Looking to be Governor-General, eh? I propose we make sure he doesn't live long enough to get that far. 
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I second Judas's proposal and move that me have a vote of acceptance on said proposal. What say ye?
This should be another great battle scene coming up. Although with the two very disparate sides (American veteran soldiers vs. Loyalist gentry dressed for a hunt) the outcome won't be in doubt.
I also liked the way you sketched the leader of the Loyalist force:
Would that be true even in the late eighteenth century? Regardless, a mighty fine dig at Salem there.
I also liked the way you sketched the leader of the Loyalist force:
He seems very full of himself. At least he has the sense to recognize the British sergeant is his only able officer. I hope the Brit won't make things too difficult for the Americans.
You're just churning these updates out like a machine aren't you catknight?
Ah another small skirmish coming up. Shooting a wolf? My god! how i pity the men who are being led by this 'general'. Then again....those scouts got what was coming to them
Aye! That's the spirit!
Hehe i especially loved this part.
Ah another small skirmish coming up. Shooting a wolf? My god! how i pity the men who are being led by this 'general'. Then again....those scouts got what was coming to them
Aye! That's the spirit!
Hehe i especially loved this part.
Outstanding update. Looking forward to the future installements. A lot of good lines in this last update, but most of the other readers have picked them out all ready.
J. Passepartout: Mm...Daniel's a survivor who's just now realizing how badly this is going to go.
Draco Rexus: Arnold's entire army is there now. I expect to be able to stop any more British adventures. I hope!
jwolf: The Loyalists are definitely up against the wrong army.
Judas Maccabeus: Hey, Vililers would make a fine Governor-General! (of Spitsbergen maybe)
Draco Rexus: Hey, even Spitsbergen needs a governor!
Stuyvesant: No, that's probably not fair to Salem, maybe not even in the seventeenth century. (I assume Puritans had acne also.) It wouldn't necessarily surprise me if the reputation stuck though.
TreizeV: The first part of the battle's coming up. Villiers did the smart thing and stayed out of it. As for Wilkins, he definitely has no wish to get up and personal with any enemy.
Machiavellian: Next installment's on the way
Draco Rexus: Arnold's entire army is there now. I expect to be able to stop any more British adventures. I hope!
jwolf: The Loyalists are definitely up against the wrong army.
Judas Maccabeus: Hey, Vililers would make a fine Governor-General! (of Spitsbergen maybe)
Draco Rexus: Hey, even Spitsbergen needs a governor!
Stuyvesant: No, that's probably not fair to Salem, maybe not even in the seventeenth century. (I assume Puritans had acne also.) It wouldn't necessarily surprise me if the reputation stuck though.
TreizeV: The first part of the battle's coming up. Villiers did the smart thing and stayed out of it. As for Wilkins, he definitely has no wish to get up and personal with any enemy.
Machiavellian: Next installment's on the way
-= 93 =-
14 July, 1781
Wolf Hill (near Albany,) New York
There wasn't time to rig a proper tent for his meeting, which probably didn't help Sergeant Daniels' authority with his status-conscious minded loyalists, but it served in other ways. For example, Daniels intended to speak with his ten company 'commanders' but thirteen men showed up ranging in age from sixteen to fifty-odd. Daniels looked back and forth at the eager, talkative gathering dressed in everything from practical outdoor clothing through formal hunt attire and wondered how he could possibly lead them.
"Good morning, gentlemen, I..."
"....do believe it was a wolf. This area is positively infested with them don't you know."
"I wonder if wolves are good eating."
"Nonsense, I hear they are gamey. Not at all the thing."
"Gentlemen, as you know General Arnold is only a few days distant, and it seems prudent...."
"...cannot be serious. Of course they don't serve wolf in New York. Even they are not that desperate."
"I dare say we'll find out soon! Ha ha!"
"Don't be silly. We aren't going to New York. We're heading straight for Philadelphia."
"Gentlemen! I need your attention please."
"Shh, the sergeant's trying to talk."
"Let him. What could he possibly offer? He's not experienced. He doesn't even have a commission."
"Yes, what gall he has to address us. Why General Villiers keeps him I cannot fathom."
"Gentlemen!"
"I do hope we are back by autumn. My business suffers so if I'm away for too long. My one man is a booby."
"Do you think it will rain today? If my hat is ruined I declare..."
A single shot silenced their conversations. They stared, amazed, as Daniels tossed the fowling piece back at the man he'd seized it from. Daniels glared up and down. Treating them as captains isn't working, he reasoned, let's see how you like being privates. "Alright!" he screamed. He stalked to the next man over, pulled his ramrod off his gun, and held it overhead like a tribal warrior. "Alright! The next man who interrupts me gets beaten!"
Thirteen gasps, followed by a cacophany of "My Lord," "Oh dear," and "How dare...?"
"Last warning!" Silence. "Villiers wants us to take that hill," he pointed over his shoulder, "and that is what we're going to do! No, silent!" He stalked up to a man taller and bulkier who recoiled from his glare.
"I was just going to ask why. It's only wolves....sir."
"That was no wolf. We sent ten men up that hill! Have you seen any of them return? I haven't!"
"Then...the colonials?"
Daniels nodded and they exchanged wry looks. A British sergeant looking for glory might go to extreme lengths, even making up enemies to find it.
"If I'm wrong I'm sure we can share a laugh later. Until then we are going to assume they are up there in force. Look at this road, gentlemen. It runs right by the hill. If they're there and we go down the post road, they will slaughter us." Daniels saw their snide looks and decided to play along. "You know the colonials are masters of the sneak attack."
"That's true," an older man offered. "Not proper at all." Some more muttered agreement
"Fine. Now we will form two groups here and here. We will form up by company, three wide and two deep. Your commands are already divided, yes?" Daniels stared. "No??"
God help me...
---------------
"They're sure taking a long time to form," Caulkins murmured. "What do you think?"
"They are." Wesley Harding slapped his spyglass shut and frowned. "It's almost like they're completely disorganized."
"I didn't see that many people in uniform."
"I didn't see anyone in uniform except their leader, and even he didn't look like an officer." They must be desperate to send this group after us. Wesley didn't feel that sorry for them however: No matter their training, these were the ones who ran over Ticonderoga and Saratoga, sacked Albany and burnt Burlington. Plus, if they weren't ready that only increased the odds he'd get off this God damned hill with his skin.
Somewhere a wolf howled.
...if not his sanity.
"Hey, are they on the move?"
Lambs to the Slaughter
Harding opened his glass and peered. Wait, they were sending both groups in? "Wash!" He called down the tree. "Tell Wilkins to run to Captain Wilcox, and tell him...."
--------------------
"....regimental strength!?" Captain Wilcox demanded. He stared keenly through the trees, as if hoping to see the approaching force.
"Yes sir." Wilkins swallowed hard. A regiment against a company? They were going to die!
Wilcox thought quickly. It didn't matter how disorganized the loyalists were, they could still win by sheer numbers and firepower. He had to take that advantage away. "Abe," he called to another man. "Tell Cornet Harding to pull back to our position." He turned to Wilkins. "I want you to find Colonel Leyton."
"Oh, thank God!"
"....Just so. And..ah..tell him we expect to need support."
---------------------
Sergeant Daniels watched his mob - command was far too graceful and honorable a term for these loons - ascend the hill, still chatting though at least watchful. An hour of constant haranguing and waving his arms convinced them of two things: First, there were Americans on that hill, and second, their commander was insane.
Daniels would have agreed with their assessment. He was still officially on leave in York following Cornwallis' crushing defeat in Virginia. He could be there now resting, gaming, drinking and shaking his head at the hints of indecisive political babbling coming out of London and the continued defeats suffered at the hands of colonial militia. He'd come to New York for one purpose only. His wife disappeared somewhere around here last year, and he planned to find her - and if these upstarts had hurt or killed her, there would be the devil to pay.
And he wouldn't let a bunch of fools who barely knew which way to point a gun stop him either.
He trotted to the front ranks of said mob. Far to the right he could see the occasional flicker of movement as the other pincer of his group ascended as well. To the front nothing but trees - poplars, oaks, elms, a few birch, and.....
"Americans!" he roared at a flicker of blue perhaps fifty yards distant.
Fifty rifles fired behind him, absolutely devastating a traitorous weeping willow with republican leanings. Daniels cursed. "Reload!" he bellowed. "Do not fire unless you see something!"
Traitor!!
They wouldn't have long to wait.
---------------
"Alright." Captain Wilcox looked to his right and left. He had lined his company up in two ranks - at least as much as the trees would allow. Everything seemed more or less in order. "Cornet? Our banner!"
Harding glanced to his right to make sure his squad was ready. Wilkins had yet to return, little loss. He unfurled the national flag and nodded.
"Hit and run!" Wilcox roared. "Touch and go, do not get into any protracted fighting, don't let them get a clean shot." He pointed down the hill. "I will expect an explanation from any man who doesn't cut down thrice his number!" In which case we'd still be outnumbered. "Now, charge!!" A pair of trumpets roared. The British answered with a barrage of musket fire. What on Earth are they shooting at?
Charging was a bit of a misnomer, with overgrown roots and rocks at every turn, but still the cavalry closed rapidly, fanning out slightly in search of the foe. A moment of startled realization as the two sides recognized each other at less than twenty feet. The loyalists fired - panicked and uncertain, A few stray shots actually hit home, then they were engulfed in the blue whirling storm of blades and kicks, the heavy snorting of horse. A startled man about Harding's age fell beneath his steed's hooves. More wild shots, screaming horses and bellowing men. One had a knife, he sliced upward and nicked Harding's leg, only to be rewarded with a piercing stab through the neck by Wash to his right. They were running! They were running! They were...
And suddenly the way was clear. Wilcox's company had routed the entire right wing of Daniel's assault, but the left wing had time to prepare. They stood in something resembling order and there was that damned officer of theirs in British red. He waved his sword and over the chaotic bellows he clearly heard: "FIRE!"
Not polished, certainly not British or American regular drill, but their line disappeared in grey smoke and sulphurous stink. Several men to Harding's right fell as their horses collapsed, screaming The loyalists started to reload, but their redcoat leader shouted something. They changed their mind and charged before the American right could recover, clubbing and stabbing.
Harding turned. He was about to order his squad to counterattack, but again Wilcox's horns blasted the air. Retreat and regroup. He was right of course, they couldn't get into a pitched battle with the loyalists, especially as even now their left wing seemed to be recovering...but it still tasted awful. He finished his turn and charged up hill, a swarm of blue chased by cheering men who'd never before fired a gun in anger.
---------------
Sergeant Daniels smiled as the Americans fled. Fools. Not only had he bloodied them, he now had an accurate idea of their numbers: one company, no more. This would be easier than he feared. "Form up!" he called. "Form up, we'll pursue them together!"
One of his 'captains' looked over uneasily. "Sir, what about our wounded?"
"They're General Villiers' lookout. We cannot give them time to recover! I said form up!"
Form up they did, fear and anger overriding decency for a wounded comrade. He was right: Villiers would take care of them. In the meantime, it was time for revenge. The two wings merged into one massive force and swarmed up Wolf Hill. No chatting, no calls back and forth, just clinking metal and whispered oaths.
"They're pursuing," Harding warned. The American line had formed again. Wilcox nodded faintly, he too could see movement in the trees and leaves below them.
"Steady," he murmured. Up and down the line sergeants echoed his command as they heard the Englishmen close. "Steady...." No drums. Why didn't they have drums? No wonder they couldn't maintain order. "Steady..." The steady clink of metal. To the far right a Quebecois in hunting garb appeared, raised his musket. "CHARGE!"
Again they descended. This time the loyalists had some idea of what to expect and waited until the last second to fire. Lead shot whistled past Harding's head. One struck Caulkins in the throat and he fell, never to see Salem again. Wesley's eyes narrowed and he stood on his stirrups as they slammed into the British line, avenging the boy with a brutal slash and catching a second man on the backswing. For a second it looked like they'd break the line yet again, but this time the loyalists held and now, despite Wilcox's wishes, came three short blasts on the trumpet: General melee.
Sword, foot and even hoof met with bayonet, knife and musket in a chaotic maelstrom across the tree covered slope. Some men swore, some cried, some prayed. Some screamed with rage and others with pain, and still the sickly slurping sound of blade against flesh and the curious click/clang of sword against bone. Twice Wilcox tried to organize a retreat, but now the loyalist numbers told. The Americans carried out his wishes, they cut down three times their number, but that was not nearly enough and now the cavalrymen were surrounded.
Ahead through a mass of loyalists Harding saw their leader, the only one in a British uniform, standing with two boys...messengers no doubt.
-----------------
Sergeant Daniels watched his mob work inexpertly. It was still close, despite their numerical advantage his people fought...well, like men in their first battle. Anger and disgust were well and good, but they alone never won a fight. Yes, tolerably delicate and Daniels didn't want to be in the middle of the fighting if he needed to organize a withdraw. To his right and left two boys of about ten watched as well, wanting to join in the carnage like all boys do, and having no idea what any of it meant.
Daniels saw movement out of his left and gaped as the better part of a regiment materialized from the trees - an American regiment. "Oh bloody hell!"
Message delivered!
"What do we do?" asked a boy. The Americans hadn't spotted them, probably could have cared less as they charged to relieve their brethren.
"You two, run to General Villiers. Tell him the Americans have at least a full regiment up here, that we're going to be overwhelmed. Tell him to get out of here!" He shoved the children bodily away from the massacre in progress and turned. The honorable thing would be to go down fighting, or perhaps organize a surrender and/or lay down his arms....but no, Sergeant Daniels had no intention of dying or being imprisoned for a bunch of fools.
He disappeared after the boys. He wasn't heading for Villiers.
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Exciting battle! And a touching end for the traitorous willow tree of liberty.
A very exciting battle scene. I was wondering what the outcome was going to be, right up to the appearance of the rest of the Americans. And now that Sergeant Daniels is taking his leave (very good scene with him trying to impose command on the loyalists, by the way), it should turn into something like a massacre.
I hope.
Fine update! Makes for nice bedtime reading!
A very exciting battle scene. I was wondering what the outcome was going to be, right up to the appearance of the rest of the Americans. And now that Sergeant Daniels is taking his leave (very good scene with him trying to impose command on the loyalists, by the way), it should turn into something like a massacre.
I hope.
Fine update! Makes for nice bedtime reading!
I loved the part where the Loyalists inflicted the King's justice on the traitorous willow tree. That was priceless!
Now it seems that Daniels will join the ranks of the lone wolf renegades throughout your campaign, each seeking his own private justice...
Now it seems that Daniels will join the ranks of the lone wolf renegades throughout your campaign, each seeking his own private justice...
Curse those willow trees. His Majesty will never reimpose his rule while they remain opposed to him!
That poor martyred willow tree! I think a monument needs to be erected in it's honor.
Well, I guess we can have the monument be for the battle if we really need to... providing of course that the battle is one by the right side, eh?
Well, I guess we can have the monument be for the battle if we really need to... providing of course that the battle is one by the right side, eh?
Death to all Willow Trees! Willow Trees are Evil! I, too, wonder what will happen to sergeant Daniels. Maybe he will meet up with Exeter and be defeated by Von Zähringen? Now that would be a fight to witness... Marvelous couple of updates, thanks!
I like how the British refer to the Americans as colonials.
That willow tree looks like a traitor. TRAITOR TO THE BRITISH!!!!!! COLONIALS ROCK!!
Sorry for that outburst.
That willow tree looks like a traitor. TRAITOR TO THE BRITISH!!!!!! COLONIALS ROCK!!
Sorry for that outburst.
I personally hope that Daniels gets lost in the woods and ends up food for the wolves. That coward. Still uncertain whether or not the American's will triumph in this affair, they have all ready taken a lot of losses.
Just got through reading this terrific AAR - top notch! Only took a few days...
Hmm... I wonder if a certain female character may be withholding some information...
CatKnight said:
Hmm... I wonder if a certain female character may be withholding some information...
Stuyvesant: Yes, Daniels has decided there's a reason he's not a Colonel.
jwolf: Now if I knew that willow tree would have such a following, I would have given it a more prominent role. Kinda like the Ents in Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers!
Hmm...nah.
Judas Maccabeus: Maybe George III will start sending them state gifts? Gold garlands for their leaves?
Draco Rexus: A monument for the willow tree. Hm...well, Connecticut effectively has one for an oak tree, we can talk!
Dead William: I have plans for Sgt. Daniels, he's not quite done yet. (Sorry Mach!) I think this is his last command though.
J. Passepartout: Now the question is: SInce the willow was obviously a traitor, would it be colonial as well?
Machiavellian: Yes and no. Wilcox's company is definitely mauled, but that's only part of Leyton's regiment. The only reason the first fight was close was because the Loyalists had such a numerical advantage.
Stuie: Welcome, and thanks!
jwolf: Now if I knew that willow tree would have such a following, I would have given it a more prominent role. Kinda like the Ents in Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers!
Hmm...nah.
Judas Maccabeus: Maybe George III will start sending them state gifts? Gold garlands for their leaves?
Draco Rexus: A monument for the willow tree. Hm...well, Connecticut effectively has one for an oak tree, we can talk!
Dead William: I have plans for Sgt. Daniels, he's not quite done yet. (Sorry Mach!) I think this is his last command though.
J. Passepartout: Now the question is: SInce the willow was obviously a traitor, would it be colonial as well?
Machiavellian: Yes and no. Wilcox's company is definitely mauled, but that's only part of Leyton's regiment. The only reason the first fight was close was because the Loyalists had such a numerical advantage.
Stuie: Welcome, and thanks!
-= 94 =-
14 July, 1781
Wolf Hill (near Albany,) New York
Colonel Leyton sat a short way from the maelstrom astride his horse with Major Whiteaker, a trumpeteer and a cornet with their regimental flag by his side. This wasn't a battle, not in the sense of a 'hostile meeting between two opposing forces.' This was a slaughter.
The loyalists who'd surrounded Wilcox's command now found themselves surrounded by cavalry eager to relieve their brethren. Nowhere to run, nowhere even to fight in the sudden press of horse flesh, shouting men and sabres whistling in the air. The first ripples of panic turned into a flood, and within half a minute not one of the men who marched from Canada thought of anything but survival and escape. There was no honor in this, no glory whatsoever and Colonel Leyton's expression grew more grave.
Several men broke through the weakest part of the steel curtain and Whiteaker sat up sharply. "Sound general chase!"
"No." Leyton reached over and held the trumpeteer's instrument for a second. "No. Tell them to hold position. Do not pursue."
"Sir?" Whiteaker looked over, shocked as the trumpeteer signalled. The American assault lost half a beat in that second and the British retreat turned into a blind rout. "Sir...Are you certain? They'll head for their lines, reinforce the other regiment."
"I'm certain." Leyton watched his enemy dwindling into the forest. Behind them Americans glared around, deprived of a target and still running on adrenalin. Shouts gave way to the moans of the wounded and dying. Gradually soldiers remembered their duty and began looking for friends and commanders.
Whiteaker looked down. "Sir, not to contradict you....but letting then join with their other unit's just going to make this harder."
Leyton smiled grimly. "No, Major. We've already won that battle. Think about it. They're obviously inexperienced. How do you think they'll feel when they see their mates stumble through the woods towards them? Especially when we're right behind them?" He looked around. "Give them another minute or two head start, then we'll form up. Inform Captain Wilcox his men may stay behind, collect weapons and tend to the wounded. They've done more than their fair share today."
-----------
'General' Villiers looked up from his tea as two boys burst through the woods. He sniffed, wiped his chin and stood at their approach. To his left and right loyalists talked animatedly, jealous that 'the sergeant' was given the fun of clearing Wolf Hill. "Lieutenant?" He nodded at a boy of about twelve - his nephew. "Go see what they want."
The two messengers were having none of this though. They dodged the older boy and ran to Villiers' table. "Sir!" gasped one. "Sir, the Americans!...They're...on the hill...they're winning!"
"Americans? Winning?" Villiers doubted this. He lunged across and smacked the child across the mouth. "What happened? You saw a spot of trouble and ran didn't you? You were told to stay by the sergeant's side and you fled."
"No sir!" cried the other. "He told us to come here...to warn you. He says..."
"With his compliments," Villiers corrected firmly.
"...with his compliments, that he's going to lose and that you need to go."
"Run!" the first boy agreed, wiping his mouth.
"Run? Are you daft?" Villiers looked back and forth, still suspecting a lie. "Run? From colonials? I think not. If Sergeant Daniels has truly found some trouble, then that is all the more glory for us." That fool thought he was better for being a sergeant? This would show him what for. Time to show him how gentlemen fight! He turned to his aide. "We will form up by company!"
Villiers' idea of forming up wasn't much better than Daniels' men had been, and his 'regiment' still looked like an indecisive human blob when the first of the wounded arrived.
--------------
"I dare say we've given them enough of a start," Colonel Leyton looked back and forth. His regiment, minus Captain Wilcox's company of course, had taken almost no casualties and those lay with their brethren and the loyalists under the surgeon's care. "We will assume they knew which way to run, so we will just follow them." He nodded to Major Whiteaker, who finally understood his plan and smiled wolfishly. "Any questions?"
"None," Whiteaker grinned.
"Trumpeteer, sound the advance."
Leyton's regiment walked at a determined pace down the hill, not hurrying, giving the loyalists plenty of time to think about the doom coming their way. By now the survivors should have reported to their leaders. Far more important, they would have whispered the truth to their friends: At least one regiment, fully trained and eager. He hoped they wouldn't do anything foolish like make a last stand. Everything depended on their leader. If he was strong and capable, if his men loved him, then marching out of the woods and down hill gave up all the advantages and the coming battle would be .... what was that Greek fellow's name? Pyrrhus.... It would be a pyrrhic victory.
Of course, if their commander was an idiot...
----------------
"Thousands?" Villiers bellowed, shaking a man. "Don't be ridiculous. They don't have thousands of men on that hill. A hundred, maybe. Are you saying you couldn't beat one hundred men?"
"There was more then that, sir!"
"They brought the whole bleeding army," moaned another.
"Don't be ridiculous! Their army's at Fort Carleton starving to death. You there, get in line! Now we're going to go there and avenge your mates. Whatever they have up there we'll touch 'em up. They're only colonial militia!"
His bravado had conviction, but with no command there was no one to stop the men from talking the matter over themselves. They'd already lost one regiment, was this really a good idea? Fighting uphill? What if the bleeding and moaning men emerging from the woods was right, that the Americans were led by a demon made flesh who wanted to slaughter them all? Tentatively they closed to the foot of the hill, staring up the steep wooded incline.
A straight line of blue stared back.
"Forward!" Leyton cried in a harsh voice, and again with the slow, grim descent.
Fifty feet below them Villiers gaped; So many...and where's Daniels? "Prepare to fire!" One man needed no further encouragement and fired, striking a tree.
"Charge!"
Colonel Leyton didn't remember much of the 'battle' that followed, except it was even less worthy of the title than his first skirmish. Their front line broke before the American line even hit, running into and over their mates in back. Leyton didn't bother swinging his sword, he had problems with attacking men from behind. Most of his regiment had no such doubts, cutting a wide swath through the Loyalist line. Villiers' campaign died in the New York foothills.
----------------
That evening, Cornet Wesley Harding walked a short distance from his men, or what was left of them. Caulkins and four others dead, Wash injured. Even Wilkins picked up a concussion when Leyton's first charge relieved them. Despite the surgeons' best efforts he could still hear the distant moans and cries of the wounded, British and American, all bound for New York to rest and be exchanged.
At least no one was howling.
Harding finished relieving himself and closed his eyes. Excitement and adrenalin were long gone, replaced by fatigue and what..? Hope the war might end soon? Despair that it might never bother ending? Hadn't the English and French fought for a thousand years once?
He opened his eyes. A shaft of moonlight shone through the trees, illuminating a grey furred wolf not ten yards away. Harding froze. The wolf didn't bother moving, it just stared at him.
This is our hill, those ancient yellow eyes seemed to say. Take your fighting elsewhere. Somewhere far behind Harding a campfire sparked, and the wolf leapt away.
"No problem."
Great scene! Shows the results of throwing miltia units against Regulars, eh?
Oh, and the scene at the end between Harding and the wolf was cool!
Does the Second Battle of Wolf Hill effectively end the British campaign in the North, or are they still alive and kicking? If they aren't, does this mean the Americans will start moving north into Canada? Hope so!
Are we heading back South now, or do we have other things to read about happening away from the South?
Oh, and the scene at the end between Harding and the wolf was cool!
Does the Second Battle of Wolf Hill effectively end the British campaign in the North, or are they still alive and kicking? If they aren't, does this mean the Americans will start moving north into Canada? Hope so!
Are we heading back South now, or do we have other things to read about happening away from the South?
Are you turning it into a running joke now? The American War of Independence, also known as 'The British Tree Genocide'?
Bravo on beating back the Loyalist rabble. Time for some tradepost burning in Canada?
I can't really say why, but I liked Harding's reference to the 'Thousand Years War' between the French and the English. His mistake makes him appear more human.
One of these days, I'm going to have to catch up on the six months of updates that I have missed in this aar.