This weekend was originally intended to see some of our rangers marching overland
from Fort William Henry to Fort Edward, then putting in canoes and traveling to Albany,
but a lack of interest postponed the trip. Instead, the weekend placed many of our own
in front of a camera in scenic Charlestown, NH which, in an earlier day, was known
as Township Number Four. There, at a fort by a river, mosquitoes ate like kings,
cannons roared, swords crossed, cameras rolled, stew was stew-ey and Ping! flowed.
I traveled with Messrs. Toriello and Asten Friday evening underneath some dark
and foreboding skies. But the rain held off for the most part and consigned
ourselves to whatever fate the weather had in store for us. We traveled light,
with but a bedroll each besides our normal ranging gear. We thought we'd treat
this weekend like Jumonville last year, where we stayed dry under one tarp
despite torrential rains. And if we got wet - oh well. We were prone to drying.
We arrived well after dark. We changed in the parking lot and, with everything
on our persons walked into the camp. Through the darkness we clearly saw wedge
tents, but they were few and far between. We headed down a street, unsure if we
were in the British of French camp. We headed towards the largest and loudest
gathering, gambling that perhaps it could be Rogers' Own Company of Rangers.
It would have a good night to gamble.
Our unit was represented in good number along with a few visitors for
the evening. I met for the first time Dave Valentine (and later Jeremy -
a fine and spirited chap) and another gent with Dave whose name escapes me.
I was to later learn that they were Massachusetts militia who had scouted
Lake George with some of our folks last fall. Great guys, all of them.
Captain George Bougher of the 60th Royal Americans shared our fire and company, as
well as Don Kelleher, Horst and a slew of others. It was a lively camp to be sure.
We dropped our beds and kicked back for a good time.
As the evening wore on and rangers began turning in, we received a visit from
Jon Soule, who confirmed that the number of Brits was down from what was expected.
It seemed like we were the bulk of the Crown Forces. It was a small matter really.
We figured everyone would just have to step up and kill four times the number of
French & Indians we would normally. Not feeling particularly sleepy, Sarge took
us for a walk around the fort. I hadn't been to 4 since the siege of '47, so it
took a while to get my bearings. It being dark didn't help matters any, but at
least it wasn't raining. We rounded the corner to the riverside and realized
from all the canvas that the French had us clearly outnumbered.
When we returned to camp we unrolled our blankets and settled in under a
clearing sky with a full moon. Very quickly, a problem became apparent -
mosquitoes, and lots of them. Earlier that evening Craig was kind enough to
give us some bear oil he had. This was my first experience with the stuff and
it didn't smell as bad as I had expected. There are many reports of Indians
using bear oil to ward off insects and its effectiveness. But many accounts
also tell of how awful it smelled. Craig's oil was nearly odorless, so we applied
it liberally before going to bed. We spent the better part of the evening lying
awake, more from the noise of the darn bugs than their bites, and we were bit,
but I swear that I would have been bitten ten times worse without the oil. Eric
on the other hand didn't feel the oil worked at oil. We laid there with our
blankets covering our heads, listening to the mosquitoes buzzing around, waiting
for us to surface. And surface we did. Just before we'd suffocate we'd come up for
air only to be buzzed and bitten before covering our heads again. This went on
throughout most of the evening.
I seem to have gotten some sleep by morning. I awoke dreadfully early
feeling slightly rested and finding Eric tending a roaring fire. He'd been
up for quite some time, unable to sleep after a skunk walked right between
us before making a beeline for Alec's head. It detected Eric's movement and
scampered off under the nearby woodshed. So, that was the end of the night
and the beginning of the day for Eric.
The morning was relaxed and casual. People rolled out of bed and had breakfast.
Eric had wanted to visit the sutlers, so he, Alec and I headed down just as many of
them were finishing breakfast and opening shop. I never made it past Black Dog
Trading, where I said hi to old friends and made new acquaintances for the better
part of the morning. We drilled a while, doing well at it. We had lunch and
afterwards formed up for inspection and the afternoon's battle. Eric left that
afternoon, after meeting and entertaining some friends from Vermont. They were
his ride back home. On the other hand, we were joined by two members of Ruggle's
Co. (Mass. Provincials), who Mike and I had met on Lake George in 1997. Paul and
Don fell in with us for the day and it felt just like the old days those many
years ago.
The battle scenario was different. A ranger patrol returning from a scout
is ambushed from two sides, causing a hectic and harried fight while retreating
towards the fort. When French Regulars join the fray the fort opens its gate
and unleashes some Red Coat support until everyone's able to enter the fort,
allowing the fort's cannons to keep the French and Indians at bay. It was
pulled off quite nicely with Gorham's and Dank's Rangers holding off one side
while we held the other, supported by Harmon's Snowshoe Co. I had the pleasure
of fighting alongside these guys at Louisbourg. They're a great unit. At one
point the fighting was so furious that several people burned their hands on
their barrels.
After our cannons reported the French called a parley. While the Major,
escorted by I believe Alec and Mad Dog went out to meet Jon Soule, Paul came
up with me to perch by some windows to gain a better vantage point of the parley.
It started to go bad when some French Indians began to harass our rangers, who
wouldn't take any guff. Pretty soon it appeared that both commanders couldn't
contain the situation, and eventually our rangers fired their muskets,
effectively ending the parley. Both sides drew up their ranks and the battle
began anew. Yours Truly stayed inside, in the shade, with my musket safely
out of hand.
Eventually the encounter came to an end. I heard from spectators and
reenactor non-combatants later that the battle was impressive and the best
seen in a while. I trust their opinion over my tunnel vision on the field.
It did seem to move very well. Paul and Don had a great time. It was powder
burner to be sure. They left shortly thereafter, promising to rendezvous with
the British troops at Lake George this autumn. They enjoyed ranging with us
and we enjoyed having them.
We had gotten little rest at camp when the call for filming went out. Those
interested donned their gear again and participated in a shoot for the
Travel Channel, who is doing a program on Lost Treasures. One segment
of this show is going to focus on the silver Madonna statue that was supposedly
taken by the rangers from a chapel during their raid on Saint Francis
in 1759. Shots of rangers traveling through the woods, Abenaki pursuing,
the burying of the Madonna, Rogers' return to 4, a Catholic Indian service,
the stealing of the Madonna, and the ranger attack on Odanak took up the
rest of the afternoon. In between takes I found Sue
Rowell at a barrack window of the 27th Inniskilling Regiment. With
her was husband and part-time ranger when he's not a grenadier Rob, daughter
Ali and son Flint. A tip of the tomahawk to the 27th for graciously giving
this Indian a much needed Guiness Stout. Sheer heaven.
We ate well that evening thanks to the efforts of those who cooked,
including Richard Wright for his buffalo stew (claimed by Chauncey to
be stew-ey. That's a compliment, right?) and two roasts by Chauncey,
Dave Shaw and probably others. Potatoes, onions and corn on the cob
rounded out the meal. It was great to be joined some of our ranger
families and friends, specifically the Fiedlers, the Williamsons,
Anna Fitzgerald, her friend Jamie, the Modzelewskis, Seamstress/Educator
Anne and the others who made the afternoon lots of fun.
I needed to leave that evening, but managed to get in a fencing
bout with Deb Dresler before I left. I said my farewells to those
who were around, shouldered my bedroll and headed home. Alec would
be getting a ride with the Major the following day, so I left him
at the picnic table making merry. Ping! does that to people, as we
readily know. A casual glance back at the camp before leaving did
leave me a lasting impression. That our camp, that evening, could
very well become the Burping Piglet, a veritable clone of the Belching
Swine in miniature. Plus, rumor had it that Squire Raner may make an appearance.
I have been told that I had left before the true adventure took place.
But that's not my story to tell. I'll leave that to those who were there.
They alone could tell you of the throwing of the gauntlet, the duel,
Cupid's Arrow and the rest.
Yr most Humbl & Obedient Savage,
Jonas