The Retreat from the Monongahela

(Source)

Alain and Jacques walked away from the field of death. Neither brother felt like speaking as they trudged wearily up the hill overlooking the scene of Braddock's defeat. While their men stripped the dead of anything useful, the Abenaki taking the scalps as well, from those who yet lived as well as the dead.

When they reached the top of the hill, Alain cast his gaze about, looking for where he was when Little Wolf was hit. He thought he recognized a dip in the ground next to a small pine tree, he walked towards it.

Behind him he heard his brother gasp, then say, "It is true, our brother has gone to the spirit world." For there, in that dip which Alain had recognized, lay the body of Little Wolf of the Missiquoi people of the Abenaki.

Jacques fell to his knees, he had always been close with Little Wolf, the two had been inseparable after their meeting on the great Cannitticutt river of Little Wolf's homeland. To think that he had come all that way, to the banks of the Monongahela, only to die in battle. A battle in which the French and their Indian allies had suffered less than fifty dead as opposed to the hundreds of English dead scattered on the hillside and below them in the forest.

Alain knew they had to do something for their Abenaki brother and not just leave him for the wolves and other beasts of the forest. He was vaguely familiar with Abenaki funeral customs but had never really paid that much attention to them, something his wife often chided him for. As he stood there, at a loss for what to do, Stone Dog of the Lenape touched his arm.

"Big Bear, we must bury your brother, our friend, but do not speak his name ever again. It will cause his spirit great unrest." Stone Dog sighed, then spoke once more, "He was a good man."

As the remnants of the grenadier companies fell back, Lieutenant Jefferson turned to see that the few Indians which had been pursuing them had stopped on the other side of the river, most of them turned back to join in with looting the dead. A few shots were fired in their direction, but no one was hit.

Sergeant Lewis came up, "I've tried to get some of the men retreating to rally to us, maybe two men out of the many actually paused, then continued to run." Lowering his voice, Lewis continued, "Sir, most of our lads look ready to run. I don't think they'll stand if pressed."

Jefferson nodded, "I know, I know, keep them in order, but keep them moving south."

Jefferson heard hoof beats, he looked up to see Lieutenant Colonel Burton of the 48th, wounded but still game. "Leftenant! Will your men stand?"

Jefferson looked over behind Burton, he had gathered perhaps a company of men, both regulars and provincials, but as Burton spoke with him, those men began to drift away. "I'm sorry Sir, but your men aren't holding... Neither will mine."

Burton turned, swore loudly then galloped off.

Colonel George Washington rode beside the cart carrying General Braddock, the man was barely conscious. He had heard a rumor that one of the provincials, when the regulars had started firing at them, mistaking them for French or just out of sheer panic, Washington would never know, had intentionally shot Braddock down.

If so, that would be disastrous for the morale of the army, so he had dressed the officer down who had told him, a New Yorker he thought, and then told him to mind his tongue. Washington itched to make a stand, but he could see that the men were in no mood to fight. In fact, some of the men, provincials mostly, were already deserting the ranks and melting into the forest.

Stone Dog came up the hill with two other Lenape, they were carrying a canoe made of birch.  Alain wondered where they might have fetched that from. When they reached the position where Little Wolf lay, they began to strip the bark from the canoe, in one piece as best they could.

As they did this, Alain remembered the Abenaki custom of wrapping the deceased in birch bark. As the Abenaki and Lenape moved Little Wolf onto the bark, Jacques ran down the hill. Alain wondered what he was up to.

Moments later Jacques had returned, holding a fresh scalp in one hand, and an English firelock in the other. He stated, "We shall bury these with our brother, so that those in the spirit world will recognize a fellow warrior when he walks among them."

Stone Dog nodded and said, "Big Bear, your brother is wise."

The day after the battle Jefferson and his surviving men arrived at what the men called Rock Camp. The men who had been under Dunbar were deserting in droves, as Jefferson arrived he noticed that the army was burning the stores as well as the surviving twelve-pounder cannon.

"What is this?" he asked of a passing staff officer.

"The colonel says he does not have the horses nor the men willing to drive the teams to bring away the stores and the guns. So we destroy them so that the French do not capture them." Then that worthy went on his way, Jefferson suspected he was intent on getting away from the area as fast as he could.

He looked up when he saw a provincial colonel, a large man, riding in the direction of the late battle. He stopped and gazed in that direction for a long moment. Then he turned his horse and Jefferson recognized the man, a Virginian on Braddock's staff, Washington, he remembered, was the man's name. As far as Jefferson knew, this Washington was now the ranking man left to the army. So he called out...

"Orders Sir?"

Washington reined in and broke away from the dark thoughts he harbored. "Orders?" He gazed at Jefferson's uniform, "Orders, Leftenant? I reckon we continue to retreat, perhaps Great Meadows would be best I think. Perhaps another day's march from here."

"Very good Sir, begging the Colonel's pardon, but how is Sir Peter, and how is the General?"

Washington looked at the ground, then at Jefferson, "Sir Peter died on the field, I'm not sure if we brought the body away with us. His son James is also dead. Hard news for the Halkett family I'm afraid."

Washington paused, then looked at Jefferson, "You and your grenadiers did well Leftenant. What is your name, pray tell?"

"Leftenant Will Jefferson at your service Colonel, 44th Foot."

"I shall remember you, for what it's worth. As to the General, he is dying, he is still alive, but I fear he is beyond saving. Continue your retreat Sir, keep your men well in hand." Then Washington rode off.

"Impressive fellow that colonial." Sergeant Lewis offered.

"Yes, indeed. I doubt we've heard the last of that man."

Alain stood with his head bowed as the Abenaki lowered Little Wolf's body into the grave they had dug. One of the Lenape had dressed the corpse in an English officer's coat, saying, "We do not have any of his own clothing to bury him in, this red coat of an anglais officer is very fine, it will have to do."

They had also laid the English firelock beside him and had tied the scalp to his belt. After wrapping him in the birch bark and tying it up, they had begun the small ceremony. They had to return to Fort Duquesne before long. Alain remembered an old prayer his father had taught him as a boy. He had no idea if the after life for the Abenaki was like that of the Catholic. He rather hoped not, the religion of his youth made it sound like a place a warrior would not care for.

As they moved the earth over the grave using wood split from a dead tree, Jacques raised his face to the sky and howled like a wolf. Then he had cut the palm of his left hand and squeezed the blood into the dirt over the grave.

Jacques looked at the earth and then the sky, saying "Part of me goes with you brother. I vow to raise your sons as my own, your woman will be welcome in my lodge. Your family is my family. Farewell my brother. Farewell."

Somewhere, deep in the forest, a wolf howled.

The sound sent a chill through Alain, yet it comforted him as well. He somehow knew that Little Wolf now walked in the spirit world.

¹ Abenaki dressed the bodies of the deceased in their finest clothing, wrapped them in birch bark, and tied them with a cord. They buried them quickly so their spirits would not linger over the corpses and the village. Graves contained food for the deceased person’s journey to the other world, as well as weapons, tools, and personal items to use in the afterlife.

In winter the Abenaki placed the remains of the dead on a high platform until the earth thawed in the spring and the corpse could be buried. If a man died during a hunting trip, they left his body above ground, and the first person to find the body in the spring buried it.

Widows wore hoods on their heads and did not participate in social events for one year after the death of a husband. After the death of a child, a grieving mother would usually cut off her hair and blacken her face. Relatives brought presents to the parents to help ease their pain; in return the parents sometimes held a feast. (Source)

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

Death on the Monongahela

Washington at the Battle of the Monongahela
Emanuel Leutze
(Source)

Lieutenant Jefferson heard the rattle of musketry before he saw the smoke. He had been marching facing to the rear watching the marching ranks, he felt the men were getting far too relaxed. After crossing the Monongahela, Fort Duquesne was still ahead of them, Jefferson knew that it wouldn't be an easy fight. As he turned he heard one thing, then saw another, both of which made his pulse skyrocket.

The grenadier at Jefferson's side, having been hit by a musket ball, fell to his knees with a loud grunt. Jefferson heard the grunt which made him realize that they were under fire, but then what he saw alarmed him even more. The guides, what was left of them, were falling back on the two grenadier companies, which told Jefferson that they faced serious opposition, not a few shots from the trees just to discomfit them. The powder smoke ahead, told him that they were in a serious fight.

As he started to deploy his grenadiers as best he could, Gordon, of the Royal Engineers, rode up from the road building party which was now to the rear. Reining in his horse, he shouted down to Jefferson, "No more than 300 of them I'd say!" then he galloped back to inform the commanding general.

Bloody idiot, Jefferson thought, that's more men than we've got in the van! The captain commanding the 48th's grenadiers was down, Jefferson saw that much in the confusion. He saw one of that company's lieutenants trying to get control of the situation. By that time Sergeant Ashburnham was yelling, "Give 'em a volley Sir?"

Coming out of his initial funk, Jefferson bellowed out, "Present your firelocks!"

(Source)

Alain and his brothers were moving with their men to the French/Indian left flank. There was a good position there from which they could fire down on the length of the English column. Just after shouting over to Jacques to take his men in that direction, the English grenadiers fired a full volley, from both of their leading grenadier companies.

Alain watched in horror as Capitaine Daniel Hyacinthe Liénard de Beaujeu was hit multiple times. The young French officer collapsed in a heap, his mission accomplished. Though he wouldn't live to see the victory, his move to surround the head of the English column sealed the fate of Major General Edward Braddock's army.

"Alain, the Capitaine...!" Jacques called out to his brother.

"There is no time Jacques, we shall mourn the dead later, follow Little Wolf's Abenaki!"

The French fire was increasing, not in controlled volleys by formed troops, but firing by individuals who had a great deal of experience in fighting in the forest. The men, French and Indian alike, were taking cover behind trees and irregularities in the ground, firing carefully at the English struggling to maintain order below, then moving to another position and doing it again.

The English had two of their six-pounder field pieces close to the head of the column. Their crews brought them into action fairly rapidly, but targets were scarce and fleeting. One of the gun captains suggested firing at the greatest concentrations of powder smoke, at least they might suppress the enemy fire. Just as he was giving the commands for his own gun to be trained on just such a spot, a musket ball clipped the top of his head, killing him instantly and spattering his gun crew with blood and brains.

His second stepped to the rear of the piece and brought his linstock down, touching off the powder. The gun roared and sent its ball crashing into the woods. As the men began to roll the gun back into place, two more were struck down by enemy musket fire. Though the crew would stand to their piece until they all perished, their rate of fire was slowed enough to render their presence on the field almost useless.

Jefferson had one rank fire a volley, then that rank would step to the rear and reload. Both grenadier companies were slowly withdrawing in this manner. But to their front, the trail was littered with the bodies of dead and wounded grenadiers. Jefferson realized that it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. Where in Hell was the main body of the Army?

Even as that thought crossed his mind, three companies of men rushed behind them and up the hill to the right, from which they were taking a galling fire. He couldn't tell which regiment they were from as the men had left their coats in Alexandria and were wearing only their red waistcoats. Though each regiment had a different lacing around the edges of that garment, in the smoke and confusion of battle such details were obscured.

"Sir! What are those men to our left front?" Sergeant Ashburnham had seen a body of formed troops entering the woods, he assumed that they were provincials attacking the enemy to the front. They were, but other British troops on the field weren't as observant, firing volleys into the backs of the provincials. The survivors of that attack began to stumble back as the redcoated regiments recognized their mistake far too late.

"Back boys, steady now, steady!" Jefferson could see that some of the men were beginning to fire at will, not waiting for the commands, and firing all around them. Jefferson could feel the discipline of the men starting to slip.

Slinging his musket, Jefferson drew his sword, "Damn it lads, to me, to me!" Waving his sword in the air, the men rallied just when they came even with the six-pounders, only one of which was still firing.

"Give 'em Hell grenadiers!!"

Jefferson looked up to see an officer of the artillery waving his sword as well. The gun behind him barked and scattered a party of natives advancing on the gun position. "Reload lads, right quick about it!!" Jefferson heard the man bellowing at his gunners as the powder smoke moved over the gun, obscuring them from his sight.

Jefferson heard a shout of rage and watched in amazement as Grenadier Lewis, a big man, drove his bayonet into a Huron belly. Jefferson swore that he saw the point emerge from the Indian's back but had to turn quickly as a large warrior was bearing down on him, screaming his war cry.

So Jefferson bellowed out his own war cry, which he'd learned from his friend Standing Wolf back in King George's War. The enemy warrior hesitated in his rush, his war club faltering in its killing stroke. What kind of anglais knew the war cry of the Mohican? He would never learn as Jefferson's sword stroke took the Huron's right arm off just below the shoulder. Jefferson's second stroke opened the man's belly and the Indian warrior sank to the ground, clutching his midriff in agony.

"Sir! We must fall back further, the savages are getting into our rear!" Ashburnham's last words alerted Jefferson to the danger. His heart sank as he saw his sergeant cut down by an enemy war club. He had to revert back to being a leader and not a simple warrior.

"Grenadiers! To me, fall back to the wagons!"

"Big Bear, they are breaking!" Little Wolf pointed down the hill as the last British attack on their position faded back down the hill. Little Wolf then stood and screamed his war cry. Which was cut short when a Provincial from Virginia carefully sighted his firelock and pulled the trigger.

Alain watched in shock as Little Wolf staggered back a few paces then collapsed without a sound. Alain wanted to rush to his Abenaki brother's side, but the battle still raged. "At them, cut them down!" Alain screamed in a mixture of French and Abenaki as he advanced down the slope.

"Leftenant!" Jefferson turned to see a captain of one of the 44th's battalion companies, cocked hat gone, left sleeve torn away, blood and powder residue covering the man's face and chest.

"Sir? Are you hurt bad?" Jefferson called out.

"Not my blood Leftenant. Pull your men back to the river, Sir Peter¹ is killed, as is his brother. General Braddock has been wounded, mortally I fear. Quickly man, quickly!" Then the captain rode off into the smoke. Jefferson was amazed that the man was still mounted.

Taking stock of the situation, Jefferson realized that he had a mixed company of grenadiers from both regiments, some men from the battalion companies of the 48th, even part of Gates' company of New Yorkers. Gates was nearby.

"Captain Gates!"

Gates discharged his firelock and began to reload, "It's getting rather hot here Leftenant, have we any orders?"

"Back to the river, let's do it in stages, you pull back with those men to the right flank, my men will cover!"

"Very well! Mind you don't wait too long!" Gates was pointing to the two six-pounders, their crews nowhere in evidence but the guns had been overrun by the enemy Indians. "The savages have taken the guns!"

Jefferson realized at that moment, seeing the Indians killing the wounded gunners, that they had more time than anyone would expect as the Indians Allies of the French were stopping to loot the dead and wounded and relieve them of their scalps. The screams of those dying men would stay with Jefferson a long time.

"Alain! Alain! The battle is won my brother! Les anglais run for the river like startled deer!" Jacque Gaudry was ecstatic, the English dead littered the field, their own casualties were small in comparison. "Where is our brother Little Wolf?"

Alain looked at the ground, then at his brother, "He has fallen Jacques." Alain gestured up the hill towards a stand of trees. "I don't know if he lives or not, I think he was wounded badly."

Jacques immediately began to scramble up the slope, followed closely by Alain. It was obvious that there would be no pursuit of the defeated English, the warriors wanted their celebration.

What was left of Jefferson's little command paused near the bank of the Monongahela, there seemed to be no pursuit. Jefferson turned to Gates and said, "An honor fighting with you Sir. Your New Yorkers fought well."

"Ah, but in a lost cause Leftenant." Gates extended his hand and said, "We should get across before nightfall. I doubt the Huron will tarry long over their victory, especially when there is more to be had," Gates nodded at the remnants of the army crossing the river. Nearby stood a number of wagons, abandoned by their drivers.

Jefferson took Gates' hand and shook it firmly. "Head across, we'll cover you."

Gates and his men slid down the sand bank and into the river, glad to be away from this disaster. As Jefferson watched, Grenadier Lewis came up to him.

"We've got seventeen of the lads left Sir, they're in fine fettle and ready to have another go."

"Seventeen, just seventeen Lewis?"

"Yessir, about five from the 48th, the rest are our lads. Might be more on t'other side of the river. Hate to say it, but some of the lads took to their heels." Jefferson noticed that Lewis was eyeing Jefferson's musket, still slung over his shoulder. Finally Lewis held up the remains of his own firelock, stock broken off, barrel bent. "Makes a mighty good club Sir. Not much use now though."

Jefferson unslung his firelock and handed it to Lewis, "What's your first name?"

"Milton, Sir, named after that writer feller from the old days."

Jefferson looked at the man, "D'ya mean John Milton, who wrote Paradise Lost?"

"Yes Sir, that's the man. My Da' loved that book. Taught me to read using that." Lewis was looking towards the scene of the late battle, it was quiet so far, no pursuit that he could discern.

Jefferson thought for a moment, then asked, "You can read? And write?"

"Course Sir, not like Milton, but I'm good with my letters. Da' taught me my numbers as well."

Jefferson made his decision, "Very good. Now if you will Sergeant Lewis, let's get these men across the river and rejoin the rest of the army."

"Sergeant, Sir?"

"That's right, unless you don't want it?"

"No Sir, I'm happy with that, now if you'll excuse me?" After he said that, newly minted Sergeant Lewis of the 44th's grenadier company turned and bellowed...

"Right lads, time to get wet again! Let's be across quickly now. Jones, you and Martin stand here until we're well along, then follow us in!"

Jefferson watched his troops wade into the river, then he heard Grenadier Martin ask, "Uh Sir, hadn't we best be going?"

"Right Martin, right then, let's be off."

As the men waded the Monongahela, Jefferson could hear the war whoops of the Huron and the screams of the dying. He shuddered, they were a long way from home.




¹ Sir Peter Halkett, colonel of the 44th Regiment of Foot, killed in action at the Monongahela.

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

Something about Movies

 Well, the Campers here at Rancho Juvat have been very busy this past week.  Not that anything extraordinary happened, more of a "gathering storm" of routine that condensed this week and dumped on us.  Oh, and it rained every day.

Visibility 1/4 mile in driving rain. Gotta love it.  Right after I took the pic, lightning struck just beyond Mrs J's car. 
I decided to go inside at that point.

Now, most of us here are grateful for rain. However there are times....Like when the Hay Guy has you on his schedule to cut and bale, but can't do that in the rain.  And...if he's cut the hay and is waiting to bale until it dries and it rains while that's going on, you've lost that particular cutting.  I called him Saturday to check on his schedule, he says we're next after he finishes up the current job.  He also says with all the rain this spring, he's getting 4-5 round bales per acre.

This is our property Sunday. The bottom of the gate is about a foot off the ground, it's about halfway to the top of the hay.

Yes, Beans, that's a lot.  So...we've got that going for us.

Just thought this was a nice picture.

Mrs J has been hard at the travel agent thing lately.  Most long time readers here will know that Gary and Kathy, our good friends and travel buddies, are also winemakers.  They own Texas Hills Vineyard in nearby Johnson City.  A couple of years ago, Mrs J and they put together a Wine Cruise, which during days at sea, had wine tastings while listening to Gary talk about how the wine was made.  It was a great success, so much so that Mrs J put together another cruise for the next year.

Then the Chinese got involved and it got cancelled.

However, since Texas has recently dropped virtually all the restrictions imposed on us as a result of the Chinese involvement, cruise ships will begin operating out of Galveston again in August.

Yes, Beans, I know that they're also operating out of Florida.  However, transportation of wine to the ship in Miami causes a whole boatload (No Pun Intended) of legal/licensing hoops to jump through.  Since it's a Texas winery and the ship departs and returns to a Texas port, we only have to comply with Texas Laws.  Much easier.

In any case, Mrs J seized the opportunity and worked the details with Royal Caribbean.  The cruise is scheduled for January 16-23, 2022.  Stops will be made at Falmouth, Jamaica (Mon!), Georgetown, Grand Cayman and Cozumel, Mexico.  We had to have 20 people make reservations in order to get a group rate and were a bit concerned given all the hoopla in the recent past.  

She opened up reservations last Monday morning. That afternoon, I'm in my office responding to comments on the blog, when she walks in and says we've got 36 deposits and 8 more considering.  After 40 reservations, each additional reservation drops everybody's rate.  So... if anybody's interested.....

On the DIL and Tex front, the State Department is taking their sweet time in making decisions and issuing travel orders, but it looks like they and Little Juvat should be reunited in Hong Kong sometime in September.  Travel will either be Houston to San Francisco to HK or Houston to DC to Frankfurt to HK. One of those makes sense, the other only makes sense to a bureaucrat.

Anyone want to place a bet?

But, as the reunion draws nigh, she is making the rounds and visiting friends.  This weekend she decided to thumb her nose at Hurricane Elsa and visited Savannah GA, meeting up with a friend.  This involved a round trip to the Airport at Moscow on the Colorado.  We've been back in Texas for 23 years now.  The construction of SH71 to the airport has been going on at least that long.  However, it is now 4 lanes each way and no lights.  Which, translated into plain English, means "Balls to the wall, boys!" and being passed at 75 as if standing still.  

And for those Texans that haven't driven it to the airport yet, get in the third lane from the right. Stay in that lane until you need to take the exit.  The other two lanes will disappear (the last one about a hundred yards prior to the turn off. 

No, Beans, nobody in Austin will let you merge into their lane.

Did I mention that at 0016 Friday Morning, the power went off in our county.  Stayed off until 0700.  Difficult to sleep when the AC, Fan and CPAP aren't working.

On our way home from dropping DIL off and dealing with traffic, it was decided that I needed a medicinal lunch.  

No, Beans, I didn't get a vote.  Mrs J decreed!

I had a very nice Scottish style Ale (for some reason 😉) and a BLT.  Now most restaurants have what could legally qualify as a vegetarian BLT, others have a BACON, lettuce and tomato sandwich.  This was the latter.

The rest of the drive home was uneventful.

The good news is she's coming home today. Which means another trip to Moscow on the Colorado.  Oh...Goody!!

MBD also had a role in the "Let's not let juvat get bored" movie.  She asked for some help in building a program which will help her rack and stack job candidates against employment opportunities she's been asked to help fill.

It's been a fun-filled few days getting my database programming neurons relit, but I think I'm pretty close to a solution.  I'm working to show her a 1.0 version of it tomorrow.  AirTable is an "Interesting" database program, similar, and yet different than the Sql Server I had been working on for millennia (and apparently nearly a millennia ago).

All that has been in preparation for "Carpal Tunnel Surgery 2, The Dominant Hand", which is opening (get it?) Thursday with an 0600 show time.  I'm going to apologize in advance for running a modified re-run of an older post of mine next Monday.  I don't think I'll be typing much for a few days.  

So y'all be good now, ya hear!

Dogs and Cats...Living together...Mass Hysteria!

The Approach to Fort Duquesne

(Source)

Lieutenant Jefferson looked up to see a man riding back from the party of guides leading the column. The man reined up in front of him, "Begging yer pardon Sir, but 'ave ye seen Leftenant Colonel Gage?"

"Yes, he's gone back to check on the guns, what news?"

"The river Sir, we's at the Monongahela. Nobody in sight, but we're going to need the sappers to come up. The river bank at t'other side is pretty steep, the height of two of your grenadiers at least." The man looked anxious to continue on his mission.

"Very well, carry on lad," then turning to his company sergeant, "Sarn't Ashburnham, let's get the lads up to the river." Looking back at the company commander of the 48th's grenadiers he shouted, "River's ahead, let's go up and prepare to cover the crossing!"

That man answered by ordering his men to "Follow the 44th!"

Dark Moon, one of the Lenape present in de Beaujeu's force made his way to where the Gaudry's party was watching the column. "Big Bear! Les anglais are nearing the river, my chief thinks they mean to cross this day!"

Alain Gaudry, also known as Big Bear to the Indians, nodded and whistled like a bird, which immediately brought his brothers Jacques and Little Wolf to his position.

"Brother?" Jacques asked, Little Wolf said nothing, it was not his way to waste words.

"Les anglais have reached the river and mean to cross over." Alain said.

"Why, the fort is on that side of the river, they shall have to cross over again before they can attack?" Jacques didn't understand, but he hadn't seen that terrain, Little Wolf had.

"If they stay on the other side they will have the river on their left and a ridge on their right, hemming them in, a narrow path, a killing field for us. If they cross now, go maybe two leagues on this side, then re-cross, they will have an easier march." It was a long speech from Little Wolf.

"Little Wolf speaks the truth Jacques, les anglais could be picked off at will with little chance of them counterattacking us if they stay on the northern bank. Crossing now makes sense, the river is not that deep."

(Source)

"Well Sir, this isn't bad at all, water's barely up to our thighs!" Sergeant Ashburnham was getting the grenadiers of the 44th over the river. Movement wasn't quick but the river crossing wasn't as bad as he had feared.

Jefferson had his firelock at the ready, he didn't believe in carrying a spontoon like many of the line officers. He preferred to be able to shoot back at his enemies. He was scanning the far bank, though he swore that he caught glimpses of people in the treeline, he couldn't be sure. Best to get everyone across and up that damned bank.

After a few more long moments wading the river, the company was out and scrambling up the steep bank. Fortunately there were numerous small trees and shrubs they could use to pull themselves up. There had been one humorous moment when Grenadier Lewis had grabbed a sapling and when trying to pull himself up, had ripped the small tree up by its roots, sending him tumbling back into the river.

"Come on Lewis, this is no time to be takin' a bath!" One of his mates had yelled down to him, while extending a hand to pull him back onto the bank.

"Bloody French tree!" Lewis sputtered as he attempted the bank once more, this time making it up successfully.

"All right lads, check your firelocks, make ready, we might have company nearby!" Jefferson yelled out.

Shortly thereafter the 48th joined them at the top of the bank and the grenadiers presented a solid red wall to protect the sappers pulling down the bank to make a path for the six-pounder cannon traveling with the head of the column.

Capitaine Daniel Hyacinthe Liénard de Beaujeu, though an officer in the French Army, was nearly indistinguishable from his Wyandot, Abenaki, Odawa, and Lenape allies. There were no regular French troops with his force. The only men in uniform were those of the Compagnies Franches de la Marine, other than the natives, there was also a party of Canadian militia, whose clothing was that of the coureur de bois, not the army.

The Capitaine pointed at the crude map he had placed on a downed tree, "I will meet them here, they will be tired from the march, Gaudry informs me that their road builders are at the back of the column now and the track is very rough. We shall ambush them here, can we get our warriors in place in time?" He asked this of one of the Wyandot war chiefs.

"Yes Capitaine, it will be close, my men are foraging now. It depends on how fast les anglais can move."

"Call your warriors in, we must be ready for any eventuality." de Beaujeu ordered.

"This is pretty rough going ain't it Leftenant?" The commander of the 48th's grenadier company was sweating profusely, unlike Jefferson he insisted on wearing the miter cap of the grenadiers rather than the cocked hat which Jefferson wore.

"As I don't plan on throwing any grenades, I'll keep my own chapeau, thank you very much." Jefferson had quipped when questioned as to why he was wearing a line officer's hat and carrying a musket as well. Some of the other officers had sniffed and made rude comments about how Jefferson had "gone native" during the last war. Old habits being hard to break they figured.

Grenadier of the 44th Regiment of Foot, 1755
(Source)

"Move along smartly lads, keep your intervals now." Sergeant Ashburnham was keeping the column moving along Jefferson was pleased to see. The track was rough and he didn't see how they could bring the guns up without clearing some of the smaller trees. But he was an officer of foot, he'd leave the cannon to those who knew how to take care of such things.

Glancing back to the river on his left, he had spotted Indians moving rapidly to get ahead of them. He'd reported this to Gage and the lieutenant colonel had brought up more companies of the 44th and the 48th and was now leading the column himself, just behind the guides.

Jefferson had also noted that a company of provincials had joined the head of the column as well, New Yorkers led by a fellow named Gates he'd been told. Some officers belittled the performance of the provincials, but Jefferson had served with them. As good a soldier as any in Europe he'd told them. He'd also pointed out that their "regular" regiments, the 44th and 48th, had substantial numbers of soldiers recruited in Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware. Fine men he'd noted.

Of course, some of those officers had scoffed at the idea that a provincial could match the professionalism of the regulars. The arrogance of some officers appalled Jefferson, who did they think they were going up against now? Indeed, most of the French they would be facing in the next few days were provincials themselves, and Indians, lots of Indians.

Which was one thing Jefferson felt they sorely lacked, Indian auxiliaries. They had a grand total of seven Oneida warriors with them. Though these men were superb scouts, there weren't enough of them. He would have felt far more comfortable with a few hundred warriors from the Six Nations, but all they had were seven scouts. He doubted it would be enough.

He hadn't forgotten that scalp nailed to a tree, nor had his men.

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

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.

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

Interlude, Some Historical Background

The Battle on the Monongahela
(Source)

Rather than dwell on my recent loss, I've decided it's time to move forward and get on with life, at least the blogging portion of it. It's a tough thing, it's gonna hurt until the day I die (like every other loss does) but I can't stop living. Not really ready to be creative (i.e. continue on the book for the moment) but I can write about other things. Like the history behind the book.

The more attentive of you may have noticed that the label on the bottom of the posts changed from La Rivière (The River, specifically the Connecticut River) to Le Lac (The Lake, specifically Lake Champlain) on the 2nd of July.

La Rivière marked the first part of our story and covered some of the events (fictional and otherwise) of what was known as King George's War (1744 to 1748, King George II by the way, not III). Le Lac marks the second part of the story and will cover some of the events of the French and Indian War (1754 to 1763). Of course, only the events which involve the characters in the book will be covered.

You might recall that our own Lieutenant Will Jefferson was kicked out of the His Majesty's Foot Guards, however he managed to wangle a commission with the 44th Regiment of Foot. Which is a fancy way of saying an infantry regiment, by the way.

Anyhoo, the 44th had an interesting history during this time period. They performed badly at the Battle of Culloden (which I'll get to at some point) in April of 1746 (oops, a bit o' bad data there, the 44th wasn't at Culloden), then managed to get to the New World in time to participate in Braddock's defeat on the Monongahela River in July of 1755. Which I do plan to cover in my book. Which requires a bit of research, though I'm familiar with the broad outlines of the battle, to do it justice I need to dig further.

Suffice to say, Lt. Jefferson is in for some "interesting times."

Oh, a map might be in order at this time...

(Slightly modified from Source)

If you look at that map, you'll see the path that British General Braddock's expedition took to get to the Battle on the Monongahela. The Nuke used to live on a street in Alexandria, VA. which part of Braddock's army used to march from their debarkation point to the starting point for that disastrous expedition. Oh, and the Washington mentioned above? Yup, our first President when he was an officer in the Virginia service. As a matter of fact, he was instrumental in saving the remnants of that expedition.

At any rate, the map will give you an idea of the ground to be covered in Part Two of the book. While the Battle on the Monongahela is nowhere near Lake Champlain, it's important to further the story. Yes, the Gaudry brothers and Little Wolf will be present at that battle as well. Just to let you know.

Now I'm off to do the research, we'll see how far I get for Saturday's post...

All At Sea...

The Wreck
Knud-Andreassen Baade

I know, I know, it's only been three days, but this is proving to be much harder than I thought it would be, and I knew it was going to be hard.

Sasha and I connected the very first time I laid eyes on her, but to tell this story, I mean really tell it, I need to go back to October of 2003. Actually no, let's go back even further, to November of 1998. But, but...

Better still if you just chase the links for those dates mentioned above. And this one as well. Sometimes I can put a few words together that say something to someone, sometimes...

Anyhoo...

Sasha and I met each other on the 20th of October, back in 2003. It was three days after our cat Pat had passed on. A rough time as I recall. (As I recall? Are you kidding me? That day is burned, yes, burned into my memory...). Now I've written of "how I came to have a cat" before, but it surprised me that I hadn't written of how Sasha and Anya joined our merry band. And going through the archives, the feline staff of Anya and Sasha make multitudinous appearances both by reference and in photos.

Imagine, if you will, that between the penultimate and ultimate sentences of the previous paragraph I wandered so far down memory lane that I damned near forgot the amount of mental anguish I am experiencing. In fact, it was rather cathartic seeing pictures of Sasha in happier times. But, as you may well imagine, I digress.

The 20th of October was a Monday, The Missus Herself and I were at the Animal Shelter in our wee town fast by Narragansett Bay, looking for a kitten. Oddly enough, it wasn't my idea. I still needed (actually "wanted" would be a better term, the more discerning among ye will know the difference) some time to mourn, but my better half was adamant. So we went to the shelter.

Among the various felines roaming the area (a big open room where the cats were allowed to roam and play as they desired) were numerous kittens and mature cats. One kitten, a very shy and retiring type, caught the eye of The Missus Herself. While that wee, mostly white, kitten was indeed very pretty, she was also terrified of everything around her. Which concerned me. I look for personality in a cat, an outgoing nature, a curious and inquisitive feline mind, that kitten didn't seem to have any of those attributes. (Though as the years march past, I often wonder what became of her. I hope she was adopted and perhaps yet lives somewhere nearby, happy and content.)

As The Missus Herself tried to connect with that kitten, I saw another kitten, mostly black from where I stood but with white paws, playing nearby on one of those cat tree thingies, ya know, one of these -

(Source)

Anyhoo, there was a chair next to the cat tree where I could more closely observe this wee black and white kitten. When I sat down, she turned to look at me. I gave her a chin scratch, which most cats seem to enjoy, she was no exception. After she rubbed her cheek against my hand, cats have scent glands in their cheeks which they use to mark ownership, she promptly took a swipe at me. Then sat back as if to say "your move hooman." At that precise point in time, I knew that I had found "my" cat. That's how I met Sasha.

After indicating our desire to adopt said feline, The Missus Herself was also immediately entranced by the little furry girl's personality, the lady at the shelter said, "Oh, she has a sister, would you like to see her too? She's in isolation at the moment as she has a minor eye infection."

Well, yes, yes we would like to meet the sister. (Flashback - When we adopted Pat and Tiger in Germany, our mission had been to get a cat, one cat, we returned with two brothers. One of whom, Pat, had a minor eye infection. Cue Twilight Zone music...)

The lady came back with Sasha in her left arm and Anya in her right. The two cats were nearly identical, only as time went by did we learn to distinguish the two by their markings. (Sasha's nose was only half white, Anya's was all white. Sasha had white on both back legs, Anya on only one.) It was truly love at first sight.

At first they didn't have names other than what the folks at the shelter called them, Thunder (that would be Anya) and Lightning (that would be Sasha). It turned out that those names had been given them by the folks who had rescued them from a field in Massachusetts (as I understand the story). So for the first few days that's how we referred to them, an important distinction here is that is NOT what we called them. We didn't know their names yet (long story there).

Eventually we did, it may have been three or four days later, I don't rightly recall. But Anya and Sasha they were named, Anya and Sasha they remain. The two were a matched set for nearly eighteen years, until death separated them from each other and from us.

Anya remains, healthy and happy. Sasha is now but a memory, a very sweet memory.

I told her many times in the last few days of her life, knowing that she didn't have long, that I would love her forever, that I would remember her until we met again in the next world.

Sasha in happier times.

That's a promise I mean to keep.

Post Script: I'd like to mention that a friend of mine from the other side of the country, by some sad twist of fate, lost his cat of eleven years on the very same day we lost Sasha. Mike's cat was also named Sasha. I like to think that they had the opportunity to meet and go through orientation together on the other side. It's a comfort.