The Approach to the Monongahela River

Braddock's defeat, Battle on the Monongahela
Howard Pyle
(Source)

Lieutenant Will Jefferson was watching as the sappers worked hard to widen what the locals had called a road, but which was more of a track through the wilderness. Jefferson knew that in order for the army to capture and hold Fort Duquesne, the road was necessary. First to bring up the cannon they would need to breach the fort, second to bring up supplies to sustain the position once it was taken from the French. At the present rate of advance, Jefferson was beginning to wonder if they would ever get there.

The whizzing of a ball, followed by a bang, caused Jefferson to turn to his left. A telltale cloud of powder smoke was drifting on the breeze near a small thicket on the left flank.  He turned to his company sergeant, Miles Ashburnham and yelled out, "Enemy on the left Sarn't!"

His company sergeant was already getting the 44th's grenadier company to deploy to meet the threat implied by the single shot when Major Tomlinson galloped up, "No time Will, they mean to delay us by this harassing fire, if we deploy for every damned flicker of a Frenchie in the trees we'll be on this march until Michaelmas!"

"Very good Sir!" Jefferson called out, again noting that Ashburnham was already getting the men back into column. Damned fine fellow that sergeant, he mused to himself.

Jefferson thought back to his earlier foray into the wilderness back during King George's War, he rather wished he still had his band of Mohicans with him. These grenadiers were fine fellows but too used to the European way of fighting. Line up, discharge your firelocks, then have at them with the bayonet. The French and their Indian allies would be long gone by the time you moved up.

"Steady lads, keep your intervals, heads up, eyes out to the flank!" Jefferson felt like he'd been giving the same order since they had left Cumberland, Maryland some days before. No doubt he'd be doing so for the foreseeable future. The road was advancing at a breathtaking two miles a day, and that on a good day!

Little Wolf came through the brush in a hurry. "We fired on les anglais, but they didn't deploy. They started to, then an officer on horseback stopped them. So we delayed them not at all!"

Alain Gaudry shook his head, les anglais were getting smarter. "Jacques, take five of your men, move back towards where the enemy came from. Kill one of their horseback officers, that might give them pause. They are coming on far too fast, Capitaine de Beaujeu needs time to set an ambush."

Jacques Gaudry, Alain's younger brother, nodded and with hand signals picked two of the coureurs de bois and three Abenaki to accompany him. As they slipped into the shadows of the forest, Little Wolf grunted and said, "Those other français move like crippled old Mohicans in the forest, but our brother Jacques moves like an Abenaki warrior."

Alain grinned then gestured for the rest of his men to follow him.

Alain Gaudry, though he held no military rank, commanded a party of seventeen Frenchmen, most of them trappers and hunters, and twenty-three Abenaki warriors who were, in theory, led by Little Wolf, now a war chief in his own right. But Little Wolf always deferred to Alain, who he called older brother as a mark of respect.

The English were advancing towards Fort Duquesne, they were determined to drive France out of the Ohio country. The French were equally determined to prevent that.

The red arrow points to Alexandria, VA. The blue to Fort Duquesne
Chase the link to see the map full size.
(Source)

Major John Tomlinson was riding with the 44th's colonel, Sir Peter Halkett¹. Unlike many in the Army, Tomlinson liked Halkett, he found him to be a man of honor and completely loyal to the King. His conduct after being captured by the Jacobites during the Rebellion of 1745 had been correct, if somewhat eccentric. Being a Scot himself, Halkett was suspected of conflicting loyalties. But he was faithful to his King and to his regiment.

"So tell me John, do you know the man I have commanding my grenadier company, Leftenant Jefferson?"

"Only by reputation Sir Peter. I believe he was in the 1st Foot Guards at one time, wasn't he cashiered for some incident in King George's War? I've had some dealings with him, seems like a decent chap."

Colonel Halkett nodded and said, "Was in the wilderness in New Hampshire, led a band of Mohicans warriors for quite some time. Was rather successful until the Abenaki managed to get the better of him. His command was slaughtered, he was the sole survivor. It's said that the Abenaki took him to the Fort at Number 5 and left him. Odd that, word on the frontier was that the man was a bit of a hothead, but respected nevertheless."

"Fascinating. How did he..."

"Chose him myself, his father is a friend of mine, knew him in Parliament. Sound chap, I assumed that the boy was as well. When he joined the regiment he was on my staff. When the man commanding my grenadiers purchased a captaincy in the Royal Welch Fusiliers I gave the company to Jefferson. He hasn't disappointed me yet..."

The colonel pulled the head of his horse around to the left as a flurry of musket shots emanated from a nearby wood. "What the blazes are those devils up to now?"

Tomlinson had also started to turn when he felt a sudden pressure in his upper chest. He looked down at the arrow protruding from his body and was amazed that he felt no pain. He had felt the arrow hit. It was then that he noticed that the arrow had lodged itself in his swordbelt. Though it had penetrated the leather and pierced the outer layer of his coat, it hadn't injured him in any way.

Halkett watched as one of his line companies advanced towards where the firing had come from, then he turned and saw Tomlinson, "Damme John, you've been hit!"

"I'm quite alright Sir Peter, didn't penetrate to the skin. Damned close one though!"

"Grey Fox, I saw your arrow strike home, what happened? The man continued to ride along the column as if he were unharmed." Jacques was leading his men away, perpendicular to the line of the English column's advance. Once clear they would turn north to meet up with his brothers.

"I do not know Little Bear, perhaps the range was too long and it merely lodged in his coat. Ayah! I would love a coat that protected me from arrows!"

Jacques chuckled, both at Grey Fox's wish for an English coat and by the use of Jacques' Abenaki name, Little Bear. Because Alain and he had both had full beards last winter, one of the Abenaki had suggested that the two Frenchmen looked like bears on their hind legs. As Alain was the larger of the brothers, he was called "Big Bear," and Jacques, of course, was "Little Bear."

Jefferson saw that the trail had been widened sufficiently for the wagons to proceed. He was told to take his company into the lead. Though the "road" was wider, it was still closed in by the forest on both sides, he wouldn't be able to deploy his men if he had to. Visibility to the front wasn't good either as the road bent around a large boulder to the right.

"Sarn't Ashburnham! Send a small party around that bend, at the double time!"

"Sir!"

Ashburnham had selected ten men of the company, nearly a third of its strength to follow him forward. As he was sorting them out he went behind the men, as he did so a volley rang out from just down the road, near the bend. Three of the grenadiers went down in a heap.

"All right lads, form up, form up, let's give 'em a volley in return!" Ashburnham got the men formed up and had them firing in no time at all. But their bullets ripped into an empty forest.

"Cease fire Sarn't! The bastards are gone." Jefferson hated this nibbling at the column, three of his men were down. One had been killed outright, the other two were wounded, one mortally. As he got the remainder of the company down the road to the bend, he saw something pinned to one of the nearby trees.

Jefferson felt a chill run down his spine.

It was a scalp. A European scalp.

¹ Also see this.

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