Lexington and Concord - Day of Battle

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Tom and Will Clark were brothers, Tom being the older by a year. Both had been farm hands in a small village in Essex, had been until they were old enough to escape that life and take the King's Shilling,

They were big lads, and strong from all that farm work growing up, so big and strong that they were made grenadiers. Elite soldiers, so they were told, who now stood shivering with the rest of their company on the shore of Boston's Back Bay. Waiting for the boats which would take them to the "mainland" as their company sergeant major, Bill Lewis, called it.

Neither brother knew whether it was very early in the morning or very late at night (both being damned near the same thing Tom thought). They only knew that while Spring had technically arrived, the nights and mornings still bore a sharp chill.

"Alright lads, steady, our boat's right there, let's go sailing!" Sergeant Major Lewis called out.

"Sarn't Major, haven't ye had enough of boats for the time being?" Will joked, all were well aware that the sergeant major had been sick as a dog the entire Atlantic crossing.

"That's enough out of you Will Clark! Move laddies, let's get aboard!"

The crossing was uneventful, the grenadiers stood quietly as the sailors rowed them across the water. When the boat finally grounded on the opposite shore, the men scrambled over the sides, into the cold water, and formed up quickly.

"My bloody boots are soaked through, this army life will be the death of me yet." Will grumbled to his older brother, hoping that the sergeant major hadn't heard him.

"Jesus Will, keep your voice down..." Tom Clark began, only to be interrupted by Sergeant Major Lewis, who missed nothing and heard everything in "his" company.

"So Will Clark, chattering like a magpie again are we? The army might not be the death of ye, but I swear that I will kill you myself if you don't shut your gob!"

"Yes, Sarn't Major, sorry Sarn't Major."

As Lewis turned and walked to the front of the company, to make sure the leftenant didn't make a complete hash of things, Will Clark stuck his tongue out.

"Stick it out again Clark and I'll have you flogged."

With that Will shut his mouth, wondering if the sergeant major was some sort of demon, the man never missed a trick.

The sun was well up before the assembled troops moved off, whereas it had been quite brisk before, as the dew evaporated in the bright sun it was growing quite hot. Nothing like a brisk march and a wool coat to warm a fellow up!

A small village green was just ahead, from his position near the flank of the column, Tom Clark could see there was a small body of men formed upon the green. In civilian clothing but he could see that these men were armed. "What deviltry is afoot this fine morning?" he wondered.

An officer rode out ahead of the column and directed the men to their left, ordering them from march column to line formation. When that maneuver was completed, the officer ordered the men to halt. The command rippled down the column behind them as well, repeated by each commander in turn.

Then the mounted man faced the grenadier company and ordered...

"Company will fix bayonets!"

The grenadiers reached back and gripped the sockets of their bayonets. Tom could see that his brother Will looked very pale, obviously he had seen the armed men as well.

"Fix!"

A ripple of movement down the line...

"BAYONETS!"

With bayonets now fixed, the grenadiers stood like statues, the officer wheeled his horse towards the men on the green and ordered them to lay down their arms and disperse at once, in the name of the King!

The armed civilians seemed to waver, ever so slightly. Tom could not understand how these few civilians, armed with what appeared to be older versions of the musket the grenadiers carried and not a few fowling pieces as well, thought they could withstand the might of the British Army.

Tom watched the officer turn his horse again and trot back to where the company was formed.

"Charge your BAYONETS!"

With a yell, the grenadiers threw one foot forward and leveled their muskets, bayonets at the ready. At that moment, Tom saw a puff of smoke, powder smoke, by a stone wall off to the right of the green. Then he heard the sharp buzz of a ball pass nearby. Dear Lord, they're shooting at us. Are they insane?

A number of men, Will included, fired off their muskets in the general direction of the slowly disappearing smoke.

"Hold your fire, hold your fire!" Sergeant Major Lewis screamed as he used his spontoon to slap some of the men's muskets up. Tom had never seen the man so furious. In an instant, the command was given to advance.

As the drums rolled, the grenadiers stepped off. A single, ineffective volley was fired by the civilians, many of them began to run.

"Company, HALT!"

"Present your firelocks!"

"FIRE!"

A volley rang out from the company line. Tom felt the big musket kick back against his shoulder as he immediately began to reload. As the smoke rolled away, he could see a number of the civilians down on the ground, some writhing in agony, some as still as the grave.

"Company will advance!"

The drums rolled and the grenadiers moved forward again. Many of the civilians had vanished into the houses surrounding the green. Some still stood, reloading.

"At them lads! Give 'em cold steel!" The officer on horseback shouted.

With a yell the grenadiers rushed forward. One or two of the civilians were bayoneted where they stood. Will pursued one man right to the door of one of the houses and bayoneted the man in the lower back. Will watched in shock as the man fell, Will's bayonet still in his back. There was so much blood.

Tom Clark rushed up and pushed Will aside. Grabbing his brother's musket, he placed a foot on the civilian's back and yanked back on Will's musket. As the man groaned and tried to rise, Tom handed Will's musket back to him, then pushed the wounded man back down.

"Stay still laddie, your fight's over."

The man tried to sit up, groaning, "Damned lobsterback bastard, rot in Hell!"

Shocked, Tom hit the man in the face with the butt of his musket, killing the wounded civilian.

"You had your chance mate, come on Will, we need to rejoin the company."

Will Clark was in shock, he had stabbed a man, then watched his brother kill him. What in the world was going on? This couldn't be happening, it's such a beautiful day. Why are we killing our fellow Englishmen?

The company quickly reformed and stepped off in march column once more. All along the road Tom could see men off in the distance, seemingly in a hurry to get somewhere. The march continued unopposed as the day grew hotter. Tom was worried about Will, he was quiet and seemed to be staring off into the distance, following the man in front of him without really paying attention.

They went into Concord, smashed up a number of cannon carriages and caissons, a couple of the lads set fire to a haystack. It all seemed like great fun, though Tom was wondering what they were going to do next. The officers all seemed angry, apparently what they had marched out of Boston for was not to be found, at least not in the quantities the officers seemed to expect.

Reforming, the column moved off down the road they had come into Concord on. Not far away Tom heard musket fire, serious musket fire, volleys were being exchanged close by, though he couldn't see where.

Tom began seeing bodies of formed men on the nearby ridge lines and moving parallel to the road they were on, some of the older men, the veterans. were looking a bit worried. It seemed to Tom that a war might be starting this very day, were these men insane?

As the company rounded a bend in the road, a volley rang out from behind a nearby stone wall. As Tom looked in that direction, he heard a high-pitched scream and saw their young leftenant pitch from his horse, blood staining the man's trousers nearly the same color as his jacket. The young man died before he hit the ground.

Sergeant Major Lewis quickly took control and ordered the men to face right and present their firelocks. As he ordered a volley, Tom saw nothing but smoke from where the civilians had fired from, they had vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

"Reload lads, quickly now!"

As ramrods rattled down barrels, as men bit off cartridges, another volley came from the opposite side of the road. More men in the company went down, some were unmoving, some were helped onto their feet as the Sergeant Major got the men moving again. They had to get out of this enclosed space and get to where they could form up properly and hit back.

The day went on like that, agonizing hour after hour, until they met up with more British troops coming up from Boston. The civilians, the rebels as one officer had called them, had faded back into the countryside. Leaving the King's troops battered, bloodied, and exhausted.

Tom and Will marched back to Boston, wondering what the day had meant. Wondering how their fellow Englishmen could hate them so. Will was changed, he was quieter, life wasn't so funny any more.

While Will had been shocked at how he had bayoneted a fellow human being earlier in the day, along the march he had gone from being confused to grimly determined. He had expended nearly all of the rounds from his cartridge box. Tom remembered watching his brother calmly load and fire throughout the long day, had remembered his brother's grunt of satisfaction as he saw at least one man go down when he fired.

Will was no longer the frightened boy he had been that morning, he was now a soldier.

War had come to the King's American possessions, again.

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