by Jay Heavner
“Not tomorrow," the preacher responded. "It's the Sabbath, our day of rest. You look like you all need it. And I'm not gonna miss a chance for some preachin' with all you folks here."
“So it will be. So it will be,” said Lightfoot.
Lightfoot always liked to hear the preacher. He reminded him of his mother when he did. He still did not understand the story of Jesus, the man who sacrificed Himself for us. This concept was foreign to a man raised as an Indian. They just did not do this. It was every man for himself, but he still liked the preacher. He was a good man.
The two Redcoats were made welcome. The men set to cutting up the deer. They skinned the buck and prepared the hide. The deer was quartered, and the sections cut into smaller usable pieces. Those not to be used immediately were salted. The scraps were tossed to the awaiting hungry dogs. They wolfed the slices down and eagerly but patiently waited for more. After a filling supper, people sat and talked about the sightings of Indians and other events at the settlement. All found a place to sleep in the crowded cabin. The still night was broken by the sounds of people snoring.
The next morn, Caleb became ill. As the day went by, he grew sicker. Caleb couldn't keep fluids in his body. He had the trots, diarrhea. Beka put chamomile in some water to make tea, and the sick man drank it. It seemed to calm his stomach and bowels, but he was weak. A little after mid-morning, everyone gathered for Reverend Haskell's preaching. He had not been around lately and would not be by this way for some time, so he spoke long, as was the frontier custom. All had brought their guns in case the Indians attacked. A sentry sat on the roof as a lookout as one had last night. John sat next to Beka and listened intensely. After about two hours of preaching, his stomach began to grow. Beka looked at him and smiled. She reached into her Bible and pulled out some dried plant leaves. "Chew these," she said.
John did, and it quieted his complaining stomach. About halfway through the services, Caleb got up and left swiftly. The diarrhea was back. He spent most of the day in the outhouse.
After services, everyone ate outdoors or on the porches of nearby homes. Roger asked Lightfoot how he liked the sermon as they ate. He said he always wanted to hear Reverend Haskell's preaching and teaching, but he still did not understand how Jesus would let himself die like that on the cross without a fight. He had never seen anyone do that in his life or heard of anyone who had done that. Roger told him, Jesus did it because of His love for us. Lightfoot looked unconvinced. John said it reminded him of the preachers in Ireland. It had been a long time since he had been to church. Caleb ate very little. John asked him how he was. "The bloody flux," he replied. "I think I have the bloody flux."
John's heart sank. The bloody flux killed more soldiers than battle. Beka gave him more chamomile tea, but it did little good.
Aside from the necessary chores, today, everyone rested. It was much needed. The next morning, the day they had planned to continue to Fort Cumberland, Caleb was too sick to travel. Tuesday showed no improvement, nor Wednesday nor Thursday.
On Monday, after finding Caleb too sick to travel, Lightfoot lead the men into the forest to hunt. Beka found Reese's clothes and gave them to John to wear while he was in the woods. He liked the feel of the frontier garb, especially the soft moccasins. The clothes fit well. John and Reese had been about the same size. While in the woods, Lightfoot and Roger patiently and carefully taught John the ways of the frontiersmen. He absorbed the new knowledge like a sponge picked up water. He was a fast learner. John had realized his survival in this strange new land might depend on his ability to adapt. Each day that Caleb was too sick to travel, the men went to the woods. Lightfoot showed him how to track and listen to the sounds of the forest to read it. He gave him tips on shooting and showed him edible plants.
By Friday, Caleb looked like he was at death's door. Beka had been doctoring him with a mixture of opium, honey, licorice, and camphor, but it had done little good. The drug relieved the pain, but the flux remained. There was only one thing left to try in her frontier medicine, ipecacuanha. If this did not work, she feared for the young man's life. After she gave it to him, he vomited, as all do. Now, it was wait and see. Friday showed little to no improvement. By Saturday, he was slightly better. The next day he showed more progress. By Monday, he was on the mend. By Wednesday, he looked his old self, but he was still week. Daily, as they waited for Caleb's condition to improve, the three men took to the woods. John was feeling much more at home in the wilderness forest. Roger and Lightfoot both noted his rapid progress. It was now mid-May. The two frontiersmen and two soldiers left early Monday for Fort Cumberland. Caleb was still a little weak, but well enough to travel.
The men quickly traveled the old Indian trail that led to the gap in Knobley Mountain, commonly called Short Gap. They moved at a rapid pace through the gap and down the steep western slope. Within minutes, they were at the Potomac. In the shade of towering silver maples and sycamores, they rested. John looked back from the direction they had come. He wanted to memorize just how the gap and the neighboring mountains looked. Someday he may need to retrace his steps, and he wanted to know how. They forded the river. The water was cool and clear. Now they were in the colony of Maryland. The men follow the river the remaining miles to the Wills Creek. Up the hill, they walked to the gate at the fort. There they were stopped by two sentinels. Because of their late arrivals, the sentinels took John and Caleb as returning deserters. Lightfoot and Roger tried to persuade them otherwise, but they would not listen. The sentinels attempted to manhandle the two Redcoats but were knocked to the ground by the frontiersmen. Quickly they were on top of the sentinels and had knives to their throats.
Redcoats came running but stopped when they saw the situation. The tumult drew the attention of the two men in the tent. Out stepped General Edward Braddock, commander of the British forces, and his volunteer aide, George Washington.
“What’s going on?” demanded the General.
“Colonials have attacked our troops, Sir,” came the reply.
“Preposterous,” roared General Braddock.
George Washington looked at the situation. He recognized the one man, Lightfoot. "General," he said, "that's the man I was telling you about. That's Lightfoot."
The General's face softened. "Lightfoot," he said, "Get them all to my tent as soon as you can untangle them."
He went into his tent. Washington walked swiftly to the altercation. When he got there, he called out, "Lightfoot, this is Colonel George Washington. The General requests your presence in his tent as soon as convenient."
Lightfoot shifted his eyes to the Colonel. He looked at the man he held down. He said to him, “No one questions my honesty and lives. But as a favor to Colonel Washington and your General, I give you your life.”
With that, Lightfoot took his knife from the Redcoat’s throat. A small trickle of blood ran down his throat from the small wound where Lightfoot had nicked him. Lightfoot wiped the blood from his knife and placed it in the sleeve. He stood up, looked down at the frightened man, and stretched out his hand, “Come, now we are friends. Let us speak of this no more.”
The startled man took the hand that a moment before held a knife meant to kill him. Lightfoot pulled him to his feet and smiled. Then he patted him on his back. The sentry smiled somewhat sheepishly. He was lucky to be alive. Roger had duplicated the actions of Lightfoot with the other soldier. He, too, had a relieved look on his face.
“Come,” Colonel Washington said. “The General waits.”
The five men walked across the grounds to the General's tent. It seemed every eye in the fort was upon them. They entered the tent and found the General seated. He spoke, "Mr. Lightfoot, Colonel Washington has told me much about you. He told me you were a ranger that could fight like ten men. I see that this is true. Where have you been? You've been expected for two weeks." "This young soldier," he said and pointed to Caleb, "was with us. He had the bloody flux and was too weak to travel. We could not leave him behind. We are he
re now and at your service."
"Good," the General said. "Good, I need scouts. I have only a few Indians now with us." Colonel Washington grimaced. General Braddock was not much of a diplomat. It had been said of him by Governor Dinwiddle that he would just as soon fight the Colonials as the French. And his decision to send the Indian women home had unforeseen consequences. True, they had been trading "favors" with Braddock's woman-starved troops, but when they left, so did most of the braves. There were only eight that remained. "And," the General continued smiling, "please don't kill any of my men. I need them all for battle."
Lightfoot looked at General Braddock and smiled, "I like you, General. You have courage. May the Great Spirit give you wisdom in the days ahead. You will need it.”
Some of the smile left General Braddock’s face. “Yes,” he said, “may God smile on this undertaking.”
Washington added, “God rules in the affairs of man. May he grant us good fortune.”
In his mind, Washington wondered. He had seen very little of a Godly nature about the General. He was vile at times and self-centered. His troops seemed to fear him more than the French and the Indians. He would meed out severe punishment for men with the coolness of a snake.
General Braddock looked at his men. "You two are to report to your commander, Sir Peter Halkett. If he has any questions on your return, inform him to contact me. You were away because of illness, understood?" The two Redcoats tightened up and said sharply, "Yes sir," in unison.
“Dismissed,” General Braddock said. “Colonel Washington, show these men to their quarters. We have much to do before we travel, but it needs to be soon. The days are passing quickly, and we have much to do before taking winter quarters.”
The men left the tent. The Redcoats went to find their group, the 44th Regiment. Colonel Washington, Braddock's aide, took the two frontier men to their quarters. General Braddock sat alone in his tent, thinking. Would they be able to pull this complex operation off? The Colonial governments had promised much and delivered little in supplies and men. If Benjamin Franklin had not gotten the wagons and horses, the mission would have failed here. The distance he'd been told in England between his present position and the French fort at the forks of the Ohio was not fifteen miles, but one hundred fifty miles, ten times as far. A road must be carved through a mountainous wilderness. The King was counting on him. Surely he would be knighted if he could pull this off. The French had too few men, and he did not believe the savages to be any match to his trained and disciplined troops. They would run when they saw his overwhelming forces. He would be dancing with the ladies of Philadelphia before the first snowfall, perhaps if all went well, probably. Time would tell, but now he had much to do before he would lead his troops out of this protected encampment. Time would tell.
Chapter 21
On the morning of June 7, 1755, the British 44th Foot Regiment left Fort Cumberland. John DeFayre and Caleb Campbell were with them. Woodcutters and scouts had left days before to prepare the twelve-foot wide road that must be built through the wilderness for the army. They followed the old Indian path that Delaware Indian Chief Nemacolim and Thomas Cresap earlier in 1749 and 1750 had supervised improvements at the behest of Christopher Gist of the Ohio Company. George Washington and his men had widened it to six feet in 1754 on his way before his encounter with the French and their Indian allies at the hastily built Fort Necessity. Today Interstate 68 in Maryland roughly follows the original trail as far as the Youghiogheny River.
The construction of the road through the frontier by the colonials and Redcoats was prolonged and challenging. Mountains and rocky ridges must be crossed. Ravines needed filling. Streams had to be forded or bridged where possible. Numerous marches were in the way, and of course, the ever-present virgin forest with its massive trees challenged the effort.
The weather was unseasonably hot and dry. This helped the British forces but not the French. Reinforcements for Fort Duquesne had been slow in arriving if they did at all. The waters in the streams the French depended upon for portage from the Great Lakes and Canada were running low. Even canoes needed carrying in many places. Supplies only arrived with great effort. Reports of Braddock's great army made the Indians wonder at the wisdom of attacks on such a large force with the French, but General Braddock knew little of this. He believed he had overwhelming forces that would be no match for the French.
The Colonials he privately scorned, and he had only eight Indians scouts left. He believed his trained British forces would probably scare the French troops, and they would go without a fight. His forces consisted of 1350 Regulars, 500 colonials, and 50 seamen. He had cannons and horse-drawn wagons with supplies. A young man named Daniel Boone was one of the colonial wagoners, as was Daniel Morgan, who would later become a famous Patriot commander during the American Revolution. On the British side, a young Scot named Hugh Mercer marched as a Redcoat. Two decades later, he would fight alongside George Washington at the Battle of Princeton during the war for independence.
Progress was slow, 3 to 4 miles a day. Underfed and overworked horses died pulling the heavy loads. Many men were sick with dysentery and the bloody flux. Some died. Indians picked off stragglers and those who wandered into the woods. Among the Indians was an Ottawa warrior named Pontiac, who years later would lead a bloody war against the Whites. That war would bear his name. The lucky soldiers caught by the Indians returned scalped and mutilated. Some disappeared like ghosts. Still others the Indians left for the troops to find. Some they killed, scalped, and dismembered. Others were found their heads on a pike with their tall, red conical hat carefully placed on their lifeless remains.
None of this was good for the morale of the troops, mainly the British. The Colonials goaded the British with tales of the horrors they'd seen or heard concerning the Indians' cruelties. Still, they continued westward slowly but steadily toward the forks of the Ohio. General Braddock was concerned about the slow progress. There was still a grand plan to complete before winter quarters, and the days were passing too quickly. He had expected losses of men and equipment. So far, they were in acceptable limits.
Rumors spread like wildfire among the troops. The thin line through the forest stretched for three or four miles in length. Many men fell ill, mostly dysentery, including Colonial Washington, who rode like cargo in a wagon with other sick men and supplies.
The foot soldiers marched on westward. It could be mind-numbing. Occasionally a man would trip over a root or stump and fall. The others would help pick up the cursing man. The sight of a snake of any kind sent the men scurrying. Regularly, the war-whoops of the Indians were heard menacingly from the thick underbrush surrounding the newly cut road. It sent chills down the backs of the troops not used to this type of warfare. In Europe, armies battled in formation in wide-open space. How would the French and Indians fight here, from behind trees and rocks? John DeFayre wondered if General Braddock had considered this, or was he so confident, perhaps overconfident of the superiority of the British forces, he was self-blinded. If something did so wrong, he knew for sure the English Commanders would place the blame on the Irish soldiers. That was how it always was. Generals hogged any glory. The soldiers received the blame.
John thought of the stories his mother had told him of the history of the Scots. Originally from Ireland, the tribe had crossed the narrow sea and settled in the land to the east. There they united the other local tribes and gave the land their name, Scotland, Land of the Scots. The English had invaded and cruelly conquered them. They had then encouraged some of the Scots to return to Ulster or Northern Ireland. There, the English pitted them against the Irish. They then, by deceit, took back the land the Scots were given in Ireland. There was no future for him there. He hadn't wanted to be a British soldier, but when he found out they needed men for an army in the New World, he jumped at the chance. He had a free ticket across the sea, and perhaps a new start in the New World. The voyage across the Atlantic was long, cold, and horrible in the cramped ship
. John was seasick most of the way. It left him weak but saved him a terrible fate. If he had been well, he would have jumped ship. Men did and were caught. The punishment was two thousand lashes.
When a man passed out, a bucket of cold, saltwater was thrown on his bareback to rouse him. When a man had enough and could take no more, the doctor watching stopped the punishment. The lashes were resumed the next day. It took three days for some men to receive their full sentence. John had been thankful afterward for his weak stomach. The time would come for him to leave. The opportunity would be there when conditions were right.
It had been a hard march. John, Caleb, and two other Redcoats had marched four abreast, with men before and behind him. Haystack Mountain, just outside of Fort Cumberland, was just a teaser of the difficulties to come. Big Savage Mountain claimed more than its share of broken wagons and sick men. They had walked through the tall hemlock, climax forest, they called the Shadow of Death. Sunlight barely pierced the thick, high canopy of green. There was no underbrush, only fallen needles and small branches that blanketed the ground. An eerie silence filled the forest. No birds sang. As John marched, he remembered the words of his mother from the Psalms, "Ye, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."
He found comfort in those words. He could read the fear in many of the Redcoats around him. There was nothing in Europe like this. It was like being on another world with unseen dangers all around. The silence was deafening. Surely a monstrous evil would gobble them up here. Finally, they arrived at the other side unharmed, but it took a while for the men's hearts to stop their rapid beating.
Over the coming days, the army camped at Little Meadows and later Great Meadows. John saw Colonel Washington riding slowly through the flat grassy land. He stopped here and there. He looked to the right and then to the left, contemplating. Here a year ago, the French and Indians had defeated Washington and his Colonials on this very spot. Charred logs stuck out of the meadow. That was all left of Fort Necessity. The enemy had destroyed it.