Less than a hundred yards to go and Will could hear von Bamberg’s heavy breathing.
“Stop, you rebel bastard,” von Bamberg yelled and gasped. The man was clearly out of shape and might not be able to run much farther. However, he might not have to.
A shot rang out and Bamberg screamed. Will turned to see the Hessian falling backwards. A red stain was spreading across his chest.
“Get your ass in here,” Barley shouted as he rose up from the ground.
Will ran into the trees, ducked behind a thick trunk and prepared to fire at the two remaining Hessians who had stopped and were bending over their fallen leader.
“Don’t,” said Barley. “I haven’t reloaded yet.”
Will agreed. One of them should always be ready to shoot. The two Hessians were picking up their colonel who hung limply between them. There was little doubt that he was dead. They showed no interest at all in continuing the chase. Barley had finished loading and the two men looked at each other. There was no reason for more killing.
“Thank you, Barley.”
The sergeant grinned. “If my memory serves me, this isn’t the first time I’ve saved your worthless ass.”
Will punched him on the shoulder. “Try ‘worthless ass, sir,’ and let’s figure out a way to get back to our lines before the unfortunate death of von Bamberg, the murdering Hessian swine, brings more attention than we can handle.”
Chapter 20
Fitzroy stood over the lifeless body of Colonel Erich von Bamberg. The dead German had been laid out on the ground beside an open grave and he tried to generate some sympathy for the man. That he couldn’t was not a surprise. After all was said and done and despite his belated efforts at civility, the Hessian had been a coldblooded and callous murderer of both his own men and those who were innocent. He wondered which part of hell was reserved for men like von Bamberg and monsters like Tarleton and Girty. Perhaps they’d share a cell for all eternity.
That there were rebel spies watching the army maneuver into position came as no surprise, although the audacity of this particular spy was worthy of note. It took courage to simply wander around as if he belonged there and ask questions. In a way, such openness was better than skulking behind trees and peering through telescopes.
The two Hessian soldiers who had been chasing the spy were dumber than oxen and had not seen the face of the spy. All they knew is that he was very tall, very fast, heavily armed, and was accompanied by a large number of rebels, which is why they had given up the chase when Bamberg had been shot. They’d added that it had also been necessary to try to give aid to their beloved colonel whose death the entire Hessian detachment would deeply mourn.
“Bull,” Fitzroy muttered and then concluded that the two Hessians weren’t as dumb as he’d first thought. They’d avoided a possible ambush by pretending to help a hated officer who was dead before he hit the ground. And mourn my ass, he thought. The Hessians who remained out of von Bamberg’s original detachment would celebrate their loathsome commander’s death, and Fitzroy wouldn’t blame them for one minute. Von Bamberg’s second in command was a very young lieutenant who looked overwhelmed by the responsibility thrust upon him.
Fitzroy caught Burgoyne’s eye. The general winked. Von Bamberg would not be missed.
Fitzroy wondered just who the spy had been. Perhaps the next time, if there was a next time, that he saw the rebel Major Drake, he would ask him. Then he chuckled. Did he really expect Drake to give him the name of a spy?
“I must be getting old,” he mentioned to Danforth who had just joined the group.
“I dare say we all are,” said Danforth, “just remember that growing old is far better than dying young. You will join me in a drink or several in honor of the dead German to speed him on his way to Valhalla, will you not?”
Fitzroy smiled. Why not indeed?
* * *
Tallmadge looked over the crude map that Will had drawn. The position of the gathering place for the British attack showed that they would attack at very near the center of the American lines. Stark, Schuyler, and Von Steuben watched.
Von Steuben’s English had improved over the years from impossible to understand to fairly good. He turned to Will. “Why did your man find it necessary to shoot von Bamberg? I was so looking forward to hanging him by his testicles. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Sorry, sir,” Will said with a smile.
“Their attack will not be very subtle at all,” Tallmadge continued. Stark and the others silently agreed. “You’ve done a good job, Will. This proves that the British are locked into a specific plan of action with little flexibility at all.”
Von Steuben growled. “That is the good news. Additional good news is that they will be so massed that virtually anything we fire at them will hit someone and most of them will not be able to fire back at us. The bad is that we will be hard pressed to repel such an overwhelmingly strong attack. We will fight hard, especially my Hessians who have no choice and no hope of a life if we do not win, but I do not think we can stop them.”
There was silence as this sunk in. “But we can slow them,” Stark said.
“Of course,” said Schuyler, “but slow them for what purpose? Or do you propose that we pray for miracles?”
“That would not be a bad idea,” Stark added. “However, think of the battle as a vast and bloody test of wills. Yes, they outnumber us badly, but they are not fighting for their lives as we will be. Even if they are defeated, the worst that could happen to the survivors is that they would be captured and someday be exchanged and returned home. As for us, any who survived would be hanged or enslaved and, frankly, I’d rather be hanged than live the life that Hamilton, Jefferson, Adams, and so many others are living in Jamaica and elsewhere.”
Stark glared at Will. “What about returning to a prison hulk, Major, and starving to death after being flogged and branded anew? If you were lucky and not hanged outright, that is. What do you think about that?”
Will stiffened. “I’ll be dead before that happens, sir. I will not be taken prisoner.”
Von Steuben chuckled. “Live free or die again, General Stark?”
Stark smiled. “If the statement worked at Bennington, it cannot hurt to use it again.”
* * *
“Mark this date,” Benjamin Franklin said. “It is September 15, 1784, and it is the day on which the fate of our nation will be decided. If it wasn’t so frightening, it would be glorious.”
Sarah smiled fondly. The old man was dressed and ready even though it wasn’t yet dawn. He’d put on old clothes and let it known that he would be present at the battle whether anybody wanted him there or not. Incongruously, he had a pair of dueling pistols in his waistband along with a thick knife taken from someone’s kitchen. He noticed Sarah staring at them.
“Like so many people, dear Sarah, I too will not be taken alive. I don’t fear hanging. Or death, for that matter. After all, I’ve avoided it for quite a long time and I fear it’s ready to catch up to me. No, what I dread is being taken prisoner and carried back to London and put on exhibit like some caged but senile animal. I am far too proud to handle living in my own filth and hearing the ridicule of the British nobility.”
Sarah started to speak, but found she couldn’t. She began to sob and reached out for him and embraced him. “Except for Will, there is no man on earth that I love more than you, Doctor Franklin.”
Franklin returned the embrace and she felt his tears. “Would that you were forty years older, Sarah, or that I were forty years younger.”
* * *
Owen was awakened from dreams of Faith well before dawn. He grumbled for a moment, then became fully alert. One of General George Rogers Clark’s aides was going around and shaking the officers who dutifully followed to where Clark waited.
“Today’s the day,” Clark said grimly. “Word has it that the British are through rehearsing and will attack before noon. We have orders. We will be dividing into two groups. The first will stay here and shoot as many Redcoats as they can from the flanks of their major attack. You will also try to disrupt the flankers they will have out to protect their so-called phalanx. If you can get any of them to flee, then more the better.