The Voice - An Alamo Ghost Experience

By Nick Medrano

One night, at around 1am, we were setting up to attack the West Wall of the Alamo when I noticed the sound man glancing off into the northern distance of the field. He was looking off into the distance in the brush of trees where the massive lights could not penetrate the pitch blackness. As the director yelled “cameras up!” and prepared to give the cue for the scene, the soundman re-focused his attention on the picture they were ready to shoot. The Mexican army readied their arms, fastened their bayonets and tightened their head gear. As we waited for the AD (assistant director) to give us the cue to charge, I couldn’t help but notice the soundman occasionally look off into the northern darkness. I noticed his eyes squint as he pressed his earphones into his ears. The soundman then pointed his boom microphone (long stick with a microphone at end) towards the darkness as he squinted his eyes again. What was he looking at? What did he hear?

Then we heard it. Two friends at the end of the battalion line shook their heads in awe. It was a yell. Someone was yelling from the distance….but, it was subtle. You could not hear it unless you really listened for it. But, it was there. Someone out there, beyond the trees, was yelling what sounded like “Help Me”!!

“Action!,” yelled the AD. I stood there as my comrades made a charge---and I quickly rejoined them as we sprinted to the West Wall, forgetting about the voice and trying to regain focus on the matter at hand while firing round after round of powder. The West Wall was a weakly defended section of the Alamo and we quickly were able to gain cover from overhead fire by running and shooting until we made it to the wall. While at the wall, the defenders had a hard time shooting straight down at us, and we quickly made work of them by firing and covering, firing and covering, firing and covering…sort of like cylinders on a car’s engine….one stepped out and fired while the other ducked and loaded.

“Cut!” screamed the director. Some soldiers were still firing, obviously full of adrenaline and caught up in the moment. “Cut g*d dammit, Cut!” A few more shots of musket here and there, but finally the action truly ended. Some groans were heard and obscenities mumbled after the director told us to go back to where we started and prepare to do the scene again. It was now somewhere around 2am and some of us were beginning to weaken due to the lack of sleep for the past 17 hours.

As we walked back to the area where we started, I made sure to try and sneak to the end and find my friends who heard “the voice”. I unbuttoned my helmet as I walked to the…..

I heard it again.

This time, more of us heard it. I looked back at the soundman and noticed that he was already recording the sounds with his boom mic. The AD was busy complaining about the camera position while simultaneously yelling to his crew about someone using a flash camera and ruining the shot---and when that happens, it usually meant we had another 30minutes of spare time before we would do the shot again. At this time, though, one of the Production Assistants walked down to the end of the line and whispered, “Did you hear that?” Three of us nodded in reply. We discussed several scenarios on what the “voice” could be. At the northern end of the field, behind some bushes and mesquite trees, lies a fence that borders off a cliff that dips down into the form of a canyon full of limestone and cold, rushing water from a nearby underground river called Hamilton Pool, a popular swimming and rock climbing spot in the area. We came up with the possibility that maybe someone was trapped down there or possibly fell down in the area during the day. The park, though, closes at 5:30pm.

As we were discussing other possibilities, we heard the voice one more time. This would be the last for the day. The voice was a mix between a harsh, sore throat with a feminine yell. “Heeeeeelp…..meeeee” was the cry and a few other soldados heard it and turned to look into that direction, but they paid no real attention.

The PA (production assistant) told someone on his walkie talkie that he was going to take a couple of guys with him to investigate the sound. He grabbed two of us and they quickly walked into the darkness where the fence borders the cliff, being careful not to venture too far. It was a tricky area—one slip and you could break an ankle or a knee, and god forbids, anything else. I watched as they walked into the brush, their silhouettes eventually enveloped by the pitch blackness like stars getting sucked into a black hole.

I looked back at the other 200 soldados sitting and taking advantage of any free moment they could, many sleeping on the cold ground with nothing but a haversack as a pillow and their wool coats as a blanket. My mind drifted into the thought that “this is what it must have been like” back then. Soldiers were cold and they could do nothing about it...so they bunched up. They bonded. Nervous laughter kept them warm and stories of home and other far off places probably often kept them sane. Sometimes a comrade had a blanket barely big enough for himself, but somehow, it was able to shelter 3 soldados on a chilly night…even if it meant that 6 cold feet would be sticking out.

The cold….it makes you grateful for what you have.

I heard footsteps around me and realized it was the PA and his gang. “Did you find anything?” I asked. “No,” they said.

It was a week that would go by before we would hear the “voice” again. By this time, many people came up with their own conclusions and stories on when and how they heard it and what they thought it could be. Word quickly spread around the set like wild fire and there were even reports that the fire department went down there searching for any signs of…well…anything. Some people even reported that they found an abandoned musket in the area, but no signs of life. No body knew what to make of it, though, some possibilities existed:

• About a mile and a half away from the cliff lies the re-enactors camp. Since these poor souls were not paid for their lodging, many camped out near the set. Perhaps some were playing a joke on us, or maybe they weren’t, and the cold wind might have picked up a yell from near the camp. Sound travels well in the cold night air---sometimes a voice can be heard from miles away.

The problem is, is that all the re-enactors were on the set during the night battle scenes. If you didn’t show up, you lose about a $125 worth of pay. It was suicide to not show up and not get paid. Re-enactors were also the LAST people you’d expect to not show up. They were hardcore about their work and it showed.

• At around half a mile south of the Alamo set lies an area strictly dedicated to nurturing animals such as longhorns, horses, and other cattle for the film. These animals were used as background material for some of the Bexar/Alamo scenes in the film. Here, there were two large peacocks that had distinctive calls in various times of the day. One of the extras on the set commented that peacocks have calls that sound almost human and it’s possible that one of their distinctive night calls might have been the “voice” we have been hearing. If anyone reading this happened to graduate with a degree in peacock mating calls, feel free to comment about this.....

 

• Maybe some people snuck into the set or the Hamilton Pool area at night to get a glimpse of the filming. But, who in their right mind is going to yell in the middle of the night and risk being caught by security. Set security was extremely tight and nightly patrols were not an uncommon sight.

 

• The date the “voices” started was on March 6, 2003…the same day and month when the Alamo defenders were massacred by the Mexican Army. Coincidence?

The story ain’t over yet.

About a week later, when the night battles were starting to wind down, the Mexican Army was given some “half days”—half of a day would be spent filming while the other half would be spent sleeping in the Extras Holding area. The filmmakers were moving to different phases of the production schedule at this time and most of the time spent involved close up shots of the Alamo defenders inside the Alamo and other various close shots from within the walls. The director knew that you just can not keep over 200-300 Mexican army extras sitting outside the walls waiting for the next scene, so he usually had us dismissed to the Extra’s Holding Area…and this usually lasted for the entire night. Hours were spent here in an adobe structure that also doubled for a Bexar cantina. Many people liked the holding area for its dimness and shelter and it meant the tired soldado can get sleep some sleep, but it wasn’t long before a few soldados started to figure out that the building was like living in an enclosed bubble. Whatever the guy next to you sneezed or coughed out, you were bound to inhale it sooner or later. Many people got sick this way---you could see the air full of dust and other particles and sometimes it was so dark in there you couldn’t see what or where exactly you were sitting on. And if you fall asleep, you better be sure you have a friend or someone to wake you up when the director calls. Many an unlucky soldado was left sleeping unknowingly in this building until a PA came along and woke you up. By this time, you were pretty much fired from the job and sent home. So, “guard duty” was often posted by various soldados to make sure at least someone was awake at different times of the night in case the director called.

But, I didn’t sleep that night. A friend and I decided to walk around the set for a bit and see what else the set designers created. The Alamo movie set was gigantic. It was, at the time, the biggest movie set created in North America and maybe in the entire world. Tons of little huts and other edifices littered the landscape and many more tents dotted the hills making it quite easy to get lost at night.

We came to a spot between Bexar and the Alamo compound where I leaned against a cold cannon awaiting its artillerist who has gone off to sleep somewhere. I noticed a small rabbit nearby trotting to a small hut on the other side of the field, attracted by two big lights that shone on the West Wall of the Alamo. It was now 3am and still pitch black. I looked back and found my friend already sound asleep at the base of the cannon. I heard some shouts from within the compound and a smooth assuring voice which sounded like Billy Bob Thornton. They must be shooting his last scenes. A few musket shots rang out in the cold air….but my eyes blurred and I began to drift off into a deep sleep…..

I saw something.

The weight of my eye lids became lighter as I looked to my left. Off there, off into the place where mesquite trees bunched up and scattered for miles into the hill country, where the pitch blackness proved impossible to penetrate, was what appeared to be two……

The Second Part to this story will be posted soon!

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