A small bit of history from the Alamo
|Word count: 226
In the dim light of dawn, the man from Tennessee stumbled and nearly fell across the bodies lying at his feet. His fallen comrades, retreating defenders of the Mission San Antonio de Valero had struggled for days attempting to keep Santa Anna’s army from breeching the earthen walls.
As the sun inched its way skyward, David and a handful of volunteers could see shadowy figures of Mexican soldiers clambering over the outer walls of the fortification, taking possession of deserted cannons and ground as they advanced.
The overpowering stench of rotting flesh and burnt powder filled David's lungs as he plunged his last lead ball down the barrel of his musket. With his back against the thick cool adobe walls he quickly raised his weapon and fired point blank into onrushing infantry. The ball found its mark. The enemy's blood sprayed across his frock as he dropped his musket and pulled a Bowie knife from its sheath.
For a fleeting instant the blood stain reminded him of the red flag the opposing general had ordered to fly above San Fernando cathedral. No mercy, represented by the flag, would be given to anyone still alive once the command of the mission was surrendered to the Mexican army.
The frontiersman gripped his knife tighter, faced the overwhelming horde and fought to save his life.
Prompt: “imminent death of a warrior”