John Blackshoe Sends - Serendipity History

Got Beavers? The Fort Bridger, Wyoming, Labor Day Rendezvous

The Bible and the beaver were the two mainstays of the Plymouth Colony during its early years.

Quoted by Eric Jay Dolin- more about him at the end of this piece.

Out here on the former frontier, they have an annual "Rendezvous" at Fort Bridger, WY just over the mountains from Salt Lake. This was a trading post started by mountain man Jim Bridger in 1843 as a place where fur trappers of the mountain west would gather annually to sell their pelts and squander their earnings on necessities, luxuries or vices before returning to the wilderness to chase more critters.

A really quick history of Ft. Bridger.

On the direct route across the plains (now I-80) this was on the route for Johnston's Army in 1858 when they came out to ensure that the Mormons behaved, and spent the winter at Ft. Bridger. They subsequently crossed the mountains and by 1860 the vast majority of the U.S. Army was in Utah, and were recalled back east as tensions leading to the Civil War deteriorated. The Army built a “fort” near Bridger's trading post and it was a guardian of the Pony Express route, followed by the telegraph line, and the transcontinental railroad arrived in 1868. The fort was only a minor player in the various Indian War campaigns into the late 1880s. Then it was shut down, and merely a stopping point along the Lincoln Highway (U.S. Route 30) and the fort buildings converted to commercial uses or torn down. In the 1930s, the state of Wyoming took it over as a state historical site, and has done a great job preserving or reconstructing some of the structures and interpreting its history. Although the state owns the site, the Rendezvous is run by a small non-profit group of historians, reenactors and shooters.

This Rendezvous event is mostly historical, sometimes hysterical, a bit commercial and always interesting.

Two camping areas- one for traditional teepees and tents, the other for "tin teepee" campers.

Part of the campsite with teepees and tents.
Photo by author.

Participants (but not visitors) must be in costume circa 1840 or earlier. They are history nerds, like me, but not the same tribe.

A quick intro to the Rendezvous.

They have muzzle loading rifle matches, knife and tomahawk throwing, and also frying pan throwing for the women. Dutch oven cookery, blacksmithing, weaving, and other crafts. Native American dancers share their traditional dances in costume. I believe these are Shoshone (Sacajawea’s tribe), but several other tribes also participate. The dances tell a story, helping them preserve their history and pass it down to younger generations. Dancers include men and women from youngsters to mature adults, with different dances and drum beats and chants.

Crappy photo by author

About 100-150 vendors were set up in tents selling crafts, clothing, decorative items, jewelry, muzzle loading guns, hatchets, refreshments (non-alcoholic) and about a dozen food vendors like you find at carnivals and the like.

Editor's Note: JB had some very interesting photos of the following chap actually skinning a beaver. As it is my policy to not post photos which might put someone off their breakfast early in the morning, I didn't include all of them. I did include one with the gore pixelated out. Apologies to JB, but that's just the way I roll.

Beaver pelt removed and being cleaned.
Photo by author. (Edited by OAFS)

This year they had someone demonstrating how you get beaver skins to trade. Start by trapping a beaver, then skin it. Stretch the hide on a wooden stretcher and then sell dozens or hundreds to traders who sell them to hatters to make beaver felt hats. The hatters used mercury to loosen and shape the beaver hair into hats, and mercury poisoning caused many to be “mad as a hatter.”

This guy is a trapper, as well as a historical participant, and this was one of many beavers he trapped this year, a very small one. He froze it, and thawed out for the event. Trappers don’t have any use for the feet, so he cut those off, and gave them to kids who were delighted, although unsure what to do with a beaver foot. (Don't ask me!) He explained the process as he did all the cutting and skinning.

He explained that some cuts of beaver meat were pretty good such as the equivalent of tenderloin, but not a lot of meat on them. The tails are sort of leathery and can be used for wallets, shoe soles, and other purposes, and do not really have any commercial value. Selling price for small beaver pelts like this one from a 15 pound animal is about $10-15, while pelts from larger 30-40 pounder beavers bring more like $30-40.

Once the pelt is removed, any meat is scraped off the hide, and then it is stretched and dried. In the Plains Indian culture, the skinning and tanning of buffalo hides was usually done by the women.

He had a pretty good crowd and people were attentive to his presentation, either from curiosity, or aghast that some innocent woodland creature was being butchered before their sensitive eyes. Or, maybe just interested in learning essential frontier survival skills. Kids seemed really interested. Remember, many folks out here on the former frontier are ranchers or farmers who know where meat and fiber come from and how their forebears depended on frontier skills. They know meat does not grow in white plastic trays in the supermarket.

Other interesting sights included the folks in their fur trade costumes and lots of kids playing in the small stream that flows through the fort. Many of the original and restored buildings are open and very well done, worth exploring instead of the trade goods vendors.

A 1.65” Hotchkiss gun widely used during the Indian Wars

Photo by author.

Among the anomalies were a handful of bagpipers marching around delighting or annoying the visitors. I rather enjoy a serenade from the “ladies from Hell” occasionally. There used to be a very large contingent of Harley bikers who came out for this, but only a few in recent years. Most noteworthy oddball sights this year were (1) a burro in full Mexican regalia with saddle, etc; and (2) a large white poodle shaved in the customary way, with Barbie pink tail, foot tufts and ears. Some things you cannot unsee.

So, summer is drawing to a close. Soon the mountain west will be inundated with Kalifornia skiers, and we will long for the relatively normalcy of pink poodles and caparisoned burros.

Fort Bridger’s Rendezvous is a barely visible reminder of the extent and importance of the beaver (and other) fur trade which was pervasive in our country for several hundred years.

One of the most profoundly impactful books I have read (actually listened to while driving) was Eric Jay Dolin’s Fur, Fortune and Empire: The Epic History of the Fur Trade in America, published in 2010 with about 442 pages. Used copies are available under $10 from AbeBooks.com

Editor's Note: I was unable to embed the following video, so you'll have to chase that link.

Here is a great C-Span presentation by the author summarizing the book in 51 minutes.

Doing My Part

Seeing how I've been referenced a couple times over the past week here at the Chant, and our esteemed Chant CEO seems to be a bit worn out, I figured I would take a stab. 

First we had Juvat talking about how I am not quite elderly, although I really feel like it some days.  I wouldn't quite call myself an old soul, but I think I take on more than I should sometimes both in my family life and what I do with the Knights of Columbus.  There always seems to be something going on with the KofC or our parish, and either as a requirement of my position, or out of a sense of obligation, I often say yes and participate.  Fortunately my wife is all supportive, and it's not like I have kids at home that I would be taking time away from family, but it does seem to be a lot.  I only wish that more of our many many members would step up and take a bit off of my plate. 

For instance, we just held a youth activity at the parish school, a soccer challenge where students kick penalty shots into the corners of the goal for different scores. The 6th 7th and 8th graders participated and it took almost the entire afternoon.  I put it out to our membership, yet not a single man showed up. The PE teacher and principal were quite grateful, and the kids loved it, which is the reason we do it, but I get tired of the "we" being only "me."

It's not just the KofC, but at home I have a heavy load of the chores, seeing how my wife doesn't like to cook.  She also tends to get lost and overwhelmed in the grocery store so she hates shopping for food, which is my job, along with all the bills.  But, I also can't risk another expensive silk Tommy Bahama shirt going through the wash so I tend to do more of the laundry.  This gets to me sometimes, but it's not worth an argument so I put up with it.*

56, going on 66.

  Somebody here told me to bring back the 'stache so here you go.

I realize I'm airing a bit of dirty laundry there, but those tiny stressors do build up and you can see it on my face, which looks maybe 10 years older than it really is. Since getting a CPAP machine though I'm getting far better sleep than I was for many years. And that has reduced the sagginess under my eyes.  While I should have got that device years ago, I am definitely grateful for my Tricare and VA healthcare, probably the best benefit coming from being retired. I don't know how people afford their huge premiums and massive deductibles, barely able to afford their insurance, yet can't afford to use it either.

Speaking a bit of those struggling, let us pray for those victims of hurricane Helene, which is shaping up to be Katrina's bigger meaner younger sister. Not to get too political here but I have seen a few videos with people lamenting the amount of aid going to Ukraine, Israel, Taiwan, and others, while red blooded Americans there are getting $750.  I know it's far more complex than that, but when we have wiped out (or used any of ) our FEMA accounts to pay for all those illegal aliens that have been brought here or shown an open door, there's definitely something wrong.

Kadena AFB Burger King!   Source

Sarge referenced Okinawa a couple times recently, which is one of the things we have in common. While I wasn't stationed in that part of Japan, we operated in that region several times a year and Okinawa was always a favored divert.  Why you ask? Because it had a Burger King and a chicken place I can't remember, Popeyes maybe?  We didn't have that up in Atsugi, only a weird McDonald's that served some strange Japanese variants of U.S. fare.  I also spent some time in Okinawa at the Navy hospital, where my son and wife were after he was born premature.  Then at the end of my career, my Admiral was at White Beach on the southern end so I went there a couple times. 

Source

While I wouldn't trade my Naval Aviation career for anything, I do get a tad jealous of the Air Force guys, not just for their fast food, but the daily pleasures that they probably took for granted.  It's been many many years since the US Navy allowed drinking on board, so it wasn't like when we got off work we could throw one back.  But those beer days are fondly remembered, Steel Beach picnics after being at sea for 45 days straight without a port visit, three total in my career.  On that day the Chiefs would barbecue something, and each sailor and officer would get two beers each.  However, it never was just two beers each!  They really didn't want to keep leftovers down below at the end of the day, so that end of the day, if you stuck around, was quite a happy one.  Six I think was my total on one of those days. Fortunately, I had no duty or flights until the next day.  Ahh, to be young again!

I may have already written about this in the past, but if I had to do it over again I probably wouldn't have requested to go to Japan. I had just married my 23-year-old wife 6 months before, and she was quite close to her family. Taking her to Japan she had no one, save the other wives, so it was a bit tough on her.  This may have been a factor in my son being born so early.  During that time, my mother-in-law actually got a nice little letter and certificate from AT&T acknowledging her being in the top 5% of all residential customers!  This is because of the astronomic phone bills she racked up during that 3 years. 

Sarge also mentioned a video link I had shared regarding Honest Abe.  While it made for a good discussion on his post, that wasn't necessarily the type of attention I would normally want brought to myself on here.  The link was quite critical of President Lincoln and in hindsight I was rather embarrassed for sharing it.  Two lessons learned from that-  don't try to out-history a historian, and I need to not get sucked into some of these stupid videos on Tube-U.

Well, that's enough storytelling for today. Our big Mustangs By the Bay car show** is this weekend (today as you read this) and as the club president, yes I know I take on too much, I have some duties to attend to before during and after.  The opening photo is my favorite Mustang and I may have the opportunity to buy one just like it next year.  A friend of mine in Vegas is selling his, and is giving me first dibs.  We'll see if I can afford what will surely be a discounted price as he's promised, but I'm excited about the opportunity.  I thought against it at first, seeing how it's not really practical- no extra garage space, no mechanical know-how, and I already have a Mustang, but my wife said that at this point in our lives, we don't need to be practical.  Isn't she great?  Maybe I should change my tune on those household chores!

*In her defense, she does all the cleaning, some of the cooking, running errands, she's a fabulous baker (which she loves), and I have learned to keep my special shirts far away from her when it's laundry day.

** Did you notice the little easter egg in the sky on that poster?  One of the perks of being President, and having an F-4 / F-14 driver running the show.

Worn Down to a Nub ...

Winchendon, MA
Source

I grew up in New England, so I'm kinda partial to the place.

Now I've lived in Japan, Korea, Colorado, Nebraska, Mississippi, and Germany. I've also spent lots of time in Texas, California, Virginia, Louisiana, and Maryland.

Texas doesn't really count though, all my time there was spent in Air Force training. Didn't get out much but traveling through Texas I had some awesome BBQ at a roadside place in Junction City.

But I, being born and raised in New England, expect to spend my twilight years here as well. If I can pull that off and The Missus Herself doesn't veto that plan. Oh well.

Clyde, The Rocking Horse
Winchendon, MA
Source

That rocking horse above, yclept Clyde, no really, has been a fixture of Winchendon, Massachusetts since I were nobbut a wee lad. The original was getting kinda weathered, so rather than lose that singular attraction, the town fathers had a new one built, the spitting image of the original, which still exists in storage, somewhere.

Now I've been driving past that attraction for 25 years now, it's on the way to the Homeland of Vermont/New Hampshire. I hope I'll be seeing it for a few years to come.

We shall see.

Damn, that's all I've got? Yup, didn't sleep well this week, allergies are acting up, got a low grade sinus thing going on as well.

So sorry folks, short rations today. Anyone care to ID those two guns in the opening photo?

Anyone?

Bueller?

How the Week Goes ...

Source

I cannot begin to describe the dislike I have for being on my own with The Missus Herself out in California. I like having somebody around to talk with, or not talk with, as the mood strikes either of us. With no more felines on station, I don't even have that going for me.

I know, I know, I could get another cat or two, were it something not absolutely banned by my better half. Her reasoning is sound, it's tough to lose them and she'd rather spare herself having to go through that again. Together we've weathered the loss of four of our feline companions. While the first was particularly rough, as Tiger was so young, it did not get easier.

At my age I view it as similar to what would I do if, heaven forbid, something were to happen to The Missus Herself? I would not remarry, nothing could replace her. Absolutely nothing.

We had our last cat, Anya, for nearly twenty years. We got to know each other's idiosyncrasies, moods, likes and dislikes, and all manner of things. Some have mentioned adopting a senior cat, a feline who perhaps lost his/her humans and is stuck at the shelter. As much as the idea appeals to me, The Missus Herself has said, in no uncertain terms, "No more."

So yeah, it gets lonely at Chez Sarge, especially as the days grow short and the temperature begins to venture into those numbers which are somewhat uncomfortable. While it ain't cold yet, the late nights and early mornings are a bit brisk. I'm not ready for that, not quite yet.

But, she returns next week and all (hopefully) will be well.

I have grandchildren, eight in fact. They range in age from twenty-two months old to sixteen years old. Three boys, five girls, and yes, the granddaughters have me wrapped around their little fingers, they know grandpa is a sucker for a cute smile.

I get to talk with my grandson Roberto a lot. His Mom, The Nuke, likes to stay in touch and her boys like seeing and talking to their grandparents. Grandson Finnegan, the youngest of the grandsons (in fact the youngest of them all), is just starting to talk. So while he will chatter away, he's not really communicating yet. That is, when Grandpa tries to employ his subtle wit, Finnegan will just stare at me.

Hhmm, come to think of it, I get that from a lot of people, not just Finnegan.

Anyhoo, Roberto loves to roughhouse. If I'm not paying attention, he will try a flying body block on me, knocking me ass over teakettle if I'm not prepared for it. Of course, he finds that hysterical. As do I, as long as the fall wasn't too painful. (I am getting up there ya know.)

Now thing is, Roberto has two sets of grandparents, Tuttle's dad apparently is not a big fan of being tackled, abused, or beaten on by his four year old grandson. Something I "enjoy," to a certain extent. So guess who has to make up for that when he visits?

Yup, Your Humble Scribe. Not that I mind, much. But visits to Maryland are starting to remind me of my very brief involvement in college football ...

I went out for the team as a walk-on, practices were rather fun until we had tackling drill. I was a rather smallish linebacker. More of a speed bump really.

The running back was a rather big fellow, bit bigger than me as a matter of fact. When the coach blew his whistle, the big fella started running at me. My brain registered the size disparity and I realized that my chances of bringing him down with a standard tackle were rather akin to trying to stop a rhinoceros with a .22 short round.

But if you hit them in just the right place ...

I kinda threw myself at his feet, figured I'd get tangled up in his wheels, so to speak, and at least make him stumble.

Well, I managed to hit the rhino just right, he went down in a heap. He popped up and said, "Nice tackle!"

I sort of groaned, nodded, and hobbled off to the locker room to turn in my equipment.

Visits to Roberto's house can be kinda like that, leaving me bruised and battered. Fortunately, his parents will get him to stop beating me up from time to time. Allows me to recover a bit before heading back into the lists.

But man, do I love wrestling with my grandsons. Now that there are two of 'em down in Maryland, I think I need to start getting sneakier! Soon they will be able to coordinate their attacks (or be-tacks as Roberto calls them) and I won't stand a chance.

But it's better'n being alone, innit?

Battlefield Preservation, Revisited

Battle of Bunker Hill
Howard Pyle
Source

Depicted above is Howard Pyle's beautiful painting of the Battle of Bunker Hill. The battle was fought on the 17th June in 1775. The painting has apparently been lost as it was stolen from a Delaware art museum back in 2001. Perhaps it's fitting as the battlefield itself has vanished underneath the city of Charlestown, Massachusetts. (See the map below.)

Source

While it would be nice to preserve every single historic place there is, at some point it becomes impractical to do so. People need places to live, to work, and to otherwise enjoy their own lives without being intruded upon by the legacy of dead warriors.

Or do they?

I have written about battlefield preservation once before, the subject of the area around the Bunker Hill monument came up there as well. I mean, I get it, both sides. Ancient history, get over it, there's land going to waste right there, let's build something on it so the people in this day and age can enjoy it. Damn what went before, who cares?

Well ...

There are people who care, people who understand the history of a place, what it means, and how it may relate to modern times. Not preserving history seems to me a bit like destroying all the photographs of yourself as a kid because you don't look like that any more. Who cares? Your great-great-grandchildren might look at those pictures someday, pictures of someone they never met, of what relevance are those photos to them?

Why bother taking photographs at all?

I was very, very young, a babe in arms literally, in a photograph of my great-grandfather, Alexander Bain holding his newest great-grandson, Your Humble Scribe. By the time I could understand such things and perhaps appreciate who the man was, he was dead, long dead. I had never known him to talk to him or to understand what his existence meant to me.

Still, when I see that picture I think of his daughter, my paternal grandmother, and remember just how much she loved me, and I her. I can still hear her voice and smell her kitchen when I haven't heard her voice or been in that kitchen for over fifty years. Half a century for crying out loud.

I have talked to my kids about their great-grandparents, hoping to somehow keep their memories alive. But will they pass that on to their own children, and they to theirs? I don't know.

I've never visited the site of the Battle of Bunker Hill. While I'm a big believer in "walking the ground" to understand a battle, there is literally no ground to be walked in the environs of the Bunker Hill Monument (which I suppose is actually on Breed's Hill?) So what would be the point?

Of course, Boston is now a major American city, should the city fathers have left the land adjacent to Charlestown, upon which stood the two hills, alone and undeveloped? Without leaving Boston in the same state, much would have been lost in leaving Bunker and Breed's Hills as they were in 1775.

How about the battles on Long Island and in the vicinity of New York City? Leave those as they were? While, as an historian, I think that would have been great, it would be exceedingly impractical and unrealistic to expect such a thing. Boston and New York are important port cities it was inevitable that industry would arise there and people would flock there to make their livings.

Battles often happen around key bits of terrain, like cities, and expecting future generations to preserve things as they were is probably asking too much. And if there's money to be made, expect a politician to chime in, just to get their taste, of course.

Progress is inevitable and merciless in many cases. But surely some bits can be saved?

What say you?

Not Feeling It ...

Source

Just don't feel like being creative today. Suffered through an annoying stomach bug over the weekend, a short one mind you as I had to work Friday last, and Monday was, well, it was Monday, wasn't it?

I may have kicked off The Revolution series a bit early, thought I was ready, turns out I'm not. I really need to reread John Galvin's The Minute Men: The First Fight: Myths and Realities of the American Revolution before I get deeper into the events of 1768 up to 1775. Thought I had that still in local memory, turns out it isn't.

I might even read David Hackett Fischer's Paul Revere's Ride before I continue. I'm just not in the right frame of mind to really go crazy with this story yet. But I have sketched out a few characters to begin with. So I've got that going for me.

Ah well, enough of that ...

Something that often surprises me is the amount of hatred I see for President Abraham Lincoln out and about the world wide web. Tuna left a link to a YouTube video on Sunday which I only watched part way before turning it off in disgust.

Lot of hatred for Old Abe in that video. I get the fact that the man did a lot of things that a lot of people back then (and now) didn't (don't) like. Now the way I see it, he saw his job as preserving the Union. He did that job. Did he do it well? As I see it, the Nation is still a going concern although there are a great many (some holding office in DC) who would like to tear the place down. So in that light, he did his job and he did it well.

It was the aftermath that didn't go so well and you can't blame Abe for that. After all, he was assassinated just six days after Lee's surrender at Appomattox. So Reconstruction wasn't his fault, any number of malodorous politicians can take "credit" for that fiasco.

Lincoln wanted to "let 'em up easy," he knew that in order for the United States to recover in all its parts that the North couldn't be lording it over the South. Which is exactly what happened. The effects of which can still be seen and felt 159 years after Lincoln's death.

So why such hatred for the man?

Enlighten me. (Remember, be nice and have your sources available for examination.)

Awww, Dentist for Tuna, juvat!*

 Yes, Folks, it is decidedly "Pick on Tuna" day here in the Lone Star State.  Why you ask?  Well, I found a video which I believe will serve him in good stead as he advances into the ranks of the "Elderly".  Now, using my artistic license, I define elderly as a moving variable (E).  The formula for that variable's value is thus:

E>1 + JA** (in years)

Now, there is a second formula which also defines Elderly.  That one is 

E=JA (in years)-1 

One can only be in one grouping or the others. This will be apparent shortly as this week's lesson to be learned is aimed at the second grouping.

So, on with the show. 

Mrs. J and I were in the truck headed eastword.  While we were not going TO Austin, we were headed to Dripping Springs which 20 years ago was a very small town well away from Austin.  Now, it's a suburb for the Austin Borg.  We were going to visit our friend from Texas Hills Winery.  I don't know if I'd mentioned her husband had passed away last year (it was a pretty rotten year all round).  She has just completed selling the winery and has bought a house in Dripping (the locals drop the "Spring" part).  Mrs J. needed to discuss with her the Wine River cruise coming up in November that our friend's going to be the MC for.  I wanted to drink a little wine.  

Win/Win!

Dinner was excellent, as was the wine.  As we're heading home, Mrs J is surfing videos on her phone.  She's laughing quite hard and I ask what's going on.  She replied that she had found a video that I "HAD" to post on this morning's blog.

So it is written, So it shall be!

The video is the 12 commandments for Senior Citizens. I think they're funny, along with a modicum of truth contained within.

So, Tuna, take them to heart, learn them and feel free to start applying them because you're rapidly approaching the age at which they become truthful.

BTW, #5 is particularly accurate at least as as far as I'm concerned.

Enjoy and...Peace Out Y'all!

* Actually it's "Audentes fortuna juvat". Or, Fortune favors the Bold.   This was the "Motto" of the 80TFS "The Juvats" of which I was a member.  Youngest guy in the squadron.  Learned a lot from the "older generation" the 30YO Captains and the 40YO Majors. The attached title is just a thought I had on the way home from Dripping and it stuck with me for some reason.  Besides, Tuna doesn't get enough grief around here.  Thought I'd fix that a bit.  Sue me!

**You'll have to think about that one.  I'm not going to define it.

Background

The Delaware Regiment of the Continental Army at the Battle of Long Island during the American Revolutionary War.
Domenick D'Andrea
Commissioned by the US National Guard Bureau, c. 2004
Source

Most of you, no doubt, learned various things about the American Revolution growing up. I'm not sure if that subject is still taught in schools, which, if not, is a crying shame. However, much of what we learned is often based on myth and legends. I seem to relearn this every time I do some research. (And it's not revisionist history if new sources are brought to light. Only if the facts are "re-interpreted" to push an agenda.)

The night of "Paul Revere's Ride" (which he wasn't alone in doing) - he didn't ride through the night shouting "The British are coming." Which would have made no sense at all to the colonists. In their minds, they were all British, they themselves and the troops occupying Boston. One of their main complaints is that they weren't being treated by the Crown as Englishmen.

No, Mr. Revere's ride was to raise the countryside, because for one thing shouting would have awakened loyalists and patriots alike, his was a stealth mission. Also, he would have been notifying the patriot leaders that "the Regulars are coming out," meaning that the Army was coming to seize their arms, powder, and shot.

It rather stunned me to learn in recent days that we didn't call the British troops "lobsterbacks." I grew up with that, I even called them "lobsterbacks" in my rerun the other day. That epithet was coined well after the Revolution. Rather rattled me, now I wonder what else I learned in school that was, well, let's just say, not that accurate.

At any rate, there seems to be some confusion among the readership as to where we are in the story,The Revolution. The story begins in Boston, in October of 1768. Before the Boston Massacre (or as the British call it, "the incident on King Street"), and before the Boston Tea Party.

The Massachusetts Bay colonists, some of them anyway, are rather upset about the new taxes which Parliament has levied on the colonies to pay for the French And Indian War (know in Europe as the Seven Years War) which ended in 1763, a scant five years before the beginning of this tale. So the military commander in North America, Sir Thomas Gage, has ordered more troops to Boston.

In our story, two British Army regiments have just landed in Boston to reinforce those already there. This would be the 14th Foot and the 29th Foot (some of whose members we have already met). And yes, the 29th had black drummers. (In later years many European armies, including Napoléon's, sought out black men as musicians. Why, I'm not sure, maybe I'll find out in my research.)

As for the troops marching out to the countryside and back, it was a way to keep the men fit. It also gave them something to do besides drill. A certain amount of drill is necessary for discipline and so that the troops could maneuver crisply in battle. But doing nothing but that everyday makes for restless and bored troops. Bad for morale that is.

As we draw closer to April of 1775, the British made an effort to have a large number of troops out in the countryside to get the colonists used to seeing them out and about. I'm guessing that plan didn't work all that well as the events along the Battle Road to Concord and back will attest. (When we get there.)

So, early days yet folks, I'm introducing characters and their points of view, setting the stage, as it were, for what's to come. We'll get to the action, eventually.

After all, "if you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding ."¹

The Death of Major Peirson, 6 January 1781
John Singleton Copley, 1783
Source

Do chase the source under that painting above, there are nine more great paintings from that era over there.

Enjoy your Sunday, juvat will, no doubt, entertain you with something on Monday, and I'll be back on Tuesday, hopefully with another installment of The Revolution.

'Ware the politicians, keep your powder dry.

¹ Apparently that saying has been around for a while, but I like the way Pink Floyd presented it.

Let's Go for a Walk ...

Source

Edward Kirk, Silus Montgomery, and Enoch Kersey were sitting comfortably by the fireplace in Kirk's place of business. Kirk was a cobbler by trade and a budding revolutionary. He didn't like that the Crown had dispatched more troops to Boston. He and Montgomery had been out to the Common where they'd watched the regulars at their drill.

"They look rusty, Edward." Montgomery offered.

"Time at sea will make any landsman wobbly and weak after a week or two on the bounding main." Kirk said. He would know. As a young man he'd been with the troops that captured Louisbourg from the French in '58.

Kersey scoffed, "They'll be fit for action soon enough, Silus." Turning to Kirk, he asked, "Is there to be a muster this weekend?"

"Yes, not for all the men, just the officers. We need contingencies for this new situation. I fear that General Gage means to make use of these new regiments once they're fit for service."

"So tell me, Major, how many companies of the 29th are present here in Boston." Colonel Sir William Haversham looked up at Major Winston Avery, in temporary command of the 29th.

"Four companies, Sir. Two more are awaiting shipping from Halifax, another is posted in Maryland, two more are presently in New York. I'm not sure if General Gage plans to send them here or not. Most of my companies are understrength, averaging no more than fifty men each." Avery answered.

"Not much to overawe the colonials are they?" The Colonel took a pinch of snuff, sneezed, then looked again at Avery. He hadn't offered the Major any snuff.

"Give me a few more days, Sir, then they'll be more than fit for these rabble militiamen."

Haversham stood up and paced to the window. He glanced outside, he swore he saw a few snowflakes in the air. He shivered, then bellowed, "Maxwell! Get in here and stoke this bloody fire, d'ye wish your colonel to die of this bitter air?"

Oswald Maxwell, the Colonel's batman hustled in and began to work the fireplace. Soon he had it going nicely.

Avery did not relish heading back out to the Common, where his men were still under canvas. Eventually Haversham turned from the window, nodded at the Major and said, dismissively, "That will be all, Avery. Get back to your regiment."

Avery made a slight bow, "Sir Winston." Then he turned and headed back into the cold.

"Just got word from Elijah Pickart down Quincy way, he's mustered his company and plans on drilling them the entire weekend, save for Sunday services, of course." Enoch Kersey made this announcement as he discarded his gloves and warmed his hands by Mrs. Kirk's kitchen fireplace.

"Hhmm, I suppose we should do the same. I don't think this snow will continue, too early in the year for a blow, I think." Edward Kirk could smell his wife's stew, it was nearly ready.

"Care to stay for dinner, Enoch?" Mrs. Kirk offered as she started setting out plates and cutlery.

"Why thank you, Patience, if your honorable spouse does not mind?" Kersey said, smiling at Mr. Kirk.

"Mind, of course I mind, you eat more than two men together!"

Though Kersey was as thin as a rail, the man could eat prodigious amounts of food. As he never seemed to sit still for a moment, he burned through most of what he ate rather quickly. He sniffed and said, "Well then, I'll go where I'm wanted then."

"Nonsense, sit down, I'll fix you a plate." Mrs. Kirk said as she swatted at her husband with a ladle.

"Not even King in my own castle, damned shame that is!" Kirk exclaimed.

"Mind your language, Edward!"

This time she made contact with the ladle.

Captain Gilbert was drilling his company hard. The men were still clumsy, many were new recruits. He had his eye on Burton, though the man was always trying to shirk his camp duties, he was a natural soldier. He watched as the man offered advice to one of the new men.

"Ya know, Burton, if ye weren't such a layabout, you might make a good soldier!" Sergeant Miller barked at the man.

"Thank you, Sergeant!" Burton barked.

"You're a cheeky bugger you are! Now, Company 'SHUN!"

As the men snapped to attention, Gilbert heard a voice behind him, it was the Major.

"Your lads are looking well, Thomas."

Gilbert made a slight bow, "Major. Why do I sense you have a task for us?"

"Ah, because I do dear boy. A walk in the Massachusetts countryside, interested?"

"Do I have a choice, Sir?"

"Of course not. Trust me, the men will enjoy the exercise."

"What's the task, Sir?"

"A patrol out to Somerville and back. We want the colonials to get used to seeing the troops out in the countryside. If we stay cooped up here in Boston, who knows what mischief the bastards will get up to out in the countryside?"

"Very good, Sir. When do you want this patrol to head out?"

"Tomorrow, I should think, be on the road before sunrise. Questions?"

"No Sir, I'll see to it. Might I take the entire company?"

"Of course, I want the locals to see His Majesty's soldiers in force. Let them know what they are up against should trouble arise."

"Very well, Sir."

When the Major left, Gilbert called his sergeants, Miller and Teegarden, over. "Dismiss the men back to camp, have them prepare their haversacks and equipment for ..." he thought for a moment, "an entire day, perhaps a march of ten miles or more."

"Will ye be wanting yer horse, Sir?" Teegarden asked.

"Yes, I should think so. Don't want the locals seeing one His Majesty's officers trudging along the road like a commoner, do we?"

"Course not, Sir."

The two sergeants went off to see to the soldiers, to get them fed and to see to it that they got their kit together, then got a good night's rest. As for Gilbert, he decided that a warm place next to the fire at his favorite tavern and a strong drink would be just the thing right then.

And if the ladies were inviting?

Might be just the right thing indeed.