As the first glimmer of dawn came out of the east, the fateful winding of a bugle broke the stillness of the Sabbath morn. Voices were faintly heard in stern command, and then, like the sweep of a tidal wave, mingled with the earthquake’s sullen roar, the unleashed hosts of Santa Anna swarmed against the massive walls of the Alamo. When near the fort they were met by a storm of grape and slugs and the bullets of the riflemen. Two thousand five hundred Mexicans took part in the first attack, advancing in three columns against the eastern, western, and northern sides, but they recoiled in confusion before the withering fire. Colonel Duque was killed as he approached the northern wall, and his men were thrown into terrified confusion. Upon the other sides of the fortress the attack was at first repelled; but behind the shrinking men who faced the first fire came the forces in reserve, until they outnumbered the defenders fifteen to one, and at last they reached the walls. Finding it impossible to scale them, the whole assault was directed against the stockade upon the northern side. Here the walls were comparatively low, and the ladders could be used. In the meantime the men within were loading and firing with desperate energy. The slaughter was terrible, and two or three hundred Mexicans had fallen before the partial shelter of the walls was gained. Here they were safe from the fire of the cannon overhead, but at so close a range almost every bullet found a victim. Only the knowledge that others were hurrying to their support kept them from fleeing for their lives.