Redcoat
Mar 28, 2015 13:41:31 GMT
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Post by Danny McPherson on Jun 23, 2014 2:16:57 GMT
The woods had fallen silent some moments ago. No birds sang, no squirrels chattered, the only sound Danny could hear was that of her own heartbeat and the soft breathing of the men that lay to either side of her. She rested her cheek on the stock of her rifle and sighted down the barrel, waiting for something to step into its range. She and Eliza had been traveling with Major Rogers for a few weeks now, in hopes of meeting the man that slipped him his information. They had both decided a life of espionage suited them well enough, especially since they were already proficient in disguises.
She glanced at the Scot that waited beside her, he lay a few yards off, his eyes scanning the forest floor below them. on the other side was Pete, the old man who always had a pipe stuck between his teeth, lit or otherwise. right now it rested against his lips and hung upside down to remind him not to pull on it. Beyond him she could see Eliza lower on the ridge they waited on.
Far off a horse snorted and Danny's attention snapped back to her gun. below them at the bottom of the gulley was a pool of water, too shallow to be called a pond, but too big to be called a puddle. Here is where they would ambush the American Dragoons. Her finger went to rest on the trigger as the first of the cavalrymen came into view, waiting for Roger's signal to fire.
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Post by Aedan Cepero on Jul 4, 2014 5:42:36 GMT
For some odd reason, Colonel Moultrie thought that this would be a great plan. A three week forced march, up towards New York, with several other southern units, as a "sign of unity for the colonies." For Aedan, and most of his men, it meant blistered feet, little to no time to eat, and having to march at a pace that would have been impressive for even the Legions of Rome. At least those troops were trained properly. Aedan had at least been able to train his company how to at least attempt close order drill, how to load and fire (the only easy part, really), and probably most importantly how to use their bayonets. When going toe to toe with redcoats he had little doubt having soldiers who knew how to respond to bayonet charges was going to make or break the 2nd South Carolina Infantry. His one hope was that their first baptism by fire would not be against the full brunt of the British Expeditionary Force... There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell they'd survive.
Being the forced march it was, and not a regular march, Aedan had one major concern. While he may not have had much field experience he had studied quite a few manuals from the Spanish military in his college years, and had re-studied them when he took this command. For one they didn't have infantry scouts along the flanks. This was for the sake of time, the colonel had said, having scouts slows down the column. Which he had been right, for sake of time they had to cut a few corners, but supposedly the detachment of dragoons had been supposed to cover what the infantry normally would. That was the main issue... The cavalry was run by a wealthy Virginian who viewed himself more of an aristocratic chevalier of old instead of what he was actually was, a dragoon commander. They were basically little more than mounted infantry, so you'd figure the man would have had the foggiest idea how infantry tactics worked. He did not, and instead of having his men riding as scouts as he was bloody supposed to, they were all in a pretty column about a quarter of a mile ahead. The fact that the entire Southern brigade hadn't been ambushed by now was nothing short of a miracle.
Aedan had the sinking feeling as he watched the last one's head disappear over the crest of the hill into the gulley. The dragoons entered with an air of nonchalance and an attitude so carefree you'd expect them to be on a Sunday's ride through the valley instead of a potential war zone. Little did they realize they were about to enter a hornet's nest.
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Post by Robert Rogers on Jul 8, 2014 23:05:49 GMT
One week in New Jersey and Rogers had decided he hated it. The muggy air choked him and clung to his clothes. He pulled his flask out and took a large swig before closing it up. One of his men eyed him curiously. Unsure of exactly they were meaning, Rogers just shook his head and looked away. His men should know he did not share his flask. He walked a several feet ahead of his men, listening to the slightest sound. They had been crossing a field when a loyalist had approached the rangers. The word of a large units of the colonists traveling across farms reached Rogers in no time. He gathered his men and quickly turned to the woods to find where they went.
Only a few hours later, Rogers stood silently in the woods, waiting for men to appear in his view. "Steady lads," He said quietly as he loaded his gun. He wanted more to come into view so his men would have more to shoot. He estimated their numbers were equal although he was not too certain. Either way, he trusted his mens' aim. "Wait for me to fire and then wait until you have a target. " He looked around the woods, finding ways they could escape if in fact, the units had not separated. The scout had told him of only the dragoons heading their way. A significant fewer amount than the loyalist had said.
He heard the dragoons long before he saw them. Their voices bounced between trees and their footsteps shook the ground. The only sound that came from his unit was the nickering of the horses. He smiled, aiming his gun just right of a tree. The first few soldiers started peeping through the woods. No clear shot yet. The whole forest was silent, as if every creature anticipated what was going to happen. A soldier stepped right in line of his gun and seemed to pause. Without a thought, Rogers squeezed the trigger.
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Redcoat
Mar 28, 2015 13:41:31 GMT
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Post by Danny McPherson on Jul 9, 2014 1:48:28 GMT
The forest erupted with the blast from Rogers' rifle, soon followed by the POP, POP, POP, of others who had Dragoons in their sights. Rogers was a smart man, and he chose his riflemen well. Four men fell from their mounts in quick succession. Danny held her finger over the trigger, ready to squeeze, but it took longer to aim now that the horses were in a panic and the riders were crying out to each other.
She caught sight of an officer near the head of the column, trying to form his men up and get them back in order before seeking shelter, retreating, or even looking to where the fire was coming from. The fool. Danny took a slow breath in and aimed, on the release, her finger tightened on the trigger and squeezed. the smoke blinded her for a moment just like it always did, and when it cleared she blinked away the smell and sting of gunpowder to see what she had hit. The horse was now riderless, and the officer sat on the ground, a dazed look on his face and a line of blood sliding down his temple. She had grazed him, and that was fine with her.
Jumping up to a kneeling position, she began to reload the rifle, something that took her longer than reloading a musket, and glanced around at the other men. Pete was gripping his pipe tight between his teeth while pulling the ramrod out of the barrel of his own gun, and Rogers himself up further on the ridge had a look of grim determination mixed with complete and utter enjoyment. She shivered before priming the pan and rubbing a powder stained thumb over her flint for good luck. Then she pulled back the hammer and raised it to her shoulder to fire again.
(OOC: Please ignore all mentions of the character Eliza in my first post, she won't be appearing in any threads until next year! Danny is with Rogers Rangers by herself.)
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Post by Aedan Cepero on Jul 9, 2014 19:43:18 GMT
The horses circled in fear in panic, and their riders were not much better. The great smoke and fire that circled them in the hornets nest was something the dragoons weren't prepared for, most of all their commander. The Virginian colonel hollared and shouted at his men, trying to maintain good order, but instead was struck with a bullet to temple and collapsed onto the ground. One officer, the only one who wasn't completely shell-shocked, was able to grab the trumpet from the bugler and sound the retreat, leading a full pull-out from the gulley as bullets continued to rain down upon the column.
Aedan heard the gunfire and immediately turned to look back at the colonel, near the center of the regiment. The colonel grit his teeth and rode up the column, shouting halfway up the line. "Captain Cepero! Take your company up and form a skirmish line! 2nd South Carolina, prepare for battle!" Sending a runner to the rear so General Howard knew of the contact, the drummers began their quick, rolling drum beat, the companies running around him to form a long line, three ranks deep.
As the rest of the regiment formed up, Aedan prepared his men for their assignment. "Company D! Form skirmish line and follow me!" The men, at first, were unsure of what to do, but thankfully the sergeants and corporals were quick to get the 80 or so men into two loose, staggered lines. Drawing his sword, Aedan shouted. "Forward at the double time!" And ran up the hill, reaching the crest to see what was happening. The column of dragoons, or more, what was left of it, was retreating up the road. Aedan noticed the plumes of smoke, and men in green uniforms and cursed his bad luck. Rangers, by the looks of them, and they had done quite a number on the dragoons. They had to close the gap, quickly, while clearing the way for the rest of the regiment. "All right boys, fire and advance! Like we practiced! Ones ready!" The first line pulled the hammers on their muskets back. "Aim!" The first line leveled their muskets. "Fire!" Forty muskets fired a loose volley at the rangers, and immediately began to reload as Aedan shouted. "Twos, advance 15 yards! Forward!" He then began to walk forward, as forty men charged through the gaps and took a knee fifteen yards in front of their comrades, aiming and firing.
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