SgtMunro
Soldier of the King
USA
Bumppo's Patron since [at least]: September 23 2002
Status: offline
Donating Member |
Posted - February 19 2004 : 08:14:13 AM
|
“A Christmas Visitor” (Part 1) By Sgt. Munro
Fort Pitt, The Ohio Country
24 December 1763 / 1830 Hours
The men of Graham’s Company were spending a cold and snowy Christmas Eve in the warmth of MacKenzie Barracks. Ensign MacMillan was playing his dulcimer while the men sang Christmas Carols, extra beer and rum rations were given in celebration of this, the most sacred of holidays. Even the evening meal was one to give thanks for, primarily due to Captain Graham and his skill with the fusil bringing a brace of fresh turkey to feed his men. This was truly the first good day, in an all too long of a time.
Sergeant Munro and Corporal MacIntyre, both with smoking pipes in hand, decided to take an evening stroll around the fort. During this time, Duncan told Ian of the dream he experienced; he talked of the great hall, the highland warriors of old and of the warning concerning his brother. Ian, being the good friend that he is, listened with interest to Duncan’s recounting of such a fantastic voyage of sleep.
Ian himself had experienced portents and warnings from his past dreams, but being an educated man, he sometimes would try to apply logic in a manner to explain them away. One dream of his had forecast the defeat of the clans at Culloden, in this dream he’d seen himself wading through a sea of blood guided toward Saint Andrew, who was crucified upon his cross. Walking over the broken bodies of comrades and kinsmen, plaids torn and twisted with weapons laying all about, he was drawn toward the saint. Although he was not an overly religious man, the dream did disturb him greatly. What caused him even more alarm were the words spoken to him by the crucified Saint Andrew.
Standing before the cross, Saint Andrew’s eyes then opened, and in a booming but surreal voice, he said, “Beware, man of Clan MacIntyre, for this shall be your inheritance!” So disturbed by this dream was he, that when the foretold battle occurred two months later, he did not speak of it. Ian has never told anyone of that dream, and he would not be speaking of it this evening either, for its memory still haunts him.
As the two friends were passing the main gate, they heard a loud exchange of words coming from the East Ravelin. Looking at each other, they both hurried through the gate and into the ravelin, where they found a visitor being harangued by the posted sentries. Approaching a corporal of the Royal Americans, Sergeant Munro shouted, “What’s all this then?”
The gray haired, hatchet faced corporal replied, “It’s this savage, sergeant, he wishes to gain entry to the fort!”
A drummer from Captain Eucyer’s Company, who was off duty and visiting his messmates, also interrupted with, “The corporal is right, we can’t have their kind roaming about our fort!”
Corporal MacIntyre then placed his hand on the drummer’s shoulder and guided him back through the main gate, while saying “First off lad; this is not your fort, this is The King’s Fort and secondly it is nearing your bedtime. Come now, be off with you.”
Sergeant Munro then pretended to closely examine the young man, scrutinizing him beneath his capote. Appearing satisfied, he then turned to the corporal and said, “This man is a warrior of the Oneida, part of the Iroquois Confederacy. You should remember corporal that they are neutral in this current conflict. We wish them to remain neutral, which is why your Colonel Bouquet has posted orders stating that any member of the Confederacy shall be granted entry to this post and shall not be molested or ill used in any way. He has also ordered that all said members of the Confederacy shall be treated with the utmost courtesy relative to their rank.”
“Well sergeant, if that be the case, then I shall grant entry.” The corporal continued with, “I apologize sergeant, it is just that they…”
“I know corporal, they all look the same to you.” Munro said dismissively, as he walked with
|
Serjeant-Major Duncan Munro Capt. Thos. Graham's Coy. 42nd Royal Highland Regiment of Foote (The Black Sheep of the Black Watch)
"Nemo Me Impune Lacessit" -Or- "Recruit locally, fight globally." |
report to moderator
|
|