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Resurrection: Rebirth of the United States

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I just found this AAR and can't get enough of it! :D

After the last update, all I can say is that young Master Preston has gotten himself into some pretty deep kimchee :eek:

I await with baited breath for the next installment to our brave but foolish band of heros. :cool:
 
CatKnight said:
"John Preston?" Rafferty smiled. "I believe you know Sergeant Daniels? Cassie, they serve together at Fort Niagara."
Click to expand...

Uh-oh, that's not good. I wonder if he'll be able to talk his way out of this one.
 
With his history thus far, I wouldn't put money on him walking out of this situation unscathed, as it were. :D

:) But in any event, it should prove to be quiet a good read, whatever happens to our brave and impetuous young hero ;)
 
Just like zacharym87 I've just caught up with your story and I'm enjoying it. It's going to be fun seeing how John handles this situation. :)

Joe
 
Chapter 20: Desperate Love

24th March, 1776
Poplar Ridge, Quebec province
(Canadian occupied New York)

Sergeant Daniels frowned, confused at Master Rafferty's statement. "You're mistaken, sir. I don't know this man," he said flatly.

John thought quickly. An escape would be…problematic, not to mention unexplainable to Cassie. That left bluffing. He stared into Daniels' distant but intelligent gaze: He was no fool either. There was one saving grace though, and that was Fort Niagara itself.

niagarabase.txt


Niagara was huge. It had originally been built by the French to control river traffic, and the English used it for the same. The French and Indian war was the only time the fortress had fallen, and that because the French commander was a fool. Her garrison ranged between three and five hundred; more than enough room to get lost in. He hoped.

"I'm not surprised we haven't met," John replied. "I'm not there very often. I also go to Oswego as well as the towns on the other side of Lake Ontario." It was a plausible enough lie. Fort Niagara was the main defense in the area, and her colonel would need to coordinate with everyone.

Daniels' gaze narrowed and he frowned. "I thought I knew all the runners. Where's your uniform, Mister Preston? Or your horse, for that matter."

"The horse is at the stables," John answered evenly, trying to sound slightly insulted. "And the colonel indulges me in not having to wear the uniform while off base. The Americans have snipers in the woods with no sense of honor. Shooting a lob…. shooting one of us from the trees would no doubt please them, especially if it interrupts the flow of communications."

"He's right, sir," Rafferty interrupted enthusiastically. "Just last autumn some rebel butchers…."

"So you are indulged in skulking about like a bandit," Daniels commented, undeterred. "How very irregular."

"Bandit?" John echoed. He didn't need to feign insult this time. "Let's instead say that the good of the service trumps such an open display of arms."

"You wish to counsel me on the good of the service, sir? I am a sergeant in His Majesty's service, I think I have a somewhat more clear idea than you. I just came from Fort Niagara, in full uniform, without incident."

"Luck…"

"I find it odd that the colonel entrusted me with a message for Captain McArthur, when he could have just as easily given to you. What regiment are you with?" He lifted his chin, a large, imposing figure.

"Headquarters company," John retorted, looking about wildly for anything to help.

"2nd Foot? 94th? 119th?"

"94th!"

"Oh." Daniels seemed to relax abruptly. "That's fine then. How is Colonel Carter?"

"He's….fine sir." What was this man's game? Oh, Christ.

Daniels smiled icily. "The 94th and Colonel Carter are based in Montreal. There's only one regiment here, sir - the same one with a detachment at Fort Carleton. The 101st."

"John? What's he saying?" Cassie asked, eyes wide.

" 'John?'," Rafferty blinked.

"You lie," Preston growled. There was no way out now, but he still might be able to convince her…

"Perhaps we should go to Fort Niagara and clear up this misunderstanding then," Daniels smirked. He drew his sword.

Cassie screamed.

Preston leapt up and grabbed her. He pinned one arm behind her back while the other clamped around her throat. "Back away!" he roared.

"Let her go, you villian!" Rafferty surged forward, then stopped as Cassie shook her head desperately.

"You cannot take us both," Daniels sneered. He moved to flank the pair. John backed away.

"Maybe, but I'm betting you can't kill me before I break her neck. She'll be released at the edge of town. Now move!" The last was directed at the frightened girl, who stumbled towards the door.

"Oh, I think I can." Daniels strode forward, determined, cold.

"Stop, sergeant."

"Out of my way!"

"She's my daughter." Rafferty folded his arms, and sidestepped into the sergeant's path again. "I won't let you risk her life."

"What makes you think he won't kill her anyway!"

"I won't," John retorted from the door. "Unlike you lobster bastards I don't kill for sport!" Then he grabbed Cassie's wrist and they ran into the woods. Daniels started after them, then yelled for the guards.

-----------------------------------------------------
"Where are you taking me?" Cassie was breathless, scared and excited at the same time. It was nearly noon and, contrary to his word, they were several miles from town.

John shook his head for silence.

"You can't keep me here," she told him softly. "The entire garrison is after us. They'll comb these woods until they find us. They…"

He suddenly darted behind a rock outcropping, pulling her with him. She stumbled and crashed into him, and he instinctively put his arm around her. Cassie was warm and soft, her heart fluttering against his hand like a hummingbird. Preston did his best not to notice - it was hard, despite the danger. Two soldiers passed no more than ten feet away.

"You have to let me go sometime," she whispered once they'd past.

John stared at her. He hadn't covered her mouth, why hadn't she screamed? She read the shock in his eyes and smirked. "If I wanted you caught, you would have been. You still have to let me go."

"You're not angry?" He stood slowly.

Cassie stood next to him, dusting her dress off. "I know you wouldn't hurt me. I think I'm entitled to an explanation though. Where are we going?"

"To the river," John muttered. He looked around to make sure they were alone. "I thought you could find your way back from there."

"Fine. It's this way." She walked off.

"You know where you are!?"

"Not exactly, but the sun rose in that direction." She pointed. "We need to head east to catch the river. Now, care to explain why you kidnapped me?"

"I….I'm sorry."

"If you were sorry you wouldn't have done it. Papa will have you flayed if he finds you, you know." She kept walking.

"I'm sorry."

"You're not a runner from Fort Niagara."

"No….Cassie, I…"

"You're an American."

He caught up with her and spun her about. "How did you know that!?" he demanded angrily.

Cassie slapped him across the face, hard. "I forgave you at the house because you were in trouble," she snapped as he reeled. "Don't touch me like that again!"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

She sighed and touched his flaming cheek gently. "It was fairly obvious. You were always sneaking about town. You never went to the captain. You avoided talking about the fort or to the other soldiers. And Sergeant Daniels is right: Riders wear uniforms."

"Why didn't you say anything?" John asked softly.

"I wanted to know why an American kept coming to visit," she replied, taking his hands.

"You can't guess that too?" he asked ruefully.

"Oh, I have an idea," Cassie tossed her head. "I must be wrong though, as it would be thoroughly dishonorable."

John's heart hammered as he lifted her hands to his lips. "I don't know what's honorable anymore, I just know…."

"Shush," she commanded gently. "Don't say anything you can't withdraw…" Cassie lifted her head, and abruptly pulled back. "They're coming. Run."

"But…"

"Go, John Preston! I know where I am, and they won't hurt me. Live so we can meet again!"
 
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Draco Rexus: First, welcome! As for young Master Preston, yes - very deep kimchee. And after that he has to worry about the Brits! :eek:

Judas Maccabeus: Welcome back! I was afraid I'd lost you after trading out the Baden officer. Now I'll definitely find him a role ;)

ZacharyM87: Welcome back, and thanks!

Storey: Well, probably not the most heroic way to handle it - but so far so good. I think the Brits are going to be that much angrier when they find out though... :mad:
 
CatKnight said:
Cassie slapped him across the face, hard. "I forgave you at the house because you were in trouble," she snapped as he reeled. "Don't touch me like that again!"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
Click to expand...

I'm getting to really like Cassie. I think John has his hands full with her. Lets hope he escapes and has a chanch to see her again. ;)

Joe
 
Great stuff! I thought John had blown it with Cassie after the scene in the tavern but apparently she's very understanding! Will they ever get the chance to settle down and live happily ever after???
 
Glad to see that our brave but foulish young Master Preston was able to pull himself out of the deep kimchee he had himself in. :D Okay, okay, glad to see that he was pulled out by our firey young lass Cassie :D :cool:

So what's next on the agenda for young Master Preston.... and the rest of the young United States?
 
Storey: John definitely has his hands full! She's tougher to handle than the entire British Army!

Judas Maccabeus: I dunno why, Sergeant Daniels would have happily given him a tour.

JRoch: No one said democracy was easy. :)

Farquharson: Settle down? Happily ever after? Wow, you move fast!!!

J. Passepartout: Well, there are reasons she's let him go this far, but she's definitely finding him 'impertinent.' He definitely needs to be careful! Fortunately, caution is his strong suit. (Not.)

Draco Rexus: You're about to find out!
 
Chapter 21: Letters from Home

18th April, 1776
Trenton, New Jersey

"Mister Heyward? Please come in." William Ellery opened the door to his room, a tiny, dirty little place on the second story of a tavern overlooking the Delaware River. The room was dim, almost dark as the dirty window did everything in its power to crush the sun, and it stank from a nearby fishery.

Tom started to sit down, but as his eyes adjusted he noticed they weren't alone. A heavy-set man rose awkwardly and bowed nervously. He returned the civility.

"Mister Heyward of Charleston, this is Mister Harding, a Newport merchant." Ellery lit a small candle and sat between them.

"Your servant," murmured Harding. Definitely nervous about something.

"Yours, sir." Tom smiled and sat, turning to Ellery. "We've missed you in Congress, though it's been rather boring now that the Articles are in place. The worst that's happening is New York and New Hampshire are bickering for control of the Green Mountains. We're thinking of putting another state there just to annoy...to queer their pitch."

"If you're the kind of man I think you are, I can do away with your boredom," the former Rhode Island representative smiled slightly. "It's why I asked to see you."

"Why here and not in Philadelphia? I have a home…"

"I'm not sure who I can trust, Tom."

Heyward's eyebrows arched. "I take it this is where you enter the scene, sir?" he asked, turning to Harding.

The merchant stared at Ellery for a second, who nodded, then turned back. "I have a boy in the army, sir. His name's Wesley. He was assigned to New York and then to North Carolina."

"And you'd like him closer to home? I can sympathize, sir, but with the current buildup of troops…." The plan was to have over a hundred thousand men under arms by the time the second war started - or nearly one man in five. "…very few people are near home."

"No, sir. It's not that at all. The problem is, well, perhaps you had best look at these."

Tom took a handful of letters and frowned at them. He carried them to the window and held them up to the dim light.

'27 January - at Wilmington, North Carolina. Sir. I'm sorry I haven't written in awhile, but we have been marching. There was no need for our presence in New York it seems and we've been reassigned. The Black Baron's gone too, to Pennsylvania I hear, and Colonel Exeter's been replaced…. Please tell mama I miss her, and will return when I'm able. From what I hear this should be routine garrison work, so she's not to worry. I am, as always sir, your obedient, humble….'

'16 February…. Sir. We've settled in for the winter at a former British fort just west of the city. The people here are quite pleasant, they're giving us anything we ask for including an advance on pay. That led to some trouble in town when…..'

'2 March… Sir….Today we received a surprise. Colonel Exeter has been reinstated, apparently by South Carolina. He says he's very happy to be back and pleased that we're all together. Sergeant Waymouth says something's wrong, but won't say what …. we're being reinforced as well! The local militias, maybe one or two thousand have joined us and we're drilling together….'

'20 March…Sir….Apparently this won't be a simple garrison. The Charleston armory has been opened to us, and we've been told to prepare for a sixty-day campaign….Also, most of our officers have been replaced by Carolina militia…scouts say the British have several thousand men in Georgia - more than us. Are they attacking?…'

'1 April….Sir. I hope all finds you and mama well. I will probably be out of contact for at least the next two months. Colonel Exeter says we have orders to assault the Cherokee holdings. Despite the inauspicious date I assure you this is no ruse. Sergeant Waymouth is in quite a passion, but he doesn't have that much influence. The Colonel is confident, but everyone else seems uneasy…we were trained to fight Englishmen. The Indians have their own means of fighting. Colonel says that only proves our superiority in arms and we'll be done before Independence Day, then we can have some leave. I'll like that, to see you and mama again. Please give her my love and I am, as always…."

Silence, except for the soft rustle of paper and the occasional nervous cough from Harding. Tom stood there for some time, reading and re-reading, convincing himself this wasn't an ill attempt at humor. He carefully put the events into some semblance of order. This took some time, as the boy's 'f' and 's' were nearly identical and it confused him extremely. It was perfectly obvious what happened, of course. No wonder he'd been so pleased these last weeks, the smug son of a …

"I suppose my first question," Ellery ventured finally, "was did you know? Last I'd heard we were leaving the Cherokee be, at least until the English question was resolved."

"No," Tom muttered. He read the last letter again. "No. Colonel Exeter's acting without our leave. I'm not even sure why he was given another command."

"But you're a representative of South Carolina, surely they would tell you…?"

"Much has changed since you left, sir. Mister Rutledge has poisoned the assembly against me, I'm a little surprised I haven't been recalled. Even in Congress I don't have the influence I once had." Tom frowned.

"You can go to Congress, then. Tell them what's happening."

"No, there's nothing I can do." Edward Rutledge still knew he wasn't 'the' Thomas Heyward of Charleston, South Carolina. He wondered whatever happened to that man. Had he died of that fall in 1772? And how the hell had he replaced him? God? "Well, I can bring these letters to the Rhode Island delegation and have them raise the question. I'd be interested in an explanation myself."

"That's a start," Ellery began slowly. "Though since the colonel is a South Carolina officer and you're his representative….?"

"The assembly could recall him, but as I said they have little to say to me anymore. Congress could choose to send another officer to replace him - that's probably our best gamble. Perhaps with some men to convince the Carolina militia to mind their duty."

"You will have this issue addressed though?"

"I'll have it raised by Rhode Island. That's all I can promise."

"Fair enough," Ellery and Harding rose and bowed. Tom returned it and left.

Walking briskly to the riverside, he hailed a ferry to carry him to the nearest town - Bristol. It was a slab-sided vessel that looked much like someone had thrown a great hunk of molding grey cheese into the river to see how it fared. She swam though, which was as much as anyone had the right to demand of a ferry, and laboriously she worked her way across the Delaware.

The showdown with Rutledge, was inevitable. Even with Rhode Island raising the question, it would turn into a duel of wills between them. The South Carolina lawyer had all the advantages though - training, connections, a certain savoir faire, and the extreme advantage of actually belonging here.

Tom had a few letters from a scared young man, a sense of what the country was trying to accomplish, and the truth.

It didn't sound like much of a contest.
 
May Rutledge rot in hell for what he's trying to do :mad:

But at the same time.... in game terms, where's this leading, eh? Attempting a two pronged attack outward against Goliath's (the British) little helper (the Cherokee)? :eek:

Things are looking to get rocky for the young America..... :eek:
 
Draco Rexus said:
But at the same time.... in game terms, where's this leading, eh? Attempting a two pronged attack outward against Goliath's (the British) little helper (the Cherokee)? :eek:
Click to expand...

In strict game terms, this is what was happening:
Bloody little.
Send out a few merchants.
See if I can get a trade agreement going.
Watch in growing fear as Admiral Howe and his 184 ships cruise up and down the American eastern seaboard.
Build and redeploy troops as rapidly as I can, preparing for 1778, keeping them off the front lines so the English AI doesn't 'see' them and begin a massive buildup of its own.

As you may have read, earlier in the game I made the painful decision NOT to go to war with the Cherokee. It would be an exceptionally easy fight and would keep me amused for a few months, but it would also make the south a far more fluid situation - as it stands the English have only one way in down there - and a war would seriously slow down my buildup. I'll include a EU2 map of the south front next time to give you a better idea of what I'm looking at.

It was a very close decision, it runs contrary to my instincts and I thought the conflict between American (and player) expansionism and discretion would be an interesting subject. Did I finally fall to my instinctive need to kill something? We'll see. :D

Plus, I thought it'd be a bit cheap to take all these characters and say "...two years and lots of coffee later..." We're starting to drift beyond the strict confines of the game, but it's always in mind. As of April 1776 though, it was rather quiet.

That does change. And with a two-prong war even! ;)
 
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CatKnight said:
In strict game terms, this is what was happening:
Bloody little.
Click to expand...

Always a problem telling what happened when in fact nothing happened.
However you do it very well. :D But I feel a war coming on so I don't mind. :)

Joe
 
:p I thought that was happening! :p

I'd be a great bit wary of the Brit's if I were in your shoes as well :eek:

Can hardly wait for your next update about our brave and foolishly young band of adventurers in the young United States ;)
 
Chapter 22: Showdown

1st May, 1776
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

"And so, sir, with infinite regret I must ask for an explanation," muttered the new delegate from Rhode Island, one Kevin Christensen as he leafed through his notes. You could almost hear the submission in his voice, and Tom closed his eyes.

The Committee of the States was formed as a result of Article IX of the Confederation, and in effect its purpose was to lead the nation when Congress was not in session. Any and every decision it made could be overruled by said Congress, which meant the Committee had all of the political rivalries, regionalism, radicalism and backbiting of its parent house with none of the teeth. However, until Congress could reconvene, it was the only solution available.

Edward Rutledge represented South Carolina this bout. Each state was allowed one representative here, and the Congressional delegations usually took turns at this duty. He rose and bowed. "Certainly, sir. I am happy to discuss the matter with my esteemed colleagues. The letters are true, as far as they go. We did reinforce the army in Wilmington, we did appoint Colonel Exeter, and we have ordered him to enter Cherokee country."

"Why?" demanded one, and the chamber dissolved into roars and shouts. The committee's president, Lucas Cochrane of Virginia, looked back and forth. "Order!" he yelled, banging his gavel. "The chair continues to recognize South Carolina!"

"Thank you, sir." Another bow. "As I was about to say…."

"Point of order?" One of the delegates stood.

Cochrane sighed. "Yes?"

"Article VI specifically forbids any state from engaging in war without the consent of Congress."

"That's not a point of order, sir. You may rebut Mister Rutledge shortly."

"Oh."

"Pray continue, sir?" Cochrane waved his gavel.

"Thank you. While my esteemed colleague is correct, he may have missed the subclause. No state shall engage in war without consent …. unless such State be actually invaded by enemies, or shall have received certain advice of a resolution being formed by some nation of Indians to invade such state. We had intelligence the Cherokee were preparing to strike into the Carolinas, and we acted."

"Well, that's alright then," replied Christensen.

"Wait a minute."

Cochrane sighed again. He had a raging headache and wanted to go home. Why me? "Chair recognizes Connecticut."

"Sir. I admit you speak of a very long, painful sentence in the Articles but I believe it goes on? It allows action only if the danger is so imminent as not to admit a delay until the United States in Congress assembled can be consulted. The last of these letters was dated April 1st, and arrived in Rhode Island on the eleventh by post ship."

"I do not take your meaning, sir," Rutledge answered dangerously.

"Congress last met on the fifteenth of April. Word should have reached Philadelphia even before Newport. Indeed, it appears your intelligence dates back at least to March 2nd when militia reinforced them. Why was Congress not informed?"

Good man, Tom thought from the gallery. He leaned close.

"On March 2nd we had no intent of invading the Cherokee. We were simply reinforcing the garrison there. There was also some opposition to our garrison consisting mostly of northern troops, and we thought to balance them somewhat. No, sir. We learned of the attack only in the waning days of March - this boy probably wrote his father within an hour of learning our plans. We simply didn't have time to prepare a reasonable proposal before Congress assembled."

Tom began to rise, but the Connecticut man wasn't done yet. "Poppycock!" he cried. "These letters show a clear strategy preparing for an aggressive stroke. Even if, if sir, what you say is true, then if a letter can go from the field to Newport in ten days, then a warning can come from Charleston or Wilmington to Philadelphia in seventeen!"

"If what I say is true?" Rutledge asked softly. Then he straightened and turned his attention to the president. "I have no control over what another man believes or not," he admitted calmly. "It seems a southern man's word is not sufficient for our northern brothers! Perhaps the boy's post ship experienced better luck than ours. Perhaps the Assembly was so busy defending our livelihoods, our women and our children there was a delay in writing. Perhaps we didn't want to trouble others with what we consider an internal matter, and perhaps we did not choose to trust our salvation from these butchers to a pack of Yankee Doodles who ignored my last warning about the savages. I do not know, but I will be pleased to make inquiries. South Carolina's position was and is that this is a preemptive strike on those planning to strike into America's heartland!"

"And North Carolina's!" cried Joseph Hewes, red faced as he leapt to his feet.

"Is everyone satisfied with their answer?" Cochrane asked. "Then if there is no further objection…"

"I object." Tom rose slowly as all eyes turned. Slowly he walked down the stairwell and to the common floor.

"Mister Heyward," Rutledge touched his elbow. "What are you doing?"

Aloud, Tom turned. "I am on the South Carolina delegation. How come this is the first I'm hearing of an imminent attack?"

"I am warning you, sir." Rutledge hissed.

"Noted." Heyward stepped away. "If we are to be attacked, sir, and fortunate you are to have word of it .. why wasn't I told?"

"The letter was addressed to the head of the South Carolina delegation. Mister President, this man does not represent South Carolina in the Committee. Please advise him to stand down."

"Mister President," Tom turned. "I am not a member of the Committee this time around, but I am a delegate from Congress, and Article V guarantees my right to speak."

"In Congress assembled," Cochrane replied. "Your interpertation may or may not apply to the Committee." He closed his eyes for a moment. "You can be called upon to testify however, that is not arguable. Does any member of the Committee so desire?"

"I do!" yipped Connecticut.

"Fine. Continue with your testimony, but you may not ask questions."

Tom frowned, but whether he had the right to take part right this second was a minor issue. "I… Simply put, I find it strange I was not informed on an imminent attack on the Carolinas. Surely was my home state planning to take matters into their own hands, I would have been informed."

"As I answered, the letter was addressed to me."

"And why didn't you tell me then?" Tom raised his head.

"Mister Heyward," Cochrane sighed. "You may not…"

"In fact, why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you take an advertisement in the paper!? 'I, Edward Rutledge was right. You were wrong, I was right, ha ha ha."

"Mister Heyward!"

"For I warned them that the Indians would be trouble, but did they listen? No! Here is a letter from my assembly stating, in effect, that the others either are deluded or don't care what happens to us! Damn them all!"

"Mister Heyward, please!"

"I am Edward Rutledge, king of kings." Tom pointed at him. "Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair." The fact that Percy Bysshe Shelley wouldn't be born for sixteen years yet didn't phase him in the slightest.

"Order! Mister Heyward, you are here as the Committee's guest and at the Committee's whim!" At least Cochrane had forgotten about his headache.

Tom's gaze didn't waver, though he half turned his head to the president. "My apologies to the Committee."

Rutledge was turning an interesting shade of purple-red. He opened his mouth twice. Closed it. Finally mastered himself. "I did not tell you, sir, because you have shown an appalling lack of interest in your own state's affairs. I have questions: Why are you not home, sir? Congress is not in session, you are hardly needed."

"Apparently I am."

"But how could you have known this would come up? No….no. You almost never go home. It's as if you don't really feel a connection there. That's true, isn't it?"

Tom's eyes narrowed. Here we go.
 
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