CatKnight said:
Interesingly enough, the substitute teacher in my AP U.S. History class today decided to start us off with music from '1776', of course using Rutledge's song about the slave trade.
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Interesingly enough, the substitute teacher in my AP U.S. History class today decided to start us off with music from '1776', of course using Rutledge's song about the slave trade.
Hey leave Rutledge alone. I'm really liking the guy and he gave a great speech. I plan on being at the parade gounds on the morrow! 
Joe
Joe
how can you not consider Rutledge a villain catknight? The guy basically oozes slime from his pockets
In any case, no! Don't kill rutledge! he is too enjoyable to read about! Maybe tar and feather him, or publically stone him.
But don't kill him
In any case, no! Don't kill rutledge! he is too enjoyable to read about! Maybe tar and feather him, or publically stone him.
But don't kill him
I agree with Storey his speech was fantastic, but while I do enjoy the sparks the fly from my eyes when I read of his villiany, I wouldn't really miss out on that if something were to force him from the AAR.
Hey, I gots us an idea! Why don't we have something happen to Rutledge that'll make him what he wants, a well respected hero.... that is, a hero that achieves his hero status by sacrificing himself for the cause. With a little help, of course.
Hey, I gots us an idea! Why don't we have something happen to Rutledge that'll make him what he wants, a well respected hero.... that is, a hero that achieves his hero status by sacrificing himself for the cause. With a little help, of course.
Great work, that speach was pretty good and reminded me of when I was a freshman and had to memorize the one speach. I think Rutage is still a little sob, but now I kinda don't think he's all that bad
Very nice speech. And a very nice bastard that Rutledge still is. Such an easy person to hate, it's almost possible to forget that there are more important enemies (them being the British and those shadowy Nazi figures you have running around in the background).
I expect Rutledge will want some heavy compensation if 'his' Carolina boys do manage to save the South... I guess the States Rights movement will be a fair bit stronger in your USA, Catknight.
Such an easy person to hate, it's almost possible to forget that there are more important enemies (them being the British and those shadowy Nazi figures you have running around in the background).I expect Rutledge will want some heavy compensation if 'his' Carolina boys do manage to save the South... I guess the States Rights movement will be a fair bit stronger in your USA, Catknight.
Hi folks:
First, I apologize for the delay. Life's turned..interesting offline, and I'm finding I have to pick and choose my battles. We may slow down here and there, but I promise this AAR's not going anywhere. I like the characters, I like the storyline, and I couldn't be happier that you've stayed with me to this point.
J. Passepartout: Doesn't he? Except, Rutledge outsmarted himself this time. Either Tom will fail, which means his beloved Charleston is destroyed... or he'll succeed, in which case his fiercest critic is now a war hero.
Corruption: Welcome! As for Tom, if he wins I will mod him as a leader. I'm reluctant right now because Tom basically qualifies as a default leader right now - inexperienced, but not incompetent. (Or I may anyway if I can find the default leader's stats .. 2-2-2?)
Draco Rexus: You are a bloodthirsty soul! (See Judas too)
Judas Maccabeus: Hmm, Rutledge probably wouldn't go on a night time recon. That's something common soldiers do. I will promise you and Draco one thing: If this storyline (the whole AAR) works as expected... (not that it has so far, Exeter's supposed to be long dead...) then Rutledge will eventually meet his fate.
J. Passepartout: Hmm...your teacher has strange tastes in music :rofl: I actually read the play before I saw it, so I had a preconceived notion of what Rutledge was like. That song didn't quite qualify. :rofl: I will say he was my favorite character of the entire play though - at least he was honest about being a twit.
Storey: Hmm...so you were on the parade grounds with Charleston's finest? I'll remember that! ("What's your name, son?" "Rowe!" (or is it Mr. Green and Mr. Brown?))
TreizeV: :rofl: I conceded he's a villian. No, though. Rutledge eventually runs into trouble (if things proceed as planned - hah!,) but that's a very long way off. I need him right now.
Draco Rexus: A well-respected hero? You're going soft!
Zeno of Cyprus: Thank you! I'm not used to writing speeches, that one took some effort. As for him not being all that bad... he's really not. (Hear that Treize? I'm waffling!) Rutledge has very specific ideas on where Carolina and America should go..and they just don't match up with our expectation of a strong, unified nation.
Wilhelm VI: Hi, Wilhelm! Welcome! Actually the Battle of Saratoga took place in upstate New York, whereas our heroes (and villian) are trying to save Charleston, South Carolina. The north's actually reasonably stable at this point, and New York's behind friendly lines. So long as the survivors of Arnold's assault stay bottled up in Quebec City and no reinforcements sneak in, we should be okay there.
Stuyvesant: If 'Rutledge's' Carolina boys do save the south, I will have to give some thought to where the story goes...for you're right: State Rights will receive a major, major boost. As was commented earlier, it's something of a miracle the US ended up a fairly strong, unified federation and historically it took the ACW to work out the kinks. I see this US going down a different path.
First, I apologize for the delay. Life's turned..interesting offline, and I'm finding I have to pick and choose my battles. We may slow down here and there, but I promise this AAR's not going anywhere. I like the characters, I like the storyline, and I couldn't be happier that you've stayed with me to this point.
J. Passepartout: Doesn't he? Except, Rutledge outsmarted himself this time. Either Tom will fail, which means his beloved Charleston is destroyed... or he'll succeed, in which case his fiercest critic is now a war hero.
Corruption: Welcome! As for Tom, if he wins I will mod him as a leader. I'm reluctant right now because Tom basically qualifies as a default leader right now - inexperienced, but not incompetent. (Or I may anyway if I can find the default leader's stats .. 2-2-2?)
Draco Rexus: You are a bloodthirsty soul! (See Judas too)
Judas Maccabeus: Hmm, Rutledge probably wouldn't go on a night time recon. That's something common soldiers do.
I will promise you and Draco one thing: If this storyline (the whole AAR) works as expected... (not that it has so far, Exeter's supposed to be long dead...) then Rutledge will eventually meet his fate.J. Passepartout: Hmm...your teacher has strange tastes in music :rofl: I actually read the play before I saw it, so I had a preconceived notion of what Rutledge was like. That song didn't quite qualify. :rofl: I will say he was my favorite character of the entire play though - at least he was honest about being a twit.
Storey: Hmm...so you were on the parade grounds with Charleston's finest? I'll remember that! ("What's your name, son?" "Rowe!" (or is it Mr. Green and Mr. Brown?))
TreizeV: :rofl: I conceded he's a villian. No, though. Rutledge eventually runs into trouble (if things proceed as planned - hah!,) but that's a very long way off. I need him right now.
Draco Rexus: A well-respected hero? You're going soft!
Zeno of Cyprus: Thank you! I'm not used to writing speeches, that one took some effort. As for him not being all that bad... he's really not. (Hear that Treize? I'm waffling!) Rutledge has very specific ideas on where Carolina and America should go..and they just don't match up with our expectation of a strong, unified nation.
Wilhelm VI: Hi, Wilhelm! Welcome! Actually the Battle of Saratoga took place in upstate New York, whereas our heroes (and villian) are trying to save Charleston, South Carolina. The north's actually reasonably stable at this point, and New York's behind friendly lines. So long as the survivors of Arnold's assault stay bottled up in Quebec City and no reinforcements sneak in, we should be okay there.
Stuyvesant: If 'Rutledge's' Carolina boys do save the south, I will have to give some thought to where the story goes...for you're right: State Rights will receive a major, major boost. As was commented earlier, it's something of a miracle the US ended up a fairly strong, unified federation and historically it took the ACW to work out the kinks. I see this US going down a different path.
Chapter 57: The Battle of Charleston (Part 2)
17th December, 1779
Charleston, South Carolina
And so it began.
Four hundred men stood on the Charleston parade grounds the next morning: proud men, not the half-starved stragglers that tried to fight the British in '73. Some still wore silk stockings and lace coats: That wouldn't last long at all. Most armed themselves with hunting rifles; fowl pieces never meant to fire with others in a line. That, too, would change soon enough.
Tom didn't like Edward Rutledge, and the feeling was mutual. Their loathing quietly built up over these last few years and had circumstances been different they might have settled the matter on some quiet field with seconds long ago. Heyward had to admit one thing though, as countrymen on foot, horsemen and ships all descended on the city: The man could tap into a part of society Tom never could. Rutledge also knew how to organize ... or get others to organize for him.
Pirates and smugglers from Savannah, frontiersmen on the fringes of Cherokee territory, men from the towns that dotted South Carolina and from innumerable plantations and farms, all came to Charleston. They'd hoped and expected to avoid Mister Hancock's war entirely, but this was no longer about politics. They were fighting for survival.
Riders charged up the Carolina Path to Charlotte, and tiny revenue cutters braved the internecine warfare between American privateer and British man-of-war to skirt to Wilmington and so to Raleigh. In nearby Williamsburg, the Virginian Commonwealth Assembly quietly started raising its own army 'just in case.'
As All Hallow's Eve came and went, Virginia and the two Carolinas entered a mutual defense pact - which some found interesting since the Articles of Confederation should have accomplished the same purpose. The three states promised to come to each other's aid against all foes, domestic and foreign. In the State House at Charleston, Edward Rutledge smiled. Philadelphia promised its continued support, which was very noble Rutledge conceded, except they were quite busy elsewhere. The South could take care of its own business, he'd let them know when it was over.
Heyward's days were also busy: In early November he learned General Lincoln was limping towards Savannah with what was left of his army. Tom told him what was afoot and the Massachusetts general promised to hold the city until the Carolinan army was at least trained. It meant still more casualties, but "we'll touch them up hearty!"
Training. On a cold night in mid-December 1779, Tom contemplated training. Teaching frontiersmen, city and countrymen, smugglers and aristocrats to work together was not unlike nailing pudding to a tree; an interesting idea on paper, but good luck. Some modicum of order was mandatory in any army, especially one from the eighteenth century that had to march in line, fire and reload on command, and maintain formation even in the chaos of total war. It didn't help that he still didn't have a firm command structure worked out; the governors of South and North Carolina, a retired British army officer from Charlotte, and he all had seperate ideas and it was going to come down to whoever was most stubborn.
John limped in, leaning on a cane. He still looked like death warmed over - his entire body covered with welts and scars where surgeons fought to pull flesh over exposed muscle and bone, while his face looked like he'd been in a particularly ugly fight. One of his ears was gone, though he now wore his hair longer to cover the hole.
Heyward stood and guided him to a seat. Even the short walk across the street left the young man breathless, his face hard with pain. John sank gratefully into the chair.
"Water?"
"Beer," Preston retorted. Tom gave him a sharp look, but complied. "What are you doing?" He reached across to Tom's side of the table and pulled over some papers.
"Planning," Heyward answered, returning and placing two mugs on the table. "I think if we meet him at the riverline we just might do it. Arrange for General Lincoln to destroy the bridge once he crosses - I hear most of our cannon survived - and pepper him from long range." Major - now Colonel - Kiernan had exceeded all hopes and would bring the battery home mostly intact.
"Bombarding the town in the process?"
Tom nodded grimly. "I don't like it either, but it's our best shot. Exeter will take his time looting the town I think. We may do some damage if we knock it down around him."
"Will he? Savannah's poor as I recall."
"Yes, but General Lincoln's been burning the ground as he retreats. Exeter's going to need supplies, and Savannah's the best place for him. Further, if the Brits tried to run the blockade he could hope for more men."
John narrowed his eyes. "They could do that in St. Augustine and march them up. Our control's shakier there."
"They could," Tom allowed. "However, have you heard of Occam's razor?"
"Who the hell is Occam?"
Heyward shrugged. He'd never gotten to that part. "It's a principle of logic. Basically the simplest explanation is the most likely. The more contigencies, the less likely it's true. No, I think it's simplest if Exeter just tries to get the supplies himself here." He stabbed at the map.
"Your Occam would say that a man who can't speak can't lead an army," John scowled. "No, he's smarter than that, Tom. He's probably sitting in front of a map right this second, only he's thinking 'What's the American going to do and how can I _____ him?' The man's beaten us into a hat repeatedly."
"You act like he's invincible," Heyward warned. Despair could kill their entire plan.
Preston shrugged. "No, but..." He paused and drank, trying to formulate his thoughts. "He's like a fox. You can't kill a fox just lining up your guns and shooting at his foxhole. You have to run after him, chase him down. You have to outthink him. We've all been lining up nice and polite, but he's ready for that. We know he has to preplan a lot of his signals or all the baton waving in the world wouldn't save him - that means he has to have a good idea what we're going to do. We have to do something he doesn't expect, something that beats all his plans and doesn't give him time to set up anew. I tell you, he's expecting a fight for the river and has already figured out how to _____ you over thrice now. We need to be sneaky."
Tom glared at the language, but there was something in what he said. He shook his head and turned back to the map, tracing the riverline. He had a one hundred-seventy year advantage on Jasen Exeter ... he could do sneaky.
17th December, 1779
Charleston, South Carolina
And so it began.
Four hundred men stood on the Charleston parade grounds the next morning: proud men, not the half-starved stragglers that tried to fight the British in '73. Some still wore silk stockings and lace coats: That wouldn't last long at all. Most armed themselves with hunting rifles; fowl pieces never meant to fire with others in a line. That, too, would change soon enough.
Tom didn't like Edward Rutledge, and the feeling was mutual. Their loathing quietly built up over these last few years and had circumstances been different they might have settled the matter on some quiet field with seconds long ago. Heyward had to admit one thing though, as countrymen on foot, horsemen and ships all descended on the city: The man could tap into a part of society Tom never could. Rutledge also knew how to organize ... or get others to organize for him.
Pirates and smugglers from Savannah, frontiersmen on the fringes of Cherokee territory, men from the towns that dotted South Carolina and from innumerable plantations and farms, all came to Charleston. They'd hoped and expected to avoid Mister Hancock's war entirely, but this was no longer about politics. They were fighting for survival.
Riders charged up the Carolina Path to Charlotte, and tiny revenue cutters braved the internecine warfare between American privateer and British man-of-war to skirt to Wilmington and so to Raleigh. In nearby Williamsburg, the Virginian Commonwealth Assembly quietly started raising its own army 'just in case.'
As All Hallow's Eve came and went, Virginia and the two Carolinas entered a mutual defense pact - which some found interesting since the Articles of Confederation should have accomplished the same purpose. The three states promised to come to each other's aid against all foes, domestic and foreign. In the State House at Charleston, Edward Rutledge smiled. Philadelphia promised its continued support, which was very noble Rutledge conceded, except they were quite busy elsewhere. The South could take care of its own business, he'd let them know when it was over.
Heyward's days were also busy: In early November he learned General Lincoln was limping towards Savannah with what was left of his army. Tom told him what was afoot and the Massachusetts general promised to hold the city until the Carolinan army was at least trained. It meant still more casualties, but "we'll touch them up hearty!"
Training. On a cold night in mid-December 1779, Tom contemplated training. Teaching frontiersmen, city and countrymen, smugglers and aristocrats to work together was not unlike nailing pudding to a tree; an interesting idea on paper, but good luck. Some modicum of order was mandatory in any army, especially one from the eighteenth century that had to march in line, fire and reload on command, and maintain formation even in the chaos of total war. It didn't help that he still didn't have a firm command structure worked out; the governors of South and North Carolina, a retired British army officer from Charlotte, and he all had seperate ideas and it was going to come down to whoever was most stubborn.
John limped in, leaning on a cane. He still looked like death warmed over - his entire body covered with welts and scars where surgeons fought to pull flesh over exposed muscle and bone, while his face looked like he'd been in a particularly ugly fight. One of his ears was gone, though he now wore his hair longer to cover the hole.
Heyward stood and guided him to a seat. Even the short walk across the street left the young man breathless, his face hard with pain. John sank gratefully into the chair.
"Water?"
"Beer," Preston retorted. Tom gave him a sharp look, but complied. "What are you doing?" He reached across to Tom's side of the table and pulled over some papers.
"Planning," Heyward answered, returning and placing two mugs on the table. "I think if we meet him at the riverline we just might do it. Arrange for General Lincoln to destroy the bridge once he crosses - I hear most of our cannon survived - and pepper him from long range." Major - now Colonel - Kiernan had exceeded all hopes and would bring the battery home mostly intact.
"Bombarding the town in the process?"
Tom nodded grimly. "I don't like it either, but it's our best shot. Exeter will take his time looting the town I think. We may do some damage if we knock it down around him."
"Will he? Savannah's poor as I recall."
"Yes, but General Lincoln's been burning the ground as he retreats. Exeter's going to need supplies, and Savannah's the best place for him. Further, if the Brits tried to run the blockade he could hope for more men."
John narrowed his eyes. "They could do that in St. Augustine and march them up. Our control's shakier there."
"They could," Tom allowed. "However, have you heard of Occam's razor?"
"Who the hell is Occam?"
Heyward shrugged. He'd never gotten to that part. "It's a principle of logic. Basically the simplest explanation is the most likely. The more contigencies, the less likely it's true. No, I think it's simplest if Exeter just tries to get the supplies himself here." He stabbed at the map.
"Your Occam would say that a man who can't speak can't lead an army," John scowled. "No, he's smarter than that, Tom. He's probably sitting in front of a map right this second, only he's thinking 'What's the American going to do and how can I _____ him?' The man's beaten us into a hat repeatedly."
"You act like he's invincible," Heyward warned. Despair could kill their entire plan.
Preston shrugged. "No, but..." He paused and drank, trying to formulate his thoughts. "He's like a fox. You can't kill a fox just lining up your guns and shooting at his foxhole. You have to run after him, chase him down. You have to outthink him. We've all been lining up nice and polite, but he's ready for that. We know he has to preplan a lot of his signals or all the baton waving in the world wouldn't save him - that means he has to have a good idea what we're going to do. We have to do something he doesn't expect, something that beats all his plans and doesn't give him time to set up anew. I tell you, he's expecting a fight for the river and has already figured out how to _____ you over thrice now. We need to be sneaky."
Tom glared at the language, but there was something in what he said. He shook his head and turned back to the map, tracing the riverline. He had a one hundred-seventy year advantage on Jasen Exeter ... he could do sneaky.
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Now that's a quote! I like it a lot.CatKnight said:
And some very thoughtful remarks by John. I'm interested in what you'll pull out of your hat for Heyward to be sneaky. It's about time Exeter gets his... his... well, his, I guess.
I like the pudding nailed to a tree line as well, that's a classic! :rofl:
I'm thinking that Heyward is going to be quite sneaky here quite soon and I can't wait to see how he traps Exeter!
I'm thinking that Heyward is going to be quite sneaky here quite soon and I can't wait to see how he traps Exeter!
I can almost see a gurrila war because of that 100 year advantage deal. I can't wait.
CatKnight
Now this is what I like to see. A good old American "can do" attitude!
Joe
Now this is what I like to see. A good old American "can do" attitude!
Joe
But wait! Isn't Heyward actually English?? OHHH I AM SO CONFUSED!! Stop making my head hurt! :wacko:
Stuyvesant: Thanks! I modified it from a friend. The original quote was 'Raising a teenager is like nailing jello to a tree.' How true!
Draco Rexus: Well, Tom's borrowing a few tricks from future playbooks.
Zeno of Cyprus: That's part of it!
Storey: Well, someone has to do sneaky besides Stewart! Might as well be Tom
Draco Rexus: Shhhhh. Have some aspirin!
Wilhelm VI: I'm sure going to try! Actually it's about time to play through that battle, can't do much more 'til I know how it goes. Wish us luck!
Draco Rexus: Well, Tom's borrowing a few tricks from future playbooks.
Zeno of Cyprus: That's part of it!
Storey: Well, someone has to do sneaky besides Stewart! Might as well be Tom
Draco Rexus: Shhhhh. Have some aspirin!
Wilhelm VI: I'm sure going to try! Actually it's about time to play through that battle, can't do much more 'til I know how it goes.
Wish us luck!
Chapter 57: The Battle of Charleston (Part 3)
23rd December, 1779
Charleston, South Carolina
"I'm sorry, General. Did you say we should attack?" Colonel Westerly frowned at the map.
"We do have the numbers," Colonel Allen acknowledged slowly.
"He's not proposing a full attack though, are you general? What is this 'blitzkrieg' anyway? Sounds German."
"It is German," Tom Heyward muttered.
"Frederick the Great," Allen assumed wisely.
"Sure. Gentlemen, it simply means we take the fight into the enemy camp."
A true blitzkrieg - armored divisions pouring in and blasting a hole in the enemy line before they can regroup - was of course impossible. Tanks would not be invented for well over a century. However the ideals of that tactic, namely maneuverability, strike power and preventing the enemy from regrouping, was certainly doable. Cutting enemy lines of support, flanking and ambushes, all were part of 18th century warfare and easy enough to implement.
"Forgive me for bringing this up, General. I don't intend it as a personal reflection....but this is scarcely honorable."
"Colonel Westerly, General Lincoln is down to three thousand men - that's seventeen thousand dead, wounded or captured. We left honor behind awhile ago."
"You may have, sir, but I..."
"Let the man talk," Allen growled.
Heyward frowned at Westerly. The colonel was conservative by nature, and didn't hesitate to admit the only reason he was there was because he stood to lose his plantations if Exeter burned his way through that state. The governor of South Carolina insisted upon his presence though, to represent 'the gentlemen' of Carolina. "Colonel," he began slowly. "I don't need to tell a man of your parts what's at stake, sir. We may outnumber him, as Colonel Allen says," he bowed, "but he has us out-trained and out-disciplined. I tell you that while we may well win a straight battle, especially with the Savannah River on our side ... it would be closer than you or I would like. I do not propose a full attack. Eventually we will meet him on the open field with banners waving, but I do think we can weaken him first. We did use skirmishers in '73 if you'll recall."
Westerly proceeded to share his view of skirmishing tactics. It wasn't favorable.
"Regardless, that is the way we'll proceed. If you don't feel you can proceed, then say so now and we'll find someone else and give you a garrison. Nothing else need be said."
"That won't be necessary," the colonel answered stiffly.
"Very good. Colonel Allen?"
"What specifically do you propose, sir?"
"I propose we send our cavalry to Augusta, using the roads from Charleston to Camden and so over for speed. From there they'll arc in, striking first at any scouts Exeter may have, then doubling around and hitting his supply lines. Do not engage the main army. Don't engage anyone at all if it can be helped - Lincoln lost his cavalry to an ambush. Do what damage they can, then get out ... through Augusta if possible, ahead of the British army if not. Maneuverability is the key to that part of the campaign - get bogged down in the swamp and we're done."
"And the infantry?"
"They have the less reputable position I fear. They are to cross the bridge into Savannah. Any civilian who wants to leave there when we arrive is free to. Then we sack and burn the city. We cannot, cannot allow him to resupply there. It's true he'll get supplies from Saint Augustine, but it may slow him down."
Allen frowned. To his surprise, Westerly simply nodded. "I have no problem with that. Until and unless we successfully prosecute this war, the city is British by right. Let it burn. But I thought we expected General Lincoln to make a stand in Savannah?"
"We don't know what condition he'll be in, and we can't really afford the chance that he gets overrun," Heyward replied. "I'll be arranging a little present for General Exeter as well. I've asked Lincoln to just keep retreating - We'll keep the bridge open as long as we can, then we'll destroy it. I'll also ask the cavalry to destroy the bridge near Augusta."
"The Georgians may not like that. I know some Carolinans who won't like that!" Allen warned.
"Regrettable. I want Exeter to need boats to cross the river. With luck we can repeat General Arnold's luck up north, catch them half-way across and so annihilate them. We'll assign a rider to every battalion to pass messages back and forth and leave a battalion behind enemy lines hiding in the Georgian swamp."
"Why for God's sake?" Westerly looked up. "This is a bold plan, sir, but so far you're splitting us up into three parts - more if you intend to garrison the entire river. You yourself have commented on the dangers of his ambushing a small part of our force."
"Yes, but this battalion's job will be to snipe at his flanks, not engage in a pitched battle. They will be our skirmishers, harassing the marching line then disappearing. Again, any possible delay we cause him, every single casualty works in our favor."
They didn't like it. Tom could see that right away. This wasn't how gentlemen fought. Heyward actually preferred it their way - there was something impersonal about tanks and bombers, machine guns and mines, something that made war .. especially 'total' war .. just a little too easy. However this wasn't the time to play by Exeter's rules.
--------
John Preston had found a particularly forgiving horse and now paced slowly along the three sets of trenches that cut Charleston's peninsula off from the outside world. Pointed stakes prevented an effective cavalry charge, and tunnels connected the trenches so soldiers could move back and forth as the tactical situation required. A sizeable fleet of privateers, commissioned by the Carolina Assembly (what there was of it at the moment), now defended the harbor against all comers.
His ears still rang, though in slow increments his hearing returned to normal. He was stiff and could barely walk, but riding seemed easy enough. Preston wanted to reenter the war. This was personal. Tom said no. Of course he said no. Tom thought he should stay in bed twenty hours a day - one more day was going to kill him.
"Mister Preston, sir." Edward Rutledge waited for him at the front of the first trench, sitting astride a great black horse. He bowed. "I do not think I've ever expressed my sorrow at your father's death, or my gratitude for the sacrifices you've made."
John snorted. Heyward sometimes kept him up nights raving about the man. That was, actually, part of the point. He'd known full well Rutledge spent his time here, half-marveling and half-mourning at what 'that man' was doing to his city. He managed a bow though. "Sir. I've come to ask you for a favor. It's about Tom's...General Heyward's plan."
Rutledge arched his eyebrows. "I've tried to stay out of his way, sir. This military operation, this ... defense is his duty."
"Nonetheless, I want to help...but he's not being reasonable. Now, knowing of your great intellect I thought you might persuade him..."
Edward laughed at the obvious manipulation, but this was too promising to ignore. His own ward coming to him for help? He moved his horse closer. "Do go on, my good sir. I'm certain I can find a way to satisfy your needs. What exactly did you have in mind?"
23rd December, 1779
Charleston, South Carolina
"I'm sorry, General. Did you say we should attack?" Colonel Westerly frowned at the map.
"We do have the numbers," Colonel Allen acknowledged slowly.
"He's not proposing a full attack though, are you general? What is this 'blitzkrieg' anyway? Sounds German."
"It is German," Tom Heyward muttered.
"Frederick the Great," Allen assumed wisely.
"Sure. Gentlemen, it simply means we take the fight into the enemy camp."
A true blitzkrieg - armored divisions pouring in and blasting a hole in the enemy line before they can regroup - was of course impossible. Tanks would not be invented for well over a century. However the ideals of that tactic, namely maneuverability, strike power and preventing the enemy from regrouping, was certainly doable. Cutting enemy lines of support, flanking and ambushes, all were part of 18th century warfare and easy enough to implement.
"Forgive me for bringing this up, General. I don't intend it as a personal reflection....but this is scarcely honorable."
"Colonel Westerly, General Lincoln is down to three thousand men - that's seventeen thousand dead, wounded or captured. We left honor behind awhile ago."
"You may have, sir, but I..."
"Let the man talk," Allen growled.
Heyward frowned at Westerly. The colonel was conservative by nature, and didn't hesitate to admit the only reason he was there was because he stood to lose his plantations if Exeter burned his way through that state. The governor of South Carolina insisted upon his presence though, to represent 'the gentlemen' of Carolina. "Colonel," he began slowly. "I don't need to tell a man of your parts what's at stake, sir. We may outnumber him, as Colonel Allen says," he bowed, "but he has us out-trained and out-disciplined. I tell you that while we may well win a straight battle, especially with the Savannah River on our side ... it would be closer than you or I would like. I do not propose a full attack. Eventually we will meet him on the open field with banners waving, but I do think we can weaken him first. We did use skirmishers in '73 if you'll recall."
Westerly proceeded to share his view of skirmishing tactics. It wasn't favorable.
"Regardless, that is the way we'll proceed. If you don't feel you can proceed, then say so now and we'll find someone else and give you a garrison. Nothing else need be said."
"That won't be necessary," the colonel answered stiffly.
"Very good. Colonel Allen?"
"What specifically do you propose, sir?"
"I propose we send our cavalry to Augusta, using the roads from Charleston to Camden and so over for speed. From there they'll arc in, striking first at any scouts Exeter may have, then doubling around and hitting his supply lines. Do not engage the main army. Don't engage anyone at all if it can be helped - Lincoln lost his cavalry to an ambush. Do what damage they can, then get out ... through Augusta if possible, ahead of the British army if not. Maneuverability is the key to that part of the campaign - get bogged down in the swamp and we're done."
"And the infantry?"
"They have the less reputable position I fear. They are to cross the bridge into Savannah. Any civilian who wants to leave there when we arrive is free to. Then we sack and burn the city. We cannot, cannot allow him to resupply there. It's true he'll get supplies from Saint Augustine, but it may slow him down."
Allen frowned. To his surprise, Westerly simply nodded. "I have no problem with that. Until and unless we successfully prosecute this war, the city is British by right. Let it burn. But I thought we expected General Lincoln to make a stand in Savannah?"
"We don't know what condition he'll be in, and we can't really afford the chance that he gets overrun," Heyward replied. "I'll be arranging a little present for General Exeter as well. I've asked Lincoln to just keep retreating - We'll keep the bridge open as long as we can, then we'll destroy it. I'll also ask the cavalry to destroy the bridge near Augusta."
"The Georgians may not like that. I know some Carolinans who won't like that!" Allen warned.
"Regrettable. I want Exeter to need boats to cross the river. With luck we can repeat General Arnold's luck up north, catch them half-way across and so annihilate them. We'll assign a rider to every battalion to pass messages back and forth and leave a battalion behind enemy lines hiding in the Georgian swamp."
"Why for God's sake?" Westerly looked up. "This is a bold plan, sir, but so far you're splitting us up into three parts - more if you intend to garrison the entire river. You yourself have commented on the dangers of his ambushing a small part of our force."
"Yes, but this battalion's job will be to snipe at his flanks, not engage in a pitched battle. They will be our skirmishers, harassing the marching line then disappearing. Again, any possible delay we cause him, every single casualty works in our favor."
They didn't like it. Tom could see that right away. This wasn't how gentlemen fought. Heyward actually preferred it their way - there was something impersonal about tanks and bombers, machine guns and mines, something that made war .. especially 'total' war .. just a little too easy. However this wasn't the time to play by Exeter's rules.
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John Preston had found a particularly forgiving horse and now paced slowly along the three sets of trenches that cut Charleston's peninsula off from the outside world. Pointed stakes prevented an effective cavalry charge, and tunnels connected the trenches so soldiers could move back and forth as the tactical situation required. A sizeable fleet of privateers, commissioned by the Carolina Assembly (what there was of it at the moment), now defended the harbor against all comers.
His ears still rang, though in slow increments his hearing returned to normal. He was stiff and could barely walk, but riding seemed easy enough. Preston wanted to reenter the war. This was personal. Tom said no. Of course he said no. Tom thought he should stay in bed twenty hours a day - one more day was going to kill him.
"Mister Preston, sir." Edward Rutledge waited for him at the front of the first trench, sitting astride a great black horse. He bowed. "I do not think I've ever expressed my sorrow at your father's death, or my gratitude for the sacrifices you've made."
John snorted. Heyward sometimes kept him up nights raving about the man. That was, actually, part of the point. He'd known full well Rutledge spent his time here, half-marveling and half-mourning at what 'that man' was doing to his city. He managed a bow though. "Sir. I've come to ask you for a favor. It's about Tom's...General Heyward's plan."
Rutledge arched his eyebrows. "I've tried to stay out of his way, sir. This military operation, this ... defense is his duty."
"Nonetheless, I want to help...but he's not being reasonable. Now, knowing of your great intellect I thought you might persuade him..."
Edward laughed at the obvious manipulation, but this was too promising to ignore. His own ward coming to him for help? He moved his horse closer. "Do go on, my good sir. I'm certain I can find a way to satisfy your needs. What exactly did you have in mind?"
I must commend you Catknight! Your story never loses any of my interest as it progresses. I must also commend you for a very creative mind, adopting blitzkrieg into an 18th century mindset! Of course you don't have stuka bombers or planes to precede your armoured thrusts but oh well, make do with what you have.
On another note, John preston has managed once again to lose any liking i had for him. Traitorous scum!
but oh well, make do with what you have.On another note, John preston has managed once again to lose any liking i had for him. Traitorous scum!
That wasn't blitzkrieg, blitzkrieg would be using cavalry to break through the lines and using the infantry to make use of the breach and smother your enemy which wouldn't have been considered dishonorable at all. What your discribing is offensive guerilla tactics which are generally only possible if you have a lot of land and not enough enemies to effectively control it.