| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| SgtMunro |
Posted - February 04 2005 : 09:23:43 AM
“The Go-Betweens” (Part Three) By Sgt. Munro
06 June 1764 / 1115 Hours
Two Miles East of Grant’s Hill, The Ohio Country
Ouisaw Kitehi quietly addressed the other three warriors, “I shall move around to their front, and see if the men I am looking for are amongst this new group. The rest of you shall fan out near the path that returns to the fort. As before, wait for my signal before taking any action.”
The other three men nodded, and then silently moved toward their position. Ouisaw Kitehi placed his fusil on the ground, and removed his bow from his shoulder. His eyes did not move from watching the woodcutting party, as he strung the weapon and knocked an arrow. With his free hand he recovered his fusil, and crawled closer to his quarry.
Four of the private soldiers of the 60th Royal American Regiment were busy cutting firewood, under the watchful eye of their Corporal Trench. The other two privates were minding the ox-cart, and Sergeant Pepper was napping under a nearby tree.
Private Dingle paused from chopping, and said to no one in particular, “Some of that Spruce Ale would taste really good right now.”
Corporal Trench growled, “Boy, you better put that axe back to work. I’ll tell you when to stop!”
Sergeant Pepper woke from his nap, in time to hear the exchange. He stood up and retrieved his brass-barreled blunderbuss, which was lying next to him. He then walked over to the ox-cart, and patted the small keg while saying, “Don’t worry about the ale boy, Corporal Trench and I shall spare you that work. Eh, Corporal?”
Laughing, Corporal Trench stepped up and drew a pint of the cool amber beverage, “Why thank you Sergeant, and don’t mind if I do.”
While the corporal continued to savor his drink, Sergeant Pepper addressed the men, “You see that I am not an unjust man, I shall allow you to watch the Corporal and I enjoy this ale. Now get back to work, for I tire from watching you.”
Trench retrieved his second pint, and started to drink, when…
Shhhhhhhh… THWAP!!!
The corporal felt a sharp pain through his chest; his ale spilt from the cup as he looked down at the knapped flint arrowhead protruding through the front of his waistcoat. The warmth of his lifeblood soaking his shirt diverted his attention from the war-whoops he heard from all around. He dropped to his knees, and died trying to pull the arrow from his back.
Two gunshots echoed, as Sergeant Pepper watched the privates guarding the ox-cart crumple to the ground. “To arms!” He shouted, followed by, “Run for your lives!” In his panic, Pepper jerked the trigger of his weapon as he spun around to flee. The blast from his blunderbuss disintegrated Private McNulty’s head. Pepper then dropped his weapon and ran toward the path leading back to Fort Pitt. He would only get another fifty yards, when Wanasketha Sicapee emerged from his hiding spot and buried his tomahawk in the sergeant’s face.
“Damn savages!” Private Dingle shouted, as he grabbed his firelock from the stack he added, “Look sharp, men!”
Private Harris noticed Wanasketha Sicapee, knife in hand, kneeling over Sergeant Pepper’s body. The private brought his firelock to bear and…
Shhhhhhhh… THWAP!!!
The arrow was lodged through the side of his throat. The pain was so severe that it caused Private Harris to drop his firelock, as he tried to break the arrowhead off. He would not succeed, for at that moment Wanasketha Sicapee noticed the suffering of his present antagonist, and finished the job his brother started with one well-placed shot from his trade gun.
Private Berry did not retrieve his firelock; he chose to panic instead. Placing his eye patch over his good eye, Private Berry suffered a brief moment of incontinence and then collapsed to the ground in a fetal position. His sobbing was muted by the gunshots and war-whoops, which filled the air around him.
Private Dingle struggled to free his rus |
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