Drive Them!

Source

"Elizabeth Arnold! Come away from that window immediately!"

Lizzie turned and answered, in a sweet yet somehow disrespectful tone, "Yes, Missus, but the soldiers are preparing to leave. They look nervous."

Rebecca Hamilton scoffed, "As if I care a fig for the doings of the King's troops. We have laundry to do and ..."

The sound of musketry in the near distance silenced the woman, she froze as she listened. "Is that ...?"

"Yes, ma'am, it sounds as though the militia and the regulars are fighting."

While Mrs. Hamilton stood there, unsure of what to do, Lizzie darted outside, grabbing some more bread as she did so. She saw the sergeant she had spoken to moments ago, gathering his men.

"Is there fighting, Sergeant? Are we in danger?"

Andrews turned and again noticed just how pretty the girl was. "I don't think so, Miss. We've been ordered back to Boston. The militia are swarming in the hills, word is that there was fighting at the bridge to the north. You should go back inside until this all dies down."

She nodded and forced the bread into the sergeant's hands, "For you and your men, be careful out there. Please."

Andrews blushed and said, "Thankee Miss, I must go now but ..."

"My name is Elizabeth, my friends call me Lizzie."

"I am Andrews, Allen Andrews of His Majesty's grenadiers. I thank you for ..."

Captain Williston came up, looking for his company. He spotted his sergeant speaking to an attractive young lady.

"Is there a problem, Sergeant?"

Andrews turned, "No Sir, we are ready to march."

"Then let us be off. I fear the return trip will be hot, and not because of the weather."

"Sir!"

"I must be off, Elizabeth."

She touched his hand, "Call me Lizzie, do be careful Sergeant."

Andrews blushed again.

A rider came up, his horse lathered and nearly out of control and reined in next to Captain Jonathan Willson commanding the Bedford minute company.

"Colonel's greetings, Sir. Orders are to withdraw towards Boston. Keep to the ridges and the woods lining the Concord road. You are to harass the regulars at every opportunity."

Without further ado, the man galloped off.

Willson turned to the men gathered around him, "Alright lads, we're off. We'll take to the fields, over yon ridge, and head down the road towards Lexington. I know a few spots where we can hit the regulars."

Looking around he called out, "You Acton boys, where is your captain?"

A man near Seamus answered, "Dead, Sir. Shot through the heart in one of the first volleys!"

Seamus shuddered, he hadn't seen Captain Davis fall. He had been more concerned with his father, who had taken a wound in the arm.

"Dead is he? Very well, you Acton boys are with me now, unless you have a second?"

A man pushed his way forward, "That would be me, Sir, Ensign Heald, John Heald."

"Very well, Ensign Heald, have your men follow my company. Everyone else, follow on as well. Let's show these regulars that they can't come here, take our powder, burn our town, or collect their damned taxes. Who's with me?"

A cheer went up, some men looked around as if terrified of what they had done and witnessed here. This was war and they might have drawn blood here, but many assumed things were going to get far worse before the day was through!

"Keep a close eye on the lads, Tom. The countryside is up in arms and I don't like our odds."

Corporal Tom Holloway ran his hand through his thick hair, marveling at how much he was sweating. "Hot work, Sarge. Hot work indeed."

"Indeed, oh yes, have your lads eaten yet?"

"No, we were too busy starting fires then putting other fires out."

"Here," Andrews handed over a bundle, "a village lass gave me this. My lads have eaten, I didn't think yours had. Share that with the lads, would you?"

"Certainly Sarge, and thank you for thinking of us."

"Not at all, Tom, not at all."

The grenadiers were back with the main column, Andrews could see militia in the woods and up on the hillsides. From what he could see, the column was badly outnumbered. But he wasn't really worried, they were professional soldiers, he considered the colonial militia to be nothing more than rabble. After all, they had scattered them on Lexington Green hadn't they?

"Sure are a lot of the bastards." Corporal Holloway remarked.

"Not nervous are ye, Tommy?"

"I was talking with a lad from the 10th, light infantry lad, apparently the colonials gave as good as they got at a bridge to the north of Concord. Said they lost a number of lads, including officers and sergeants. One lad had been scalped from what Johnson was saying."

"Charlie Johnson?"

"The very same."

"I'd take that with a grain of salt, Charlie has never been that bright a lad."

"That may be, but a number of his company were blood-spattered and powder stained. You only get that in a fierce fight to my knowledge."

Andrews got thoughtful after that.

"We'll hit them here lads, when they come around that bend. You lads at the wall give a volley, then come back up the hill. Hit and run boys, hit and run. Don't let them get close enough to use the bayonet." Captain Willson's plan was simple. As long as no one panicked.

Seamus gripped his musket with sweaty hands. He looked to his father whose wound he had bound up. It wasn't as bad as it had looked at first sight.

"Ye alright, Da'?"

"I'm fine son, just remember to keep your head down. Fire once then we run like hell. We'll reload up on the high ground then slide on down the road further. I mean to make those bastards pay for what they done at Lexington."

"There they are!" A voice shouted from further down the road towards Concord.

Now the McTeagues could hear the thump of drums and the gleam of bayonets as the regulars rounded the bend in the road. They were marching at the quickstep, not in a hurry per se, but not tarrying as well. They knew the danger which lurked all around them.

Andrews sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw the billowing smoke of a volley from a stonewall not far from the road. Then he heard the whiz of the militia's lead filling the air.

Andrews looked abruptly to the front when he heard the scream, Captain Williston's horse had screamed as it reared then toppled onto its back, throwing its rider to the hard packed surface of the road.

Williston hit the ground hard, his cap spinning off to the verge, his sword scabbard bending as he landed on it. Fortunately he had the sword in his hand when he fell, but he had been winded by the fall.

Lieutenant Mitchell rushed to his commander's side, dismounting when he got there.

"Sir! Are you alright?"

"Leftenant, see to the lads, I'll see to the captain!" Holloway had jumped in immediately, better for the men to see an officer to their front, even if it was just a lieutenant, and a damned green one at that.

Williston moaned as Holloway helped him sit up. "Damn it!"

"I don't see any blood, Sir, does anything feel broken, can ye move your limbs and such?" Holloway inquired.

"Only thing hurt is my pride, Corporal."

Looking around he saw that his horse was down and not moving.

"Damn it, I paid good money for that animal. He was a good horse!"

While Holloway helped the captain regain his wits, Mitchell and Andrews had the men firing at their assailants.

"Bastards are running! Huzzah!" Mitchell yelled out, waving his sword over his head, letting his horse prance in the road.

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but the rebels are just relocating. They know where we have to go and they know the country far better than us."

"Really, Sergeant? And what makes you so ..."

Andrews heard a sickening thud and watched in horror as Lieutenant Mitchell arched his back as his eyes rolled back in his head. He reached for the young officer and felt the man's blood on his face. He pulled the young man from the saddle, but it was too late.

Lieutenant George Mitchell of the 43rd Foot was quite dead.

"Damn it, those are light infantry!" Patrick McTeague cried out.

He had spotted the men when they were but a hundred paces away, they looked angry as hell and seemed to want to come to grips with the militia at bayonet point. They were coming on fast.

"Run lad, fast as you can!"

Seamus did as his father commanded and began to run back deeper into the wood, it was uphill and he realized his legs were tired. Turning he saw something which made his blood run cold.

His father and three other men stood their ground, hoping to delay the light infantrymen as long as possible, perhaps get them to pull off. To no avail.

There were ten of them, resplendent in their short red jackets and their jaunty light infantry caps. Though one of the militiamen did get off a shot, which killed one of the regulars, it only made the survivors even angrier. They swarmed over the militiamen and cut them down where they stood.

With tears streaming down his face, Seamus McTeague ran even faster up the hill. He was sure that his father was gone, dead at the age of 42.

"Drive them lads! Drive them, don't let them stand!"

Major Pitcairn rode among the men at the head of the column, a mix of Marines and grenadiers. They were pushing the colonials back and away from the road.

The road curved to the left here, through a small wooded area. As they approached, the column was squeezed in on itself, there wasn't much room to deploy or maneuver.

"Push through lads, push through!" Pitcairn was yelling.

Heavy firing broke out to either side of the column, men were falling fast, bodies littered the road. Some of the men thought to stop and help the wounded.

Andrews barked at two of his grenadiers, "Lamson, Jones, leave him, he's bloody dead! Or d'ye think the doctors can sew his throat back together!"

Private Greenwell had been hit in the throat and had died gagging on his own blood. It was fast but it certainly looked painful to Andrews.

"Company, move, move, move. Reload on the run, fire at will lads. We need to get through this choke point or we'll be spending eternity under the fields of the Bay Colony!"

Slowly the column pushed through, again the flanking parties supplied by the light companies helped clear the rebels from the stone walls flanking the road.

But thirty of the King's men would not make it to Boston that day, or ever.

Four militiamen also fell at what was later was called the "Bloody Angle." Captain Jonathan Willson, of the Bedford minute company lay among the dead. Ensign Heald had been lost earlier in the day, now the Acton company was led by its senior sergeant.

Seamus McTeague was still in shock at the death of his father.

"How d'ye know he's dead, lad?" Francis Barker, the company drummer asked.

"Saw him take a bayonet to the chest, Francis. Those bloody redcoats just kept stabbing at the men after they'd knocked them down. It was butchery, butchery."

"Well buck up, laddie. Let's move on down the road a piece and return the favor. Cast your eyes to the road down yonder, they're paying the price now."

From where they were on the hillside, Seamus could clearly see the road, numerous red coated bodies were sprawled there, some still moving, hands outstretched, beseeching their comrades not to leave them behind. But most lay still and unmoving, dead or unconscious and dying.

Seamus grimaced, then gripped his musket and followed his company towards Boston.

There were still a lot of regulars who needed killing.