May 1755
Lieutenant Washington desperately attempted to maintain control of the shrieking brown horse beneath him at it attempted to buck him off its’ back. Given the great quantities of blood spurting forth from the veins along its’ neck, Washington realized that this mount would soon breathe it’s last. Clenching the brindle for dear life, the young officer guided the sagging animal to the ground, narrowing avoiding it rolling over on top of him. Gingerly, he pulled his feet out of the stirrups and released the beast, quickly crawled away to avoid being injured by it’s 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 to return fire upon as no opposing army presented itself for retaliation. The Indian and French forces lay along the hills surrounded the road and behind the nearby trees of 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 fell. Perhaps worse 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 they 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 that he had held 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 group of officers 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 soldiers to reinforce and then rode forward with Washington and the rest 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 a distance of one hundred and twenty yards. The small clearing at this particular segment of road did not allow any more. The following columns had lined up in eight man deep ranks to quickly support their comrades in arms. Neither side had moved forward as of yet nor opened fire, save a few errant short 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 battleline. He had not expected the French to oppose the British in formation. Seeing Braddock raise his sword, obviously to order the assault, Washington leaned forward witness his words. Whether Braddock ever succeeded in saying anything the young man could not testify as, immediately thereafter, a withering volley of musket fire leapt forth from the surrounded woods. One ball even shattered General Braddock’s blade as he drew it forward. Stunned, Washington saw Braddock turn around in time to witness virtually the entire outer ranks 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, Washington was able 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 was able to grasp the reins and drag it to a stuttering halt. Climbing painfully on top, the Lieutenant drove the horse forward toward the last location he recollected seeing his commanding officer. Fiercely attempting to control the frightened horse, Washington witnessed a site that he knew he would never forget. Much of the magnificent 44th and 48th regiments lay dead and wounded along the road. Even more shocking, Washington did not see a single living 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 were starting to abandon formation and flee back towards the rear. Not bothering to attempt to halt them, Washington shouted encouragement to the remaining men to hold fast as galloped toward the front. By minor miracle, Washington found the General organizing the shredded remains to the lead battalions in retaliation toward the handful of French regulars still visible along the road. Most had 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 head were his head had 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 ourselves that is still alive.”
Raising his eyes in shock, Braddock replied, “I have ordered Captain Gates of the New York provincial company to move up and support us. There was a good hill a quarter mile back that the French cannot hope to take. If need be, we can retreat there if we can’t 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 pathetic 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 off his own mount to assist his commanding officer. A bloody wound marked the man’s chest.
Looking up to call for aide from the nearby soldiers, Washington stopped short when he saw the shocked look in their eyes. Only the courage and gallantry of Braddock had kept them in order. Despite the Lieutenant’s entreaty for assistance, the entire remaining force stood as one and fled, some toward the rear, other to the dubious safety of the forest. Within moments, the unit disintegrated leaving the two officers almost defenseless. Grabbing a Corporal by the arm as he attempted to pass by, 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 moment, then the Corporal stooped to help lay the General across Washington’s horse. Washington quickly mounted behind him and grasped the reins.
Turning to order the Corporal to retreat, Washington’s saw 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 waiting for leave. Judging prudence to be the best option, Washington spurred his horse to follow. Before he had taken ten steps, the Corporal fell with a scream, blood spurting out of his leg. Knowing that nothing could be done for the man, Washington rode past, pausing only to look back once. The sight sickened him. As the young man thrust his hand forward to beg Washington to stop, a savage walked up from behind and grabbed the Corporal by the hair. With one swift motion, he used the other hand to remove the scalp of the screaming soldier. Washington shuddered and turned back to road to discover, to his horror, that the news of General Braddock’s fall had devastated the entire line. As the soldiers in the front of the column ran past, the lines holding the road collapsed and turned the retreat into a stampede of terrified soldiers rushing toward the rear, most throwing away their weapons and provisions to increase their speed.
Seeing resistance fall, the Indians leapt onto the road to capture soldiers in hopes of gaining prisoners, supplies, and most gruesomely, scalps to prove their valor. Seeing one Indian in blood-red paint raise his hatchet to hack Washington off his mount, Washington swiftly turned the beast to the side and, with a sickening crunch, rammed the savage and trampled him beneath the whinnying horse’s hooves. Not pausing this time to look back, Washington leaned forward and raced toward the rear.
Shocked at the site before him, Captain Horatio Gates halted the march of his independent New York Company toward the battle. The sight of hundreds of redcoats fleeing past his company formation unnerved him as much as it did Washington. What event possibly could have occurred that had resulted in a route of the world’s finest soldiers? And how would his unseasoned volunteers react? Fortunately, a handful of Braddock’s staff officers were managing to stop the redcoat’s unseemly retreat and bring about some semblance of order.
Dismounting from his horse and handing the reins to one of his nearby men, Gates grasped one passing redcoat private by the lapels and shook him firmly. “Pull yourself together, you pathetic coward! Where are your officers?”
The terrified man calmed down enough to stutter, “Dead, sir! All dead! General Braddock, Lieutenant Colonel Gage, Lieutenant Brooke, our Sergeants and Corporals! All dead! We tried to hold formation but we didn’t know where to fire. We couldn’t even see the enemy. All my butties dead. The hellhounds screaming from everywhere.” The private tore himself out of Gates’ grip and continued to run down the road. Gates made no attempt to stop him. He stood there for a moment without knowing what to do. Certainly, he could not continue down the road toward the same force that that so humiliated the British regiments in a mere two hours. He could also see that his own men begin to glance down the path that the fleeing redcoats were running, obviously considering whether or not to join them. Knowing he must do something to keep his men 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 troops and what was left of the redcoats. Having given the order, he began to remount when he saw the General’s aide-de-camp ride up. With a glance, Gates knew that the man slung along the top of the horse must be Braddock. Swiftly ordering a nearby supply wagon to be emptied, Gates helped the tall Virginian to load the moaning General into it. Upon cursory inspection, Gates dreaded that the ball that had broken the General’s collar would result in a great deal of blood loss. However, the wound may not be fatal.
Ordering his aide to find a doctor, Gates turned to the Virginian. Gates had spent little time conversing with Washington during the campaign. As arguably the leading expert on the Ohio country, Washington’s place in the expedition was logical. However, Gates had been shocked to find out that Washington had turned down the command of Virginia’s provincial forces, which were now at the rear of the column under the command of Captain Stephens, in favor of being an unpaid “gentlemen officer” on Braddock’s staff with the honorary title of Lieutenant. This Gates could not comprehend unless the rumors were true that Washington desired a commission in the British Army. Given the British attitude of superiority toward colonials, Gates doubted that Washington would get his wish. Even rich provincials had trouble purchasing commissions. They were never given them.
As the regiment doctor rushed up to the wagon to staunch the General’s wounds, Gates snapped, “What happened to the redcoats?”
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 but, lacking visible targets, they were just firing randomly into the forest. The enemy was able to fire again and again into our lines until all the officers were dead and the men panicked.” Shaking again his head to clear it, Washington looked up at Gates and said, “There are still a number of men fighting from various positions. They must be relieved. Would you order your men to march forward and 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 Carolinans and Virginians, we may prevent the French from wiping us out.”
Washington was about to heatedly remind Gates of his duty, when several shots rang out behind him. The surprised soldiers knelt down as they tried to spot their attackers in the woods. Taking a step forward to help organize, Washington was halted as a full volley of musket fire erupted from the forest. A full dozen of the New York soldiers fell before the frightened survivors heard, for the first time, the hideous shrieks of the French’s native allies. Washington turned to Gates in time to see the man quietly slide down the side of the wagon with a gaping hole between his eyes, dead before he touched the ground.
Washington immediately ordered the driver to evacuate the General and doctor to the rear. The frightened civilian took one look at Washington, then another at the woods where the fearsome cries were coming from, and immediately dropped off the wagon and began running toward the rear. Muttering an out of character curse beneath his breath, Washington dragged the doctor away from his patient, hand him the reins, and stated, “Retire to safety with the General. The New Yorkers will provide cover.”
Looking over at the now leaderless New York Company, Washington resolved to prevent the disgrace that he witnessed earlier in the day when the redcoats broke and ran. Bracing himself to climb down from the wagon, Washington shouted to the stunned New Yorkers, still horrified at the death of their leader, “As one of General Braddock’s staff officer, I am taking command of this comp…” Washington heard a sound like a double thunderclap, then fell limply across the General’s body. Unsure of why he could not move or feel anything beyond a rapidly spreading coldness moving throughout his body, Washington heard the doctor driving the wagon hysterically urging the horses on. Shortly thereafter, the Lieutenant drifted off into the numbing blackness.
Later
Colonel Dunbar accepted his orderly’s report with a nod. Placing it upon the table, the young man turned and left. Ever since the remnants of Braddock’s expedition had returned, stragglers continued trickling in. The first few had been jeered as cowards by the men garrisoning Fort Cumberland. Surprisingly, those British and provincial troops whom had retreated in good order declined to partake in the insults of those whom had not. Dunbar suspected there was not a man in Braddock's army that hadn’t considered running. Hesitantly, Dunbar picked up the report on the morning muster. Over eight hundred men from the expedition did not return. Most were undoubtedly dead, although some had to have been captured. Dunbar said a silent prayer for those seized by the savages. Their reputation for cannibalism preceded them.
Reading further, he noted with no surprise that most of the casualties were redcoats of the 44th and 48th in the flying column that lead the march. Over half of the fourteen hundred soldiers of the under-strength Irish regiments had been killed or wounded. The officers sustained an even higher casualty rate. Sixty-three out of the eighty-six commissioned officers fell. Dunbar himself was the only survivor among Braddock’s Colonels. Few Captains remained, even among the colonials. Looking out his window, Dunbar noted the number of Virginia and Maryland provincials had grown again this morning but it did not matter. After the monumental defeat along the Monogahela, no further military offensives would occur this year. Even now, the inexperienced colonials were being told of the massacre. Dunbar could not seriously entertain thoughts of revenge. Holding Fort Cumberland must be the most he could hope for.
Dunbar moved back to his desk and sat down. The formal report of the defeat must be written and forwarded to General Shirley in Boston whom would be responsible for informing London. Dunbar had hesitated for days in hopes that Braddock would retake command. While Braddock had surprisingly survived his chest wound so far, he had not been lucid enough to issue orders or dictate his own report. The last time Dunbar had visited the infirmary, Braddock was still babbling incoherently. Dunbar doubted the man would serve again or, at least, anytime soon. Dunbar had been pleased, though, that the General’s aide-de-camp appeared to be surviving the dual wounds he’d received. While attempted to save the General’s life, Washington had sustained two musket shots. One, a shot across the temple, had torn a deep gash that the young man would likely carry for the rest of his life. The other, far more serious, had smashed through the Lieutenant’s upper left arm. Once the regiment doctor had guided the men to safety, he took the necessary step of removing the man’s arm. Fortunately, Washington’s wounds had not been infected as badly as most men sustaining similar injuries. The youth stood a very good chance of survival.
Reluctantly, Dunbar began to pen the report that would not 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.