Arrogance and Empire: An Alternative 7 Years War Timeline

[Alt History Buff]

All, I've wrapped up my Fenians TL and am getting back to an old project. For several years, I've been writing a series of novels commencing with a POD at the 7 Years War, a conflict that could have gone very differently and had huge ramifications to the world. Throughout the next few months, I'd like to get much of those novels finalized and shared on this forum.

I intend to focus on some rarely considered corners of the conflict including Georgia, Scandinavia, Bengal and other regions considered "Secondary" by most authors. Most characters will be historical figures (Frederick the Great, George II, Newcastle, Colonel Washington, Lord Loudoun, Wolfe, Amherst, Montcalm, Oglethorpe, etc). Others will be fictional.

Hope you enjoy.

 

[Alt History Buff]

March, 1755

Frederica, Saint Simon’s Island, Trustee Georgia

President James Oglethorpe of Georgia, the southernmost and least populous of the British colonies of the North American mainland, would desperately fan himself….for about the thousandth time….wonder why the hell he kept coming back to this beastly hot backwater. Even the late winter / early spring was ghastly. Sweat drenched his skull. Oglethorpe had long ago given up the wig except for the most formal of occasions.

Why did I come back….yet again? He whined internally.

Then he remembered…..he was directly responsible for Georgia’s existence as a colony as the driving force behind the “Oglethorpe Plan” to plant the worthy poor of Britain in the new world. Georgia, situated on contested land opposite Spanish Florida, would serve as a buffer or garrison colony between the Spanish and their Indian allies and the vulnerable colonies of King George II to the north.

In the 1720’s, as a young Parliamentarian (and a rather undistinguished one at that), Oglethorpe would serve on various committees related to Gaol Reform and the like. He conceived an idea of forming a new colony south of South Carolina where the Spanish had frequently threatened via encouraging insurrection among the Indian tribes. Perhaps to his great surprise, the government approved his proposal for a twelve-man Trusteeship (technically the “Trustees for the Establishment of the Colony of Georgia in America”) to organize the colony.

As the sole member of the committee to actually travel to Georgia, Oglethorpe would take effective command of the colony (there had been no actual provision for local government) in 1732. Over the next decade and a half, Oglethorpe would travel multiple times the width of the Atlantic between Savannah and London, usually to beseech the government for funds in order to build fortifications and transport new settlers.

Every Monday and Wednesday, the “President” would hear petitions…and complaints….from the settlers. It was a tedious ordeal as every petty dispute throughout the colony was laid upon his feet. Having traveled to the southern settlement of Frederica, apparently a backlog of dozens of petitions had formed, and the President was deluged with the most trifling of matters. Sitting under a modest tent under a grove of chestnut trees, Oglethorpe had been exposed to mundane complaints and personal grievances for hours.

And it wasn’t even lunch time yet.

“….and then McClain dared the audacity to claim MY pig had damaged HIS fence!” bellowed some twit named Angus Campbell. Over the previous few years, the latest wave of migrants, pushing the colony over 20,000 souls, had been plucked from the dispossessed tenants of Scotland. For the most part, Oglethorpe welcomed their industry…and the fact that they actually brought large numbers of women and children with them to ensure the colony’s future…..but, dear god, the people could be tedious.

Naturally, McDonald would not let it go at that. He fumed, pointing a bony finger at Campbell, “This man is a liar! He knew damned well tha’ fence was on his land….”

The old Scottish Clan rivalries had resumed in the New World. Over the course of the next hours, Oglethorpe would also hear demands for land grants, applications for non-existent government positions and the like. Most walked away disappointed but generally content that their concerns had at least been received. The Englishman learned long ago that this meant something to the common folk.

Eventually, the final petitioner departed and the President left in peace. Oglethorpe would gather up his adjutant (his only real servant in Georgia) and return by foot to the temporary quarters near Fort Frederica allocated to the President when present. A local woman was hired to prepare meals though his lunch was naturally cold by the time he reached his table, it being already two o’clock.

His adjutant, a local settler’s son named Warren, one of the first native-born Georgians, would make some desultory conversation, “Do you believe that the petitions for extending slavery into the Colony shall be accepted by the Trustees in London, sir?”

Oglethorpe put down his spoon, his appetite already gone. Besides, the stew was terrible. “No, Warren, not if I have anything to say about it. I’ve spent twenty-three years fighting that damned institution’s expansion from South Carolina. If the colony wants to get rich….let them do their own damned work!”

It was a refrain Oglethorpe had made many times over the years as his opposition to the institution of slavery increased. Indeed, one of his primary reasons for pressing so hard for Scottish settlement was the disdain commonly held for slavery among the Presbyterian community. Without the Scots, the clamor for altering the Colony Charter banning slavery would likely have long-since overruled Oglethorpe’s objections.

Realizing he’d let his emotions get the better of him (he’d been doing a great deal of that lately), Oglethorpe continued, “My apologies, Warren, perhaps a nice afternoon nap will improve my demeanor.”

Taking the hint, Warren departed shortly thereafter leaving his master to sulk. Oglethorpe retreated to the hemp hammock behind the small cottage and eased himself into it. Nearing sixty years, the President’s waistline had expanded somewhat in middle age, a far cry from the svelte figure he’d cut while serving George I and George II throughout a series of wars.

In the conflict a decade prior known commonly as King George’s War when related to the war with France and the War of Jenkin’s Ear when it related to Spain, Oglethorpe had commanded the Georgian forces against the Spanish. He defeated Spanish attempts at invasion from Florida and countered with several attempts to seize St. Augustine, the primary Spanish base of mainland America. From there, the Papists had encouraged Indian attacks as far north as the Carolinas. Even the best Indian diplomacy on Oglethorpe’s part had been only partially successful. The war granted him the opportunity to end the threat once and for all.

With 1300 Georgians and South Carolinians as well as some Indian Auxilleries from friendly tribes, the forces of King George II would seize much of northern Florida including several ancillary fortifications. However, the Spanish would manage to withstand a long siege at St. Augustine itself and force the Georgians back across the border. The ensuing peace would restore the previous ill-defined borders.

At the time, Oglethorpe had fantasized about the glory of leading British forces in battle from a colony he’d personally formed (with help from his fellow Trustees) to seize a huge swath of Spanish land. No doubt towns would be named after him had his invasion been successful. Knighthoods, Baronetcies and perhaps even a Peerage may be bestowed. Instead, Oglethorpe returned to London with nary a thank you from the King’s government. He would battle with his comrades, many of whom were advocating a withdrawal upon the ban of slavery, and with the King’s Ministers for funds.

Just when Oglethorpe had accepted glory was not his destiny, a second chance erupted from the most unexpected of places: Scotland. The Young Pretender arrived to the north in 1747 and much of Scotland erupted in rebellion. The House of Hanover was not universally popular and opponents (mainly centered around Catholics and the “Tory” Party to which Oglethorpe belonged) throughout Scotland would rally to the Pretender’s Cause.

Naturally, Oglethorpe flocked to King George’s Colors (of the House of Hanover, of course) when a call for volunteers from the largely lightly garrisoned country echoed through the land. Made a Major General of Volunteers, Oglethorpe led a company of hastily trained infantry under the overall command of the King’s son, the Duke of Cumberland. Oglethorpe found the Duke’s military capacity….lacking….and cronyism based around abject fealty to the Royal Family the only real perquisite for Cumberland’s inner circle.

Oglethorpe was ordered to intercept a few hundred retreating Scots from reaching Preston in Lancashire. However, confusing orders preventing a swift response and the Scots managed to sneak through and reunite with a large force of their fellows. A mild engagement ensued in which the Duke was defeated momentarily. From that day forward, Cumberland would blame Oglethorpe for the modest setback. Accusations of cowardice and even treason followed, and Oglethorpe demanded a court-martial. Though acquitted of all charges, Oglethorpe’s military career was over. Cumberland, as the King’s favorite son, dominated the army and men who caused him (in the Duke’s mind) embarrassing defeats were not welcome.

Briefly returning to Parliament, Oglethorpe’s relevance dropped ever further as his political party, the Tories, had effectively ceased to exist. He was defeated for reelection in 1750. Having no further prospects in Britain, Oglethorpe returned to Georgia, reassumed the Presidency and sought to escape a past haunted by what might have been.

However, Georgia was changing. The South Carolinians, always baying for the expansion of slavery south, would press the Trustees again and again. Fortunately, thousands of sullen highlanders were suddenly eager to escape Britain and the Trustees surprisingly found the Government willing to settle. Also, many Scottish landlords, eager to get tenants off their land so more profitable sheepherding could replace sustenance farming, would fund the exile many a Highland family.

Finally comfortable, Oglethorpe had nearly sunk into slumber when Warren ran up to him, jostling the President from sleep.

“Sir, a message just arrived from Savannah,” the youth cried out breathlessly, “there has been an exchange of fire!”

“Indians…..or Spanish?” Oglethorpe muttered as he struggled to escape the hammock.

“Neither, sir! Apparently, the Negro militia exchanged volleys with South Carolina slave-catchers!”

The President sighed. This was all he needed.

 

[Alt History Buff]

May 1755

The Ohio Country

The young aide-de-camp winced as, yet again, a bundle of documents flew off the side of the cart into the grasping mud. The driver squawked something inarticulate at the suddenly panicked horses as he tried to rein them in. For the third time that morning, the jarring force of the cart striking a pit or root in the road dislodged a wheel. Despite the best efforts of the regimental carpenters, the wagons were collapsing under the strain of travel through this damnable backcountry. Even now he could hear colonial laborers at the fore of the column hacking through the forest in attempt to widen the road enough to make it suitable for anything beyond a savage’s hunting trail.

With regret, the tall, gangly Lieutenant (an honorary commission granted by his commander for the campaign) slid off his horse and knelt in the mud to retrieve the precious documents. This particular bundle contained most of the maps to this portion of the Pennsylvania. As General Braddock’s aide-de-camp, “honorary” Lieutenant George Washington of the colony of Virginia had been delegated the responsibility of maintaining the General’s documents and correspondence. Seeing the generally poor state of the transportation, Washington opted to stay close to the supply column to ensure the safety of the General’s belongings. General Braddock was a somewhat fussy and uncompromising man but had treated Washington fairly. The Virginian was determined that the General not regret the decision to add Washington to his staff.

With a mild grunt of annoyance, Washington found brackish water seeping into the lining, probably despoiling the papers within. Looking up, he saw that the wagon’s driver calming the horses enough to drag the now one-wheeled wagon to a small clearing by the side of the road. The Lieutenant of a passing company of North Carolina infantry was ordering his men to help pack the fallen provisions back onto or near the cart. Glancing toward the rear, the Virginian witnessed ever-greater numbers of wagons struggling along the primitive path as the mules, draft-horses and oxen unenthusiastically plodded forward. Fortunately, the small army was in a relatively sparsely forested portion of the Ohio country. But Washington knew that soon the region’s impenetrable woodlands would close upon them again.

Motioning to the drivers of several of the oncoming wagons, Washington organized the transfer of the army’s critical documents to several other wagons and got the convoy moving again. Fortunately, the army was deep enough into the campaign that much of the food supplies had already been consumed and some space was still available in the wagons. Less auspiciously, the treacherous terrain had taken an enormous toll on the men, horses, and equipment of Braddock’s army. The horses were dying at an appalling rate under the strain of dragging heavy carts through the forest. As such, Braddock had been forced to order more and more of the provisions to be carried by the men themselves. It was generally a bad idea to allow the common soldiers to carry their own victuals lest they be tempted to consume the rations themselves at an unsustainable rate. Further, the men were called upon to carry the flints, powder, and shot of the force as well. Increasing numbers of men were falling ill under the weight of their heavy packs under the scorching May sun blanketing the Pennsylvania backcountry,

Clambering back upon his horse, Washington determined to discuss with General Braddock how best to transport the army in this terrain. Certainly no one could dispute Washington’s superior knowledge on the subject. Only a year prior, the young colonial had led the campaign to eject the French from this very region. Despite the territory having been ceded by France by treaty at the end of the last French-British war, the French government in Canada had built several strategically located fortifications on King George’s land and continued to incite the natives against the few British settlers slowly trickling inland from the coastal regions of British North America. From New York down to Georgia, the provincial governments proved incapable of expelling the French intruders or bringing the Indian tribes to task via negotiation or force.

Two years prior, at the behest of the Virginia House of Burgesses, Washington volunteered to travel to the key French military base in Western Pennsylvania near the Virginia border, Ft. Duquesne, and entreat its commander to abandon the King’s territory….else face the repercussions. While treated politely by the French Colonel, Washington was refused.

The Virginian did, however, make good use of his time in the fort and along adjacent trails by carefully noting the strength of Duquesne’s walls, artillery and defenders. Upon his return to the House of Burgesses, Washington volunteered to lead an expedition of Virginia provincial soldiers to expel the French intruders. Commissioned a Colonel in the Virginia Militia in 1754, Washington led four hundred men along the old Indian game trail leading back to Ft. Duquesne, making improvements all along the way for future westward migration.

For all his efforts, Washington underestimated the travails of committing an entire army to the task. Even if he had been adequately supplied by the Legislature, which he most certainly had not, cutting through the western trail proved brutal. As such, only Washington’s constant encouragement kept the poorly paid and trained army moving forward. Like Washington, many of the officers held a large financial stake in removing the French. Investments in various land speculation schemes through the Ohio Company – usually procuring vast western acreages and then reselling them for a profit to settlers - utterly depended on King George II’s servants actually controlling the region. Indeed, many of the common soldiers enlisted solely on the promise of free land near Ft. Duquesne once the territory fell back into British hands. Certainly, the paltry pay offered by the colony provided little enticement to volunteer. Even by colonial standards, Virginia’s House of Burgesses was notoriously parsimonious.

That expedition, however, turned into a disaster. Before even reaching the intended destination, Washington encountered a much larger force of French regulars, Canadian militia and assorted Indian allies, obligating him into a swift retreat to Ft. Necessity, the shabby, poorly positioned British strongpoint in the west. After a siege of less than twenty-four hours and heavy casualties, Washington admitted defeat and grudgingly surrendered to the French. Most of his Virginian compatriots in the trenches could not return fire due to wet powder amid the day’s heavy rainfall. From their tree-covered vantage points in the hills above the fort, the French and their allies kept up a constant bombardment. While the French commander graciously offered Washington honors and allowed his expedition a safe return to Virginia after the surrender the Fort Necessity, Washington still took the defeat as an affront to his pride and a personal humiliation.

When the new supreme commander of British military forces in North America arrived with two European regiments to deal with the matter, Washington swiftly tendered his services to the General as a “Gentleman Volunteer”, an offer which was quickly accepted. While Washington received no pay nor carried an official rank beyond the courtesy title of “Lieutenant”, he continued to work diligently in hopes that General Braddock would reward his service with a commission in the British Army, something Washington sought his entire adult life. A noted anglophile, the Virginia planter expended vast amounts of coin purchasing his clothes from London tailors to ensure he donned the latest British fashions. Even the crimson uniform he now donned had been tailored in London to replicate the breathtaking image of the regular army uniform. With a successful conclusion to this campaign, Washington confidently expected his desire for a commission to be fulfilled.

At last reasonably confident that the baggage was secure, Washington galloped his magnificent Virginia charger forward, dodging the occasional low-hanging branch threatening to decapitate him, until he approached his commanding officer to report the status of the supply train. He found General Braddock supervising the disposition of the flanking columns in the forest adjacent the trail. While still some twenty miles from Ft. Duquesne, Braddock was taking no chances. Noticing his young aide approach, Braddock called him over, “Lieutenant, good, I’ve been wanting to speak with you.”

Braddock was a stout, fussy-looking Scot with a sharp chin and long nose. Unlike Washington, whom merely powdered his brown hair, the General preferred to wear a full wig even on campaign. The Virginian imagined it must be rather hot in the unforgiving heat of summer. As the man no doubt spent much of his life in London, he did not speak with the heavy Scottish brogue of the many North Britons whom had settled in Virginia over the decades. He carried himself with typical English self-assurance which some may refer to as arrogance.

Washington sidled up to the officer and replied evenly, attempting to quell his palpable excitement, “What can I do for you, sir?”

With a wave of his hand which the General presumed said it all, Braddock complained, “It’s this damnably dense canopy! Marching the army through it has taken far longer than expected. If we are forced to siege Ft. Duquesne, I am not certain that our supplies will hold out long enough. Will there be a suitable clearing at which we can attempt to entice the enemy out of their fortress?”

Patiently, Washington reminded the General, “No sir, this entire region remains virtually uninhabited by settlers. Many of the Indian tribes prefer hunting to farming and thus few fields have been cleared. Also, I’m not entirely certain that the French would be willing to engage our forces in drawn lines even if given the opportunity. Previously, their preferred method of warfare has been to have their Indian allies attack and massacre isolated settlements, thus driving off His Majesty’s subjects providing critical provisions to passing British forces. Therefore, all Virginian…er…British colonial campaigns have been forced to carry vast amounts of victuals great distances through this dastardly primeval forest prior to any assault commencing. With the Indian mastery of ambush warfare, they have been quite successful in cutting off these supply lines. Distance and our inability to resupply have always been the greatest allies of the French.”

Braddock considered this for a moment while gazing through the trees in hopes of spotting his flanking parties. “Well, our flankers seem to be dealing with the raiding problem. We’ve scarcely seen a native throughout our march. Perhaps they find the courage to attack isolated backwoods squatters but European professionals are plainly beyond them. I don’t expect any problems with the savages. Why, according to our rangers, they don’t even believe the Indians will remain in Ft. Duquesne if we besiege it!” This last was uttered with obvious disgust at the native’s lack of valor.

Washington nodded, readily agreeing with his commander’s assessment, “Yes, sir. Upon my own marches, I was appalled at the lack of disciple of my own Indians.” With a shiver, he recalled the death of the French emissary dispatched to negotiate a halt to Washington’s campaign to retake Ft. Duquesne in 1754. Washington had been politely receiving the man’s petition that the Virginians return to their colony when some of the savages whom Washington secured as guides opened fire and cut the Frenchman down. In the time it took then-Colonel Washington of the Virginia Militia to gather his wits, most of the French party were slaughtered…and scalped. While the House of Burgesses had not censured him for failing to control his “subordinates”, Washington considered the incident an ugly stain upon his honor for failing to protect a man under the flag of truce. He would never trust an Indian again.

Washington withdrew from his memories to hear Braddock continue, “Perhaps it’s for the best that so few chose to join the expedition. I have no stomach for men who will not obey orders and only fight when and where they choose. Moreover, it is most galling they expect gifts simply for arriving! We certainly don’t need them given our obvious numerically superiority. Provided we can maintain the siege, the fort will be our prize.”

Glancing at the rows of men in the lead column trudging through the muddy trail carved from the wilderness, Braddock added self-confidently, obvious proud of his regulars, “Even better, we have superior quality. The 44th and 48th Irish regiments consist entirely of professionals. They won’t fold under pressure like the mere colonials the French will be forced to rely on.”

As Braddock’s attention focused on the trudging ranks, he missed seeing the younger man stiffen at the direct belittlement of colonial troops, such as the ones Washington had commanded the previous year. A favorite of the powerful Duke of Cumberland, second son of the King and Commanding General of British Forces, Braddock possessed little field experience but proved politically loyal to his sponsor over the years and energetically followed through upon his orders. However, throughout the campaign, the General continued to act as if he were in command of an army marching upon the well-established roads of sedate southern England. Braddock and, more importantly, Braddock’s superiors in London, planned the campaign by gazing upon maps, not expending a moment to consider that travelling well-organized roads in Europe will do little to prepare you for the riggers of a North American march.

However, Washington had to grant the point that the European regiments maintained a decided quality advantage over the colonials that went beyond finer uniforms. In contrast to the fierce discipline and training by which the British Army honed their troops into the best soldiers on Earth, the ragtag mob of colonials from the New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia and North Carolina companies could not possibly be compared favorably. Surely Braddock considered that when he chose the 44th and 48th regiments to lead the advance while the colonials toiled to drag forward the ponderous supply train and labored to widen and improve the trail. Washington would likely have elected to do the same in his place.

Either way, the Virginia aristocrat was certain that the campaign would prove successful. With the Ohio Country firmly in British hands, Virginia could pacify or eject the natives and settle the fertile area with British pioneers. Great Britain would undoubtedly require the land to be fortified with troops under local command. Both Washington’s martial and economic ambitions may be accomplished by this expedition.

Riding along the side of the column now, Braddock stopped now and then to encourage and make inquiries of various officers along the line. Washington noticed that Braddock rarely even acknowledged the Irish solders bearing their heavy burdens with such admirable stoicism. Washington’s painful experience in the militia required him spending a disproportionate amount of his time attempting to keep the poorly paid drunks and vagrants the Burgesses impressed into the 1st Virginia Regiment from deserting at their leisure. Fortunately, with the renowned British discipline, this wasn’t a problem with regulars. Once again, Washington silently regretted his failure to obtain a British commission.

Upon reaching the front of the column, Braddock turned to the young man and inquired, “At our rate of advance, when can we expect to reach Ft. Duquesne?”

“Two days, sir. Perhaps three as we will need to move through denser forest once we cross the Monongahela River.” Washington replied.

Braddock simply nodded and said, “Very well, Lieutenant. In two days, the French will be but a memory in this part of the world.”

 

[A Random Man]

Nice new series. Will there be an American Revolution in the future? Keep up the good work.

 

[Alt History Buff]

May, 1755

Boston

John Wilkes, not for the first time, cursed himself for his own lack of restraint. The scion of Israel Wilkes, a prosperous whisky-distiller, the remarkably ugly, cross-eyed John had the good fortune of a fine education at Hertford and Leiden, one which nearly bankrupted his beloved father. Brilliant, engaging and humorous, the younger Wilkes delighted in engaging English society. In 1747, Wilkes' natural charm managed to catch the eye of an heiress, Mary Meade. With her dowry, Wilkes could envision entering Parliament, his lifelong dream.

Unfortunately, a week prior to the wedding, Mary returned home to find Wilkes thrusting himself into one of her scullery maids. The Englishman attempted to blame the maid for seducing him, but Ms. Meade (and her family) vowed a gruesome murder should Wilkes ever darken their door again. Outraged that his son had blown his best chance at joining the gentry, Israel Wilkes commanded the then twenty-two-year-old to sail for America as his agent in the colonies. Not particularly expecting his father's anger to sustain itself for long, Wilkes looked forward to the voyage and swiftly settled in as his father's factor in the colonies. Boston was a pleasant little town, full of pretty women and boisterous politics.

Though Wilkes knew he'd deeply offended his father, the first years of his exile were quite enjoyable. Unfortunately, the youth's gambling and spendthrift ways would place Wilkes deep into debt, forcing him to...alter...some of the company ledgers. An audit in 1750 revealed the extent of this and Israel Wilkes promptly severed ties with the boy who had embezzled from his family firm. Left to his own devices, Wilkes was forced to.... work...for a living as a barrister who had never been called to the Bar, a tax-collector who rarely actually collected taxes and, on a single notable occasion, a pastor whose sole sermon included a surprisingly high quantity of obscenities.

Good lord, Wilkes thought sullenly, having been dismissed from his most recent occupation as a clerk in a ropery, when will anything of interest happen in this dismal continent?

 

[Alt History Buff]

The Ohio Country

May 1755

Lieutenant Washington desperately attempted to maintain control of the shrieking brown steed as the beast gave its level best to buck him off its back. Given the great quantities of blood spurting forth from the veins along the beautiful charger’s neck, Washington realized that his mount would soon breathe his last. Clenching the brindle for dear life, the young officer guided the sagging animal to the ground, narrowing avoiding being rolled under the massive weight. Gingerly, he pulled his feet out of the stirrups and released the distressed animal, quickly crawled away to avoid injury by its thrashing. For the second time that morning, a horse had been shot from beneath him. Washington looked up to view the dreadful conflagration around him.

The bulk of the 44th and 48th regiments were caught in the middle of the road in a terrible crossfire. Enemy fire cut through them from all directions. The British soldiers raced back and forth along the road desperately attempting to form ranks and strike back at their foes. However, there were no targets upon which to return fire as no opposing army presented itself for retaliation. The Indian and French forces lay along the hills surrounded the road, covered by the nearby trees enveloping the thick woods. Firing from cover into the ever-shrinking mass of redcoats and ducking back afterwards to safely reload, few of the enemy remained visible for any significant period. The British troops were virtually helpless as one after another succumbed to enemy shot. More disheartening were the terrible, shrill yells of the savages. Already feared by soldier and settler alike for their vicious lack of mercy for prisoners, the screams the Indians produced evoked in comparison only those that must arise from the gates of hell. As British soldier and beast fell side by side along the road, their cries combined with the savages to form a hideous symphony of death.

Stumbling to his feet, Washington realized that the dreams of martial glory held so dearly to his heart that very morning were turning to ash before his eyes. After summons to attend Braddock’s Council of War that morning with the senior officers, Washington had been discussing the best location to camp the expedition that evening when a breathless Corporal rode up the command tent with news that the lead elements of the 44th had stumbled upon a French force of undetermined size along the road. Braddock swiftly ordered his provincial officers to prepare their respective commands to reinforce and then galloped forward with Washington and the remainder of his staff in quick pursuit. Arriving at the front of the column, Braddock was satisfied to see that the lead company had formed ranks opposite a hundred or so French regulars or militia at one hundred and twenty yards. The modest clearing at this segment of road did not allow any superior numbers. The following columns had lined up in ranks three men deep in support of their comrades in arms. Neither side marched forward yet nor opened fire, save a few errant shots being fired in the background by the skirmishers. Taking his place at the side of the lead column, Braddock prepared to march his men toward the enemy. Washington, forced to remain near the rear for lack of a command, watched intently with more than a little surprise at the French order of battle. He had not expected the French to oppose the British in standard formation. Seeing Braddock raise his sword, obviously to order the assault, Washington leaned forward witness his words. Whether Braddock succeeded in saying anything the young man could not testify given that, immediately thereafter, a withering volley of musket fire leapt forth from the surrounding woods. One ball even shattered General Braddock’s blade as he drew it forward. Stunned, Washington watched Braddock twist his body backward in time to witness virtually the entire outer rank of redcoats on both sides of the road fall in tandem.

Braddock ordered the lead column on the road to hold their ground and raced back to organize the defense of his army’s main body. Just as Washington began to nudge his beautiful white stallion forward to support his commander, a sickening splash of blood splattered across his face. With a trio of convulsions, the horse collapsed to its knees and then fell heavily onto its side, shot directly through the eye into the brain. Striking his head on the ground, Washington lay senseless for an indeterminate amount of time. Finally recovering his faculties, the Virginian managed to slide his throbbing leg from beneath the carcass. Cautiously testing his leg and determining that it was not broken, the tall man stood and looked across the field of battle. Along the narrow road, the soldiers of the 44th and 48th regiments huddled together in hopes of safety. However, the brightly outfitted soldiers simply made easier targets for the gleeful enemy sharpshooters.

Noticing a passing brown horse lacking a rider, Washington grasped the reins and dragged it to a stuttering halt. Climbing painfully into the blood-drenched saddle, the Lieutenant drove the horse forward toward the last location he recollected seeing his commanding officer. Fiercely attempting to control the frightened animal, Washington witnessed a sight that would haunt the Virginian to the end of his days. Much of the magnificent 44th and 48th regiments lay dead and wounded along the road. Even more shocking, Washington couldn’t glimpse a single surviving officer attempting to organize the men. Given the volume of shot whipping past his ears and tearing through his clothes, the primary targets of the enemy sharpshooters were evident. Even Sergeants and Corporals were in short supply. Many of the privates, lacking direction, abandoned their useless formations to flee eastwards to the dubious safety of the column’s rear. Not bothering with an attempt to halt them, Washington shouted encouragement to the remaining regulars and militia to hold fast as galloped toward the front. By minor miracle, Washington found the General organizing the shredded remains to the lead battalions to retaliate against the handful of French regulars still visible along the road. Most of the enemy apparently moved into safer firing positions in the woods.

As Washington rode up to him, Braddock was screaming, “That’s it, boys! Hold position and continue to fire at will! They’ll break and run!” Noticing his aide approach, Braddock exclaimed in shock. “Lieutenant, I witnessed you lying along the road. I would have sworn you were dead!”

Only then did Washington notice the hot, wet sensation along the side of his scalp where he’d struck the ground. Feeling the painful cut for a moment, Washington determined that he was not endangered by the wound and calmly continued, “No, Sir. Just stunned as it were. I am fully capable of executing my duties.” Motioning back to the rear, Washington stated, “The lines are collapsing. I can’t find a single officer beyond yourself still breathing.”

Raising his eyes in shock, Braddock replied, “I have ordered Captain Gates of the New York provincial company to move up and support us. I recall a good hill a quarter mile back that the French cannot hope to take. If need be, we can retreat there should we fail drive them back.”

Shocked at his commander’s take upon the situation, Washington desperately pleaded, “Sir, I don’t believe that it would be wise to continue the battle under these terms. Let us regroup and….”

“Lieutenant,” Braddock angrily interrupted as he turned to the younger man, “The army of Great Britain will never yield ground to a mongrel mix of Frenchmen and savag…..” With a thud and grunt of pain, the General was lifted off his horse and thrown down onto the ground. Washington leapt from his own saddle to assist his commanding officer. A bloody wound marked the General’s chest.

Looking up to call for aide from the nearby soldiers, Washington stopped short at the shocked look in their eyes. Only the courage and gallantry of Braddock kept them in order to this point. Ignoring the Lieutenant’s entreaty for assistance, the entirety of the King’s Men stood as one and fled, some toward the rear, others to the dubious safety of the forest. Within moments, the unit disintegrated leaving the two officers effectively defenseless. Grabbing a burly Corporal by the arm as the non-commissioned officer attempted to sprint past, Washington ordered him to assist the wounded and unconscious General onto Washington’s horse. The tug between duty and survival played across the young man’s face for a long moment before the Corporal stooped to help hoist the supine form of the General across Washington’s horse. Washington quickly mounted behind him and grasped the reins.

Turning to order the Corporal to retreat, Washington witnessed dozens of painted Indians charge out of the forest with knives and hatchets in hand, shouting and screaming in inarticulate fury. The young Corporal ran without pausing to request leave. Judging prudence to be the best option, Washington spurred his horse to follow. Before managing ten strides, the Corporal fell with a scream, blood spurting from his calf. Knowing nothing could be done for the man without endangering the General, Washington rode past, pausing only a moment to look back. The sight sickened him. As the young man lay in the grasping muck, thrusting his hand forward to beg Washington to stop, a savage almost casually sauntered forward from behind and grasped the Corporal by the hair. With one swift motion, he used the knife in the other hand to remove the scalp of the screaming soldier. Washington shuddered, urging his steed eastward through the almost endless cracks of musket-fire to discover, to his horror, the news of General Braddock’s fall had plainly demoralized the remnant of the British regiments. As the soldiers in the front of the column fled past, the parallel British flanking lines defending the road collapsed and turned the retreat into a stampede of terrified soldiers onrushing towards the rear, most throwing away their weapons and provisions to expedite their flight.

Seeing resistance waver, the Indians leapt from their places of concealment. Those huddled in gullies or perched in trees raced to capture soldiers in hopes of gaining prisoners, supplies, and most gruesomely, scalps to prove their warrior’s valor. As one Indian in blood-red paint approached from the left with hatchet raised, plainly intending to hack Washington from his mount, the Virginian swiftly jerked the reins towards toward him. With a sickening crunch, man and mount rammed the savage and trampled the screaming Indian beneath the hooves of the whinnying horse. Determining this time not to look back, Washington leaned forward, spurring his steed east, the broken body of Edward Braddock still sprawled face-first across the horse.

300 Yards East

Shocked at the visage before him, Captain Horatio Gates halted the forward progress of his independent New York Company. Witnessing the flight of hundreds of redcoats fleeing past was as unnerving for the officer as his provincial volunteers. What event possibly could have occurred resulting in a rout of the world’s finest soldiers? And how would his unseasoned colonial volunteers react? Fortunately, a handful of Braddock’s staff officers were managing to halt the redcoats’ unseemly retreat, returning some semblance of order.

Dismounting from his horse and handing the reins to a nearby private, Gates grasped one passing soldier by the lapels and shook him firmly. “Pull yourself together, you pathetic coward! Where are your officers?” Specks of saliva splattered the poor soldier’s face as Gates’ grim countenance demanded an explanation. Of average height and somewhat portly bearing, the thirtyish English-born colonial officer remained an imposing figure. Gates purchased a British commission in his youth but sold it many years prior upon emigration to America. The New Yorker fondly recalled the iron discipline of the British regulars and was appalled at the apparent rout.

The terrified man calmed down enough to stutter in an Irish brogue, “Dead, sir! All dead! General Braddock, Lieutenant Colonel Gage, Lieutenant Brooke, our Sergeants and Corporals! All dead! We trie’ to hold formation but dinna know where to fire. We couldna even see the enemy. All my butties dead…..the bloody hellhounds screamin’ from everywhere!”

The enlisted man tore himself from Gates’ grip to continue his headlong flight down the road. Gates made no further attempt to waylay him. Instead, the New Yorker stood frozen for a long moment, unsure of what to do. Certainly, he could not continue west toward the same enemy force which so humiliated two British regiments! Gates grimly witnessed some of his own men glancing down the easterly path towards which the redcoats were fleeing, obviously calculating whether or not to join them. Knowing he must do something to keep the volunteers under control, he ordered his Lieutenants to turn the company around and return to the main supply column. There, he could consult with the other provincial commanders and what was left of the redcoat officers. Having issued the command, Gates began to remount when he spied the General’s aide-de-camp ride up. With a glance, the Captain recognized Braddock as the figure slung along the horse’s back. Swiftly ordering a nearby supply wagon to be emptied, the teamster hastening to obey, Gates assisted the gangy Virginian volunteer whose name he’d forgotten in loading the moaning General into the bed. Upon cursory inspection, Gates dreaded that the ball shattering the General’s collar would drain the man’s lifeblood. However, the wound may not yet prove fatal, Gates thought hopefully as he inspected further. Broken bone, no doubt, but the worst of the blood-flow had already been staunched. A doctor may save his life provided infection did not set in!

Ordering his aide to find a doctor, Gates turned to the Virginian. Gates spent little time conversing with Washington during the campaign and only belatedly recalled the man’s name. As arguably the leading expert on the Ohio country, Washington’s place in the expedition was logical. However, Gates had been stunned to discover Washington turned down the honor of commanding Virginia’s provincial forces, currently stationed at the rear of the column directed by Captain Stephens, in favor of serving as an unpaid “gentlemen officer” on Braddock’s staff with the honorary title of “Lieutenant”. This Gates could not comprehend, even if the rumors were accurate of Washington’s ambition for a regular army commission. Given the British attitude of superiority toward colonials, Gates doubted that Washington would realize his wish of acquiring a commission short of sailing to Britain and purchasing one himself. Even rich provincials had trouble buying commissions from abroad, much less handed one for free. Given that Washington apparently intended to remain in Virginia, that meant any commission he’d purchase would likely be on “Half-pay”, effectively in reserve.

Probably wants to wear a pretty red uniform for parties, Gates thought harshly, dismissing the Virginian as a dilatant.

As the regimental doctor donning British scarlet rushed forward to treat the General’s wounds, Gates snapped, “What happened to the regulars?”

Washington shook his head wearily. For the first time, Gates noted the streak of dried blood along the man’s head and the pronounced limp. “Murderous ambush from the forest. Braddock kept the regiments together on the road as best he could but, lacking visible targets, our men were just firing randomly into the forest. The enemy issued volleys again and again into our lines until all the officers were dead and the common ranks panicked.” Shaking his head again as if to clear the grotesque memory, Washington looked up at Gates and urgently beseeched, “There are still a number of men fighting from various positions. They must be relieved! Would you order your men forward to aid in the escape from their entrapment?”

The amazed Gates replied, “March forward!? Are you mad? We must retreat to an advantageous position. Reinforced by the North Carolinians and Virginians, we may be fortunate enough to prevent the French from wiping us out!”

Washington was about to heatedly remind Gates of his duty when several shots rang out, bullets buzzing past. The startled officers knelt at once behind the wagon, vigorously attempting to spot their attackers through a patch of dense underbrush. Washington cursed under his breath, swatting at a swarm of gnats suddenly attracted to his open scalp wound.

“We must DO something!” He growled at Gates, the older man apparently quite content to remain behind cover.

Tired of waiting for the nominal superior officer, the Virginian chose to act. Taking a step forward to help organize the defense, Washington promptly halted as a full volley of musket fire erupted from the forest. Gates grasped the younger man by the collar, dragging him to temporary safety, a glare of accusation upon his jowls. A full dozen New York militia had already fallen among the confused, milling ranks before the frightened survivors beheld, for the first time, the hideous shrieks of King Louis’ native allies. Washington twisted back towards Gates in time to witness the man silently slide down the side of the wagon, blood spurting from a gaping hole between the eyes, dead before he touched the ground.

Washington immediately ordered the driver to evacuate the General and doctor to the rear. The frightened civilian teamster glanced once at Washington, spared another look at the woods from which such fearsome cries were emerging, and immediately dropped off the wagon to commence sprinting east. Muttering another out-of-character profanity, Washington dragged the doctor away from his patient, hand him the reins, and commanded, “Retire to safety with the General. The New Yorkers will provide cover.” The man bobbed his head in acquiescence and clambered onto the bench, already calling out to the panicked horses.

Looking over at the now leaderless New York Company, Washington resolved to prevent a repeat of the disgrace that he’d witnessed earlier in the day when the redcoats broke and ran. Still kneeling over Braddock’s still form, the wagon jolted as the Doctor desperately attempted to gain control over the draft-horses, Washington shouted encouragingly to the stunned and obviously disheartened New Yorkers.

“As one of General Braddock’s staff officers, I am taking command of this Comp…” Washington overheard what sounded like like a double thunderclap, his body spasming by an unknown impact, then fell limply across the General’s body. Unsure of why he could not move or feel anything beyond a coldness spreading rapidly throughout his body, Washington sensed the doctor furiously lashing the reins, hysterically urging the sturdy draft-horses on. Shortly thereafter, the Lieutenant drifted off into a numbing blackness.

 

[Alt History Buff]

May 1755

Fort Cumberland, three days after Battle of the Wilderness

Colonel Dunbar accepted his orderly’s written report with a short glance indicating where to leave the document. Placing it upon the polished mahogany desk laboriously carried along with the rest of General Braddock’s ample baggage, the young man turned and departed without another word. Ever since the initial remnants of Braddock’s expedition flocked into his camp, more and more stragglers had been trickling in by the day. The first few regulars whom arrived without muskets or packed were jeered as cowards by those garrisoning Fort Cumberland. Surprisingly, those British regulars and provincial militia managing to retreat in good order generally declined to join in on the gibes. Dunbar suspected there was not a man partaking in the dismal battle of the Monongahela who hadn’t considered an expeditious flight to safety. Hesitantly, Dunbar picked up the report on the morning muster. Over eight hundred men from the expedition yet to return, the Briton shook his head in wonder. Most were undoubtedly dead, although some must have been captured. Dunbar offered a silent prayer for those captured by the savages. A reputation for cannibalism, real or imagined, preceded several of the northwestern tribes aligned with France.

Reading further, the officer noted with no surprise that most of the casualties were redcoats of the 44th and 48th, both regiments heavily invested in the flying column of the vanguard and the flanking skirmishers of the fore of the army. Over half of the fourteen hundred soldiers of the under-strength Irish regiments were now listed as killed, wounded or missing (presumably captured). The officers, both regular and militia, sustained an even higher casualty rate. Sixty-three out of the eighty-six officers who marched from Fort Cumberland were listed as dead or missing. Dunbar was the only survivor among Braddock’s Colonels. Not a single regular Major survived. Few Captains remained, even among the colonial companies. Disheartened, Dunbar could read no further and pushed the offending reports away. Gazing unconsolably from his window, the British Colonel noted the quantity of Virginia and Maryland provincials had expanded again since the morning, not that it mattered. After the monumental defeat along the Monongahela, no further military offensives would or could occur this year. Even now, the inexperienced recent arrivals were being told of the massacre, no doubt causing many to consider merely walking home. Dunbar entertained no serious thoughts of exacting vengeance against the enemy. Holding Fort Cumberland must be the most he could hope for.

Dunbar returned to Braddock’s desk (now HIS desk for the moment) and begrudgingly returned to his duty. The formal report of the unmitigated disaster must be written and forwarded to General Shirley in Boston, the latter responsible for informing London. Dunbar had hesitated for days in hopes that General Braddock might recover sufficiently to resume command. While the Commanding Officer had surprisingly yet to succumb to his chest wound, the unfortunate Braddock, wracked with delirium from infection, pain and repeated doses of laudanum, proved incapable of issuing orders or even dictating his own report. The last time Dunbar had visited the infirmary, Braddock still babbled incoherently. The Colonel doubted his superior would serve His Majesty again or, at least, anytime soon. Dunbar was pleased, though, that the General’s aide-de-camp appeared to be surviving the dual wounds he’d received. While attempting to save the General’s life, Washington incurred two musket shots. One, a graze across the temple, tore a deep gash that the young man would likely carry for the rest of his life. The other, far more serious, smashed through the Lieutenant’s left forearm, shattering the bones to splinters. Once the regimental physician guided the fallen warriors to safety, he took the necessary step of removing the younger man’s arm above the elbow. Fortunately, infection had yet to set in, at least to the extent of most men suffering similar injuries. Should this continue for the next few days, the odds of survival increased dramatically, though the impressive young Virginian’s military career had likely reached its conclusion.

Reluctantly, Dunbar set to writing a report unlikely to be well received by London. Given the nature of Braddock injuries, combined with his failure in the field, Dunbar was certain that His Majesty’s forces in North America would soon have a new commander.

 

[Alt History Buff]

Savannah

May, 1755

Having taken ill in late March, President James Oglethorpe was slow to return to Savannah, the largest town in Georgia, from the southern settlement of Frederica. In truth, the Colony’s President desired to avoid the worst of what was to come in the Capital. However, Oglethorpe reluctantly boarded ship for Savannah and arrived in early May. The reception was…..expected.

Before Georgia’s political leader could even disembark, he was deluged by dozens of locals demanding that he “do something”. The crowd followed him through the muddy streets of Savannah (already beastly hot by early May) to the rough building serving as the Colony’s Gaol where several South Carolinians apparently remained in custody. Half a dozen Negro soldiers of the Georgia Colonial Regiment, funded by London but comprised of locals, guarded the structure.

The Town Sheriff, one of the few public offices conceded by the Trustees to the locals, would rise and nod to the President.

“Oglethorpe,” Donald MacDonald muttered. One of the Highland Scots who benefited from the free passage and land, MacDonald wore the family Tartan, now banned in his homeland. Oglethorpe saw no reason to offend a large part of his constituents by echoing the anti-Clan legislation of the British Isles and no one from London had complained.

“MacDonald”.

While not personal enemies, the two were not close and the Scot was not one for titles or honorifics. Oglethorpe had far more important things to worry about that petty etiquette.

“What happened?”

“I wrote to ya, didn’a not?” MacDonald’s lean, almost cadaverous, features crinkled. “The damned slave hunters from South Carolina….daft fools. They walk right up to the Church while the Negros be taking their services and pushed aside the Minister.”

Oglethorpe had read of this though other details in the correspondence were something….lacking. “And they weren’t bothered by the fact that these men were in uniform?”

“Not that ya would notice….”

The President groaned. Of all the stupid…….of course the South Carolinian slave-hunters would not bother to approach representatives of the Georgia government. The Colony to the North was utterly dominated by the plantation class and every government function centered about catering to their needs. Having the only “Free” colony in British North America along their southern border must be shocking.

Oglethorpe pushed his way to the heavy wooden doors to the cells and looked through the eye-level slit. Sure enough, four particularly miserable-looking white men lay about the dank room, no doubt baking in the stifling heat. Looking closer, the President frowned, “Why do these men yet possess fresh wounds?”

MacDonald shrugged, “They were disrespectfa’ of my authority. A few of ma’ boys and the Blackies taught them a lesson….or two.”

A jarring pain pierced through Oglethorpe’s brain behind his right eye. Damned these people!

Turning back to the Sheriff, he growled, “Do you not know what you have done, you damned fool! These idiots have powerful friends in Charleston….where we GET MOST OF OUR SUPPLIES! They can cut this Colony off in a moment! And I can’t even imagine what they’d been telling the Trustees in London….or the Government. Did you even stop to thing of how your actions would be received?”

Only at this point did Oglethorpe realize he was shouting. For his part, MacDonald seemed more amused than anything else. Gathering his temper…..and dignity….the President looked once more at the battered faces of the slave hunters and stalked out of the Gaol.

“No more “lessons”, do you understand?!”

MacDonald smirked once more but nodded, “Yes, Squire.” The latter appellation was dripping in sarcasm.

Once more out in the light of day, Oglethorpe glanced again at the six Negro guards. Years ago, the King’s Ministers had generously approved the funding of six Companies of 50 men each…..hired from local sources, of course, no one in London wanted to send Britons. However, the English, Scottish and now German settlers (the latter being the most recent of immigrants to Georgia) were less than interested in the pittance which passed for soldier’s wages once expenses were removed by the Quartermaster and Commissary. Desperate to have a trained force available for the periodic bouts of Indian trouble, the President turned to the only reliable source of manpower willing to accept harsh military conditions…..the Negroes who largely fled from South Carolinian plantations. Upon his return to Georgia in 1750, the Negroes swiftly embodied much of the “Georgia Colonial Regulars” in the six Companies.

Few of the escaped slaves brought families and Oglethorpe had been cunning enough to offer land to any man who served active duty for five years. Of course, this brought a tsunami of horror, vitriol and indignation from South Carolina. As a “Free” Colony, Oglethorpe’s Georgia was not terribly concerned with returning escaped slaves….and the President himself openly welcomed them as vital to the success of the Colony. But putting the Negroes in arms….the government of South Carolina had been virtually apoplectic in rage for years and routinely petitioned the Trustees, the Board of Trade, the Government….even the Crown….for redress of this issue. Thus far, no one in London had bothered to reply. But Oglethorpe knew that a reckoning was coming sooner or later.

This was yet another mess Oglethorpe would have to clean up. The only benefit to this fiasco would be that the South Carolinians....once again....had ham-fistedly offended a large portion of Georgia's population. Even those colonials who didn't care a wad of spit about slavery grated at the smug superiority of the South Carolinian political class and harassed the odd slave-hunter just out of principle. With ever more calls for lifting the ban on slavery both within the colony and without, Oglethorpe would take any help he could get.

 

[Alt History Buff]

October 1755

Boston

Royal Governor William Shirley of Massachusetts awaited with feigned patience for his guests to vent over a diverse range petty concerns. While his outer demeanor was politely attentive, internally his irritation and anger threatened to spill out. As usual when discussing matters of colonial taxation, virtually every representative in the Massachusetts legislature felt obligated to express their views on the subject. Nodding thoughtfully at the statement from the man opposite him, Shirley calmly replied, “Now Mr. Hutchinson, the crown certainly understands and supports your view. However, in order to ensure victory over our French adversaries on this continent, we must maintain a steady stream of capital and supply to sustain our military forces. Given the geographic location of the colony of Massachusetts and our proximity to the main French strongholds in the North, this colony would of course be called upon to make sacrifices to the war effort.”

Representative Thomas Hutchinson of the Massachusetts Assembly waved the comment aside, equally vexed, “Your honor, I do not question the Crown Authority nor do I expect our colony to fail to do our duty. I simply state that, once again, the bulk of the Crown’s manpower, supply, and financial requirement have fallen almost entirely upon Massachusetts.” Calming himself, Hutchinson continued, “Governor Shirley, you know full well that none has worked more diligently than I to garner support for you in these shores. However, the mood in the Assembly can quickly shift if no further funds can be expropriated from the mother country to pay for these campaigns. This colony’s taxpayers could not hope to sustain the cost of a long-term conflict for long! Why have none of the other colonies been called upon to make significant contributions?”

Biting back a heated reply, Shirley only nodded again. Lecturing Hutchinson on the responsibilities of British citizens on these shores would do little good. In truth, there had been none more helpful than Hutchinson in obtaining cooperation in Massachusetts. Claiming control over the colony’s purse-strings, Massachusetts’s General Court, like those in the other colonies, had proven to be virtually impossible to dictate terms. Not a single penny could be extracted for any reason without their consent. Each colony jealously guarded these so-called “rights”. The fact that most of these “rights” did not even exist in England herself did little to shift the provincials’ position. Unlike many Royal Governors appointed by the crown, Shirley grasped that fact early. At every opportunity, Shirley attempted to engage the colonials in logical and even-headed dialogue to win support. While this had certainly resulted in a great deal of frustration on Shirley’s part, he had accomplished more in his position by compromise that any previous Governor in British North America.

When General Braddock arrived to take command of his Majesty’s forces in North America, the General brought with him the unexpected news that Shirley had also been granted an army commission as Braddock’s second in command in addition to being governor of Massachusetts. While certainly surprised, Shirley determined to meet his new duties with enthusiasm and vigor. However, the relationship of the two men soon soured. Braddock had been contemptuous of the many concessions Shirley made to the colonial legislatures. Typical of European officers, he did not grasp the political situation in North America. However, the General DID bring with him a certain level of coin from Britain to assist in funding the 1755 campaigns. This mitigated much of the resistance from the colony’s assembly. Unfortunately, the source of finance for the 1756 campaigns remained undecided. If no further capital arrived from London, then Shirley would be forced to request an even greater contribution from the colony.

Hutchinson, noting the pause, continued, “Governor Shirley, what of the efforts to obtain additional supply such as those Mr. Franklin arranged to be delivered from Pennsylvania for the unfortunate General’s spring campaign? Surely the other colonies can support our efforts at least minimally as their own backcountries remain as open to French aggression as our own.”

Shirley nodded again as he could hardly disagree. But Hutchinson had simplified the situation to a great degree. Only the efforts of the renowned, and politically ambitious, Benjamin Franklin in conjunction with Braddock’s threat to arbitrarily quarter troops in Philadelphia caused that colony’s assembly to move. While quartering in any country was naturally unpopular, colonials seemed overly incensed by having soldiers stationed in their midst. In one of his first compromises upon taking command after Braddock’s defeat and infirmity, Shirley agreed that the remnants of Braddock’s army would pay market rate for lodging throughout the colonies. This undoubtedly prevented riots yet came at the price of rapidly depleting the army’s coffers. Shirley breathed a loud sigh of relief when Braddock, recovering from his wounds but still nominally in command, departed for England without countermanding Shirley’s orders.

Determining that no further conversation would be productive, Shirley spoke politely, but with finality, “Mr. Hutchinson, I am certain that Pennsylvania’s legislature will meet his Majesty’s call to duty, as will Massachusetts. Know that, for my part, I will expend every energy to request additional financial support from Great Britain.” Not satisfied, but recognizing the interview was over, Hutchinson expressed his gratitude for the Governor’s time and left.

In relief, Shirley leaned back and closed his eyes. Nothing involving the provincials was easy. Now, as acting commander of British forces, Shirley was responsible for the 1756 campaigns. Without another infusion of hard capital from England, he would spend more time begging the various colonial assemblies for funds than preparing to put his limited resourced to good use. Even when funding was available, the colonists were next to impossible to deal with. The previous spring, Braddock had planned an ambitious and complex four-pronged assault on French North America. Not accounting for the inevitable delays in requisitioning supplies along the vast eastern seaboard, only the enthusiastically supported Nova Scotia expedition launched on time. Given the hunger for land by the New Englanders, the Massachusetts’ provincial army efficiently removed the disloyal Frenchmen who had been a thorn in the side of Great Britain for decades. Never accepting British rule despite gentle terms of conquest, the “Acadians” were now in the process of being ejected from Nova Scotia to Quebec, France, or the Louisiana territory. British settlers were already moving into the homes of the displaced Frenchmen.

The other campaigns of 1755, however, went less smoothly. Braddock’s humiliating defeat at the Monongahela had left the entirety of the Virginia and Pennsylvania backcountry open to invasion. The dual campaigns against the French strongholds in Ft. Niagara and Crownpoint in northern New York petered out before they began due to competition for resources between Shirley, whom was to lead the Ft. Niagara conquest, and the New York trader and Indian expert William Johnson, who was tasked to take Crownpoint. Both expeditions were scheduled to leave simultaneously from Albany. Almost immediately, though, relations between the two men fell apart. Angered by Johnson’s insubordination, Shirley had appropriated some men and supply meant for Johnson’s expedition. In retaliation, Johnson refused his theoretical superior the use of some of Johnson’s native guides and scouts. Making matters worse, Johnson was supported by acting Governor De Lancey of New York. Given that De Lancey and Shirley’s political patrons in Great Britain were enemies, the two Governors extended that rivalry into the New World. This mutual antipathy characterized their dealings.

Due to the time wasted amid this infighting, it would be late in the season before both campaigns were ready to march. Making matters worse, in the confusion of Braddock’s defeat, the commissaries refused to issue proper payment to the military contractors for goods provided. Immediately the flow of supply halted. Bowing to the inevitable, Shirley was forced to postpone the expeditions to the following year. He merely ordered the forward forts and supply houses to be strengthened and prepared to support a spring march in 1756. The Governor (and reluctant commander-in-chief) then ordered his soldiers into winter quarters.

Knowing that his career prospects lay damaged, possibly beyond repair, by this failure, Shirley resolved to make all effort to secure military victory in 1756…even if that meant groveling to a score and one colonial Assemblies to do it.

 

[Kloka]

ISTR you posted something like this years ago,beginning with Washington’s POV.....link?
Also,watched.

 

[Alt History Buff]

November 1755

London

The Duke of Newcastle sat quietly in his comfortable London office perusing the latest military reports from throughout the empire. The surprisingly balmy November evening could do nothing to warm the chill that drew upon his heart as the most recent dispatches brought more damning news. For years, the First Lord of the Treasury and de facto leader of the King’s government had struggled mightily to maintain the balance of power throughout Europe in hopes of avoiding another conflict. Though each major continental power publicly offered warm reassurances of their peaceful intentions, Newcastle could see his carefully negotiated treaties fall apart one by one.

Most crucially, Great Britain’s alliance with Holland and Austria, which Newcastle himself had dedicated much of his decades of service to creating and maintaining, had come undone. This alliance had been preserved through the previous wars and ensured that Hanover, the northern German state and ancestral home of the Hanoverian line of British Kings was safe from the maddening and increasingly aggressive King Frederick II of Prussia (as well as Great Britain’s ancient enemy, France). As continental powers were wont to do, Austria chose to realign itself with France in order to ensure military superiority over an increasingly ambitious Prussia. Holland then effectively chose to abstain from the alliances of Europe and accept their status of a declining power, much as Portugal had decades earlier.

Newcastle abruptly dropped the latest news from Europe as if they were too much to bear. King George II of Great Britain would never accept a risk to his beloved Electorate of Brunswick-Luneburg (commonly known as Hanover). Ever since the Elector of Hanover was selected by Parliament to supplant Britain’s previous Royal Dynasty (the exiled Catholic and autocratic House of Stuart), the affairs of the tiny German state had dominated British foreign policy. Now, a new system of alliances must be negotiated to preserve the flat and indefensible northern German territory. Exactly what the price would be in British gold and blood weighed heavy on the First Lord’s mind.

An insistent knock on the door returned Newcastle from his daydream as he looked up to see Henry Fox enter his office. Given the ruddy cast to Fox’s complexion and the familiar scowl scrawled across the face, Newcastle suspected that domestic affairs would not prove to be any easier to endure than Britain’s crumbling foreign policy. Fox was the protégé and favorite of the Duke of Cumberland, himself the second and preferred son of King George II and gifted by the King of the command of the British Army. Whilst Fox had often opposed Newcastle in past Parliamentary duels, they had both determined to work through their differences for the greater good. To Newcastle’s surprise, his alliance with grasping and avaricious Henry Fox proved to be a fortuitous and productive one. Newcastle seldom witnessed a parliamentarian produce such success in cajoling the MP’s into supporting the ministry. Newcastle’s new Secretary of War and the ministry’s leader in the House of Commons seemed to work wonders in maintaining discipline in Parliament. Only the innate greed and unseemly self-interest endemic to Fox’s character concerned Newcastle. However, Newcastle possessed few alternatives to Fox and any break may well shatter the government majority.

Newcastle waved Fox into the well-appointed couch next to the desk and moved to join him. Mumbling his thanks at Newcastle’s offer of brandy, the Prime Minister nodded for the aide who escorted Fox into the First Lord’s sanctuary to fetch one for him as well. Once both had received their libation and thoroughly enjoyed the first sip, Newcastle sat back silently and allowed Fox to begin.

“The bastard was in fine form today,” Muttered Fox with more than a little rancor in his voice. “You should have heard him. One tirade after another on “wasted taxpayer coin” to support our “little continental empire”. He had the entirety of the Commons up in arms!”

“Pitt, again?” Newcastle asked in a question that was not really a question. William Pitt’s oratory from the minority had been plaguing Newcastle’s government for months. Since the breakup of Newcastle’s “System” of alliances, the First Lord had been forced to support several of the smaller Protestant German states, including Hanover, with large financial subsidies in order ensure that their armies would be available to Britain in the event of war with France or Prussia. The Parliamentarians who most vocally represented the British ratepayer responded with the expected resentment.

“Yes, it’s Pitt.” Fox spoke the hated name as though the demagogue were one of Satan’s less pleasant demons. “If he ever truly becomes as popular in the Commons as he is among the public, he may be able to bring down the government.”

Newcastle considered this for a moment. Like most opposition MP’s in the Common’s, William Pitt had the advantage of expressing his support of the more popular government initiatives while heaping disdain on the rest. However, that did not necessarily make him a threat. Pitt’s real influence was minimal. Beyond having the support of the Prince of Wales and his tutor, the Earl of Bute, the man’s only real power base lay among the Leicester faction represented by the Dowager-Princess’ family and a handful of varied interest groups in Parliament. The factions were connected by nothing more than opposition to Newcastle’s government. Pitt could not realistically expect to gain a majority from this random conglomeration of rabble-rousers and professional opposition MP’s. Ever since Newcastle reluctantly tied together his strategic alliance with Henry Fox in order to organize his government’s support in the Common’s, Pitt had been little more than a loud voice of dissent, albeit one with genuinely exceptional oratorical skills. And considering that the King loathed most of the individuals aligned with Pitt, most especially the King’s grandson and heir apparent, Pitt posed no immediate threat. No government long survived in the face of the King’s ill-will.

With a wave of his hand, Newcastle replied dismissively, “Let him make his speeches. We have no realistic choice in the matter. Our subsidies are but a petty amount contrasted to having to finance a British army in Hanover. As is, we may soon be able to rest a bit easier. My dialogue with Prussia may bear fruit sooner than expected.”

“I would expect so,” Fox chuckled. “Given that Frederick is now faced with an alliance of the two most powerful armies on the continent, his ardor for conquering Hanover is likely receding. God help him if Russia becomes involved as well. Do you think Prussia is strong enough to make a significant ally in the event of war?”

“Let’s us put faith in providence that we have no such occasion to learn. Continental wars are brutish, bloody, and expensive. I have no interest in seeing our nation’s treasury emptied so a tiny province or two can change hands between the continental powers.” Newcastle paused a moment to consider. “However, conflict may come from quarters other than Europe. The British East India Company and the French factories on the subcontinent are nearly in a state of war. Apparently, the company feels that influence over the various…. kings or rajas or whatever the Indian potentates call themselves… is more important that profit. Across the Atlantic, in the colonies, things are even worse.”

Fox turned to the Prime Minister, “You have full detail on the Wilderness skirmish?” Newcastle simply nodded as he took another sip with a pained expression on his face. Fox suspected it had nothing to do with the brandy. “Was it as bad as the initial report made it out to be?”

Newcastle put down his drink and looked away. “It was considerably worse. Over half of Braddock’s force was lost to a handful of savages and Canadian militia near some river called the…..the….Mongohollar….or some godawful name. The survivors fled like cowards after they saw Braddock fall. Rations, supply, cannon, horse and cart were lost or destroyed, even the very musket in our soldiers’ hands were cast aside to expedite their flight. With each new testimony I receive, the full extent of the humiliation becomes more apparent. Fortunately, one of Braddock’s aides kept his head long enough spirit the General away before the savages fell upon him. Even this latest report gives no opinion if Braddock will survive his wounds. However, his doctors insist that he be transferred to England to speed his recovery. He may even be en route now for all I know.”

The First Lord stood and walked over to the window. “Now France has dispatched another supply convoy to New France loaded with arms.” Fox prudently chose to refrain from mentioning the last French convoy to the Americas. Desperate to halt French reinforcement, Newcastle had ordered Admiral Boscawen to intercept and capture the French fleet. In capturing only few victualling vessels and a single mail packet, Britain did nothing to improve the military situation in the colonies but succeeded brilliantly in incensing the entirety of France. The Secretary of War was more than a little surprised that a declaration of hostilities hadn’t immediately followed. Only the reports of furious French activity in the Brest and Toulon shipyards offered an explanation. After the inadequacy of the French fleet compared to the mighty Royal Navy was proven beyond all doubt in previous conflicts, King Louis’ Ministers wisely determined to avoid the same mistake by prematurely declaring war before her new navy was ready.

Fox broke through the silence, “The Commons will not respond warmly to these failures. Perhaps a public reprimand or censure for the ones responsible for the North American failures would be prudent.”

Newcastle sighed and shook his head, “No, they are both loyal officers whom I placed in command myself. Boscawen merely sailed too late to catch the main French Fleet. Though Braddock was clearly defeated, the reports of his bravery are virtually universal. And his army collapsed only after he fell. Few will have any interest in assigning blame to a man bearing the dignity of a near fatal wound earned in battle. It does not matter in the end, anyway. We find ourselves on a precipice. Though no declaration of war has been issued, I cannot but feel no force on Earth can oppose its approach and that this conflict shall be a long and bloody one.”

Draining the last of his brandy, Newcastle inquired, “Has the Duke of Cumberland recommended a replacement for Braddock?”

“Yes, sir, he has,” replied Fox, brightened at the turn of subject. “The Duke recommends John Campbell, fourth earl of Loudoun. As one of his majesty’s most dedicated and experienced servants, Lord Loudoun has the Duke’s full confidence.” Fox saw no reason to mention that the Duke of Cumberland, as Commanding General of the British army, held final say in the commission due to its martial nature. Newcastle’s approval, and the cabinets, for that matter, was a mere formality. The King maintained the greatest confidence in his favored son and the First Lord held no intention of alienating either.

Newcastle vaguely recalled Loudoun as another bureaucrat in Braddock’s mold, perhaps best known for getting his Regiment massacred during the rebellion of ‘45. However, the First Lord had long ago decided to avoid crossing Royalty without a clear reason, so Loudoun as Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty’s Forces in North America it would be. Seeing no point in articulating any doubts in the selection, Newcastle responded, “Please thank the Duke for his wise appointment. Lord Loudoun has my full support.”

Fox smiled as in recognition he would not have to argue the point for his sponsor, not that he really expected such resistance. “The Duke also has also recommended some more substantial regular forces be sent to support the new North American Commander-in-Chief.” Fox promptly went on detailing the requirements for a successful campaign in North America in terms of goods and manpower. With each sentence, the financial expert in Newcastle cringed. The Government had already spent a great deal of British coin in supporting the North American campaigns during the previous year. Given the histrionic howling produced over the issue of subsidizing the German states by Pitt and his cronies in Parliament, he doubted the MP’s in the Commons would approve of further taxes to ship and provision even the small army Cumberland was proposing to ship to America. Whom could Newcastle call upon to provide funds in place of the overextended and beleaguered English taxpayer?

 

[Alt History Buff]

ISTR you posted something like this years ago,beginning with Washington’s POV.....link?
Also,watched.

Yes, this is an updated version of that. I have about 8-10 novels worth of content which I've been proof-reading and updated over the past 15 years. I thought I'd clean it up one more time and post here. I think that I only posted a few chapters a few years ago hoping to get some response/feedback but never really did so I stopped posting.

 

[Mister Mister]

Interesting start. Keep 'em coming.

 

[Alt History Buff]

January 1756

Boston

More than a little pleased with himself, Thomas Pownall, now Governor Pownall of Massachusetts, gazed in satisfaction upon the crown jewel of his new domain, the city of Boston. The quaint provincial city would be the starting point of an exceptional career in His Majesty’s service. As the sailors furled the sails and dropped anchor in Boston Harbor, Pownall reflected upon the path that he had trod to reach this point. As the younger brother of an important figure in Newcastle’s government, Pownall flitted for years between interests until, almost on a whim, he departed for the American colonies in 1753 to seek his fortune. Given his credentials and personal charm, Pownall soon became a centerpiece of New York’s social scene, making fast friends with acting Governor De Lancey.

The events leading up to the present conflict in North America resulted in then Commanding General Braddock’s order for the colonial governors and key colony representatives to meet in Albany in 1754 to discuss common defense against the Indian tribes and continued French infringement upon British American soil. Pownall attended as an observer sponsored by Governor De Lancey, the Albany Congress’s presiding officer. Intrigued by the spectacle, Pownall made all efforts to discuss the state of affairs with the dignitaries flooding the conference. By right of his access and influence with the British government, he soon became a sought after commodity among the powerful colonials.

Among Pownall’s most striking recollections was meeting the gregarious and charming colonial Benjamin Franklin. Franklin struck the Englishman as perhaps the most ambitious fellow he had ever met. The Pennsylvanian had the unique ability to discuss any topic, no matter the level of controversy, with any person without causing personal offence. Given the man’s obvious desire to make his mark on a greater British America, Franklin was, perhaps second only to Braddock himself, the leading proponent of closer economic and union between the colonies. Undoubtedly, he viewed himself as a possible future leader of said union. Unfortunately, the pacifist, Quaker-dominated assembly in Pennsylvania would later refuse to even consider joining any alliance based on military force.

Less outgoing but certainly no less ambitious, Thomas Hutchinson, the Lieutenant Governor of Massachusetts, made a similar impression. Hutchinson was the crown’s leading supporter in Massachusetts. Without his cajoling of that colony’s assembly, the abrasive Braddock would have received little cooperation and less money for the Northern campaigns. Hutchinson also was a strong supporter of the Albany Congress’ goal of closer inter-colonial relations. However, the prudent Hutchinson knew well enough to stay clear of the rowdy politics dominating the proceeding. Like Franklin, Hutchinson envisioned himself as a logical candidate for higher office in the Americas.

Most distastefully, Pownall learned a great deal about William Shirley. Throughout his brief tenure as De Lancey’s guest, Pownall became privy to the intense rivalry between the two governors. As protégés of different sponsors in the British government, De Lancey and Shirley had clashed repeated on everything from dogma to which faction would control the lucrative supply contracts for the army. As the second-in-command of the army as well as the Governor of Massachusetts, Shirley repeatedly steered the requisitions toward his own allies, much to De Lancey’s chagrin. Taking the part of his friend, Pownall wrote to his allies in the British government of Shirley’s alleged financial malfeasances as well as adding denigrations of Shirley’s character.

Eventually, the much-heralded Albany Congress dissolved without accomplishing any of the goals which Braddock envisioned. Several of the colonies did not even bother to send representatives. Fewer even considered the idea of union. Despite Franklin’s best efforts, Pennsylvania didn’t even allow the idea to be debated within their own assembly. New York and Virginia gave it short shift. Only Massachusetts discussed the idea fully but made no action to further the plan.

However, fascinated by the proceedings, Pownall had immersed himself in colonial affairs. For the first time, his destiny lay open for him to see. Continuing to forge alliances with provincial politicians, Pownall set his sights upon achieving high office. The choice of which was obvious. Deeming Shirley unfit, Pownall began a systematic campaign to discredit the man. Writing letter after letter to his allies in London, Pownall cast the image that the Massachusetts governor was enriching himself upon military funds and allowing his assembly to dictate terms of British rule. Of all improprieties, these were the most frowned upon by the crown. Pownall only required the right moment to make his final move. After Braddock’s disaster along the Monongahela, Pownall sailed for England with carefully collected evidence of Shirley’s misconduct.

Offering this for Cumberland’s and Fox’s review, Shirley’s fate was sealed. Newcastle immediately sent word that Shirley would be replaced as Governor of Massachusetts as well as acting Commanding General of His Majesty’s forces in North America. Upon the arrival of his replacements to those positions, Shirley would be recalled to London to explain himself. Pownall also succeeded in urging the ministry to relieve Governor Robert Morris of Pennsylvania, a key Shirley ally, of his post. The supply contracts for the British forces in North America were shifted to De Lancey’s camp. The word “acting” that was attached to Governor De Lancey’s title was removed.

John Campbell, fourth earl of Loudoun was to be Braddock’s replacement for theater commanding general. General Abercromby, chosen as Loudoun’s second in command, sailed immediately for New York to take command until Loudoun’s duties permitted him to take his new station. As for Pownall, the grateful government could only reward him for his service in documenting Shirley’s conduct by offering him the office of Governor of Massachusetts in Shirley’s place. This Pownall accepted with all due modesty and gratitude.

While Pownall would have preferred to take his office immediately, he decided to wait a few months until Lord Loudoun disembarked for America in order to sail with his new commanding General. Throughout the long voyage, the two men developed an immediate concordance. Pownall spent long hours describing the political conditions upon the continent and how Loudoun may be best served to utilize them. Loudoun, for his part, listened intently to the politically connected Governor. But what troubled the Scottish aristocrat the most was envisioning why on earth he was expected to mollify a mob of backward colonials. He would not make the mistakes that his predecessor, the incompetent Shirley, made in dealing with recalcitrant colonists. The authority of the crown was absolute, and Loudoun would be sure they recognized that fact sooner rather than later. If he did not specify that reality to Pownall during the voyage, the younger man would soon learn it along with the rest of British America.

Upon reaching New York with General Loudoun, Pownall immediately sailed for Boston. Sighting the familiar harbor, a wave of satisfaction washed over him. Unquestionably, under his leadership, this colony would grow to be a center of culture and prosperity in the New World. Upon docking and regaining his land legs, Pownall ordered his servants to unload his baggage at the Governor’s House, his house. Anticipating the look on the man’s face when Pownall handed him the official papers ending Shirley’s tenure as Governor, Pownall found his steps quickening as he walked down the street toward the seat of governance in the colony.

 

[Alt History Buff]

May, 1756

Minorca

“Damn it, Gardner,” Admiral John Byng shouted at the Captain of his flagship, the Ramillies, as yet another volley fell short of the French vessel starboard. “We need to pull closer!”

“I know…Admiral…I saw the beating our van took over the past hour!” Gardner snapped, only subtly emphasizing the rank Byng had hastily received in Gibraltar only weeks prior. “I can close….but we still haven’t received signals in return from most of our fleet! I would not care to bet my ship against the whole of the French Mediterranean Squadron!”

Byng wondered how hell his battleplan had gone wrong so quickly. Just weeks before, then-Vice Admiral Byng had been serving behind a desk in Gibraltar when word that the Franco-British relations continued to turn for the worse. Open battles between French and British troops were taking place in America and rumors of a French invasion of Britain were rife. The news that King Louis XV, without so much as a declaration of war, had invaded the British possession of Minorca, off the Mediterranean Coast of Spain and France, nevertheless came as a shock. Minorca was Great Britain’s most strategic bastion in the Mediterranean, a magnificent port from which British trade may be protected from the island’s natural harbor.

Unfortunately, the situation went from bad to worse as the Royal Navy’s squadron in Minorca was swiftly outgunned by the French Navy and forced to flee. A French army, apparently over ten thousand if intelligence was correct, seized most of the island and cornered the five Regiment garrison in Fort St. Philip. Naturally, several mail packets were immediately dispatched to London. The message received in return was….predictable. The First Lord of the Admiralty ordered the Gibraltar squadron to sail immediately for Minorca and relieve the garrison….all without significant supply or reinforcements from Britain.

The fact that the Gibraltar squadron was in dismal repair apparently did not factor into these orders. The ten ships of the line available to Byng had largely been in mothballs awaiting repair from Gibraltar’s inadequate dockyards. Most bore ragged sails and rotting timbers. The hulls had not been coppered in years and were covered in barnacles, ensuring that speed and maneuverability would be little more than a wet dream.

Worse, barely half the required sailors were on hand for hasty recommissioning. Byng, though delighted that the First Lord had generously promoted him to full Admiral for the occasion, had been forced to impress hundreds of sailors from merchant vessels at anchor off of Gibraltar. While largely adequate sailors, they were not battle-hardened in any manner nor trained to man naval artillery. Even scraping the bottom of the labor barrel, most ships bore only 60-70% of their expected compliment.

Nevertheless, Byng ordered his command eastwards along the coast of Spain towards Minorca. He chose the only second-rate ship in his complement, the HMS Ramillies, as his flagship. Built in 1661, nearly a century prior, the Ramillies remained the most powerful vessel in the fleet, the remainder being smaller third-raters. Commanding a motley collection of hastily assembled ships and crews, Byng was not optimistic but could only do his duty.

Unfamiliar with many of his subordinates and fully cognizant of the poor condition of his ships and crews, Byng abandoned any idea of complex maneuvers as he doubted the fleet’s capacity. Instead, he prepared his commanders for a tried and tested strategy of advancing upon the enemy in a line and closing upon them to fight ship by ship. Nothing Byng had experienced in his career left him any doubt of British superiority to the French…..but this was not an elite British fleet and the French had plainly anticipated a British strike.

Arriving at Minorca, Byng ordered the ten ships of the Gibraltar Squadron, augmented by seven others of the Minorcan Squadron fortuitously encountered en route, to along the island’s coast and verified, as he expected, that a large French army had taken hold of the island and was besieging the garrison at Fort St. Philip. He also spied, for the first time, the French fleet. Placing the Ramillies in the center of the formation so he might better communicate with the van and rear, Byng sought the weather gage so he might have the initiative. Many times in the past, the French would simply retreat from the Royal Navy.

Not this time.

The French Squadron had been arduously repaired and fully manned. It also consisted of heavy first-rate vessels unmatched in size and firepower by the British counterparts. The French were not going to retreat. They had come to fight.

Almost immediately, Byng’s simply and orthodox battleplan fell apart. The British van universally failed to close enough upon their French counterparts to even consider attempting to board. The heavy French guns battered the HMS Defiance, Buckingham, Revenge and several other vessels.

Promptly, the Admiral began ordering his signalmen to order the rest of the fleet to close. However, few of the British ships, obviously rather busy, appeared to acknowledge much less obey.

“Damn it, boy!” the frustrated Admiral berated the signalman, “Signal faster, damn you! FASTER! Order the fleet to close!”

Captain Gardner snarled, “The man is doing his damned duty……SIR. But the fleet is falling apart! Our van has been pummeled, at least two ships have fallen out of line and, to the best of my knowledge, the French have barely been scratched!”

Byng ignored the insubordinate tone ran his hand through his hair. Comically, his wig dislodged and, in frustration, he pulled it off and threw the useless ornament to the ground. “Perhaps if we advanced on our own, the rest of the fleet will follow?” He wondered aloud.

Gardner, horrified, could not hold back his skepticism, “Sir…..ADMIRAL…..that sound far more like a forlorn hope than a strategy. If the Ramillies was lost…..”

“Then the day is lost,” Byng muttered as sweat poured down his brow. Summer in the Mediterranean was a nightmare. “And possibly the fleet.”

Grimly, the Captain of the Ramillies nodded, only belatedly did he look up and notice that the British ensign which had been blowing west to east, thus granting the British the weather gage, was now starting to bluster east to west. The weather gage now favored the French. Almost immediately, the French fleet began to turn port from their northerly course to engage with the battered British van.

“HMS Captain falling out of line!” A junior officer squeaked in a high-pitched voice, a spyglass affixed to his bony brow. A month earlier, the fifteen-year-old had been one of Byng’s orderlies in Gibraltar. “She’s lost her foremast! And HMS Buckingham’s sails appear to be on fire!”

“FIVE ships already out of the line, Admiral,” Gardner muttered through gritted teeth, his tone of accusation gone under a wave of shock. “With the exception of the Ramillies, those were the flower of our squadron. The rest of our fleet….”

“Yes, Captain, I know.”

Prior to the battle, it had been obvious that several of the ships of the Minorca squadron were in no shape to fight. They were either damaged in their flight or had, like much of the Gibraltar squadron, found themselves in a inadequate state of provisions, manpower or repair. Putting them on the line would be tantamount to murder so Byng ordered them to hang back several miles.

Recognizing the dismal situation, the last thing the Admiral wanted was to let the French, with the initiative of the weather gage, to close at a time of their choosing. Though the words cost him a piece of his soul, Byng knew his duty to his command and uttered, “Signal the withdrawal south. We shall reorganize off Majorca and hold a council of war.”

Gardner knew as well as Byng the outcome of such a council. Any naval officer worth his salt knew that this fleet was held together only by spit and human will. The British gunnery, long accepted to be the best in the world, had been plainly outclassed today as the hasty conglomeration of poorly equipped and manned ships of two squadrons took a beating at the hands of their enemy. No rational Captain would encourage Byng to seek a second engagement the following day upon such terms.

Within forty-eight hours, the combined Minorca and Gibraltar Squadrons were sailing for the Atlantic.

General Blakeley, commanding Fort St. Philip would bravely hold on for another five weeks, certain that another effort to relieve his beleaguered garrison would arrive any day. By June, the walls of St. Philip crumbling and rations at a dreadfully low level, Blakeley would ask for terms from the French commander, the Duc de Richelieu. Prepared to be generous, the French officer allowed the 2000 surviving British soldiers and any remaining British nationals to sail off with their armaments, a traditional acknowledgement of French chivalry and British courage.

Blakeley would be toasted as a hero for a valiant defense against overwhelming odds.

However, Byng would only receive the vitriol of an outraged and shocked Great Britain. Eager to find a scapegoat for the dismal standards of the fleet handed to Byng, the Admiralty would charge their colleague with failure to follow the Articles of War: do your utmost.

 

[Alt History Buff]

May 1756

Quebec

Governor Vaudreuil waited patiently for the small man in front of him to finish reviewing the parchment listing the available military resources in New France. Just weeks before, the Governor despaired that no relief shipments from the mother country would make it through the British blockade that had attempted to intercept the last shipment to French America. Without additional money and regular troops to garrison the French outposts in the disputed territories, the frontier could not be defended. Without the guns, ammunition, and alcohol regularly distributed to their Indian allies as tokens of friendship, raids on the backwoods territories of the British colonies would ground to a halt. The sight of six ships bearing the French flag sailing from the east into Quebec’s harbor had elated him. While only a few hundred troops disembarked, a new spirit of enthusiasm permeated the marquis de Vaudreuil that he had not felt since arrival in this cold and barren land.

The marquis de Montcalm-Gozon de Saint-Veran, newly appointed military leader of New France replacing the Baron de Dieskau, looked up at the third man in the room and inquired, “General Rigaud, of the available forces, how many Canadian troop de marine can you impress for a single campaign?”

“That would depend on how much you are willing to reduce the strength of our Forts along Lake Erie and Ontario.” Rigaud, the leader of the Canadian militia and Vaudreuil’s brother, replied. “We have over three thousand, five hundred Canadian regulars in service on garrison duty throughout His Most Christian King’s North American territory. This ranges from Ft. Duquesne, which we have recently successfully defended, in the southeast to Ft. Le Boeuf along Lake Erie, to Forts Oswego and Frontenac defending Lake Ontario, to Forts St. Frederic and Carillon along Lake Champlain.” The latter two were among the most heavily fortified as both Great Britain and France claim that territory. Rigaud understood that the British generally still referred to the outposts as Crown Point and Ticonderoga. All these forts served as bastions of French power along the lakes and rivers which were the only major transportation arteries of the region. If lost, the French would be cut off from the valuable fur trade to the west and from their Indian allies.

“Of course, in the event of a major British incursion in any direction,” Rigaud continued, “we would be able to divert some of the forces to the affected area.”

Montcalm nodded and held up his hand. “Yes, yes, General, I understand. What I desire to know is how many militia are at my disposal in addition to those forces? There are fewer than two thousand French regulars throughout New France. Given our numerical disadvantages in this theatre, we must be able to bring as many soldiers as possible to bear against the enemy at any given moment.” This was a gross understatement. The British colonists outnumbered the French by over twenty to one. The inhabitants of the British colony of Massachusetts alone outnumbered New France by more than three to one. Any further conflict with Britain upon these shores would surely be a battle for survival, not conquest.

Rigaud thought for a moment and replied, “General, I believe that the militia can provide an additional three thousand men in an emergency, provided that funds can be made available from France.” Seeing the slightly pained expression on Montcalm’s face as he mentioned another expense that would have to be paid for from the coffers of the French taxpayer, certainly the Canadians couldn’t, Rigaud swiftly added, “Most of my troop de marine serve their King for little or no pay. However, without funds for provisions, certainly no expedition may go forward and..”

Montcalm interrupted, “You are quite correct, General Rigaud. Funds are being made available. However, we must reduce our expenditures elsewhere.” Pointing to the expense reports that Veudreuil provided, he continued, “I fail to see why we must pay such exorbitant fees to procure the loyalty of a few natives. If they are loyal to His Majesty, then these ubiquitous payments for various presents to the local chieftains are unnecessary. I see no reason to burden our resources to support them with trinkets. If they wish our products, then France shall be happy to trade with them for furs. Certainly, any such trade would benefit our financial situation.”

Aghast at Montcalm’s statement, Rigaud and Vaudreuil exchanged a quick glance. Maintaining the affection of the native tribes had been a pillar of French policy in the new world for decades. Horribly outnumbered by the British, the French needed any ally they could get. Vaudreuil staunchly replied, “General, I cannot understate my opinion that the reduction in presents to the Indians would be a terrible mistake. Many of our gifts are military in nature. If they natives do not have access to powder and shot, they cannot be expected to support our military initiatives. Worse, they may seek these supplies from the British.”

Rigaud cut in to support his brother, “Even more importantly, the Indians almost single-handedly prevent the British from settling further inland from the coasts of the colonies. With the ever-increasing number of settlers inhabiting British territories, they are already moving further west toward our forts and trading posts. The threat of Indian raids along the British settlements and farms are a far more effective barrier between us and the British than any of His Most Christian King’s fortifications or armies.”

Taken aback by Rigaud’s open support of such dishonorable behavior, Montcalm could not envision himself ever encouraging such conduct. Throughout a long career in the service of France, Montcalm had moved up to the rank of marechal de camp, or brigadier general, due to his tactical brilliance and courage throughout the European campaigns in the previous war. At age forty-four, Montcalm was young for his command but not inexperienced. Most importantly, he understood that burning isolated farmhouses and scalping women and children could never be condoned. War was the business of gentlemen and not savages. He stated as such to Rigaud.

Rigaud replied, his voice exhorting, “General, I understand that on the fields of Europe such tactics may be unnecessary but these strategies have proven to be extremely effective upon the North American continent. Why, nothing brings more revulsion and fear to the British than the thought of Indian tribesmen descending upon their towns. With little cost to France, the British colonial governors will invariably return to the bargaining table and consent to our demands that they withdraw from French territory.”

Having enough of the argument, Montcalm returned with finality, “Sirs, I agree to maintain good relations with the savages, especially those that have converted to Catholicism, but I will rein them in when necessary.” Changing subjects, he went on, “Now, let us move on with our plans to expel the British from our sphere of influence throughout the Great Lakes. I see only one major British barrier to unrestricted access and transportation to and from the west.” Unfolding a map that he had evidently brought with him from France, Montcalm pointed to a small notation along the southern bank of Lake Ontario marked Ft. Oswego.

As Montcalm went on, Rigaud and Vaudreuil nodded and agreed that the plan had strategic merit. However, in their minds, both men began to have grave reservations about Montcalm himself and the methods by which he expected the war for domination over North America to be fought.

 

[Alt History Buff]

July, 1756

Albany, Colony of New York

Lord Loudoun’s irritation with this backwater corner of the empire had grown with each passing day since arriving upon its shores. Though the city of New York was unquestionably lackluster compared to the vast wealth of London, John Campbell, fourth Earl of Loudoun, was determined to justify the faith that the Duke of Cumberland had placed in him. The short, fiftyish Scot had spent the majority of his adult life in his Majesty’s service, Loudoun had never commanded an entire theatre before. Before Loudoun had departed from England, the Duke had pulled Loudoun aside and impressed upon him the importance that the king placed upon North America. While not as rich or sophisticated as Britain herself, the profitable trade with the colonies was not to be disrupted.

Needing no such urging from his superior, Loudoun nevertheless gravely accepted the responsibility for the king’s interests on the North American continent and swore to the Duke that the French threat would be eliminated. Loudoun was pleasantly surprised that he was named governor of Virginia as well as commanding General of North American forces. Far better though, was the Duke’s authorization of the three thousand men of the 35th and 42nd foot regiments to accompany him to North America. Given the reports received from British officers commanding the colonials, Loudoun was pleased to have some British professionals under his command. The Duke of Cumberland also authorized him to raise a similar number of soldiers as British regulars from North America.

However, within days of arrival in North America, a staunch contempt for the colonials was firmly cemented in his mind. Dealing with his predecessor was the first order of business. William Shirley struck him as a weak, pontificating fool. Shirley had already been replaced as Governor of Massachusetts by Thomas Pownall in the spring. In June, Loudoun’s new second in command, General Abercromby, relieved Shirley of his duties as Commander of British North American forces in preparation of Loudoun’s arrival in July. Ordered to New York to consult with Loudoun before his departure to Great Britain, Shirley appeared to have no other interest than preserving his hide in the face of innumerable charges of negligence and corruption. While certainly Shirley’s accounting practices would be strenuously reviewed by Parliament, what concerned Loudoun far more were the absurd, and borderline treasonous, actions that Shirley committed to achieve goodwill from the provincials.

“Have you forgotten that you exist to serve His Majesty’s will?” The disgusted Loudoun had barked at the pathetic specimen. The sputtering man attempted to explain how the mollycoddling of some backwoods colonists was required to maintain their good will, but Loudoun cut him off. “Local assemblies or village mayors have no right to contradict anything His Majesty’s chosen representative instructs them to do. They will obey whatever order I give, and you will explain your failure to the King!” In a fury, the man departed and refused to speak to Loudoun again. At the earliest opportunity, Shirley sailed for Britain. Loudoun simply filed a report detailing his opinion of the man’s conduct on the next mail packet and attempted to forget Shirley’s existence.

However, the influence of Shirley’s policies would not die a quick death. The moment his British troops disembarked from their ships, Loudoun ordered them to march upcountry to his new headquarters in Albany, New York. Ideally located near the main strongholds of New France, Albany jabbed northward like a sword aimed toward Quebec’s heart. Recognizing the need to impress and reassure the colonials with a show of British might, Loudoun led his army in parade into the main square of Albany. Finding the city, if it could be called that, even less impressive than New York, Loudoun nevertheless accepted the local dignitaries with honor. Almost immediately, though, virtually the entirety of the colony’s politicians began to rail against him. Most astonishingly, the Mayor of Albany refused to secure living arrangements for the army.

Furiously, Loudoun stormed at the man, “Do you expect officers and soldiers of the empire to brave the elements this winter? You have been given an order by the King’s representative. Obey it! Find adequate quarters according to my requirements immediately!” Loudoun pronounced this last while stabbing the requisition form on the desk before him.

Anxiously licking his lips, the Mayor of Albany glanced beside him at the Sheriff of Albany County whom Loudoun had just directed to find lodgings for his army, by force if necessary. The Sheriff looked as distressed at the statement as the Mayor did. Attempting to calm himself, the Mayor tried again, “Your lordship, we of course wish to provide for your noble soldiers as best we can. But we cannot simply expel British citizens from their homes or force them to accept borders without remittance. Why, just last year we came to accommodation with General Shirley…”

Loudoun’s portly features redden in barely suppressed his rage as he interrupted coldly, “General Shirley has been removed from command. His policies are no longer relevant. I will not siphon off military funds to pay for lodging. This city and colony will provide what I require. And I will hear no more whining about the English Bill of Rights. Nowhere does it state that the British military cannot billet its soldiers where it likes. Your people should be joyously receiving soldiers into their homes. Not complaining about payment like greedy peddlers.”

Despite his obvious fear of reprisal, the Mayor repeated. “Your Lordship, I cannot oppose the popular will. And I cannot obey your request.”

Seething, Loudoun waved the men out of their chairs. With teeth clenched, he retorted, “If you are incapable of doing your sworn duty, then I shall do it for you. Lieutenant Highsmith!” Loudoun shouted to his secretary seated outside the door. Seeing the man speedily enter the dingy office, the Scot mastered his self-control and stated with false calm, “It seems that we will have to find lodging for ourselves. Organize a group of officers to scout the town for acceptable housing this afternoon. Tomorrow, we will give the current occupants a day’s notice to find alternate accommodations.” Highsmith saluted and went immediately upon his task. Nodding with pleasure that someone in this godforsaken land obeyed orders, Loudoun turned back to the stunned locals. “There, the British army no longer needs your assistance. Thank you for your time. You are dismissed.” In shock, the Albany men stumbled out of the room.

For the first time, some semblance of sympathy for William Shirley eked into Loudoun’s mind. He simply could not fathom why these provincials treated him as a greater enemy than the French. At great expense, His Majesty sailed soldiers and supply across the ocean to eliminate the French threat, yet Loudoun had not received the most remote whiff of gratitude. If the rest of the colonists are like these New Yorkers, then Loudoun may end up spending as much time battling them as the French!

Loudoun was reaching for his quill when his aide gently knocked on the door and announced the presence of General Winslow and his subordinates. Knowing his temper was not about to improve, he waved the men in. None were particularly impressive looking, least of all Winslow himself.

In one of Shirley’s most heinous lapses in judgment, Shirley had pandered to colonial sensibilities about their men serving under British officers. According to the Royal proclamation act of 1754, the British military would consider any British officer to be senior to any colonial officer regardless of rank. Therefore, the most junior British Ensign may issue an order to a Colonel or General in a colonial regular army or militia. In the face of colonial opposition, Shirley kowtowed to the provincial’s selfish desires, perpetuated an insane policy that any given campaign would be run entirely by British forces or in totality by colonial forces for the sole purpose of preventing a few colonial officers from being embarrassed by having to accept orders from their obvious superiors, regardless of ranks in their respective services.

Prior to departure for the Americas, however, Loudoun received permission from the Duke of Cumberland to change this policy to one where all colonial officers below major would hold the senior status to British officers of lower rank. While they would still be junior to their British counterparts of equivalent rank, only the senior colonial officers from the rank of Major and above could be subjected to orders from British officers of inferior rank. Given the vast gulfs in skill, professionalism, and experience between the two services, Loudoun could not imagine the colonials would find this unwarranted. He had expected gratitude for his flexibility and efforts on their behalf. None appeared to be forthcoming.

Loudoun turned to his predecessor’s campaign strategy for 1756. Shirley planned a military thrust on the French strongholds of Ticonderoga and Crown Point in northern New York. Taking these forts would guarantee British supremacy on Lake George while opening up Lake Champlain for British invasion. However, given the North American officers’ aversion to taking orders to inferiors in rank from the British army and the common colonial soldiers’ refusal to serve under British officers, Shirley decided that the assault would be undertaken by provincial troops alone. Despite the obvious superiority of the available British units, Shirley felt that a colonial force with greater numbers had a better chance to succeed. Ever conscious of his popularity in the colonies, Shirley chose the Massachusetts-born William Winslow, a veteran of King George’s war in which he served as a regular British officer, to lead the invasion.

Upon arriving in Albany, Loudoun determined to inject some of his experienced regular Regiments into the army and take the expedition lead himself. The reply he received from Winslow was nothing short of astonishing. Winslow stated, upon receiving news of Loudoun’s plans, that he held a council of war with his colonels. Already on the march toward Ticonderoga, Winslow stated that if Loudoun and his British officers were to take command of the force, most of the colonial officers would immediately resign rather than subordinate themselves to lesser British officers. Given that the provincial soldiers were no more eager to face the lash of British discipline than their officers wished to humiliate themselves before lower ranked British officers, Winslow warned that Loudoun’s decision would result in “the dissolution of the assembled colonial army”. Incredulous, Loudoun ordered Winslow to Albany with his senior officers to explain himself.

Glaring at the man from across his desk, Loudoun virtually trembled in rage as Winslow and his officers steadfastly refused to obey his orders. Upon Loudoun’s demand that Winslow explain himself, Winslow replied in the tedious colonial mush they called proper English, “Your Lordship may be assured that I shall ever be ready to obey your commands. My staff officers and I are ready and willing to act in conjunction with his majesty’s troops and put themselves under the command of your lordship, who is commander in chief; so that the terms and conditions, agreed upon and established by the several governments to whom they belong and upon which they were raised, be not altered.” Winslow gestured toward the documents recording the conditions that the so-called soldiers under Winslow’s command enlisted upon. Effectively, they stated, contrary to Winslow’s words, that they would not accept command by a British officer in the field.

Loudoun ignored Winslow’s statement and acidly replied, “Sir, you and your soldiers do not accept his Majesty’s authority?”

Widening his eyes, Winslow managed to earnestly reply, “Your lordship, I can assure you that I do. As will all provincial troops according to the terms of their enlistment. I only direct your attention that to the portions of said terms that exclude them from the British army’s methods of discipline, explicitly state the length of service that the volunteer signs up for, and….”

Incensed at the insubordination, Loudoun interrupted, “Years ago, the Secretary of War determined that all colonial troops suffer the same standards of conduct as regular troops. Do you think your soldiers are exempt from British regulation just because a piece of paper signed by a local assembly state it to be so? Do you believe that an officer may not demand that the soldier extend his service beyond his contracted date if the officer determines it is necessary for defense of the realm?”

As Loudoun paused to regain his breath, Winslow realized that there was no way he could explain to this man that the provincial regulars only volunteered based on those conditions. If they were ever changed, enlistment would dry up overnight. Glancing momentarily out the window of Loudoun’s office, Winslow watched the British regulars march in iron discipline by the tents of their temporary barracks. Winslow knew that most of those men enlisted for lack of any other means to survive. Some may have been tenant farmers working lands owned by absentee noble landlords like Loudoun. Others may have been impoverished laborers in the factories springing up throughout Britain. None were wealthy enough to vote for representation in Parliament nor did they have the slightest chance of improving their lot. It was not surprising that they bowed before the brutal discipline in the British Army nor remarkable that they accepted without thinking the orders of officers whom largely purchased their commissions.

How could he explain to this powerful and wealthy son of the ruling class that desperate men without hope or options to sustain themselves such as the British regulars did not exist in the colonies? Whenever a colonist deemed his current circumstances disadvantageous, he could simply uproot his family and carve a farm out of the virgin forests to the west, often the deed acquired for a nominal fee. Most of the soldiers in the colonial forces were farmer’s sons or tradesmen’s apprentices that had not yet started their own families or businesses. Few to none were forced to enlist for lack of opportunity. Wages were advantageous enough in New England that the promise the “King’s Shilling” attracted few takers given that opportunities abounded for greater renumeration in the labor-starved colonies.

The colonial officers obtained their commissions by being the most successful at recruiting their family, friends, neighbors, and business partners to join the provincial regulars with him. For Loudoun to expect these officers to rule their kin and townsfolk by threat of the lash or execution was ludicrous. However, Loudoun continued to expect colonial soldiers to be as submissive before their military and social superiors as the redcoats were.

Seeing little reason to argue with Loudoun, Winslow simply stated, “General, if you insist upon this course of action, I will, of course, obey your every order. However, it is the opinion of myself and my staff,” Winslow gestured toward his officers whom nodded gravely in agreement, “that attempting to implement these “changes” to the provincial regulars’ contracts and subjecting them to leadership of British officers will result in the immediate resignation of most of the colonial officers. Upon that event, I am certain that the majority of the common soldiers will desert their posts and return home.”

Trapped in an incomprehensible situation beyond imagination, Loudoun was forced to relent. Without colonial support, Loudoun possessed no hope of defending the frontier using only British troops. He certainly could not do so and launch an expedition north without local manpower. The Scot therefore demanded the men sign a statement affirming the authority of the crown and ordered them back to their army, still marching north toward the enemy. After the provincial’s rapid departure, Loudoun stared for a moment at the ridiculous contract that one of the officers had left on his desk. He then crumpled it up with a quick, violent movement and tossed it aside.

 

[Mister Mister]

Great work.

 

[Alt History Buff]

July 1756

Fort Oswego, upcountry New York

Sitting on his horse and taking in the splendid view, General Montcalm smiled at Fort Oswego. The decrepit old fort was the last British outpost on the Great Lakes. The sight of the British lowering their colors only improved Montcalm’s state of mind. In a brilliant beginning to his term as commander in chief of French forces in New France, Montcalm had taken only a few days to invest and force the surrender of the British stronghold. Though he had to admit that the British should claim at least partial credit. Never in his life had Montcalm witnessed such dismally laid out fortifications which practically invited attack.

Taking weeks to complete the arduous task of cutting a path through the woods from Ft. Frontenac, Montcalm was certain of his army’s eagerness for actual combat. With over eleven hundred French regulars and double that number in Canadians and allied Indians, Montcalm would have a numerical advantage over whatever the British held within that fort. Rigaud’s Indian scouts reported no significant reinforcements in recent weeks, verifying that Fort Oswego was ripe for conquest. The main fort itself was poorly situated a few miles up a shallow river draining into the southeast bank of Lake Ontario. Located between two hills, it had once been a French trading post. Montcalm suspected that the Fort expanded in phases as the need required but without any actual long-term plan. Given that Fort Oswego was vulnerable from both overlooking hills, the British had set up two ill-constructed outlier forts upon them. However, little thought appeared to have been given to their design either.

With careful planning, he had besieged and taken one of the outlying fortifications within two days. Once the French artillery was properly placed within, Montcalm ordered a fierce bombardment upon the British fort below. Given that the entirety of the British gun emplacements pointed towards the water, the British gunners had no protection from the French shells being lobbed from above. They were forced to turn their guns around and shoot uphill from their dangerously exposed positions at the French gunners and sharpshooters above. Within hours, the British commander ordered a ceasefire.

Upon meeting the man, Montcalm was disappointed in his opposite number. Introducing himself as Lieutenant Colonel John Littlehales, the British commander seemed shocked at the sudden turn of events and readily agreed to the savage terms of surrender that Montcalm imposed upon his garrison. Later, Montcalm learned that the original commander, a Lieutenant Colonel Mercer, had been accidentally killed by his own artillery. Perhaps that was what deflated the British will to fight. Given the almost pitiful defense of their fort, Montcalm refused to allow the British to surrender the fort and retreat to British lines with honor, flag, and colors intact. The entire garrison was to be marched north as prisoners of war. Perhaps they could be exchanged at some later date for French prisoners.

Watching the last of the British prisoners stumble by, Montcalm’s aide-de-camp, Captain Bougainville, tallied the total count at over fourteen hundred British prisoners, mostly British regulars. In addition, a large quantity of cannon, powder, and provisions fell intact into French hands. Without a single artery to the Great Lakes, the British could never send a significant force to threaten New France without regaining this decrepit fortification. Again, looking at the view of Lake Ontario through the trees, Montcalm considered this an excellent start to his campaign.

 

[Alt History Buff]

July, 1756

Williamsburg, Virginia

Colonel Washington modestly nodded his head in recognition to the applause ringing throughout the assembly. Upon his return to duty following his recuperation from his wounds, Governor Dinwiddie immediately requested an audience with the Virginia House of Burgesses to honor the young soldier. Given the disastrous conclusion to the expedition, Washington had not been certain on how he was to be received. However, the Commonwealth of Virginia had chosen to view him as a hero for his daring ride back to the front to save his commander. Washington realized that he should not have been surprised that his people would look for a hero amid the humiliation of Ft. Duquesne. Certainly, a homegrown Virginia soldier maimed in defense of his home would serve the role far better than any British Regular.

As the applause dragged on, the Burgesses rose to their feet in a standing ovation. Beginning to feel somewhat embarrassed by the flattery of the assembly he had long sought to join, Washington maintained his dignified bearing and proceeded to nod and smile at those whom he recognized and as well as anyone who caught his eye. Self-consciously, Washington resolved not to look down at the tied-off shirtsleeve which once held his right arm. The young man still had not reconciled himself with the loss of his appendage but had chosen not to dwell on the matter. Eventually the applause died down and the young man stepped forward. Never comfortable with public speaking, Washington nevertheless knew that his words at this moment would likely carry more weight than at any other foreseeable time of his life. Therefore, he determined to use them well.

“Honorable Burgesses,” he began, “I would like to thank Governor Dinwiddie for his kind introduction and your generous reception. Though I was not certain at times whether my injuries would allow my return to duty, I can say with utmost sincerity that it was always my fondest wish to return and pledge my service once again as commander in chief of Virginia regulars.” Once again, a rousing applause echoed through the chamber.

Waiting for the applause to fade, Washington continued, “I also wish to recognize Lieutenant Colonel Adam Stephen, whom as my recently retired predecessor’s second-in-command, most ably directed the defense of the western territories.” Washington paused momentarily to recognize his new lieutenant, who had also served under him during the ill-fated expedition that ended in defeat at Ft. Necessity. Receiving a nod from Stephen, Washington said, “Colonel Stephen has spent the last year parrying the Indian and French thrusts into Virginia’s territory. Through his efforts, our own casualty rates among civilians are dwarfed by the neighboring colonies.” This was certainly true. Maryland and Pennsylvania had suffered horribly destructive attacks along their frontiers, largely due to their respective government’s lack of preventative action. Virginia’s regulars were doing somewhat better. However, they could only hope to contain attacks with their currently allocated resources, not stop them altogether. Washington’s best hopes for additional funds lay in the outcome of this speech.

“However, even with the combined bravery of Virginia’s soldiers, we simply do not have the manpower or provisions to defend the frontier settlers that we, as representatives of Virginia’s government and His Majesty’s will, are honor bound to do. For far too long, both of Virginia’s regiments have been undermanned. Many of the soldiers are not volunteers but those impressed by the government for military service due a lack of other means to make an honest living. This does not create the basis for a sound and efficient military force. By raising the pay of our realm’s soldiers to the levels of a common worker, both the quality and quantity of our recruits will increase exponentially. Thus, the sanctity of Virginian soil will be preserved from all enemies, whether they be Indian, French, or other.” Several Burgesses gave enthusiastic responses. Washington suspected the word “other” had been the operative term. For years, Virginia’s claims of western lands had been disputed by neighboring colonies. As a speculator himself in several schemes, Washington certainly upheld Virginia’s claims over Pennsylvania or Maryland, but was disturbed that so many in the House of Burgesses felt less threatened by the French than by other British colonies.

The rest of the Burgesses gave a polite, but more tepid response. Virginia’s government was legendary for a certain parsimoniousness. Due to the absurdly low salaries offered to its soldiers, Virginia simply could not entice a significant number of able-bodied men into its Colonial Regiment. Therefore, the House of Burgesses passed a resolution, unique among the various colonies, which allowed for the impressment of any man that had no noticeable way to earning a livelihood. This often resulted in a new recruiting class consisting of the shiftless, drunks, and criminals. The Virginia regular regiments rarely were at full strength and desertion ran high.

Noticing the shift in attitude among the Burgesses, Washington plodded on determinedly, “Beyond this increase in funding to ensure a more professional and motivated volunteer fighting force, I recommend that a greater portion of the colony’s military budget be transferred to the regulars as opposed to the militia. While having a strong militia is, of course, vital to the defense of the colony, the regulars will be called upon to do the bulk of the fighting during any attack upon our borders.” At this, there was a smattering of polite applause but substantially more grumbling. The militia was tasked with the internal security of the colony. In Virginia, this meant that a strong force must always be on hand to oppress a potential slave rebellion. The patricians who dominated the House of Burgesses were, almost to a man, plantation owners. In the past, they had been loath to put the interests of a few thousand backwoodsmen ahead of their own.

Noting their predictable disapproval, Washington completed his speech and thanked the assembly for their consideration. Governor Dinwiddie stood and delivered a speech supporting his new commander-in-chief of Virginia regulars and requested that the House of Burgesses make the additional requisitions based upon Washington’s requests. As the appointed Royal Governor of Virginia, Dinwiddie’s responsibilities included a successful defense of his colony. Washington suspected that the constant frontier attacks and occupation of Virginia’s western territories by the French were difficult for Dinwiddie to explain to his superiors. However, without approval from the assembly, he lacked funds to carry out his orders. Like Washington, Dinwiddie must obtain the colony’s cooperation.

Upon completion of the Governor’s speech, the speaker of the House of Burgesses rose and thanked both men politely for their advice. He then announced that the Burgesses would call a session to deliberate on these recommendations. Washington and Dinwiddie bowed respectfully and left the Burgesses to their debate. Once out on the streets of Williamsburg, the Governor again wished Washington well on his return to command and retreated to his office to see to the necessary paperwork common to all bureaucracies, leaving Washington and Stephen to their business.

On the short walk back to his office, Washington stumbled several times due to his newly awkward gait, a legacy from the loss of his arm. Though knowing his body would soon adjust, Washington still felt self-conscious. Grateful that Stephen chose not to comment, Washington turned to his second-in-command and inquired, “Do you believe that I did our cause any good today, Adam?”

“I certainly pray so, sir. It’s difficult enough as it is to hold the western forts. I fear the day when the order arrives from Lord Loudoun demanding an assault on Ft. Duquesne or one of the other French fortifications.” Shaking his head in anger as the men entered the shabby building in Williamsburg that served as the headquarters for the Virginia regulars, he added, “But no, sir, I don’t think they will give us more than token support beyond what we are accustomed to. The House of Burgesses care only for their own wealth and cannot see the opportunity that may be lost for Virginia if we allow the French to continue to dominate the frontier.”

Fearing that the Lieutenant Colonel was correct, Washington walked into his office and motioned Stephen into a chair opposite his desk. Putting the matter of lack of governmental support aside for the moment, Washington directed Stephen to describe the series of forts that Washington’s predecessor built along the frontier. Hoping that his day would soon turn for the better, Washington swiftly found himself disappointed.

Gesturing at a wall map detailing the location of the Virginia frontier fortifications, Stephen concluded, “As you can see, Colonel, most of these fortifications are poorly sited and shoddily built. I do not believe that any will serve well as a place for families and traders to retreat to in case of an Indian raid. Even against an enemy without artillery, these forts could easily be taken by modest enemy forces. None are provisioned with enough supplies to withstand a siege anyway. Certainly, they will do nothing to prevent Indians attacks.”

Sighing in frustration, Washington replied, “Very well. Let us consult with our officers and decide which shall be reinforced and which abandoned. Given our lack of resources, we certainly can’t hold them all even if they were worth defending.”

Stephen nodded and made a note to include the item on the agenda when Washington met with the senior officers of the Virginia regulars later in the week. Satisfied, Stephen moved on to the next item on the agenda, “Now, as to the manpower status of our regiments, I have found that the quality of our recruits, if anything, has dropped.”

Half-listening as Stephen went on, Washington questioned whether his desire for martial glory were worth the aggravation.