Willis Coplan

Not having any particular place in view, other than out west, I wandered around until I found myself in Texas just in time to take part in the War of Independence from Mexico. In the spring of 1835 a body of one thousand cavalry under General Green was sent out to watch the frontier between the rivers Nuesces and Rio Grande. After riding in this section of the country for several months without meeting any enemy, I was one of three hundred men that were left afoot on account of horses getting lost and dying. We were left on the east side of the Rio Grande.

Getting tired of this monotony, we took our arms and crossed the Rio Grande in search of adventures. We had not gone far when we were met by a body of six hundred Mexican cavalry who retreated when they saw us. We followed them up until we came to the little town of Millas, six miles from where we had crossed the Rio Grande. At this point, the Mexicans were reinforced and they opened fire on us. We drove them into the town and took possession of a building on the east side of the town. It was late in the evening and we held this place during the night. The enemy kept up a steady cannonade all night, but to no effect.

The next morning we left this position for another building more favorably situated on the south side of the town, some distance from any other building, where the enemy could not train their guns on us without exposing themselves to our fire. The Mexicans tried several different schemes to rout us from our position, but nothing worked. Then they would form into columns and march across the opening to take us by storm. We would let them get within fifty yards of our building and then pour deadly fire, and they would retreat in confusion. They attempted this several times.

While these deadly charges were going on, there was a drizzling rain falling, and the bloodstained water was running freely. The dead bodies were lying piled up so thick by this time that it was difficult to get near the building. They finally withdrew their forces and we were in hopes of getting an opportunity to get out and retire to our own dominions.

While we were talking about what we should do, a Mexican captain, accompanied by a white man, walked across the plaza towards. We recognized the man as our surgeon, Dr. Synizson. During the night while we were being cannonaded in our quarters, one of our men fell into a deep ditch and broke his leg. In the morning when we abandoned our position for the one we now held, we left the surgeon with the crippled man. When the Mexicans found out they were there, they captured them both and planned to new scheme on us.

When the captain and the surgeon got within speaking distance, we halted them and asked them their object. They said they had come to make peace with us, and we allowed them to come in. Synizson bore a flag of truce in his hands, and the captain offered us good treatment if we would lay down our arms. Our General, instead of commanding his troops as he should, allowed them to vote whether to accept or reject the terms. The vote was a tie. We voted several more times; it still remained a tie. Then it was discovered that one of the officers, who had had his thumb shot off, had not yet voted. He voted to surrender. So on Christmas day, 1835, we stacked our arms- a move we were sorely to regret.

The next morning we were marched out toward Mexico City. After twenty-one days, we reached Matamoros. After a few days rest, we were marched another twenty-one days to Salado. There we were corralled in a high stone wall. We were guarded by five hundred infantry and some numbers of cavalry.

We conducted ourselves in an orderly fashion. By so doing, they began to relax their vigilance and stacked their arms in a careless way against the wall on the left side of the gate where we came out to our meals. The cavalry had been sent off, so we saw our chance to strike for freedom.

We had always marched out very orderly to our meals, and when we were served with our dishes of food, we would retire in a disorderly way back to our quarters. We laid our plans as to how we were to operate. The next morning we marched out in order, but when we were served, we retired in order until we were all in line. The Mexicans noticed something unusual in this move, and at a given signal we rushed for arms. The Mexicans ordered their soldiers to do the same. We met at the wall like an avalanche, but we got a little ahead of them. Each man got a gun, broke through the Mexican ranks, and started back the way we had come to Texas.

We had not been on our march more than two or three days when a white man, a merchant from Mexico City, sent a runner after us to tell us to keep the main traveled road, for it was our only safety in making good our escape. Says he: "If you keep the highway, there will be no opposition to you, and you will be sure of water all the way. If you take a straight route northward, you will die of thirst for there is no water to be found in these mountains."

We had confidence in no one by this time and gave no heed to his advice, and took the very course he told us not to. The third day's march in the mountains convinced us of the mistake we had made. We began to famish for water. At intervals we would get in the shade of trees and rocks to rest a few moments, and when we would move on, some three, four, or five men would remain in the shade and never get up. Some of the men would find damp places in the little arroyos, strip off their clothes, and bury their bodies in the damp earth, hoping their bodies would absorb some of the moisture. Thus we continued until the eighth day at three o'clock in the morning when we ran onto a lake of water, only to find ourselves in the midst of an army of Mexican cavalry!

Some of the men would drink and die in their tracks. I tried to swallow the water, but could not do it. A while before we came to the lake I begged a companion to kill me, or if I had kept my gun, I would have killed myself, my suffering was so great. We had thrown our guns away and gotten rid of everything that was of any weight and would hinder us in our traveling. But when I found myself in the midst of the enemy, I tried to run. They caught me. I gave a Mexican woman a dollar for a cup of coffee, and I began to feel better.

This lake was thirty-five miles on the road from the point we had left eight days ago, and at the time we left the road we numbered three hundred. Of this number only one hundred and seventy-six reached the lake and survived the effects of suffering.

The Mexicans had known that this lake was the only water we could reach, and if we didn't come here we would die in the desert. They laid over a few days in order that we might rest up from our weary march. Then, just as soon as we were able to travel again, we were marched back to Salado. We arrived there after several more days of weary marching, just twenty-one days from the time we made our escape.

We were thrown into the old rock corral again, with a double guard over us. Our food was brought into us instead of our being allowed to go out as we had done before. While we were being held in this way, the Mexican officers in command sent a courier to Mexico City to find out what to do with the re-captured prisoners. General Santa Ana gave orders for all of the prisoners to be killed. English and American ministers interceded in our behalf and got the orders modified. The courier returned about three weeks later with new orders that said every tenth man was to be shot.

Those three weeks of waiting for the orders produced a fearful anxiety in the prisoners, and when the new order was read to us, there was a dead silence for some moments. Forlorn expressions rested upon the features of each prisoner. As soon as we were left to ourselves, we thought of making another break for freedom, but we could see that it would mean death to all of us, so we submitted ourselves to our fate.

A jug was brought in with one hundred and seventy-six beans, seventeen of them black, and the rest white. Dividing one hundred and seventy-six by ten, there would be seventeen doomed men and a fraction of six, which, providentially, they let go in favor of the living. The jug was placed upon the wall, so the men had to reach up and put their hands in and draw a bean without looking. Capt. Cameron (leader of the prisoners' bid for freedom) was compelled to draw first on account of their (the Mexicans) extreme hatred for him, his being such a terror to the Mexicans when he had his freedom. It was supposed that the black beans were on top, so that he could hardly fail to get one of them. Cameron reached up and pressed his hand deep into the jug and withdrew a white bean. The Mexicans cheered him on his success.

When the drawing was over, the doomed men were separated out to themselves and were not allowed to speak to their comrades. A good supper was prepared for them, and they fell to eating with a relish. They seemed cheerful during their meal, cracking jokes and wishing each other a pleasant journey. When the meal was finished, cigars and whiskey was brought to them. Then they were given paper and ink to write to their friends and loved ones. When that was done, they were led out and deliberately shot down.

The prisoners who had drawn the white beans were overwhelmed with grief. The bodies of the dead men were left lying all night where they had fallen. When the Mexicans went to bury them the next morning, they discovered one of the bodies was missing. It was reported that one of the men was only wounded, and under cover of darkness made his escape, but after wandering in the mountains for several days, he returned to Salado where upon making his identity, he was immediately and inhumanly murdered.

The next morning, after witnessing such a deed of horror, we were marched on towards the City of Mexico. Twenty-one days from the time we left Salado, Capt. Cameron was also inhumanly murdered. When we arrived at the capitol of Mexico City, we were taken out on the opposite side of the lake from the city to what is called Montezuma's Castle, which is now being used for a prison. This castle was occupied by Montezuma in his day, and it is said that it was one time connected with the city by an underground passage so that Montezuma could be in communication with the capitol in times of war without endangering his person.

When the prisoners were turned over to the jailers, they were handcuffed and shackled. But by the good conduct of the prisoners, the jailers began to be more liberal with us, and we were not there long before our handcuffs were taken off. By degrees we began to have more freedom and at time some of us could get a pass to go to the city by having a guard with us. Upon several occasions, the guard got drunk and the prisoners would bring the guard home. The shackles were taken off from us during the daytime, but we were always shackled at night. We devised ways of taking our shackles off at night. Some of the boys made a violin, then we would sing and dance. We would get to making such a noise that the guard would look in and see that we were all loose. They would report what they had seen to the jailers, but when the latter would come in in the morning, they would find us just as they had left us the night before. The jailers discredited what the guards said. They would change locks on us, but it would be just the same. The Mexicans began to think that we were possessed with the evil one. We would resort to anything for amusement. We would make a circle on a piece of rawhide with a piece of charcoal, put five lice in the center and then bet our money on which one would be the first one off.

We made up our minds to try to escape by dropping off one or two at a time, but never try to escape when they gave us any special privileges. One night when the guard called us into line to count us, I stood in a corner of the yard, and as they commenced to count, the boys, knowing my intentions, one of them dropped in in such a way that he was counted twice. Late in the evening I climbed over the wall and started for the United States. In twenty-one days I traveled 900 miles and was within a few miles of the border when I was caught and taken back to the city of Mexico.

When I was brought back, the boys had been moved to Perota, a large prison down towards the seacoast. Only six boys were still in Mexico City. When I was turned into the room with the boys, they pretended not to know me, thinking perhaps if I was not known, they would turn me loose, but to no effect. We were in a few days taken to Perota with the rest of our comrades.

Though I abhorred Mexican prisons, yet I was glad to get back with my old friends with whom I had experienced so many hardships. Six months had passed away since the night I had made my escape from prison at Mexico City. After getting back with the boys, I felt ashamed of myself to think I had abandoned the prisoners while they were yet in confinement. And now that I was back with the men, I concluded to see our troubles through with them.

The night I made my escape from the prison at Mexico City, two other prisoners had made their escape too; but I was not aware of this until now. The guards, in order to give an account of us reported us dead, and this was published in one of the leading periodicals of Mexico. The guards made this report in order to clear themselves of the charge of neglect of duty, but it was the means of bringing about an event which came very nearly making a wreck of my life, which will be explained later on.

I found the boys at Perota prison all in good health and as full of the ole nick as ever. They continued the same old trick of taking their shackles off, dancing, and making hideous noises in order to annoy the guards. Had we been more orderly no doubt we would have gotten better treatment, but our hatred had reached to such an extent towards our captors, that we did not care what they did with us. The guards, in order to put a stop to this, took the shackles off from us, took clevises, fastened to our chains, put them around our ankles and tightened them with bolts. This put a stop to our dancing for a while. While we were lying around with these chains around our legs, we devised other plans of annoyance.

The walls of the prison were white-washed, and some of the boys would take a piece of charcoal and draw a Mexican army in full retreat with one white man behind them, charging them with a bayonet. After keeping this up for some time, the guards tried to make us complain on one another, but we would not do it. This so enraged them that they took us out and made us run the gauntlet. We were compelled to strip to our waists, then we had to run between two lines of soldiers for 150 yards. Each of them had a whip and as we passed through the lines at full speed, they would give us a cut with their whips. It gave them great satisfaction to take their spite out upon us in this way. We still persisted in our mischief, notwithstanding our having to pass through this ordeal many times.

During this time our attention was never diverted from our shackles, and we finally succeeded in taking them off. When the guards found this out they took the clevis bolts, run a thread on them, put them back on our legs. Then, with a burr, they tightened them down on us and battered the ends of the bolts. They felt sure they had us this time.

We were compelled to work at times, mostly black-smithing. By so doing, we had an opportunity to get off with a tool which we found useful in our business, and we improved every opportunity to the very letter. We had no time to work at our shackles except at night when we would resort to every scheme possible to obtain light to work by. We would dress down the battered end of the bolt until we could turn the burr off. Then we would cut a short piece from the threaded end of the bolt, just enough so we could screw the bolt back into the opposite side. We made the splice on the inside of the burr; then by battering the end of the bolt again, the guards could not detect anything wrong with them. As we worked on the shackles, we would pound our chains against the door, scream, or do anything to make a noise in order to drown the noise of the workmen. We were able to take them off at will. Thus we continued until we were all able to take our shackles off when we pleased.

While we were in captivity, the United States and English governments were using their influence in our behalf, and we finally succeeded in obtaining our pardon. After twenty-one months of captivity our pardons reached us. We heard that we were going to be released from prison the next morning. When the guards came in the morning with chisels and hammers in hand to cut off our shackles, imagine their surprise on stepping in to find us all unshackled. They believed it was done by some super-natural power.

From Perota, we were twenty-one days marching to Vera Cruz. Here we took ship and in twenty-one days we reached New Orleans. That figure "twenty-one" figured large in our period of captivity. First was our weary march of twenty-one days from where we lay down our arms at Millas to Matamores. Then twenty-one days to Salado and twenty-one days from our march from Salado on our way to the City of Mexico (when Capt. Cameron was murdered). Then the twenty-one days on my escape attempt and recapture. Finally, it took twenty-one days to sail to New Orleans. When I think of this number, I am presented with a sad reflection.

From New Orleans we each took a different route, each according to his own inclinations. I started for home, but on my way I heard that my wife had married again. I concluded to change my name and take some other course, but upon hearing further particulars of the case, I had no reason to feel hard towards my wife, so I went on home, but my folks knew nothing of my coming.

When I got to the place where my father lived, before making myself known, I made some inquiries as to how things stood, and was horrified to learn that I was "dead". As had been mentioned before, when I made my escape in Mexico, the guard reported me dead. This was published in one of the leading papers in Mexico. I here learned now that my funeral services had actually been held over my body in effigy and my remains gently laid to rest. Just think of my condition for a moment. I was no longer among the living but dead! Dead! Dead in the minds of my friends. They had actually followed my remains to the burying grounds.

My wife had married again, as unconscious of doing a wrong as she did the day she celebrated her first nuptial. I thought to myself, "My God! What shall I do, or whither shall I go?" From a bench of the opposite side of the street from my father's shop, I sat down to rest. My body was very weak from being over-taxed with such heavy medication. I had made up my mind to go to my father anf make myself known. But, on seeing him, I almost refrained from carrying out my plan, and sat down to reconsider. After sitting awhile, I nerved myself up to see it through. So I walked over, placed my hand upon his shoulder and said, "Father, how do you do?" He turned around, looked into my face with a breathless silence. I broke into tears. He clasped me to his bosom and said, "Willis, my boy! I thought you were dead!" He called Mother, but she was not so easily convinced. She had me roll up my trousers to my knee to see a scar I had carried since childhood.

My wife, upon hearing of my return, came to me and expressed her willingness to come back to me. I only had to say the word. I had two children by her, as was mentioned at the commencement of this writing. The second husband had two children by her also. The sacrifice to be made by each of us was equal, but the attachments they had formed with one another as husband and wife, and their children being the youngest, I concluded that I had the least to sacrifice, so I went with her to the District Court and obtained a divorce which was readily given. I only asked her to teach my children to call me father.

• Death Certificate for Amelia Coplan

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