I like that Captain Hawkes. Good man. Let's hope for good things from the Americans once the firing starts. And I wonder what that Stewart guy is going to cook up...
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One of the better build ups for war that I've read on the forum. I particularly liked the multi-point of view. Showing the war from so many different perspectives gives a fuller feel for what's coming our way. 
Joe
Joe
Well, well... The Americans are on the move, that shady Stewart fellow has stirred things up in London and now he is in British America. You can't POSSIBLY delay the outbreak of the war any more, can you? (Go ahead, prove me wrong )
[Whinyvoice]I wanna know what's gonna happen![/Whinyvoice]
)[Whinyvoice]I wanna know what's gonna happen![/Whinyvoice]
Chapter 45: Avalanche
18th July, 1778
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
"Let me make sure I understand." Adam Brockworth, ambassador to 'the Americans' from His Britannic Majesty, folded his hands around his cup of tea. "Your General Washington and the Prussian von Steuben have marched to the Shawnee border with some forty thousand men?"
"That's correct, though given Prussia's current alliances we wanted to save General von Steuben the .. pain of having to fight against his own, so General Gates is back in command." Edward Rutledge smiled and leaned back, steepling his fingers.
"Quite." Brockworth sipped. "And you gave them orders not even to slow down, but to invade and crush any resistance."
"That's correct."
"Despite them having an alliance with the greatest nations of Europe?"
Rutledge's smile brightened.
"I see." Brockworth drank deeply and sighed. "Well, I suppose I shall be recalled now," he replied. "I was to stop a second war with your people, you know."
"So... Stop it!" Rutledge put down his drink and leaned forward. "We are attacking the Shawnee, good sir. Not Britain. There is no need for this to escalate. We've armed our border, you know that so there is no point in deceiving you ... but there's no reason we can't send them right back to their farms and shops. Let the rabble fight each other in the north, it is gentlemen who make policy. I'm certain we can reach a gentleman's agreement."
"You want us to dishonor our alliance?"
"I want you to think of the future, sir. I want you to think ten, maybe twenty years down the line, when all this insanity has passed from the public eye and radicals like Adams and Hancock are in their graves. Why sir, the needs of your master and our own are not at such terrible odds. We expect certain concessions, but eventually I have no doubt we can bend our knee and take the oath with all our hearts! You can make that happen. If men like Carleton and, dare I say, Lord North will be decried as the ones who lost North America, Brockworth will be the man who took it back!"
"You would give up your self-rule?" Brockworth snorted. "I'm skeptical."
"No," Rutledge admitted freely. "As I said, we would want certain concessions. The Scots have men in parliament? We would want that and a degree of autonomy in the bargain. However, I'm certain reasonable men can reach a reasonable compromise. It can begin here, Mister Brockworth. Tell your masters the Shawnee aren't worth it. Savages are never a reason for honorable men to engage."
"You'll want Georgia though, and my masters can never consent to that." Brockworth gulped down more tea and looked up, eyes wide.
"No..." Rutledge pretended to think about it. "No, sir. You can have Georgia - at her current borders, mind. And northern Massachusetts also. I might like the rest of New York so I can bring my people something, but those lands are yours and good riddance!"
"You are in earnest?" Brockworth put down his cup carefully. "You can speak for the entire Congress? You have a representative from Georgia as I recall."
Rutledge smiled. "Not for long. And rest assured that if we can reach a comprehensive agreement and your masters agree, I have no qualms about turning over a Georgia citizen to his rightful masters."
"I ... I cannot answer for all this." He stood quickly, nearly toppling the cup. "I will write home immediately though, with my recommendations. Perhaps you can give me something for my principals though - disbanding the armies perhaps?"
"No, not quite yet," Rutledge answered. "Though I will have them pulled back from the border as a hm... trust-building measure? Once I'm sure your colonial office agrees with our proposal, then we can talk about disarmament."
The ambassador nodded, it seemed reasonable enough. "Very well."
----------
5th August, 1778
South of Portland, Massachusetts (later Maine)
British North America
"Recall orders!?" Benedict Arnold, Major General of the Army of Massachusetts, stared at the packet incredulously. "To Connecticut?"
"Yes, sir." The messenger frowned, annoyed. "You were supposed to be on the border, sir. We never did send a declaration of war!"
They rode at the head of a column of some thirty thousand men - cavalry in front and to the sides, the infantry forming a solid line half a mile long, the guns of course, and then over a mile of supply wagons with members constantly coming to and from Boston.
"My orders came from the commander in chief," Arnold answered firmly. "His letter was to all the armies. We crossed the line simultaneously on the twentieth, two days after he was to enter Shawnee territory. It makes good strategic sense. Hit the enemy at several points simultaneously, and he cannot possibly defend them all. We haven't seen a single redcoat or partisan."
"Nonetheless this order....."
"Should have been directed to General Washington!" He eyed the messenger critically. "If there was the slightest doubt about our going to war with the Brits, then Congress really should have said something sooner. It's a little late now. We've already taken several villages and the city of Bath. What should I say? Oops?"
The messenger turned red. Opened his mouth. Finally: "This ... this isn't legal, sir. Congress is the only one who can declare war!"
"Really?"
"Really."
General Arnold nodded. "Well, that's that then." They rode along for half a minute, then he turned in his saddle. "Colonel?"
His attache rode up. "Sir?"
"Dispose of this." He passed across the documents.
The messenger gaped. "Sir!??"
"Oh, Colonel? This man just volunteered to join us. He seems like a decent rider, assign him to Colonel Aster."
"Very good, sir."
"Sir, I protest! You cannot do this!"
Arnold turned back and frowned. What kind of people was he serving? "I just did, sir. Had this come three weeks ago, there would have been time. Were I acting alone, maybe I could turn. In the middle of enemy territory, with five armies also on the attack?" He shook his head. "The avalanche has already started. It is too late for the pebbles to vote."
18th July, 1778
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
"Let me make sure I understand." Adam Brockworth, ambassador to 'the Americans' from His Britannic Majesty, folded his hands around his cup of tea. "Your General Washington and the Prussian von Steuben have marched to the Shawnee border with some forty thousand men?"
"That's correct, though given Prussia's current alliances we wanted to save General von Steuben the .. pain of having to fight against his own, so General Gates is back in command." Edward Rutledge smiled and leaned back, steepling his fingers.
"Quite." Brockworth sipped. "And you gave them orders not even to slow down, but to invade and crush any resistance."
"That's correct."
"Despite them having an alliance with the greatest nations of Europe?"
Rutledge's smile brightened.
"I see." Brockworth drank deeply and sighed. "Well, I suppose I shall be recalled now," he replied. "I was to stop a second war with your people, you know."
"So... Stop it!" Rutledge put down his drink and leaned forward. "We are attacking the Shawnee, good sir. Not Britain. There is no need for this to escalate. We've armed our border, you know that so there is no point in deceiving you ... but there's no reason we can't send them right back to their farms and shops. Let the rabble fight each other in the north, it is gentlemen who make policy. I'm certain we can reach a gentleman's agreement."
"You want us to dishonor our alliance?"
"I want you to think of the future, sir. I want you to think ten, maybe twenty years down the line, when all this insanity has passed from the public eye and radicals like Adams and Hancock are in their graves. Why sir, the needs of your master and our own are not at such terrible odds. We expect certain concessions, but eventually I have no doubt we can bend our knee and take the oath with all our hearts! You can make that happen. If men like Carleton and, dare I say, Lord North will be decried as the ones who lost North America, Brockworth will be the man who took it back!"
"You would give up your self-rule?" Brockworth snorted. "I'm skeptical."
"No," Rutledge admitted freely. "As I said, we would want certain concessions. The Scots have men in parliament? We would want that and a degree of autonomy in the bargain. However, I'm certain reasonable men can reach a reasonable compromise. It can begin here, Mister Brockworth. Tell your masters the Shawnee aren't worth it. Savages are never a reason for honorable men to engage."
"You'll want Georgia though, and my masters can never consent to that." Brockworth gulped down more tea and looked up, eyes wide.
"No..." Rutledge pretended to think about it. "No, sir. You can have Georgia - at her current borders, mind. And northern Massachusetts also. I might like the rest of New York so I can bring my people something, but those lands are yours and good riddance!"
"You are in earnest?" Brockworth put down his cup carefully. "You can speak for the entire Congress? You have a representative from Georgia as I recall."
Rutledge smiled. "Not for long. And rest assured that if we can reach a comprehensive agreement and your masters agree, I have no qualms about turning over a Georgia citizen to his rightful masters."
"I ... I cannot answer for all this." He stood quickly, nearly toppling the cup. "I will write home immediately though, with my recommendations. Perhaps you can give me something for my principals though - disbanding the armies perhaps?"
"No, not quite yet," Rutledge answered. "Though I will have them pulled back from the border as a hm... trust-building measure? Once I'm sure your colonial office agrees with our proposal, then we can talk about disarmament."
The ambassador nodded, it seemed reasonable enough. "Very well."
----------
5th August, 1778
South of Portland, Massachusetts (later Maine)
British North America
"Recall orders!?" Benedict Arnold, Major General of the Army of Massachusetts, stared at the packet incredulously. "To Connecticut?"
"Yes, sir." The messenger frowned, annoyed. "You were supposed to be on the border, sir. We never did send a declaration of war!"
They rode at the head of a column of some thirty thousand men - cavalry in front and to the sides, the infantry forming a solid line half a mile long, the guns of course, and then over a mile of supply wagons with members constantly coming to and from Boston.
"My orders came from the commander in chief," Arnold answered firmly. "His letter was to all the armies. We crossed the line simultaneously on the twentieth, two days after he was to enter Shawnee territory. It makes good strategic sense. Hit the enemy at several points simultaneously, and he cannot possibly defend them all. We haven't seen a single redcoat or partisan."
"Nonetheless this order....."
"Should have been directed to General Washington!" He eyed the messenger critically. "If there was the slightest doubt about our going to war with the Brits, then Congress really should have said something sooner. It's a little late now. We've already taken several villages and the city of Bath. What should I say? Oops?"
The messenger turned red. Opened his mouth. Finally: "This ... this isn't legal, sir. Congress is the only one who can declare war!"
"Really?"
"Really."
General Arnold nodded. "Well, that's that then." They rode along for half a minute, then he turned in his saddle. "Colonel?"
His attache rode up. "Sir?"
"Dispose of this." He passed across the documents.
The messenger gaped. "Sir!??"
"Oh, Colonel? This man just volunteered to join us. He seems like a decent rider, assign him to Colonel Aster."
"Very good, sir."
"Sir, I protest! You cannot do this!"
Arnold turned back and frowned. What kind of people was he serving? "I just did, sir. Had this come three weeks ago, there would have been time. Were I acting alone, maybe I could turn. In the middle of enemy territory, with five armies also on the attack?" He shook his head. "The avalanche has already started. It is too late for the pebbles to vote."
Machiavellian: They probably are hiding. I think I found their fleet in October 1778 though. I decided to see how Europe was doing, and the French had blockaded all British ports - including multiple English fleets.
I did check - and even the save file to be sure. The English haven't been at war since ours ended. I don't know where their armies went. (I refused to study that part of the file.) They're starting to filter back though.
Portugal did honor the alliance, though there is one flaw in your plan - namely this is the extent of the US fleet:
Admiral Jones with foreign advisors.
However if the land war can end quickly enough, certainly it's a plan.
Draco Rexus: Oh, right about now. More shot and shell coming.
jwolf: So far so good, though there have been unpleasant surprises. Oswego (New York) is a fortified colony. I've no idea when that happened. Kinda irritates my plan for a cavalry sweep through Canada. Grr.
zacharym87: Again, so far so good. This promises to worsen though.
Storey: Thanks! Well, now that it's started I hope to keep everyone up to date on the different fronts.
Stuyvesant: I was tempted, but nope - the war is on
General Notes:
Once everything sorted themselves out the alliances were as follows:
War 1: Prussia, Hessen, Portugal, Shawnee and (22 July) Creek(!)
vs United States, France, Spain, Helvetia
(England(!), Denmark, Baden and Palatinat dishonored.)
I DoWed the Shawnee first to hopefully avoid any penalty for DoWing a 'like religion' nation. If I was to play smart, I would have let it go here and crushed the Shawnee and Creek like a grape. However, I knew my characters weren't going to let them go so easily, so:
War 2: England and (2 October) Denmark
vs United States, France, Spain, Helvetia.
At least Spain stayed in this time. Every other game I've played with the US, Spain's dishonored the alliance.
I haven't detected much fighting in Europe, other than the aforementioned blockade. The French are quite active in North America though, I think they want revenge.
I did check - and even the save file to be sure. The English haven't been at war since ours ended. I don't know where their armies went. (I refused to study that part of the file.) They're starting to filter back though.
Portugal did honor the alliance, though there is one flaw in your plan - namely this is the extent of the US fleet:
Admiral Jones with foreign advisors.
However if the land war can end quickly enough, certainly it's a plan.
Draco Rexus: Oh, right about now. More shot and shell coming.
jwolf: So far so good, though there have been unpleasant surprises. Oswego (New York) is a fortified colony. I've no idea when that happened. Kinda irritates my plan for a cavalry sweep through Canada. Grr.
zacharym87: Again, so far so good. This promises to worsen though.
Storey: Thanks! Well, now that it's started I hope to keep everyone up to date on the different fronts.
Stuyvesant: I was tempted, but nope - the war is on
General Notes:
Once everything sorted themselves out the alliances were as follows:
War 1: Prussia, Hessen, Portugal, Shawnee and (22 July) Creek(!)
vs United States, France, Spain, Helvetia
(England(!), Denmark, Baden and Palatinat dishonored.)
I DoWed the Shawnee first to hopefully avoid any penalty for DoWing a 'like religion' nation. If I was to play smart, I would have let it go here and crushed the Shawnee and Creek like a grape. However, I knew my characters weren't going to let them go so easily, so:
War 2: England and (2 October) Denmark
vs United States, France, Spain, Helvetia.
At least Spain stayed in this time. Every other game I've played with the US, Spain's dishonored the alliance.
I haven't detected much fighting in Europe, other than the aforementioned blockade. The French are quite active in North America though, I think they want revenge.
Rutledge is just evil. He needs to be assassinated also.
Although it is indeed interesting to see Benedict Arnold not being the traitor.
Although it is indeed interesting to see Benedict Arnold not being the traitor.
You say Rutledge isn't a villain? I'd say he's a bloody traitor! hang him! Put him to the Knout and Fire! Publicly Stone him! just make sure he gets what he deserves
And Despite being a historical traitor, ive always had a spot of pity in my heart of benedict arnold after all, it wasn't all his fault. So im glad to see that you made him such a good character in this tale
keep up the good work!
And Despite being a historical traitor, ive always had a spot of pity in my heart of benedict arnold
after all, it wasn't all his fault. So im glad to see that you made him such a good character in this tale keep up the good work!
That is some fleet. Hmm. Well, considering the duck doesn't look like he has too much firepower, I am guessing after you defeat the Shawnee and Creek you'll try to get out of the war with the other European powers. Two wars might actually serve you well. Or it could explode in the USA's face.... :wacko:
I really enjoyed Arnold's reaction and reply to the messenger. I just hope you can keep him -- is there an event in the game corresponding to Arnold's changing of sides in real history?
I just hope you can keep him -- is there an event in the game corresponding to Arnold's changing of sides in real history?
I also like Arnold's handling of the messenger. That's one way of making sure that no one reports that you disobeyed orders, send the messenger to the front lines!
Rutledge is proving to be a most devious villian... not likeable or cool like some villians, but devious nonetheless.
Wow, the U.S. fighting a two tiered war in their own backyard. Hope all goes well, otherwise we might just read about the return of the crown colonies, eh?
Rutledge is proving to be a most devious villian... not likeable or cool like some villians, but devious nonetheless.
Wow, the U.S. fighting a two tiered war in their own backyard. Hope all goes well, otherwise we might just read about the return of the crown colonies, eh?
Hmm... Rutledge, Rutledge... I'll join the chorus and say the man's an utter bastard. But the war is on, so no more chance of him getting his way, eh? Now let's see how successful you'll be. Any Brits sighted yet?
"Arnold turned back and frowned. What kind of people was he serving? "I just did, sir. Had this come three weeks ago, there would have been time. Were I acting alone, maybe I could turn. In the middle of enemy territory, with five armies also on the attack?" He shook his head. "The avalanche has already started. It is too late for the pebbles to vote."
Very sound reasoning. He can't stop in the middle of an offensive with other armies involved. A great start of the war.
Joe
Very sound reasoning. He can't stop in the middle of an offensive with other armies involved. A great start of the war.
Joe
J. Passepartout: Hm, okay, I admit it. Rutledge is a villian. :rofl:
TreizeV: Hey, I just admitted it! I gave a pretty big clue to Arnold's fate (as it stands, God knows this story hasn't gone as planned) in that last post.
Machiavellian: Well, I'll either get out of it or I do kinda like your idea. If I can throw England out of the war (while getting what I want) fast enough, so the uberfleet isn't a factor, building a few ships and raiding Portugese colonies sounds like fun.
jwolf: No event per se, however if I remember right he 'dies' (is no longer a leader) fairly early and that may be how EU2 models it.
Judge: Erratic. You know, I just realized most of the characters in this AAR are erratic. I wonder what it says about me!
Draco Rexus: I still like Rutledge. Yes, he's turning into probably the main bad guy but he's so casual about it. Not like Stewart, who's maybe two steps shy of a cunning rottweiler.
Stuyvesant: Yep, they're coming.
Storey: Very true! And I may say that as of the point I've played to, Arnold's done the best of all my generals. Including that little putz Washington.
TreizeV: Hey, I just admitted it!
I gave a pretty big clue to Arnold's fate (as it stands, God knows this story hasn't gone as planned) in that last post.Machiavellian: Well, I'll either get out of it or I do kinda like your idea. If I can throw England out of the war (while getting what I want) fast enough, so the uberfleet isn't a factor, building a few ships and raiding Portugese colonies sounds like fun.
jwolf: No event per se, however if I remember right he 'dies' (is no longer a leader) fairly early and that may be how EU2 models it.
Judge: Erratic. You know, I just realized most of the characters in this AAR are erratic. I wonder what it says about me!
Draco Rexus: I still like Rutledge. Yes, he's turning into probably the main bad guy but he's so casual about it. Not like Stewart, who's maybe two steps shy of a cunning rottweiler.
Stuyvesant: Yep, they're coming.
Storey: Very true! And I may say that as of the point I've played to, Arnold's done the best of all my generals. Including that little putz Washington.
Chapter 46: Opening Moves
21st September, 1778
St. John, New Brunswick
British North America
"Well, I'm officially put out."
"Shut your mouth, Wilkins!" Wesley Harding glared at the newcomer they'd picked up south of Portland and sighed inwardly. Speaking up was, of course, his first mistake.
"I don't have to take this you know! I have contacts, men of business in Philadelphia! I am supposed to be running messages, this is ridiculous! To expect a man of my stature to march day in and out further north to the winters of hell - do you know I positively saw my breath this morning? - it is enough to make a man despair! By God, I..."
"Go despair somewhere else!" Harding snarled and trained his spyglass on the city far below, sitting on the east shore of the Saint John River (great imagination these folks.) Its massive garrison of twelve men and one gun straddled the demolished bridge which occasionally released a petulant puff of smoke into the morning sky.
Four full regiments of cavalry broke camp behind Harding. Four thousand men and four thousand horses made a lot of noise. Stealth was impossible. Stealth wasn't even the idea, speed was. The news Pulaski had run himself aground against Fort Carleton only made their mission that much more urgent: Seize all the undefended colonies in Canada as well as outposts from Hudson's Bay and force the British to the table. Up until yesterday everything went fine. Then some sot had thought of blowing the bridge...
"...really should be treated better, and furthermore..."
"Wilkins, go find the Cornet. Bring him here."
He opened his mouth once, shut it with an audible clack, and hurried off. After about ten minutes Waymouth appeared. "How does it look?"
Wesley wordlessly handed over his spyglass and Waymouth grunted. "Horses can't swim that, certainly not in this cold."
"And we don't have one or two thousand boats handy."
"Colonel Aster's talking about trying to cross upstream."
Harding frowned. "How long is this river?"
"How long is this river?"
"Damned if I know. I never even heard of this horse shit town until yesterday." Waymouth narrowed his gaze. "Actually...how wide do you make this river? Hundred yards?"
"Sure. You have a plan?"
"Only that we don't need to get everyone across, not all at once. This is what we do need to do..."
-----------------
Three days later: "Commander! There are two boats pulling out from Green Head Cove!"
"What!?" Commander Havlinson, New Brunswick Militia ran out of his home and towards the shore. Already men swiveled the single twelve-pound battery around and loaded it with a heavy ball. In the cold morning light, beyond the headland he could just make out what looked suspiciously like ships' boats, the kind a man of war or a prosperous fisherman might use. One even saw fit to hoist a mast. "How did they build those so fast?" he demanded.
No answer of course. Havlinson glared. "Fine. See? Those boats are just heavy with men and horses, all we have to do is spook one of them and they're dished. Are you ready?"
"Aye, sir!"
"Then fire!"
It wasn't the British artillery that fired however, but American marksmen. Hiding in the trees on the west side of the river they attacked. A man fell at Havlinson's side. Soldiers ran for their muskets as the artillery crew ducked.
"Never mind them boys, fire!"
The cannon belched a cloud of smoke and a thunderous roar as the shot whistled across the sky. For a first shot it was pretty good, landing just shy of the boats and ricocheting over their heads with a tremendous splash of water. The second boat paused, stunned as one of the horses reared and the crew leapt on it to keep from toppling.
"Good, men! One more and we have them!" The musket balls flew past the commander's head. They were aiming for him. For the enemy commander! Infernal scrubs. The powder 'boy' (he was thirty-four years old) fell with a cry, another soldier dropped his musket and took the man's place. "Everyone else, pull back to the buildings. Head for cover!"
The second cannon shot pitched too high, a hurried shot, and the first boat was over half-way across now, pulling hard. The second one seemed to be under control again. Havlinson grunted as a shot nicked his ear. "Reload! Reload!" he screamed. Now the sponger was down, that's what Havlinson got for leaving the 'piece in the open. Damn it! He grabbed the long sponge and cleaned the cannon himself. "Cover us!" he roared, but the garrison was already doing the best they could. How hard it was to hit a prone target in the woods. At one point a young man cried out that he hit one, but the flying debris turned out to be just that - a shattered, hollow log.
"And fire!" The third shot struck the unlucky second boat in the side. Miraculously it didn't cave in the flimsy wood hull but bounced off with a sullen clang to sink into the river. Nonetheless it was the end to all order as the nervous horses rebelled against their masters. The ship teetered, spun through one hundred twenty degrees of its own volition, and then rolled onto its side spilling man and beast into the harsh water.
"First boat's ashore!" Havlinson roared, drawing his sword and running for cover with what was left of his gun crew. "We'll fight them in the city!"
---------------------
The boat had barely touched shore before Wesley leapt on his saddle, charging towards the town half a mile away with half a squad at his back, no more. The crackle of musket fire slowed to the south, meaning either their garrison was dead or retreating into the city. The latter. "Cornet!" he bellowed.
"Form up on me!" Suddenly Waymouth was there. "Wedge formation. Remember, shock and run. Get up close fast, don't give them a chance to reload!"
Southward they charged along rock strewn paths following the east river line. Trees flew past, a few startled faces peeking out of houses - everyone ran home when the cannon fire started - then up ahead the towering steeple of the city's only church. Around the hill, and...
"Look out!"
"Fire!" Havlinson roared. Behind him stood eight riflemen. A shot smashed into Waymouth's stomach. All that saved him was extra padding he wore around the stomach because of the damn cold. He faltered, but his horse had no such worries and suddenly they were in. A quick flash of sabres, the appalled faces of soldiers hurtling by at thirty miles an hour as they desperately raised bayonets, and they were through.
"Turn and engage!" Waymouth shouted, then clenched his teeth as his stomach heaved. They needed no encouragement, the Americans trotted back to the battle. The British were ready this time though, and now it was hard fighting. Wesley found himself duelling a vicious little man who thought stabbing at the horse was a valid tactic. His stallion proved the man wrong, kicking his face in. Back, back, two men fell, then a third, and the garrison ran leaving Havlinson standing there, glaring wild with his sword out.
"Surrender the town," Cornet Waymouth demanded, "or we burn it to the ground."
Wesley glanced sideways, but it was impossible to tell from his hard, pain-lined face if he meant it.
Commander Havlinson seemed to agree. He looked at the five cavalrymen and grunted. He was very tired, and now that the adrenalin began to wear off his ear began to hurt. He looked like he swallowed a particularly bitter draught, and perhaps he had for he held up his sword. "Who do I have the honor of surrendering to?"
21st September, 1778
St. John, New Brunswick
British North America
"Well, I'm officially put out."
"Shut your mouth, Wilkins!" Wesley Harding glared at the newcomer they'd picked up south of Portland and sighed inwardly. Speaking up was, of course, his first mistake.
"I don't have to take this you know! I have contacts, men of business in Philadelphia! I am supposed to be running messages, this is ridiculous! To expect a man of my stature to march day in and out further north to the winters of hell - do you know I positively saw my breath this morning? - it is enough to make a man despair! By God, I..."
"Go despair somewhere else!" Harding snarled and trained his spyglass on the city far below, sitting on the east shore of the Saint John River (great imagination these folks.) Its massive garrison of twelve men and one gun straddled the demolished bridge which occasionally released a petulant puff of smoke into the morning sky.
Four full regiments of cavalry broke camp behind Harding. Four thousand men and four thousand horses made a lot of noise. Stealth was impossible. Stealth wasn't even the idea, speed was. The news Pulaski had run himself aground against Fort Carleton only made their mission that much more urgent: Seize all the undefended colonies in Canada as well as outposts from Hudson's Bay and force the British to the table. Up until yesterday everything went fine. Then some sot had thought of blowing the bridge...
"...really should be treated better, and furthermore..."
"Wilkins, go find the Cornet. Bring him here."
He opened his mouth once, shut it with an audible clack, and hurried off. After about ten minutes Waymouth appeared. "How does it look?"
Wesley wordlessly handed over his spyglass and Waymouth grunted. "Horses can't swim that, certainly not in this cold."
"And we don't have one or two thousand boats handy."
"Colonel Aster's talking about trying to cross upstream."
Harding frowned. "How long is this river?"
"How long is this river?"
"Damned if I know. I never even heard of this horse shit town until yesterday." Waymouth narrowed his gaze. "Actually...how wide do you make this river? Hundred yards?"
"Sure. You have a plan?"
"Only that we don't need to get everyone across, not all at once. This is what we do need to do..."
-----------------
Three days later: "Commander! There are two boats pulling out from Green Head Cove!"
"What!?" Commander Havlinson, New Brunswick Militia ran out of his home and towards the shore. Already men swiveled the single twelve-pound battery around and loaded it with a heavy ball. In the cold morning light, beyond the headland he could just make out what looked suspiciously like ships' boats, the kind a man of war or a prosperous fisherman might use. One even saw fit to hoist a mast. "How did they build those so fast?" he demanded.
No answer of course. Havlinson glared. "Fine. See? Those boats are just heavy with men and horses, all we have to do is spook one of them and they're dished. Are you ready?"
"Aye, sir!"
"Then fire!"
It wasn't the British artillery that fired however, but American marksmen. Hiding in the trees on the west side of the river they attacked. A man fell at Havlinson's side. Soldiers ran for their muskets as the artillery crew ducked.
"Never mind them boys, fire!"
The cannon belched a cloud of smoke and a thunderous roar as the shot whistled across the sky. For a first shot it was pretty good, landing just shy of the boats and ricocheting over their heads with a tremendous splash of water. The second boat paused, stunned as one of the horses reared and the crew leapt on it to keep from toppling.
"Good, men! One more and we have them!" The musket balls flew past the commander's head. They were aiming for him. For the enemy commander! Infernal scrubs. The powder 'boy' (he was thirty-four years old) fell with a cry, another soldier dropped his musket and took the man's place. "Everyone else, pull back to the buildings. Head for cover!"
The second cannon shot pitched too high, a hurried shot, and the first boat was over half-way across now, pulling hard. The second one seemed to be under control again. Havlinson grunted as a shot nicked his ear. "Reload! Reload!" he screamed. Now the sponger was down, that's what Havlinson got for leaving the 'piece in the open. Damn it! He grabbed the long sponge and cleaned the cannon himself. "Cover us!" he roared, but the garrison was already doing the best they could. How hard it was to hit a prone target in the woods. At one point a young man cried out that he hit one, but the flying debris turned out to be just that - a shattered, hollow log.
"And fire!" The third shot struck the unlucky second boat in the side. Miraculously it didn't cave in the flimsy wood hull but bounced off with a sullen clang to sink into the river. Nonetheless it was the end to all order as the nervous horses rebelled against their masters. The ship teetered, spun through one hundred twenty degrees of its own volition, and then rolled onto its side spilling man and beast into the harsh water.
"First boat's ashore!" Havlinson roared, drawing his sword and running for cover with what was left of his gun crew. "We'll fight them in the city!"
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The boat had barely touched shore before Wesley leapt on his saddle, charging towards the town half a mile away with half a squad at his back, no more. The crackle of musket fire slowed to the south, meaning either their garrison was dead or retreating into the city. The latter. "Cornet!" he bellowed.
"Form up on me!" Suddenly Waymouth was there. "Wedge formation. Remember, shock and run. Get up close fast, don't give them a chance to reload!"
Southward they charged along rock strewn paths following the east river line. Trees flew past, a few startled faces peeking out of houses - everyone ran home when the cannon fire started - then up ahead the towering steeple of the city's only church. Around the hill, and...
"Look out!"
"Fire!" Havlinson roared. Behind him stood eight riflemen. A shot smashed into Waymouth's stomach. All that saved him was extra padding he wore around the stomach because of the damn cold. He faltered, but his horse had no such worries and suddenly they were in. A quick flash of sabres, the appalled faces of soldiers hurtling by at thirty miles an hour as they desperately raised bayonets, and they were through.
"Turn and engage!" Waymouth shouted, then clenched his teeth as his stomach heaved. They needed no encouragement, the Americans trotted back to the battle. The British were ready this time though, and now it was hard fighting. Wesley found himself duelling a vicious little man who thought stabbing at the horse was a valid tactic. His stallion proved the man wrong, kicking his face in. Back, back, two men fell, then a third, and the garrison ran leaving Havlinson standing there, glaring wild with his sword out.
"Surrender the town," Cornet Waymouth demanded, "or we burn it to the ground."
Wesley glanced sideways, but it was impossible to tell from his hard, pain-lined face if he meant it.
Commander Havlinson seemed to agree. He looked at the five cavalrymen and grunted. He was very tired, and now that the adrenalin began to wear off his ear began to hurt. He looked like he swallowed a particularly bitter draught, and perhaps he had for he held up his sword. "Who do I have the honor of surrendering to?"
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You posted a very vivid battle description. I almost felt the bullets whistling close to my head
I agree, very good update... I found myself sitting on the edge of my seat hoping that the second boat would make it AND hoping that none of our heroes were on the second boat when it rolled over. Very good indeed!
That was my favorite line in the newest update, but it was all excellent. I really look forward to seeing how this war advances and what twist and turns the AI will throw at you.
I liked his horse's reaction to the "vicious little man"... sometimes infantrymen forget that a cavalryman's horse is as much a weapon as the cavalryman's saber and carbine!
So how goes the rest of the war?
So how goes the rest of the war?