by Michael Aye
Noticing the men wiping their hands in the dirt and on tree leaves, Jonah discussed it with Moses. “The food has the smell of the soldiers,” Moses reminded his friend. “That Creek warrior would surely have smelled Lemuel had he not done so after eating. I’ve even seen a few chewing on tree bark to get the smell from their breath.” Jonah realized his friend was right.
-
The evening of the twenty-first, the scouts closed with the Emuckfaw village. Making a quick reconnaissance of the village, the scouts faded into the darkness and made their way back to the general’s camp some twelve miles away. Little did Russell or Jackson know, their main army had been spotted by a Red Stick hunting party who had camped not three miles from where Jackson’s men were encamped.
Chapter Fourteen
It was dawn, and the men were beginning to stir about on this cool morning. Moses woke up and was instantly alarmed. It was not the men who’d already left their blankets, it was something more. He moved his foot from beneath his blanket and nudged Jonah with the toe of his moccasin. Jonah was already awake. He slowly pulled his long rifle to him and then reached for his tomahawk. The movement, slight as it was, woke Lieupo. He reached beneath his saddle and pulled his pistols to him.
A shrill scream shattered the early morning stillness. Muskets barked from the undergrowth, spewing lead into the sentries and men who’d already gotten up. After the first volley, the Red Sticks charged.
“Weatherford,” Henry cussed and shot at a running warrior clad only in a loin cloth.
War whoops rang out amid the curses and screams of the soldiers. Captain Reid was shouting for the men to form around the command tent. The flash of weapons lit up the early morning with stabs of flames gushing from musket and pistol barrels. Moses fired, hitting a dashing brave, and quickly ducked to reload. This gave Jonah the opportunity to line his sights on another warrior. The impact of the lead ball slamming into the Indian’s chest knocked him backwards. Jonah didn’t look but could hear Lieupo firing first one pistol and then the other. Henry was in the process of reloading when a Red Stick darted toward him. With the ramrod still in the barrel, Henry pointed the long rifle at his foe and pulled the trigger. It was point blank range. The ramrod impaled the brave just below the sternum; when he hit the ground a good portion of the rod was sticking out his back. Moses found another target and cut him down.
The Red Sticks were now inside the camp and there was no time to reload. Jonah fired one last shot that hit a brave in the shoulder, spinning him around. Moses threw his tomahawk, hitting an Indian in the back with a sickening thud. It buried itself deep, severing the warrior’s spine and dropping him. The battle had reached its crescendo. Lieupo was fighting an Indian hand to hand. Knife blades were locked together. Wrestling his one hand free and making a desperate swing with his fist, Lieupo broke the brave’s jaw and then stabbed him, spilling the warrior’s innards as the sharp blade sliced open his gut.
Moses was also fighting hand to hand with a brave, while another was circling with a knife looking for an opening. Jonah clubbed the second one with his long rifle and then used the butt plate to smash his foe’s skull. Officers could be heard barking orders to the men. The element of surprise gone, the Indians began to retreat.
“Pour it on,” Jackson was shouting.
A few targets remained but they were fleeing and then it was over. Thirty minutes…the battle had lasted only thirty minutes. It had seemed a lot longer. Lieupo had a cut on his arm from the knife fight but was otherwise unhurt. Jonah, Moses, and Henry were bruised but had not been wounded.
“There goes our surprise attack,” Jonah declared.
“Yeah, and there goes my ramrod.” Henry had pulled the bloody and bent rod from the dead Indian. “Would you just look at that?”
Seeing the scattered weapons, Moses said, “I bet you can find another.” Henry grunted and started looking about until he found a rod that suited him.
Sam Houston trotted up, his face black and grimy from the spent gunpowder, “The general wants to strike while we got the Red Sticks on the run. He’s sending out Coffee with half the men to attack the village. Hammond’s rangers and Russell’s men are going as well.”
Picking up a canteen that was draped over a dead soldier, Henry said after taking a long swig, “You don’t think they’ll be waiting on us?” Houston shrugged his shoulders and then hurried back to the command tent.
Crockett was with the men forming up. He had a large dark spot on his buckskin shirt. Seeing Jonah’s look, he grinned and said, “Don’t worry, Jonah, it ain’t my blood.” Jonah had come to like the loud boisterous man and was glad he was not hurt. “You boys coming along on this little adventure?” Crockett asked.
“We can’t let you have all the fun to yourself,” Moses threw back.
-
In less than an hour after the battle, Coffee’s men had closed with the Emuckfaw encampment. He sent out Russell’s men to scout the place before they attacked. Jonah and Moses went with Henry. They were within hearing distance of the camp when Henry pulled up behind a huge pine tree and ducked down. Peering around the tree, he quickly ducked down again. “We need more men,” he said in a whisper. “There’s over a thousand braves there. I spotted Menawa, Weatherford, and Peter McQueen.”
“McQueen,” Jonah repeated in a whisper. “Is he a white man?”
“Half-breed,” Henry answered. “His daddy was a Scot. Let’s back out of here,” he advised the men. “I’ve seen enough. I don’t mind a proper fight but attacking this would be suicide.”
Jonah and Moses were of the same mindset, so they backed out and high-tailed it back to General Coffee to report. Other scouts had returned with the same report so Coffee turned his men around and headed back to Jackson’s camp. When he reported, he could tell Jackson was disappointed but knew it was better to back off and live to fight another day.
“You did what you thought best, John,” Jackson said, resting his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
A cry went up from the edge of the camp. A couple of Russell’s scouts came running in, sounding the alarm, “Here comes the Red Devils again.”
“Arm yourselves and take cover,” Jackson ordered. “Hold off till I give the word, men,” he shouted his last order. “Let them get close and then blow ’em to hell.”
“That’s Andy,” Crockett said as he scooted down next to Jonah and Moses.
In spite of the coolness, sweat trickled down from Jonah’s brow. A horse whinnied and stomped its foot. A mule brayed, and then they came, charging out of the trees as arrows filled the air from archers hidden in the brush. The anxious raw recruits didn’t wait for the command. A nervous finger pulled a trigger, closely followed by others. Rifles spat forth a deadly swarm of lead balls at the charging Indians.
“By twos,” Jonah barked to the men beside him. He and Moses let go with their long rifles and then ducked down as Lieupo and Henry found targets and fired. From the command tent, Jonah watched as a sword glinted in the sun. Down came the arm and the men at the command tent fired. At least some of the men waited on Jackson’s command, he thought. A crashing volley emptied saddles but the charge continued. Men feverishly worked with their powder horns and ramrods as weapons were reloaded. The Creek horsemen, four and six abreast, charged the center. They were upon the command tent when another volley rang out and more saddles were emptied. Another volley ripped out at a bunch of warriors charging on foot. The swath of lead balls cut down a number of the warriors, but still they came.
Jonah could barely see through the battle smoke. The near naked braves showed no fear as their scarlet painted bodies continued the attack. The sky was darkened by another cloud of arrows fired from the cover. The sound of war whoops mingled with cries of pain and death. The two forces were now upon each other and there was no time to reload. Indians jumped over crates and barrels, hacking at the soldiers. Muskets were turned into clubs, and the soldiers rushed to meet the fearless Red Sticks. One man lunged at a bra
ve, his bayonet piercing the Indian’s throat, but before he could retract his weapon, he was cut down by a war ax.
Jonah’s group had pulled their tomahawks and knives when Coffee hollered, “To me! They’re trying to flank us.”
Seeing an Indian aim his bow at Houston, Lieupo fired his remaining pistol. Houston touched his brow in salute. Hurrying, they closed with Coffee as he charged the Indians. The attack was now almost to the rear of the camp. Many of the men hurrying to turn the flank attack brought their muskets. Quickly, Coffee put the men in two lines. The front line fired and then knelt while the second line fired. This stopped the advance.
Crockett gave his tomahawk a throw and down went a warrior with a red plume in his headband. “You might be protected from our rifle but that blade sent your soul to hell,” he shouted. Jonah realized the man must have been a Red Stick prophet.
The grass was high and brown from the cold frost. Jonah spotted a bit of movement, watched for a second as the tall grass parted, and then flung his tomahawk. He was rewarded with a cry of pain. Two more volleys tore into the grass and underbrush. More yelps of pain, and then the remaining Indians popped up and ran. A few scattered shots could still be heard back in the camp.
Jonah felt a hand grab his shoulder. Turning, it was Moses who motioned with his head. Lying on the ground, with a huge dark place spreading across his shirt, lay Coffee. The man was alive but severely wounded. His face was ghastly pale. Jonah ordered two men to return to camp and get a surgeon. It was not long before the men were back with the surgeon and a stretcher. Jackson was with them. He reached down and took Coffee’s hand.
“You saved us, John, you turned the attack. Rest now, and the surgeon will take care of you or I’ll have him shot for incompetence.”
Coffee smiled and the surgeon winced. Jonah was sure it was meant as a joke. He was just as sure that with Jackson there was no telling. One thing was sure: his comment didn’t help the surgeon’s confidence a bit. He caught Lieupo’s eye. The man felt the same way. They walked off following the stretcher barrier, wondering when the next attack would come.
Chapter Fifteen
It was a subdued army of survivors that hugged the campfires that evening. Maybe the men felt a sense of security from the flickering flames that lit up the early evening and would burn through the night. Watches were relieved every two hours. The surgeon and his helpers were busy trying to save as many of the wounded as possible. Captain Reid left General Coffee’s tent to inform Jackson that his friend was alive and would surely survive. A breeze picked up and blew at the flap of Jackson’s tent. Several officers were gathered there.
Looking over the camp, Reid wrinkled his nose and spoke to Jonah, “The place reeks, Mr. Lee.”
Reek it does, but not unlike other battlefields, Jonah thought. Charred wood from burnt crates and barrels mixed with the sickening smell of burnt flesh. Blood, urine, and dung, all seeped together to fill the air with a putrid stench. Death, the unmistakable smell of death, be it man or animal, hung on the evening air. All woven together to produce the reeking smell of a battlefield.
Sometimes it took days to clear your nostrils… sometimes it never did. The smell of death seemed to linger, an omen to what the future may hold. Hearing a cry from one of the wounded being jostled, Jonah could only imagine the fear some of these men had felt that afternoon. Having faced not one, but two attacks and knowing another could be launched at any moment. Men who’d laughed at death while passing the jug with Crockett not many nights ago now thankfully ate their cold biscuits in silence as they huddled together, heads hanging down, some tired, some praying. Would they be next to lay beside some friend or neighbor who had already been killed in battle, or would their body be dragged off by savages and mutilated beyond recognition? Thoughts that never came to bear a few nights ago now weighed heavily on more than one man’s mind. Seeing his friend was not paying attention, Moses nudged Jonah breaking his reverie.
Jackson was saying he intended to move at first light. He’d been going over several possible routes back to Fort Strother with Captain Russell. He had decided to take one that, while longer, should be safer. Jackson then dismissed the officers to get the men ready to march with the morning light. “A moment, Mr. Lee,” he had called as Jonah was leaving the tent.
Returning back inside, Jackson’s servant offered a cup of weak, warm coffee and cold bread. Seeing Jackson dunk the bread in the coffee before placing it into his mouth, Jonah followed suit.
“The men today, how do you think they did?” Jackson asked after finishing his biscuit.
Without taking time to think, Jonah responded quickly, “For raw recruits without the benefit of training, I thought they did very well.”
“Do you think I was wrong to rush these men into action?” Jackson asked very bluntly.
“Time, sir, is a commodity circumstance seldom allows. You have the men…all volunteers I might add. You have an enemy who is highly trained; indeed, warfare has been bred into him. It’s something he eats, sleeps, and breathes. That enemy will murder, rape and mutilate countless innocent settlers if he is not brought to task and quickly. He has already done so. No, sir, General, I do not fault you and I certainly don’t judge you.”
Jackson stood and bending over the table held out his hand, “Thank you, Mr. Lee, that was well said.”
After shaking Jonah’s hand, Jackson turned and walked out. In that moment, that one moment, the General had been vulnerable. A powerful hard man…but a man.
-
The sun rose and the men seemed to be in better spirits. They were alive and had survived the night without further attack. Jonah, Lieupo, and Moses discussed the situation.
“We expected them and they knew it,” Moses stated. “Weatherford, or Red Eagle, whatever he’s called, is a patient man, a war chief. He will attack when we are least prepared and the odds are in his favor. It’s a long way to Fort Strother,” he added.
The army marched out in a long column. As the sun rose, the morning chill evaporated with the dew. The men found traveling over the rough terrain tiring. When a halt was called, some just flopped down where they stopped. Officers and sergeants bawled out the stragglers, some cursing to high heaven.
“Some of those cursing were doing a lot of praying last night,” Lieupo commented. “Some soon forget until they need help again,” Moses replied, disgust in his voice.
Up ahead, Jackson could be heard sending an advance guard out. Henry was riding down the column and stopped when he saw Jonah’s group.
“Enotachopoo Creek just ahead,” Henry said. “Andy’s sending out his forward guard. I was told to tell the colonel to hurry this bunch along.”
Looking back and seeing two colonels, Jonah wondered who was supposed to do the hurrying. One was the colonel who’d questioned Jackson about attacking the enemy with raw recruits. He’s staying out of sight, Jonah decided. By the time the three had gotten to the creek, the artillery was being sent across. Falling in beside the artillery major, Jonah, Moses, and Lieupo were midstream when a blood-curdling death whoop struck fear in the retreating stragglers. The underbrush next to the creek bank was suddenly a dense cloud of smoke as numerous muskets fired. Red Stick horsemen bounded out into the creek, cutting down the straggling soldiers left and right.
Hearing the war whoops, the two colonels spurred their horses forward and refused to stop when the artillery major shouted at them. “Cowards, damn cowards, they’ve deserted their men.”
The drivers for the artillery wagons cracked their whips, urging the horses across the creek, trying to save the cannons. The last few soldiers were in a full run as they rushed into the creek. Some were shot, while others slipped and went under the cold water, soaking powder and shot. Another volley from the shore sent more men to a watery grave. The Red Sticks were firing from the underbrush, from up in the trees, and a group on horseback milled about the creek bank making easy pickings of the retreating soldiers. Using their horses for cover, Jonah, Moses
, Lieupo, and the artillery major were returning fire. Henry tried in vain to halt the running troops. He finally gave up and joined Jonah’s group. With the colonels running, there was nothing one man could do to stop the panic.
Balls plucked into the creek about Jonah and his group, sending up small spouts of water. The gunfire had made the horses nervous and wild-eyed. It was difficult to control the horses and return fire at the same time. Jackson could be heard from the far shore shouting orders and encouragement. A counterattack was being put together. The bullet and arrow riddled bodies of dead soldiers floated face down in the shallow creek. As Jackson’s men re-crossed the creek to meet the hostiles, some of the bodies had to be pushed aside.
A ball plucked Lieupo’s sleeve. Looking for his assailant, he shouted, “Damn this.” Then sighting an Indian lowering his musket, Lieupo aimed and fired. Watching the brave hit the water, Lieupo said, “You might not have been the one who ruined my shirt, but somebody had to pay and you was the first I seen.”
Hearing Lieupo, the other nearby men burst out laughing causing others to wonder, ‘why in God’s name are those idiots laughing while we’re getting our arses shot off?’. Colonel John Carroll and a group of men were now riding past Jonah’s group so they remounted and raced to meet the hostiles. The surprise was now over and the soldiers were getting the upper hand. Moses sighted a brave firing his bow from a tree. He took quick aim and shot. The warrior grabbed his face with both hands and toppled out of the tree to the water below. So many muskets and pistols had been fired, spent powder smoke hung heavy along the creek bank and over the water. The Red Sticks made a final wild rush. It was hand to hand, hack, cut and thrust. Blades bit into muscle and bone. A few more bangs were heard as men were cut down cursing, shrieking, hollering, and crying out in pain.