| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| SgtMunro |
Posted - March 25 2004 : 10:18:03 AM
“Men Of Action” (Part-2) By Sgt. Munro
12 January 1764 / 0940 Hours
The Salt Spring Crossing Of The Mahoning River
The men had to rest before crossing, because starvation was starting to take its toll. They now numbered six, with Ranger Olson succomebing to his wounds three days ago and Ranger Hartman dying from exposure last night. Lieutenant Patarcity was now more than ever, starting to doubt their chances at arriving alive at Fort Pitt. “How did it come to this?” The Lieutenant thought to himself.
From the time his detachment crossed to the mainland, they had been plagued with bad luck. Now these are not the type of men who turn tail and run just because of ‘changes’ to the original plan, but they had endured far more than their share. They would have completed their mission and returned to the island undetected, if not for the untimely arrival of a foraging party of Miami Warriors. That was when things went from bad to worse, for there was no way to deal with them silently and gunfire draws the attention of anyone within earshot.
That was when the other warriors at the hunting camp were alerted, and the chase was on. For the next eight hours, the rangers made a fighting retreat back the way that they came. Even with the extra munitions on the hand sled, after the battle each man was left with less than five rounds powder and ball. The food situation was even worse, for there was barely enough rations for two days left before the battle. Even with their now diminished numbers, they found their food exhausted. The only item they had in abundance was water, but with no fire to melt the snow, it too was dependent on environmental conditions.
The only blessing also doubled as a curse, for the last five days the weather had warmed up somewhat during the daylight hours. This made travel somewhat bearable, but made river crossings like the one in front of them more haphazard. Looking at the frozen river before them, Ranger Sergeant Thacher said, “Sir, I don’t like the way that ice looks midway out.”
“Your observation is noted, sergeant.” Patarcity continued, “But we have to cross, to detour north puts us way off course and south into the loving arms of three native towns. So, not to cross here would leave us with the choice of two possible deaths; one from starvation or exposure, the other from the scalping knife.”
“How are you holding up, Ranger Merry?” Ranger Sergeant Metz asked, noticing that the man appeared more lethargic.
“I’ll be alright Sergeant Metz. This is almost as bad as Saint Francis.” Ranger Merry replied.
“Not quite Ralph,” Rifleman Flynn laughed, “We haven’t been reduced to eating…”
“Alright, that’s enough Flynn.” Thacher called out, “We have to get moving, the longer we stand still the worse it gets for us.”
“Good point, sergeant.” Patarcity said.
The men roped themselves together, and replaced their snowshoes with ice creepers. With Ranger Prescott in the lead, the file headed out onto the frozen Mahoning River. With each step closer to the middle of the river, more bad signs became apparent. Pools of water were forming in depressions on the ice surface, and the ice was creaking with each step until…
CRASH!!!
Ranger Prescott disappeared quickly from view as he fell into the swift current of the Mahoning River. It was so sudden that the rest of the file were pulled off of their feet and started sliding toward the new hole. The quick thinking of Sergeants Thacher and Metz prevented the whole file from being pulled under. Using their tomahawks to dig into the ice they were able to twist their bodies around so that their ice creepers would be more effective.
Once stopped, Lieutenant Patarcity yelled, “Pull him out, now!”
As the men were fighting the current they could see Prescott, from under the ice, hammering his fist in a futile attempt to break through. Lieutenant Patarcity and Sergeant Thacher continued pulling on the |
|
![The Mohican Board! [Bumppo's Redux!]](images/wwwboard.gif "The Mohican Board! [Bumppo's Redux!]")
