A real honest to God, take no prisoners, kick them where it hurts showdown coming up? Why do I think Exeter still might have an ace up his sleeve? 
Joe
Joe
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Chapter 62: Fury
9th March, 1780
Darien, Georgia (Carolina occupied)
What happens here this day,
The fate of this nation:
In the balance it will hang
Consumed with the pain.
The courage of the blue,
the valor of the grey.
So very sad but true,
consumed with the pain.
- High Water Mark (Gettysburg 1863 (Day 3))
Iced Earth
"C'mon boys, don't wait on me. Run!" John Preston roared as his own company swarmed past him. The hot wind of a hundred horses in full, thundering gallop blew on his face as he strained to look past the dust in the direction they were fleeing from. Yes, there they were - British cavalry in wild pursuit.
"Catch me if you can!" Preston bellowed. He jerked hard on his reins, bringing his steed about, and joined his men. One might have thought the hundred Americans and twenty Brits were in some sort of race for a hundred pounds as they streaked up the Post Road towards Savannah. Trees in the first blush of an early spring whistled past, mere blurs on the periphery of John's vision and infinitely less important then the heaving mass of horse flesh he fought to keep formation with. One misstep here, one misplaced hoof, and neither Preston or his horse could expect any mercy from the squad or so of his own men feet and inches behind him. The horses panted and gasped, and John's heart thundered in his chest.
Mile after mile vanished, until ahead they could make out the covered wood bridge across the South Altamaha River. Those who might have seen this as a great race might also have wondered why a company of Americans was apparently fleeing from one-fifth their force. They may have been reassured to see the rest of the cavalry - some two thousand men - on the far side of the bridge in neat lines ... and then puzzled when they realized these regiments had no intent of helping their brethren.
The company swarmed across the bridge in near perfect order, the solid and reassuring clip-clop of hooves on wood filled the air. Half a mile away he spotted a ruffled but perfectly healthy Major Engels. He shouted something no one there had any chance of hearing as John cleared the bridge, and the Brits closed formation heedless of the danger.
The bridge exploded as three barrels of powder went off with a hiss and all-engulfing bang. Roof and floor soared into the afternoon sky, whistling, then fell back in a hail of wood.
Preston gave a distant salute to his adversary, then rode off to cheers and approving roars.
---------
"With the bridge destroyed," Thomas Heyward explained that afternoon to his gathered officers, "General Exeter is pinned. His only other option is to withdraw, and given the letters he's sent - I doubt he will." He still didn't know why the English general was so upset, though it served the purpose. The almost daily threat to butcher him was now almost as routine as his morning cup of coffee. "You'll notice the other bridges are intact though - this gives us a freedom of movement he lacks. The South Altamaha isn't wide enough to stop gun shots, and certainly not cannon - we can pick the point where he's weakest and concentrate our fire there...then simply pull back when he compensates."
"What about fords?" Benjamin Lincoln asked.
"The nearest one we found is a few miles upstream in the swamps. We don't think Exeter knows about it, and it doesn't signify. That's where we'll put our cavalry." He looked to John. "If they do find you, fight as best you can. If they don't, you'll be able to either take them in the flank or cut off their retreat."
John nodded eagerly.
"Colonel Westerly, you will have the center with the artillery behind you," the last with a nod to Lincoln. The land between Champney's River and the pond is a bit constricted, you'll want to rush past that. Line up on the shores of the river and pepper them. If they start focusing, back off. The artillery will support you."
"It seems risky," Westerly warned quietly. "If they get across the river and pin me down..."
"They won't, Colonel. And I have every faith in you." The last was a clear lie, but it needed to be said. "Colonel Allen, you will take our left. There's an island on the Altamaha, we believe there may be another ford there. If so, flank him on the left. If not, you can still pepper him and maybe take some of the pressure off of Colonel Westerly."
Allen nodded, staring at the map between them. "And you, sir?"
"I will be in Darien with one regiment in reserve in case General Exeter finds some new and interesting way to attack us. I'll also send messengers with changes to the plan as things develop. Are there any other questions or comments?"
There were none, but Westerly lingered, staring at the stretch of the land near the pond. If anything went wrong there, even if the ground was muddy enough to prevent a rapid passage...he could be slaughtered!
--------------------------
"Gentlemen," Lieutenant Donnell translated for General Exeter. "We fight the Americans tomorrow."
Brigadier General Dexter in charge of His Majesty's Horse leaned forward. "How does he... pardon." He turned to Exeter, who hated it when people didn't address him directly. "Sir, how do you plan to get across the river?"
Exeter reached over and drew two lines across the river.
"Fords," Donnell explained. "The first is formed by the ruins of the bridge. The river there was shallow anyway, perhaps one of the reasons the bridge was built there. With the debris the going's a little rough, but it's entirely passable. We also found one the cavalry could use about a mile north."
"So losing the bridge is a non-issue," General Piper, in charge of the Foot, surmised.
"No," Donnell agreed. He paused as Exeter signalled repeatedly. "The Americans think we can't cross the river, at least not easily. They will send their infantry right down the middle. We will pin them down...here. There's not enough room to maneuver, we should be able to take out a sizeable portion of their force before they can withdraw or call for help."
"If this Heyward chap is smart, he'll have his cannon close enough to lend support - and twenty cannon are God awful things to deal with," Piper warned.
"Do you remember when we crossed this river a few weeks ago?" Donnell asked. "How the bridge across the Altamaha creaked and strained whenever we put a gun on her?"
"Of course."
"Their cannon are heavier than ours - they throw the same weight ball, but our spies say the iron casting is different. If they try to pull their guns across, they'll lose the bridge. They may have done it years ago when there was no army to contest them and they could take their time, but now? They'll never get them across, at least not in time to affect the battle. If we let their infantry get close to us before we ambush them, then we should be out of their range."
Exeter signalled rapidly.
"He adds that once the main body is defeated, he'll come across and together we'll destroy the American command. He says we're to take General Heyward alive if possible."
"Given his ill conduct in sending that letter," Dexter sniffed, "I should say so."
------------------------------
March 10, 1780 dawned cool but bright. The sun rose ponderously over the Atlantic Ocean then onward, past Massachusetts and Rhode Island, then Virginia and North Carolina, and inward past Charleston and Savannah to southern Georgia. It was still an angry orange when the Americans packed up their camp.
Tom sat astride Sweety, the yellow-brown steed who'd been with him for two years now. She still had a tendency to bob her head up and down when bored, or wander, but warfare no longer fazed her. The horse sat impassively as Tom squinted through his spyglass at the blue forms moving away from him. No stealth here, definitely not your World War II army. He'd long since lost sight of John as he began his wide, sweeping arc. There was Allen...already on the island, looking for his ford. Good man. And yes, Colonel Westerly was advancing steadily. Lincoln, Steving and twenty cannon rolled steadily behind them into position. Occasionally he heard musket fire, but sporadic and uncertain.
Abruptly Allen's men began crossing the river again - on their side. What the devil? Had they given up so quickly? A messenger raced the two miles back to his position. "They're across!" he gasped.
"Who's across?" Tom demanded.
"The English, they're across the South Altamaha. They're getting ready to ambush Westerly. Allen's moving to reinforce him."
"They're..." How!? "Major!" Heyward whirled around to find his regimental commander standing nearby. "Dress the men. We have to relieve Colonel Westerly." If they ambushed him.... "Hurry, we don't have time!" Back to the messenger: "Ride for Generals Lincoln and Steving. Tell them to take those English bastards down!"
9th March, 1780
Darien, Georgia (Carolina occupied)
What happens here this day,
The fate of this nation:
In the balance it will hang
Consumed with the pain.
The courage of the blue,
the valor of the grey.
So very sad but true,
consumed with the pain.
- High Water Mark (Gettysburg 1863 (Day 3))
Iced Earth
"C'mon boys, don't wait on me. Run!" John Preston roared as his own company swarmed past him. The hot wind of a hundred horses in full, thundering gallop blew on his face as he strained to look past the dust in the direction they were fleeing from. Yes, there they were - British cavalry in wild pursuit.
"Catch me if you can!" Preston bellowed. He jerked hard on his reins, bringing his steed about, and joined his men. One might have thought the hundred Americans and twenty Brits were in some sort of race for a hundred pounds as they streaked up the Post Road towards Savannah. Trees in the first blush of an early spring whistled past, mere blurs on the periphery of John's vision and infinitely less important then the heaving mass of horse flesh he fought to keep formation with. One misstep here, one misplaced hoof, and neither Preston or his horse could expect any mercy from the squad or so of his own men feet and inches behind him. The horses panted and gasped, and John's heart thundered in his chest.
Mile after mile vanished, until ahead they could make out the covered wood bridge across the South Altamaha River. Those who might have seen this as a great race might also have wondered why a company of Americans was apparently fleeing from one-fifth their force. They may have been reassured to see the rest of the cavalry - some two thousand men - on the far side of the bridge in neat lines ... and then puzzled when they realized these regiments had no intent of helping their brethren.
The company swarmed across the bridge in near perfect order, the solid and reassuring clip-clop of hooves on wood filled the air. Half a mile away he spotted a ruffled but perfectly healthy Major Engels. He shouted something no one there had any chance of hearing as John cleared the bridge, and the Brits closed formation heedless of the danger.
The bridge exploded as three barrels of powder went off with a hiss and all-engulfing bang. Roof and floor soared into the afternoon sky, whistling, then fell back in a hail of wood.
Preston gave a distant salute to his adversary, then rode off to cheers and approving roars.
---------
"With the bridge destroyed," Thomas Heyward explained that afternoon to his gathered officers, "General Exeter is pinned. His only other option is to withdraw, and given the letters he's sent - I doubt he will." He still didn't know why the English general was so upset, though it served the purpose. The almost daily threat to butcher him was now almost as routine as his morning cup of coffee. "You'll notice the other bridges are intact though - this gives us a freedom of movement he lacks. The South Altamaha isn't wide enough to stop gun shots, and certainly not cannon - we can pick the point where he's weakest and concentrate our fire there...then simply pull back when he compensates."
"What about fords?" Benjamin Lincoln asked.
"The nearest one we found is a few miles upstream in the swamps. We don't think Exeter knows about it, and it doesn't signify. That's where we'll put our cavalry." He looked to John. "If they do find you, fight as best you can. If they don't, you'll be able to either take them in the flank or cut off their retreat."
John nodded eagerly.
"Colonel Westerly, you will have the center with the artillery behind you," the last with a nod to Lincoln. The land between Champney's River and the pond is a bit constricted, you'll want to rush past that. Line up on the shores of the river and pepper them. If they start focusing, back off. The artillery will support you."
"It seems risky," Westerly warned quietly. "If they get across the river and pin me down..."
"They won't, Colonel. And I have every faith in you." The last was a clear lie, but it needed to be said. "Colonel Allen, you will take our left. There's an island on the Altamaha, we believe there may be another ford there. If so, flank him on the left. If not, you can still pepper him and maybe take some of the pressure off of Colonel Westerly."
Allen nodded, staring at the map between them. "And you, sir?"
"I will be in Darien with one regiment in reserve in case General Exeter finds some new and interesting way to attack us. I'll also send messengers with changes to the plan as things develop. Are there any other questions or comments?"
There were none, but Westerly lingered, staring at the stretch of the land near the pond. If anything went wrong there, even if the ground was muddy enough to prevent a rapid passage...he could be slaughtered!
--------------------------
"Gentlemen," Lieutenant Donnell translated for General Exeter. "We fight the Americans tomorrow."
Brigadier General Dexter in charge of His Majesty's Horse leaned forward. "How does he... pardon." He turned to Exeter, who hated it when people didn't address him directly. "Sir, how do you plan to get across the river?"
Exeter reached over and drew two lines across the river.
"Fords," Donnell explained. "The first is formed by the ruins of the bridge. The river there was shallow anyway, perhaps one of the reasons the bridge was built there. With the debris the going's a little rough, but it's entirely passable. We also found one the cavalry could use about a mile north."
"So losing the bridge is a non-issue," General Piper, in charge of the Foot, surmised.
"No," Donnell agreed. He paused as Exeter signalled repeatedly. "The Americans think we can't cross the river, at least not easily. They will send their infantry right down the middle. We will pin them down...here. There's not enough room to maneuver, we should be able to take out a sizeable portion of their force before they can withdraw or call for help."
"If this Heyward chap is smart, he'll have his cannon close enough to lend support - and twenty cannon are God awful things to deal with," Piper warned.
"Do you remember when we crossed this river a few weeks ago?" Donnell asked. "How the bridge across the Altamaha creaked and strained whenever we put a gun on her?"
"Of course."
"Their cannon are heavier than ours - they throw the same weight ball, but our spies say the iron casting is different. If they try to pull their guns across, they'll lose the bridge. They may have done it years ago when there was no army to contest them and they could take their time, but now? They'll never get them across, at least not in time to affect the battle. If we let their infantry get close to us before we ambush them, then we should be out of their range."
Exeter signalled rapidly.
"He adds that once the main body is defeated, he'll come across and together we'll destroy the American command. He says we're to take General Heyward alive if possible."
"Given his ill conduct in sending that letter," Dexter sniffed, "I should say so."
------------------------------
March 10, 1780 dawned cool but bright. The sun rose ponderously over the Atlantic Ocean then onward, past Massachusetts and Rhode Island, then Virginia and North Carolina, and inward past Charleston and Savannah to southern Georgia. It was still an angry orange when the Americans packed up their camp.
Tom sat astride Sweety, the yellow-brown steed who'd been with him for two years now. She still had a tendency to bob her head up and down when bored, or wander, but warfare no longer fazed her. The horse sat impassively as Tom squinted through his spyglass at the blue forms moving away from him. No stealth here, definitely not your World War II army. He'd long since lost sight of John as he began his wide, sweeping arc. There was Allen...already on the island, looking for his ford. Good man. And yes, Colonel Westerly was advancing steadily. Lincoln, Steving and twenty cannon rolled steadily behind them into position. Occasionally he heard musket fire, but sporadic and uncertain.
Abruptly Allen's men began crossing the river again - on their side. What the devil? Had they given up so quickly? A messenger raced the two miles back to his position. "They're across!" he gasped.
"Who's across?" Tom demanded.
"The English, they're across the South Altamaha. They're getting ready to ambush Westerly. Allen's moving to reinforce him."
"They're..." How!? "Major!" Heyward whirled around to find his regimental commander standing nearby. "Dress the men. We have to relieve Colonel Westerly." If they ambushed him.... "Hurry, we don't have time!" Back to the messenger: "Ride for Generals Lincoln and Steving. Tell them to take those English bastards down!"
Great update. Perhaps put a screenshot in the next update? Also, whats happening in the North?
J. Passepartout: Poor Heyward, a man wants to kill him and he doesn't even know why!
Stuyvesant: Well...Exeter's having a bad few years.
Draco Rexus: Right, sure.
Storey: Hmm, does Exeter play cards? I suppose he does!
Zeno of Cyprus: Well, John kinda picked up on his weak spot.
Corruption: Now that's not fair! That map IS a screenshot! It's from Mapquest with most of the roads and irrigation canals ripped out and armies added!
Oh, you mean EU2 Well, I'm a little ahead in game play right now, but once the story catches up - you got it. The north's turned ugly... Cornwallis broke out and raided through New England into New York. I think I have him pinned though.
Stuyvesant: Well...Exeter's having a bad few years.
Draco Rexus: Right, sure.
Storey: Hmm, does Exeter play cards? I suppose he does!
Zeno of Cyprus: Well, John kinda picked up on his weak spot.
Corruption: Now that's not fair! That map IS a screenshot! It's from Mapquest with most of the roads and irrigation canals ripped out and armies added!
Oh, you mean EU2
Well, I'm a little ahead in game play right now, but once the story catches up - you got it. The north's turned ugly... Cornwallis broke out and raided through New England into New York. I think I have him pinned though.
I love your little maps of the battle, although I fail to see the danger of the infintry, want to explain that in plain english for the non tactisions amoung us please?
Normally I'd wait to answer, but the danger is important so...
I don't necessarily consider myself a tactician either, but basically this is what they're afraid of. (Close up, forgive the poorer map quality)
An old Civil War game I had would have called this an 'enfilade' - basically they have the Americans flanked with their gunfire. It's coming from multiple directions. At least one of the American regiments is going to have trouble figuring out who to shoot at, and since they're being struck at different angles there's no safe place for them to stand, form up, and so forth.
Westerly's also badly boxed in. Assuming he has to retreat from superior firepower, he can either go back the way he came - leaving the cannon vulnerable and completely stalling the American advance - or go up that little strip of land along the pond's edge. Either way everyone will be packed in (hence more deaths) and an orderly retreat could turn into a lethal panic.
On the other hand, if you look at the map our friend Exeter's forgotten or doesn't realize something very important.
I don't necessarily consider myself a tactician either, but basically this is what they're afraid of. (Close up, forgive the poorer map quality)
An old Civil War game I had would have called this an 'enfilade' - basically they have the Americans flanked with their gunfire. It's coming from multiple directions. At least one of the American regiments is going to have trouble figuring out who to shoot at, and since they're being struck at different angles there's no safe place for them to stand, form up, and so forth.
Westerly's also badly boxed in. Assuming he has to retreat from superior firepower, he can either go back the way he came - leaving the cannon vulnerable and completely stalling the American advance - or go up that little strip of land along the pond's edge. Either way everyone will be packed in (hence more deaths) and an orderly retreat could turn into a lethal panic.
On the other hand, if you look at the map our friend Exeter's forgotten or doesn't realize something very important.
I like the slowly developing battle. Thanks for the little maps, they help a lot to put everything in place.
That's just my two cents.
Looking at the big map, I would gamble that you mean that Exeter is vulnerable with only a small number of troops and his cannon on the south bank of the South Altamaha, with John Preston and two thousand American cavalry on the same side of the river, while the British cavalry has already crossed the river and will need a lot of time to cross the ford again. Perhaps too long to be able to come to Exeter's aid...?CatKnight said:
That's just my two cents.
Stuyvesant said:
Preston seems the only one in a position to do anything to Exeter's rear. (Figuratively speaking of course)
Joe
Stuyvesant said:I like the slowly developing battle. Thanks for the little maps, they help a lot to put everything in place.
Looking at the big map, I would gamble that you mean that Exeter is vulnerable with only a small number of troops and his cannon on the south bank of the South Altamaha, with John Preston and two thousand American cavalry on the same side of the river, while the British cavalry has already crossed the river and will need a lot of time to cross the ford again. Perhaps too long to be able to come to Exeter's aid...?
That's just my two cents.
My exact thoughts, with a cavalry attack in the rear, Exeter will be cut off and trapped, possibly even destroyed. The infantry just need to hold out long enough for Preston's attack.
Stuyvesant: Thanks!
Storey: Maybe!
Corruption: That's true. So...how good a leader do we think Colonel Westerly is?
---------------
Hey folks:
This AAR's going to be delayed for awhile. I'm sorry to leave you in mid-battle, but I've run out of time to update. I'm in the process of moving, and while I find a home and job I'll be computer-less - it'll be travelling seperately.
I'm not sure how long this will take - hopefully only a week or two. I will certainly miss you all and we'll take it up with the actual battle as soon as possible.
Thanks folks!
Storey: Maybe!
Corruption: That's true. So...how good a leader do we think Colonel Westerly is?
---------------
Hey folks:
This AAR's going to be delayed for awhile. I'm sorry to leave you in mid-battle, but I've run out of time to update. I'm in the process of moving, and while I find a home and job I'll be computer-less - it'll be travelling seperately.
I'm not sure how long this will take - hopefully only a week or two. I will certainly miss you all and we'll take it up with the actual battle as soon as possible.
Thanks folks!
AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
Okay, I'm glad I got that off my chest. Now, just sit back and try to ingore the silence and lack of updates..... AARRGGHH! Oh the insanity of boredom! I canna take it anymore! Someone please put me out of my misery! :wacko: :rofl:
Okay, I'm glad I got that off my chest. Now, just sit back and try to ingore the silence and lack of updates..... AARRGGHH! Oh the insanity of boredom! I canna take it anymore! Someone please put me out of my misery!
:wacko: :rofl:
Draco Rexus said:Someone please put me out of my misery!
*BANG* There you go.
To more serious matters, though. The last thing we need is for Preston to "save" the day... that just makes things worse.
Just ten more days or so... If Cat manages everything quickly... Well, nothing to be done about it. Anybody want to join me for a rousing rendition of "400,000 bottles of beer on the wall" to pass the time until then?
Thanks Judas, I'm all better now.... well, except for this silly puddle of red stuff on my desk.
Stuyvesant, how 'bout a sing-a-long of Waltzing Matilda instead?
Stuyvesant, how 'bout a sing-a-long of Waltzing Matilda instead?
The battle is looking great Catknight my favourite part is the exchange of letters, i must say that Exeter's is the more eloquently written one thoguh
my favourite part is the exchange of letters, i must say that Exeter's is the more eloquently written one thoguh 
Managed to catch up on this tale. Great stuff and the battle is turning out to be a good fight, with surprises abounding. I know I shall not earn the praise of some who loathe exeter for saying this, but I almost hope this is not his last encounter. Looking forward to your return so the tale can continue.
Great AAR!! I've had a great time reading this whole AAR the last couple of days -- can't wait for you latest update. Keep it coming!
Hiya folks:
This is one of those non-updates people really hate I just wanted to come on and let you know I was still alive and haven't forgotten about you.
The move didn't go quite as smoothly as I hoped. For example, I'm still at the hotel....I move into my new place on Tuesday. (No DSL alas, at least 'til I get a better job. Argh!) I finally tired of waiting and pulled my 'puter out early. Hopefully I can update in the next day or two.
I do want to thank you for your patience. I may be sporadic due to work (retail position for the moment, bad hours but we will take it from the battle and onward. Now, specific comments:
Draco Rexus: Hm...sit down, put your head between your knees, breathe slowly...there you go. Feel better?
Judas Maccabeus: Hey, no shooting my readers! You're just mad 'cause of von Zahringen
Stuyvesant: 399,999 bottles of beer on the wall, 399,999 bottles of beer...
Draco Rexus: Fine. Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda...
TreizeV: I guess Exeter has a way with words.
Machiavellian: The battle promises to be interesting. Now I just have to remember what I wanted to write before I left!
Brincoch: Welcome to the party! I hope you enjoy.
This is one of those non-updates people really hate
I just wanted to come on and let you know I was still alive and haven't forgotten about you.The move didn't go quite as smoothly as I hoped. For example, I'm still at the hotel....I move into my new place on Tuesday. (No DSL alas, at least 'til I get a better job. Argh!) I finally tired of waiting and pulled my 'puter out early. Hopefully I can update in the next day or two.
I do want to thank you for your patience. I may be sporadic due to work (retail position for the moment, bad hours
but we will take it from the battle and onward. Now, specific comments:Draco Rexus: Hm...sit down, put your head between your knees, breathe slowly...there you go. Feel better?
Judas Maccabeus: Hey, no shooting my readers! You're just mad 'cause of von Zahringen
Stuyvesant: 399,999 bottles of beer on the wall, 399,999 bottles of beer...
Draco Rexus: Fine. Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda...
TreizeV: I guess Exeter has a way with words.
Machiavellian: The battle promises to be interesting. Now I just have to remember what I wanted to write before I left!
Brincoch: Welcome to the party! I hope you enjoy.
Good luck with RL matters and I hope you'll be able to update soon. Good to hear you're still around, even if only intermittently.