The Creeks, uh, boxed up about 400 or 500 people at Fort Mims and, uh, massacred every one of ’em. ‘Course this was big news around those parts, so I up and joined the volunteers. I did a little scoutin’, but mostly I, I just fetched in venison for the cook fire, things of that nature. Well, we caught up with those redskins at Tallusahatchee, surrounded the village, come in from all directions. Wasn’t much of a fight, really. We just shot ’em down like dogs. Finally… what Injuns was left, they crowded into this little cabin. They wanted to surrender, but this squaw, she loosed an arrow and killed one of the fellas, and then we shot her. And then we set the cabin on fire. We could hear ’em screamin’ for their gods in there. We smelled ’em burnin’. We’d had nary to eat but parched corn since October. And the next day, when we dug through the ashes, we found some potaters from the cellar. They’d been cooked by that grease that run off them Indians. And we ate till we nearly burst. Since then, you pass the taters and I pass ’em right back.
The Alamo, Davy Crockett