The Bloody Business Comes to an End

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"I expect that Percy should be well on the way to relieving Smith's column." General Thomas Gage's remark was meant to be conversational. His orderly was a promising young man from a very good family in England.

"I just hope he won't need more ammunition for his guns." The orderly commented as he brushed Gage's jacket so that it looked spotless.

"What d'ya mean by that, Mr. Bates?"

"General Percy didn't wish to be slowed by wagons, he wanted to get his men out there as quickly as possible. The only ammunition he has for his guns are in the side boxes."

Gage leapt to his feet and slammed his fists down on the desk. "Side boxes! And the men themselves only carry 36 rounds upon their persons. Is the man mad?"

"Sir, I couldn't venture a guess as to ..."

Gage tore a sheet of paper from a desk drawer and scribbled upon it, "Here Bates, take this to the Quartermaster. We need to send wagons out to Percy this instant."

"SIR!"

The column was staggering, many of the men just marched down the road, some were even dragging their weapons. Men were falling with no return fire going out.

"I think it's the end of us, Tommy." Andrews pulled his trigger again firing at a small group of colonials lingering by a house not far from the road.

"Bastards are getting bold!" Holloway noted as he fired his own weapon.

The column had been hit hard just outside Lexington, probably by the same militia they had chased off that morning, which felt like a long, long time ago. Now word rippled down the column that more regulars could be seen not far from Lexington. Apparently another thousand men, with two cannon, had arrived on the scene. Men wearing the red coats of the King!

The lieutenant commanding the two wagons laughed when he saw the thin line of men standing in the road ahead. None of the men looked a day younger than sixty.

"What 'ave we 'ere lads, the colonials have sent their grandads out to stop us." The lieutenant gestured at the line, men too old to be a part of the regular militia. But these old veterans kept their names on the alarm list, ready to go into action when called.

And called they had been when word of the fighting out towards Concord reached them. One or two had watched the regulars march by that morning, had heard the firing at Lexington, had heard the rumors from Concord that the regulars were being hit all along the road.

They'd reached a consensus, take up position behind this new force of regulars to intercept any dispatches going to or coming from Boston. Now here were two of His Majesty's wagons escorted by no more that a dozen men. When the lieutenant had laughed at them, they had presented their firelocks and demanded the King's men throw down their arms.

"Drive on, Sergeant, I'll not be stopped by this elderly rabble."

The drivers got the horses moving, they'd roll over these old men and have done with it.

"FIRE!"

The lieutenant, no longer laughing, fell from his horse, grievously wounded. Two sergeants were killed instantly and some of the men fled, pitching their muskets into a nearby pond. The rest, six men, threw their weapons into the same pond then threw their hands in the air, begging for quarter.

Brigadier General Percy would be receiving no more ammunition.

Seamus ran forward with his companions, driving the remnants of Smith's column down the road. Firing another volley, they stopped to reload, one of the men cried out, "More redcoats lads, seems the King has sent us more targets!"

Seamus looked down the road, sure enough, lining a rise some four hundred yards away were fresh troops. As he watched, he saw two clouds of smoke issue from what must be cannon, followed a moment later by the screech of two iron balls overhead.

"Hold up, lads, hold up." The officers were restraining the men who were eager to rush forward, many of them ignorant of the danger the cannons posed. So the pursuit halted.

Smith's and Pitcairn's men raised a brief "Huzzah!" at the sight of the reinforcements. They were saved!

Andrews was getting the company sorted out, out of the 27 men who had left Boston that morning, only 12 remained. Some were dead, some had been left wounded on the road, and some had simply vanished.

Their column had pushed on through Percy's reinforcements, that worthy thinking it best to get those men back to safety while his own brigade covered the withdrawal. Percy's face burned with shame, here they were, the finest army on the planet, scurrying back to Boston, chased by an ill-armed rabble.

"D'ya hear that, Sarge?" Holloway paused and listened.

"Aye, I do lad. Sounds like Percy's boys are being introduced to our colonial friends. I'm glad we're leaving the dance at this point." Andrews shook his head, how had things come to such a pass?

As the sun got lower in the western sky, more militia had poured into the area and were now lining the route from Lexington to Boston. Around the village of Menotomy the militia pressed in on Percy's column.

His two cannon were fired continuously, trying to keep the road open to Boston. By the time Percy's guns had emptied their side boxes, the militiamen were more intent on ambushing the regulars from the houses along the route.

The fighting was bloody, many of the British light infantry, exhausted from chasing rebels all day lost control. Officers tried hard to restrain their men from killing everyone they found in a building from which they had been sniped at. It was some of the bloodiest fighting of the day.

The grenadiers had pushed through, driving the militia back from the road. Those militiamen gradually drifted away, the consensus being to let the redcoats return to Boston. The point of this day had been made.

The colonies would not submit without a fight.

Corporal Holloway lit his pipe and looked out over the Charles River to Boston. The lights in the town were already glittering as the sun set behind the western hills over which they had trekked that day.

Drawing in the tobacco smoke, holding it, then letting it out in one smooth stream, Holloway shook his head and leaned in close to his Sergeant.

"A bloody business, Allen. I don't think this will be the end of it."

Sergeant Andrews nodded, "I don't know what comes next, Boston is a tough nut to crack. The colonials don't have the means to move people over the water into a defended town, and Boston Neck is so narrow that ten men could hold off a mob. But no, I don't think it ends here."

"Think the King will send more men?"

"Ya, I think so. Once blood is spilled, things escalate. It's no longer a matter of cooler heads settling things by talking. The colonists spoke today with powder and shot, and embarrassed His Majesty's troops in the bargain. No lad, it will only worsen."

The company had stopped on the two hills next to Charlestown, Bunker's Hill and Breed's Hill. There were no boats to take them over the water back to their quarters, they'd be spending the night under the stars.

"Just hope it doesn't rain tonight." Holloway said, his gaze taking in the blood red sunset.

"Jaysus, even the sky is bleeding out that way." Andrews hoped that that was not a sign of things to come.

"Aye, Allen, the earth was bathed in English blood today. Theirs and ours."

Andrews sighed, he had a sudden thought of that girl back in Concord, cute lass she was. Wonder if I'll ever see her again.

Then he wondered, would he ever see England again?