather than an immediate attack. Even after hostilities broke out, he sought another meeting during the fight to negotiate under truce. This reflects an adherence to formalities and a reluctance to engage without higher approval. By contrast, the Texian settlers could decide among themselves to initiate combat on their own terms – a freedom of action the Mexican officers did not enjoy.
Limitations in Frontier Warfare: The Mexican Army’s European-style tactics suffered several key limitations when transplanted to the Texas frontier:
Terrain: Tight formations were hard to maintain in Texas’s semi-wilderness. At Gonzales, the Mexican dragoons found themselves near a riverbank, among woods and thickets that negated their ability to deploy in line or charge effectively. Castañeda wisely shifted his camp to a more open prairie bluff once he realized Texians were hidden in the trees. But by then, the Texians had already exploited the wooded cover to negate the Mexicans’ linear firepower.
Initiative: Lower-ranking Mexican soldiers were not trained to act without orders, making them less flexible in a confused skirmish. At Gonzales, when their officers were unsure how to proceed (negotiate or fight?), the troops mostly held position and returned desultory fire, rather than aggressively flanking the Texians. This allowed the settlers – who needed no orders to find a good firing spot or take cover – to control the tempo of the engagement.
Psychology: The Mexican Army expected deference from civilian populations; they were not prepared for the fierce defiance shown by these “farmers.” The sight of a crude home-made banner with a painted cannon and the words “Come and Take It” flapping over the Texian camp must have been jarring. The settlers’ open taunt and refusal to negotiate (they even briefly detained a Mexican emissary who approached under white flag, out of suspicion) signaled an irregular enemy not playing by traditional rules. This could be demoralizing or at least confusing for troops used to civilians backing down.
Logistics and Numbers: In fairness, the Mexican Army in Texas was stretched thin and not operating at full strength. The detachment at Gonzales, roughly 100–150 men, was isolated far from reinforcement. Mexican forces did not have the luxury of massive numerical superiority or heavy artillery in that skirmish. Thus, many advantages of their conventional tactics (e.g. coordinated large-unit maneuvers) could not be brought to bear. Meanwhile, small numbers actually favored the Texian style – a platoon of 18 men can melt into the trees far more effectively than a company of 100 can.
In summary, the Mexican soldados at Gonzales were brave and reasonably well-trained in their paradigm, but they were marching into a type of fight for which they had little training. They expected a demand for a cannon to result in either compliance or at most a brief standoff – not a fierce firefight initiated by civilian militia. When that firefight came, it unfolded on terms dictated by the Texians’ guerrilla tactics, not by the textbook of European drill. The stage was thus set for an asymmetric clash: Texian irregulars vs. Mexican regulars. The outcome would hinge on how each side’s methods played out in the small fields and thick oak groves along the Guadalupe River.
Prelude to Battle: The Gonzales Standoff
By September 1835, tensions in Texas were at the breaking point. Santa Anna’s centralist government had cracked down on Texas, and as part of a broader disarmament of the colonists, Mexican authorities wanted to reclaim the 6-pounder cannon they had loaned to Gonzales years before. When Colonel Ugartechea sent orders to retrieve this cannon, the settlers of Gonzales flatly refused. The alcalde (Andrew Ponton) and local Committee of Safety believed the demand was merely a pretext for a punitive military expedition. Anticipating trouble, they secretly buried the cannon in a peach orchard on September 29, 1835 to hide it. They also sent riders to nearby Anglo settlements on the Guadalupe and Colorado Rivers, urgently requesting armed help.
On September 29, Lt. Francisco de Castañeda arrived in the vicinity of Gonzales with a small force of Mexican dragoons – about 100 men (some sources say 150) with mounts and arms. True to his orders to avoid provocation, Castañeda did not storm the town. He camped across the Guadalupe River from Gonzales and sent a messenger formally requesting the cannon’s return. The Gonzales alcalde stalled, saying he lacked authority to hand over the gun until certain officials returned – a delaying tactic. Meanwhile, a group of local Texans had gathered on the east side of the Guadalupe to oppose any crossing by Mexican troops. This group of “Old Eighteen” men, as they’d later be called, mounted the initial defense of Gonzales. They even managed to hide all the boats/ferries on the river, so the dragoons could not easily cross. When Castañeda attempted to ford at one point, the Old Eighteen positioned themselves on the opposite bank and aimed their rifles, signaling that any further attempt would be met with gunfire. Surprised by this bold stand, Castañeda withdrew and moved his camp upriver to a place where he hoped to find a better crossing and open ground – he shifted to a location on land owned by Ezekiel Williams (one of the Old Eighteen). Effectively, 18 armed settlers had halted a column of 100 Mexican soldiers for several days without a shot fired, through bluff and control of the ferry – a testament to how terrain and local resolve could frustrate a superior force.
During the next 48 hours, reinforcements poured into Gonzales for the Texans. Militias from surrounding settlements – men from Fayette, Columbus, and other areas – answered the call. By October 1, 1835, the Texian ranks at Gonzales had swelled to around 140 to 160 men, all volunteers bearing their personal weapons. These included notable figures who would later loom large in the Texas Revolution: John Henry Moore of Fayette, who was elected overall field commander by the volunteers; young Edward Burleson of Columbus, made third-in-command, an experienced Indian fighter; Joseph W.E. Wallace as second-in-command; and captains like Albert Martin leading the Gonzales militia company and Matthew “Old Paint” Caldwell, a renowned frontiersman. Also present was a rugged frontiersman named James C. Neill, a veteran of earlier Texas skirmishes, who would serve the cannon when the time came. Notably, many of these men had cut their teeth in fights against natives or in previous disturbances against Mexican rule (such as the 1832 Battle of Velasco). They were not raw recruits but frontier-hardened shooters. The mix of weaponry among the Texians was eclectic – long rifles, shotguns, a few muskets, pistols, and plentiful knives and tomahawks. There was scant ammunition and few provisions, but morale was high.
The Gonzales settlers, under Moore’s leadership, quickly unburied the cannon once reinforcements arrived. Using wheels from a cotton wagon, they built an improvised gun carriage, effectively mounting the small bronze cannon for mobility. Lacking proper cannonballs, they filled the cannon with whatever iron scrap and chain links they could find to serve as grapeshot. This kind of improvisation was second nature to Texians. The stage was now set for confrontation. On the evening of October 1, the Texians held a council of war. Accounts agree that the colonists voted to initiate a fight rather than continue waiting passively. This democratic approach to war – literally voting on whether to attack – might seem odd, but it reflected the militia ethos. Once the decision was made, the plan of attack was formulated.
Moore’s general idea was to strike the Mexican camp by surprise before dawn. The Texians knew the Mexicans were encamped on the west side of the Guadalupe, a few miles upriver from the town. During the night of October 1, under cover of darkness and a thick fog that blanketed the river valley, the Texian militia quietly crossed the Guadalupe River back to the west bank, taking the fight to the Mexican side. They ferried the cannon and themselves across in the pre-dawn hours, using the very skiff they had earlier hidden. The movement was screened by darkness – exactly the kind of stealthy maneuver their Indian-fighting experience had taught them. By the early hours of October 2, 1835, Moore and approximately 150 Texians had positioned themselves in the shadows of a pecan grove and tall grass, very near Castañeda’s encampment. The Mexican dragoons, not expecting an attack, had set up a standard bivouac with pickets out but visibility was poor. Crucially, the weather aided the Texians: a dense river fog settled in, further cloaking their predawn approach. The stage was set for the first battle of the Texas Revolution.
Before the shooting started, there was one last attempt at negotiation. Around daybreak (just prior to heavy action), Moore and Castañeda actually met briefly under a flag of truce between the lines. Lieutenant Castañeda, who sincerely did not wish to shed blood needlessly, had called out asking for a parley once he realized a sizable Texian force was present. Moore, perhaps curious or stalling to finalize positions, agreed to talk. In this meeting – essentially a showdown of wills – Moore declared that the Texians no longer recognized the centralist regime of Santa Anna and stood by the 1824 Mexican Constitution (a Federalist position). Castañeda replied that he personally was also a Federalist sympathizer, “opposed to Santa Anna’s politics,” but as a soldier under orders he had to demand the cannon and could not defy his duty. Moore audaciously invited Castañeda to switch sides and join the Texian cause, given their shared political leanings – a proposition Castañeda, bound by honor, declined. With nothing resolved, the two commanders returned to their ranks. This unusual exchange highlights how ideology and honor briefly intersected with tactics: Castañeda’s formality gave the Texians extra moments to prepare, and Moore used even the parley as an opportunity to psyche out the Mexicans.
Back with his men, Moore hoisted a hastily made banner that the women of Gonzales had crafted the night before: a simple white sheet emblazoned with a painted black cannon and the defiant words “COME AND TAKE IT.” The Texians raised this flag over their position, a deliberate taunt and a bold signal that they would fight. It was a direct challenge to the Mexicans: if you want our cannon, come and get it by force. For the Texians, many of whom were veterans or sons of veterans of the American Revolution, this slogan echoed the spirit of 1776 (indeed it evoked the famous Revolutionary motto “Don’t Tread on Me”). Psychologically, the flag set the stage – the Texians were not simply resisting; they were daring the enemy.
The Battle of Gonzales: Dawn Ambush and Skirmish
In the grey light of dawn on October 2, 1835, the Texians struck. Captain Albert Martin’s Gonzales company and other volunteers crept forward through the fog and trees until they were within firing range of the Mexican camp. Using their familiarity with the terrain, the Texians managed to surround the Mexican position on multiple sides under cover of darkness. Just as the first glimmers of daylight appeared around 6:00 a.m., the Texans emerged from the treeline and opened fire on the Mexican soldiers at close range, catching them off guard. Muskets cracked and rifles boomed; the first shots of the Texas Revolution tore through the morning mist.
Mexican sentries shouted alarms and quickly Castañeda’s dragoons stumbled into formation, returning fire. A chaotic firefight began, with muzzle flashes flickering in the fog. One of the very first Texian volleys induced panic in a Mexican cavalry horse, which threw its rider – this hapless dragoon got a bloody nose, ironically the only Texian “casualty” of the fight as well (he had been previously captured by the Texians and was riding with the Mexicans). The surprise and the poor visibility made it difficult for the Mexicans to gauge the size of the force against them. Fearing he was outflanked by a much larger rebel force, Castañeda ordered his men to fall back about 300 yards to a low rise (a bluff above the river floodplain) to regroup. This maneuver temporarily disengaged the sides.
At this point, Lt. Francisco Castañeda attempted a textbook response to an ambush: a cavalry counterattack. He directed Lt. Gregorio Pérez to lead a detachment of about 40 mounted dragoons to charge and scatter the Texians threatening their left flank. The Mexican horsemen spurred forward, steel sabers drawn, aiming to ride down the rebels. However, the Texians saw the charge coming and quickly withdrew into the cover of the thick oak and pecan trees by the riverbank. The dragoons galloped into the grove but found themselves in broken, wooded terrain where they could not maneuver in formation. Suddenly, from the shadows of the trees, the Texians unleashed a withering point-blank volley of rifle fire. The crash of dozens of long rifles and muskets firing at once stunned the Mexican cavalry. Several horses went down, and at least one Mexican private was hit and injured, tumbling from his saddle. In that same volley, the eager Texians had attempted to fire their cannon as well – but in the excitement, the little gun’s lashings or carriage slipped on the uneven ground, and the cannon actually fell off its wheels! This momentary mishap prevented the cannon from firing during the charge. Nevertheless, the Texian small-arms fire was effective enough. With horses balking among trees and men falling, the Mexican cavalry quickly broke off the counterattack and retreated back to the open prairie bluff where Castañeda waited. The attempt to overrun the rebel position had failed; close combat on Texian terms – in the tangled woods – nullified the dragoons’ advantage.
For a brief spell after this exchange, a sporadic firefight continued at distance. The Mexicans formed a defensive line on the rise, and the Texians remained partially concealed among the riverbank timber and tall grass. The two sides exchanged desultory gunfire for perhaps an hour or two with minimal effect (later accounts describe it as “several hours of desultory firing” with little damage done). Neither side wanted to over-commit: the Mexicans were wary of charging back into the timber, and the Texians, lacking bayonets, were cautious about charging uphill at mounted troops. During this lull, Colonel Moore regrouped his men, reloaded the cannon (and remounted it properly on its wagon wheels), and decided to press the attack. The Texians enjoyed superior range with their rifles and could keep the Mexican dragoons at bay; however, Moore knew that merely trading shots might not drive the Mexicans off. He planned to use the cannon decisively in a renewed assault.
Castañeda, for his part, realized he was in a precarious position. He had lost two men (who were killed in the earlier close fighting or in the initial surprise volley) and had a couple wounded; importantly, he still had orders not to escalate into a full battle unless necessary. At this juncture – roughly mid-morning as the fog began to lift – Castañeda tried once more to parley. He dispatched a corporal named José M. Smither under a white flag toward the Texian lines to ask for a meeting between commanders. This was actually an unusual twist: Smither was an English-speaking settler (possibly a coerced guide) who had been traveling with the Mexican force. As he approached the Texians, some of Moore’s men, suspicious that Smither might be a spy or trickster, seized and briefly detained him instead of honoring his flag. Though a bit of a breach of etiquette, it shows the Texians’ mistrust and their focus on winning, formalities aside. Nonetheless, Moore agreed to meet Castañeda a second time. They met between the lines once more, and Castañeda in frustration demanded why he was being attacked. Moore reiterated that Texians would fight for their rights and the cannon and again insisted the Mexican army was in violation of the 1824 Constitution. Castañeda, angered and helpless to resolve the impasse, returned to his lines – he had done all he could diplomatically. This second parley only served to delay the inevitable final clash.
As Moore returned to the Texian camp from this meeting, he gave the signal to finish the fight. The “Come and Take It” flag was waved aloft for all to see. With a rousing cheer, the Texians decided to fire their cannon directly into the Mexican position to drive them off. James C. Neill, who had artillery experience, took charge of the gun. The Texians loaded it heavily with a mix of iron scraps, chain links, and whatever metal shards they had (essentially turning it into a giant shotgun). Then, with a booming report, they discharged the cannon at the Mexican camp – the first cannon shot of the Texas Revolution. The makeshift grapeshot tore through the air toward the dragoons. While we have no record of how many casualties this blast inflicted, its psychological effect was profound. To the Mexicans, it must have seemed that the Texians now had artillery support, and combined with the volume of rifle fire, this indicated they were out-gunned.
Seizing the moment of shock, the Texian line surged forward in a loose charge, advancing toward the Mexican position while whooping and firing their rifles. Historian accounts and later memories indicate that the Texians advanced aggressively after the cannon fired, likely hoping to scatter the Mexicans completely. Seeing this onrush of armed settlers and fearing being enveloped or overwhelmed, Lt. Castañeda decided he had fulfilled his duty to “honor” (he had engaged but not lost his force’s cohesion) and that continuing the fight would be futile and contrary to orders. He ordered a retreat. The Mexican soldiers, already unnerved by the cannon blast, began falling back in orderly fashion toward San Antonio de Béxar, about 70 miles west. They left the field, effectively yielding victory to the Texians. The Texian fighters chased them for a short distance – enough to hasten their departure – then prudently broke off pursuit. They did not have cavalry to properly chase down mounted dragoons, and they were content to have secured the cannon and the field. As the Mexicans rode away, Texians fired celebratory shots in the air and jubilantly waved their flag.
The Battle of Gonzales was over almost as quickly as it began. In total, it was a small skirmish – with roughly 150 Texians facing 100 Mexican dragoons – but its outcome carried enormous weight. Texian losses were astonishingly light: not a single Texian was killed. The only injury on the rebel side was a man who had been thrown from a horse at the very start (and he suffered only a nosebleed). On the Mexican side, two soldiers had been killed in the fighting (and several more were wounded). These modest casualties belied the event’s significance. As one account wryly noted, it was an “inconsequential skirmish in which one side did not try to fight” – a reference to the fact that Castañeda had never truly committed to a full battle. But the Texians didn’t see it that way: to them, this was a clear victory over Mexican regulars. They had stood their ground and even taken the offensive against the soldiers of the central government, and the soldiers had retreated. News of the success at Gonzales spread like wildfire across Texas and even into the United States, where newspapers soon dubbed it the “Lexington of Texas” – likening it to the opening battle of the American Revolution where colonial militiamen fired “the shot heard ’round the world” and sent British redcoats withdrawing. Here, the “Come and Take It” cannon shot served as Texas’s equivalent rallying cry.
From a tactical perspective, the Battle of Gonzales showcased classic guerrilla tactics at work:
The Texians chose the timing (a pre-dawn attack in fog) and chose the terrain (drawing the enemy toward wooded cover) to maximize their strengths.
They achieved surprise, firing the first shots when the Mexicans were not fully prepared.
They utilized feint and ambush – the initial skirmish and retreat of Texian scouts lured the Mexican cavalry into a wooded kill-zone.
They delivered effective fire at range, leveraging rifles to harass and a cannon to shock, rather than engaging in melee where the enemy’s bayonets and lances could be deadly.
They showed decentralized initiative – even when Moore was in parleys, Texian shooters kept the pressure on, and small groups acted on opportunities (like the men who flanked and fired on the charging dragoons without needing explicit orders).
Conversely, Mexican hierarchical command delays and caution gave the Texians extra edge. Castañeda’s adherence to procedure (requests for parley, repositioning rather than immediate assault) granted the rebels precious time to execute their plan.
One striking moment encapsulates the difference: when the Texian scouts fired and fell back deliberately, and the Mexican dragoons impulsively chased them, it mirrored countless frontier fights where Comanche warriors might lure U.S. soldiers into an ambush. The Texians essentially played the role of the agile native force, and the Mexican troops played the role of the plodding column marching into trouble. As the historical marker in Gonzales later summarized, “Texan scouts discovered the Mexican forces… they fired their pieces and retired with the Mexicans in pursuit. A discharge from the six-pounder caused the latter to retreat”. In two succinct sentences, that marker describes a textbook ambush and counterattack: provoke, withdraw, and ambush with superior firepower – a maneuver straight from the Texian frontier handbook.
Aftermath and Impact of Guerilla Tactics
The immediate outcome of Gonzales was strategically modest but politically momentous. Castañeda led his detachment back to San Antonio de Béxar, reporting to his superiors that “since the orders... were for me to withdraw without compromising the honor of Mexican arms, I did so.” In other words, he could claim he had not surrendered nor been decisively beaten in formation – he simply chose not to fight further under the circumstances. Santa Anna, upon hearing of the confrontation, was outraged and resolved to crush the Texian rebellion with overwhelming force. He would soon dispatch General Cos with hundreds of additional troops into Texas. For the Texians, however, Gonzales was a galvanizing triumph. It proved that Mexican troops could be resisted successfully by volunteer militia. Stephen F. Austin, the political leader of the Texians, wrote two days later, “War is declared – public opinion has proclaimed it... The campaign has commenced.” The settlers now fully committed to open rebellion, emboldened by what they saw as a victory of David vs. Goliath.
Analyzing the impact of guerrilla tactics on the battle’s outcome: it is clear that without the settlers’ irregular methods, the fight could have gone very differently. If the Texians had assembled in parade-ground fashion and marched out openly to challenge the dragoons, the better-armed and formally trained Mexican cavalry might have intimidated or even routed them. The Mexicans, with superior numbers and discipline, could have flanked or charged such an undisciplined line. Indeed, linear tactics were the only effective way to use muskets – but the Texians wisely never offered the Mexicans a target for a mass volley or bayonet charge. By staying hidden until the optimal moment and by refusing to engage in the open, the Texians neutralized the Mexican advantages of cavalry and coordinated fire. Their guerilla tactics turned the battle into a kind of extended ambush, where individual marksmanship and initiative counted more than drill. Every Mexican misstep – advancing into the woods, hesitating under truce flags – was exploited instantly by the colonists.
Furthermore, the decentralized Texian command meant that even when Moore wasn’t issuing orders, men like Neill or the “Old Eighteen” could take critical actions (firing the cannon, skirmishing at the river) on their own accord. In contrast, Mexican troops awaited orders; when those orders were to retreat, they did so promptly, effectively conceding the field without attempting unorthodox responses. One could argue that had Castañeda been free to act aggressively, he might have, for example, flanked the Texians by crossing the river elsewhere or brought his own small swivel gun (if he had one) to bear. But he stuck to conventional thinking, partly imposed by orders, partly by training. The Texians did the opposite of what the Mexicans expected – attacking rather than strictly defending, fighting from cover rather than forming up, and even charging them at the end. This disarrayed the Mexican plan entirely.
The Battle of Gonzales thus demonstrates how guerilla-style tactics can yield outsized results. Tactically, the fight was small and perhaps “inconsequential” in purely military terms. Yet the political and morale effect was enormous – precisely because the Texians’ success validated their style of warfare. It proved that a decentralized militia using frontier tactics could best a trained military unit in open confrontation. This lesson was not lost on either side. Texian forces continued to employ mobility and surprise in subsequent actions (such as the Grass Fight and the ultimate victory at San Jacinto, where Sam Houston’s army executed a sudden surprise attack on a napping Mexican army, another guerrilla-like stroke). For the Mexican Army, Gonzales was an early warning that they were facing a very different kind of enemy – one that would not fight by the traditional rules. Santa Anna would respond by attempting to apply overwhelming force (as seen at the Alamo), but even he would meet defeat at the hands of Texian irregulars.
In a larger sense, the legacy of the Gonzales tactics is seen in the continued tradition of the Texas Rangers and frontier fighters. The skirmish showcased the effectiveness of small-unit maneuvers – a handful of men delaying and defeating a larger force by wit and will. This theme would echo throughout Texas’s fight for independence. The “Come and Take It” cannon that roared that morning would be taken along by the Texians as they advanced on San Antonio, a potent symbol of their resolve (though its fate is debated, it likely saw use in later fights). And the spirit of Gonzales – that independent, daring, and tactical savvy spirit – became foundational to Texan military culture.
Weapons, Unit Types, and Leadership Details
To fully appreciate the tactics at Gonzales, it’s useful to examine the weapons and units on each side and how they were used:
Texian Arms: The Texian settlers brought a mix of personal weapons. Foremost was the Long Rifle (Kentucky/Pennsylvania rifle), a muzzle-loading flintlock rifle typically .40 to .54 caliber. These rifles featured grooved barrels (rifling) that imparted spin to the bullet, dramatically increasing accuracy – a skilled rifleman could hit a man-sized target at 100–200 yards. The long rifle had a barrel 3–4 feet in length, which, combined with a fine front and rear sight, made it lethal in the hands of frontiersmen who had spent years hunting game. Its drawbacks were the slow reload (about 30 seconds or more per shot, as the tight-fitting ball had to be rammed down the barrel) and the inability to mount a bayonet. In battle, Texians used rifles to snipe from cover and pick off important targets (had a Mexican officer exposed himself at Gonzales, he likely would have drawn concentrated rifle fire). Many Texians also carried shotguns or “fowling pieces”, loaded with multiple pellets of buckshot, which were devastating at close range albeit with limited reach. A few might have had muskets (some settlers owned old Brown Bess or French Charleville muskets from earlier wars), but by and large the Texians favored their familiar rifles for accuracy. Sidearms like single-shot pistols were present in small numbers; famously, some carried large Bowie knives or tomahawks for hand-to-hand combat, reflecting the frontier penchant for close-quarters weapons. At Gonzales, the Texians also had one piece of artillery – the disputed six-pounder cannon. This was a small bronze smoothbore gun that, in proper military use, could fire a 6 lb iron cannonball. The Gonzales cannon, however, had likely been provided with limited shot and was not originally mounted for field use. The Texians improvised it into a make-shift field gun on wagon wheels. They lacked cannonballs, so they loaded it with whatever metal scrap was available, effectively turning it into a giant scattergun. When fired at close range, as they did, it could shred a target with shrapnel. Its psychological impact was even greater – the boom and smoke of a cannon, and the potential for carnage, could unnerve troops who didn’t expect the rebels to have artillery. The Texians fired this cannon at least once in the battle (some accounts say twice), and its blast convinced the Mexicans to retreat. For protection, the Texians had minimal gear – a few had powder horns and bullet pouches, possibly coats or homemade cloth belts. They had no uniforms; most fought in frontier homespun clothing or buckskin. A couple of Gonzales men reportedly donned old military coats from past service, but there was no standard attire. This lack of uniform actually aided them in blending with the environment.
Mexican Arms: The Mexican dragoons at Gonzales were armed primarily with smoothbore firearms and lances/sabers. The standard long gun was likely the India Pattern Brown Bess musket or the Charleville musket – both .69 to .75 caliber flintlocks with smooth bores. These muskets were around 4.5 feet long and fitted with a socket bayonet for melee. They were effective in volley fire out to about 50-75 yards; beyond that, hitting a specific target was largely a matter of luck. A trained soldier could fire 2–3 shots per minute from a musket, faster than a rifleman, but with far less accuracy. Many Mexican cavalry of this era carried carbines – shorter-barreled muskets or escopetas – easier to handle on horseback. These carbines also fired around .69 caliber balls and had similar limited range. The Mexican dragoons were additionally equipped with horseman’s sabers, curved swords for close combat, and some may have carried lances, a traditional weapon of Mexican mounted units (though lances were more typical of specialized lancer regiments). Given they were dragoons, they were trained to fight both mounted and dismounted. At Gonzales, once under fire, they mostly dismounted and fought on foot with their firearms (aside from the one attempted mounted charge). Each Mexican soldier would have a cartouche box with paper cartridges (pre-measured powder and ball), allowing quicker reloads. They also likely had a trumpet or bugle for signaling (common in cavalry units) and drums might have been present for infantry signals. However, in the fog and surprise, their signals were of limited help. Importantly, the Mexicans did not bring any artillery of their own to Gonzales. Had they brought even a light cannon, the dynamics might have changed – but traveling light was part of their intent to move quickly. They also lacked support units; this was a lone detachment without backup, which further influenced Castañeda’s caution.
Troop Types and Unit Organization: On the Texian side, those gathered at Gonzales were militia companies and ad hoc volunteers. There was the Gonzales Ranging Company of local men (sometimes called the “Old 18” though that term specifically refers to the first defenders), augmented by groups from other colonies. Typically, each group elected a captain. For instance, Albert Martin was captain of the Gonzales militia, and other communities had sent men under their own elected leaders (like Capt. Mathew Caldwell from Bastrop’s vicinity, and Capt. Robert Coleman from Mina). When they all assembled, they chose John H. Moore as the overall commander for the battle. Moore was a respected settler leader with experience; interestingly, he had fought in skirmishes against Indians in years prior, including a fight against the Waco and Tawakonis in 1832, so he was well-versed in frontier combat. J.W.E. Wallace and Ed Burleson served as his lieutenants (second and third in command). This chain of command, however, was relatively loose – essentially guiding consensus rather than issuing strict orders. The “war council” on October 1, where the decision to fight was made democratically, illustrates the participatory nature of Texian militia leadership. Once battle commenced, smaller squads or clusters of Texians operated somewhat independently: for example, Ben Milam (who would later be famous at the Siege of Béxar) wasn’t at Gonzales, but someone like Ben Highsmith (a young scout) or Creed Taylor (one of the Old Eighteen) might lead a few riflemen on a flanking crawl through the bushes. Each man was expected to keep firing and use his initiative. There was no formal formation beyond perhaps a skirmish line. The Texians effectively fought as light infantry skirmishers – a role conventional armies assign to specialized units – but here every man was a skirmisher by default.
On the Mexican side, Lt. Castañeda’s detachment was a unit of the Presidial Dragoons of San Antonio de Béxar. Presidial units were frontier garrison troops, often experienced in combating Indian raiders, ironically using some guerrilla tactics themselves when on pursuit. However, on this mission their role was as an auxiliary police force to retrieve the cannon and intimidate if needed. They marched likely in column along the road from Béxar to Gonzales, with scouts ahead. At camp, they would have a guard detail, and if battle was joined, they could fight on foot in a pinch. A typical dragoon company at that time might be around 100 strong, led by a captain (though here a lieutenant was in charge of perhaps a half-strength company). The troops at Gonzales were all cavalrymen, but once dismounted they served as line infantry. They attempted to form a defensive line on the bluff once under attack. Castañeda himself remained with the main group (he did not lead the charge – that was Lt. Pérez). The dragoons likely divided into platoons or sections for firing, some holding the horses to the rear while others…fought on foot. In practice at Gonzales, some dragoons held the reins of spare horses behind the bluff while their comrades formed a firing line to engage the Texians. Castañeda and his sergeants would have directed volleys and attempted to keep order. Once retreat was necessary, the dragoons were trained to quickly mount up and ride off in organized fashion, which they did. The Mexican leadership at Gonzales was limited to Lt. Castañeda and a few junior NCOs – a small command structure. Despite being of relatively low rank, Castañeda showed professionalism in avoiding a reckless fight. His report to Colonel Ugartechea later emphasized that he withdrew only “to avoid compromising the honor of Mexican arms” given his orders. This phrasing indicates he believed he had acted correctly under the circumstances. In truth, the Texian tactics had forced his hand; without artillery or overwhelming numbers, facing a camouflaged enemy, Castañeda’s textbook options were few. The battle concluded with Texian militia triumphant, still in loose order among the trees, and the Mexican dragoons riding in a column back toward San Antonio.
Guerrilla Tactics Triumph at Gonzales
The Battle of Gonzales was a small engagement with outsized consequences. Tactically, it demonstrated how the Texian settlers’ frontier-fighting style – honed against Native American raiders – gave them a critical edge over conventional troops. Every element of the Texians’ approach, from the initial delaying actions of the Old Eighteen to the night crossing, ambush, and use of cover, reflected guerilla warfare principles. These tactics neutralized the Mexican Army’s advantages in discipline and numbers. The Mexican dragoons, trained for linear combat and direct orders, were confounded by an enemy that would not stand still or fight in the open. In a very real sense, Texas won its first battle for independence by fighting more like Comanche warriors than European soldiers. This set a pattern for the revolution to come.
At Gonzales, the Texians achieved their immediate goal – they kept their cannon (they quite literally told the Mexicans “come and take it,” and the Mexicans could not). But beyond that, they achieved a symbolic victory that electrified the Texian cause. News of the stand at Gonzales and the Mexican retreat spread rapidly. To the settlers, it affirmed that rebellion was not only possible but winnable. One participant, Dr. William P. Smith, triumphantly wrote that “the oppressors have been repulsed; glory to God and Texas!” in the aftermath. Volunteers from all over Texas rushed to join the newly formed Texian Army, gathering at Gonzales to form the core of what would become known as the Army of the People. Within weeks, these citizen-soldiers, emboldened by their success, would march on the Mexican garrison at San Antonio, laying siege in the Siege of Béxar. There, again, they would blend frontier daring with strategy, ultimately capturing the city in December 1835 after intense house-to-house fighting (another scenario where individual initiative and marksmanship prevailed).
For the Mexican Army, Gonzales was a lesson in the perils of underestimating irregular foes. Santa Anna responded by assembling a much larger force and personally leading it into Texas in early 1836, determined to crush the revolt. Yet even then, the final decisive battle of the war – San Jacinto – was won by the Texians in 18 minutes with a sudden surprise attack on an enemy not in battle formation, very much in line with the guerrilla ethos. The seeds of that decisive tactic were planted at Gonzales, where the Texans learned that bold offensive action at the right moment can route a superior foe.
In historical perspective, the Battle of Gonzales (1835) stands as a classic example of asymmetrical warfare on the North American frontier. A band of rustics, using the “skulking” tactics of woodland fighters, defeated professional soldiers in a stand-up contest – something that had happened before in American history (as at Lexington and Concord in 1775) and would happen again. The Texian style of fighting, born of years of scrapes with Indians and forged by the mindset of free settlers defending their homes, proved to be exactly what was needed to ignite the Texas Revolution. The slogan “Come and Take It” has since become legendary, symbolizing defiance against tyranny. But behind the slogan was a real strategy: make the enemy come and take it on your terms. The Texians set the terms at Gonzales through stealth, mobility, terrain, and timing, and the Mexicans could not overcome that tactical dominance.
In the end, the frontier guerrilla tactics shaped not only the Battle of Gonzales, but the identity of the Texas revolutionaries. They fought as they lived – independently, resourcefully, and ferociously. The victory at Gonzales was small in scale, but it marked the moment when those frontier fighters transitioned from defending their settlements against Indian raids to openly engaging an imperial army. It was the birth of the Republic of Texas on the battlefield. As historian Stephen Hardin noted, the fight was “politically immeasurable” – it convinced the Texians that they could stand against the centralist regime. Indeed, October 2, 1835, proved that a free militia with unorthodox tactics could defeat the forces of a despot. That legacy of Gonzales – where wild frontiersmen, with their long rifles and rebel spirit, drove off trained dragoons – remains a dramatic testimony to how tactics born on the frontier shaped the course of Texas history.
Sources and Further Reading
Hardin, Stephen L. – Texian Iliad: A Military History of the Texas Revolution, 1835–1836. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1994. (Provides an in-depth narrative of the revolution’s battles, including detailed analysis of tactics at Gonzales.)
Davis, William C. – Lone Star Rising: The Revolutionary Birth of the Texas Republic. New York: Free Press, 2004. (A comprehensive history of the Texas Revolution; discusses the political and military significance of early clashes like Gonzales.)
Winders, Richard Bruce. – Mr. Polk’s Army (Chapter: “Come and Take It”). Scholarly analysis of Mexican Army organization and the impact of Napoleonic tactics on battles in Texas.
Todish, Timothy – The Alamo Sourcebook (provides background on weapons of Texians and Mexicans, including specifics on muskets and rifles used in 1835 Texas).
Texas State Historical Association (TSHA) – “Gonzales, Battle of” (Handbook of Texas Online). A concise summary of the battle’s events and participants, with emphasis on the “Lexington of Texas” analogy and the Old Eighteen’s role.
“Come and Take It: The Battle of Gonzales” – Texas General Land Office, Save Texas History (Texas GLO Medium article, 2018). Features primary source excerpts and a map of the battleground, highlighting the cannon’s history and the battle’s progression.
National Park Service – “Soldiers stare down the barrel of the Brown Bess.” An article on the Brown Bess musket’s characteristics and the linear tactics used with it. Offers context on why formations like those of the Mexican Army functioned as they did, and their shortcomings against guerrilla fighters.
Webb, Walter Prescott. – The Texas Rangers: A Century of Frontier Defense. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1935. (While focused on later Ranger history, its introduction discusses the early Ranger ethos: “ride like a Mexican, trail like an Indian, shoot like a Tennessean, and fight like the devil”, illustrating the composite frontier combat style that was already evident at Gonzales.)
Primary sources: “Eye Witness Accounts of Gonzales” (Sons of DeWitt Colony Texas archives) – letters and reports from participants such as Joseph Kent and Thomas Rusk. These provide firsthand descriptions of the skirmish, including the burying of the cannon and the use of scrap iron as ammunition.