#Richmond Light Infantry Blues | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

authorsrus · 8 months ago

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Atlantic City

In a city that lives to bleed you dry

You’ll win only if you accept their lies

They sell popcorn like movies in the theater

Except it’s prostitution – dead center of America

Besides the alcohol – rich kids in a bottle

You have dancing and models

Model citizens rotted within Girls – like booze – imported

African taxis that bark gorilla

Catering the whim of almighty dollar

If your daughter was the one on a window sale

You’d think twice about accepting their bail

We support criminals who pander the trash

All for some hope that a dollar is cashed

Voting a democracy – tax payers at work

Gambling stability for all that its worth

This terrible life is the same across the world

Men fight for money – men purchase toys

Children are innocent before they taste blood

Time to feed these children a hearty plate of love

*************************************************************************************

General Washington stands on the cold Potomac. The river shifts dangerously beneath his fleet of army skiffs. The recent snow had brought a torrential flood over the settlements along the banks, making the river traverse harrowing and deadly. His men huddle towards the center of the boats in a desperate hope for warmth, warmth absent during such cold, dreary nights.

Virginia Governor John Murray, the Earl of Dunmore, had stood the high ground as Washington’s men attempted a small scale assault upon Richmond in the hopes to overtake the governor by surprise. He was rebuffed by the King’s 3rd American Regiment, a light infantry unit based out of New York under British Colonel Edmund Fanning. Colonel Fanning was an exceptional military man with long maritime experience as a part of the Queen’s Royal Navy. The King’s 3rd American Regiment was founded in 1776, the same year that the American Revolution fully engaged between colonialists and loyalists.

It was not the strength of the Red Coats but, rather, the failure of Washington that brought upon Colonial defeat. His men, poorly trained and even more poorly equipped, had undergone the exhausting fight from New York to Virginia in the distant hopes of seizing central control of the colonies. Repeated failures from New York, into New Jersey, resulted in costly casualties for the Americans.

***

The guerrilla warfare of the Colonialists was taxing on the American volunteer corps. They were unable to sustain ground for more than a brief respite, operating under nomadic means. For the sake of mobility, Washington’s men had neither the ammunition nor the food supplies stocked by the British.

The charity of small town America was the only sustenance keeping them. They were already halved in number and starving by the time he and his men reached the Potomac.

One thing that Washington knows is that it was necessary to take Richmond. If the center of British colonial command could be taken, the Crown’s power could be divided and conquered. He simply did not have the manpower to face the Brits directly, especially not with the farmhands and rag-tag equipment that was his fighting force. It would require something like an act of God.

Washington is a faith driven man. Although his Freemason ideology does not allow for ritual worship, he believes in the basic principles of heaven. He fervently believes in the righteousness of good will. It’s one of the main reasons why he was hesitant to take the helm of America’s war efforts. A society man by way of stature, a bloodied hand was not his forte.

Yet he fights. Today, December 15, 1777, it has been exactly one year and six months since he became General of the Continental Army. General Washington has seen over 100 battles and thousands of wounded. The honor and prestige of that day’s bestowment seems impossibly distant from today’s paucity. Today, his men are living dead.

The tattered uniforms of the Blue Coats are more than just a symbol of their circumstance. It is a demoralizing factor of certain death. Each of the men had lost their closest friends from battle and exposure. One night, 35 men did not wake to see the day. Seeing a friend frozen to death in his sleep is not easily forgotten. In many ways, being taken away in times of rest is worse than being shot down by musket fire. Unexpected loss is worse than a bayonet to the chest. Fear has no sympathy to those who sleep in war.

Through all the heartache and pain, Washington maintains a sense of calm. This is his defining character as a leader of men. Even now, body yearning for the warmth of Valley Forge, his mind is trained on the task set before him. Richmond must be won. America must live.

Examining the military map in his hand, he searches for open field where the men could make camp. With him he has 200 men. Of the 200, only 50 are fit for battle. The rest will go on and fight with what little they have left. Taking a spot of charcoal from his pouch, he marks the base of a small mountain in the Appalachians. The clandestine trail that follows the ridgeline will provide a perfect path toward Richmond undetected, their destination: Shenandoah Valley.

The General moves his eyes towards the approaching banks of Virginia. His men begin to gather the gear packed towards the back of the army skiffs. Their return to Virginia is accompanied by somber portent, almost as if Death is standing to greet them in place of the lush, beautiful scenery the river’s woodland bank provides.

Washington’s boat is the first to reach the soft silt of the riverside with the full moon lighting the surface of the water, evoking a carved path of shimmering melted glass. The eerie silence of the skiff bottoms docking into the packed silt sends chills through the men. The river’s spirits have emerged out of the land to welcome the men to their world.

General Washington, in a firm tone, commands to his men, “Pull the vessels to the forestry, conceal them with undercover brush and make sure the skiffs are placed top-side upheaval.” The order is followed immediately. The one thing the men learned in battle: a singular direction was necessary for survival. In war, the single voice that guides them is the voice of life. For these men, every moment of their waking life is war. For most, so too is their sleep.

The resting fields were only 5 leagues distance from the Potomac’s shore. The men saddle their bags and check their musket covers, then align into formation by rows of four. Washington mounts the horse brought up from the supply barge. Only he would sit on the comfort of a horse for the journey ahead.

The men know to keep tight ranks. Straying from the march could prove fatal. Because of extreme fatigue, the mind struggles to keep direction or time in tune with normalcy. A five minute rest could translate to an hour lost on a dangerous trail, the biggest enemy being nature herself. Men sooner die to the elements than to the bullets of Lobster backs. The march, although quiet and weary, shows neat press.

Approaching midnight, the unit reaches the open fields of Prince William’s Forest. They set minimal fires, a task made difficult by frozen firewood and damp tinder and foodstuffs are brought out as cooking fires are stoked alive. The striking resemblance to gypsy vagabonds, lost in the wood, is impossible to ignore.

As Washington makes his nightly trek through camp, he takes on the usual sights: half eaten salted hams boiling with dried onions and hard-bread, dried barley loaves cracked and distributed by hand. They are fortunate to have even this, received as a donation from the townspeople of Alexandria. Soon, the bread will mold and the hams will develop crust. This is a good night.

Overhearing conversation of his men, usually of those who fail to recognize Washington in the dark fires, he gains perspective on company morale. Tonight, there is a soundless weight hanging over the shoulders of his men. Tonight, they reacquaint themselves with death.

***

The Earl of Dunmore sits in his Victorian room and looks deep into a fire, burning smolder lashing bright in the hearth. The acrimonious smoke billows upward through the chimney as the heat fans the suffocating fumes. The Earl, Governor John Murray, throws angry thoughts that dance to the fury of flames while blue-orange firelight licks the burning logs. The stone fireplace is covered by blackened soot.

The purpose of Earl John’s madness is rooted in the last correspondence he received from King George. Aside from repelling Continental attacks on Richmond, his Royal post, the Earl has control over lands far beyond the jurisdiction of Virginia on behalf of the Crown. The letter, written directly from King George, demanded the relegation of territories outside of Virginia to the respective governors of North Carolina and Maryland. The incompetence of Governor William Tryon and Governor Sir Robert Eden is the reason why the Earl had to fight Americans outside of Virginia’s borders and now, after victory, he was being told to deliver the territorial gains into their floundering hands. In the mind of Earl John, it would only lead to recurring need for battle.

The second part of the Earl’s frustration is that Colonel Fanning, his approbate commander at arms, would take the remanding of his gains as an act of betrayal. It would be factually impossible to convince the colonel that political adherence is necessary. In addition to Colonel Fanning’s certain opposition to the matter, Earl John’s subsequent plans to subjugate the local population was now immutable. If only a musket could ratify his quandary.

Nevertheless, the Earl of Dunmore must respect the Crown. King George was not known for his patience when addressing disobedience in the Royal colonies. If Earl John was to continue his office as governor of Virginia, one of the few dignified posts in the Americas, loyalty was necessary. This galling affair would have to be stomached as posterity to noble demands. Tomorrow, Colonel Edmund Fanning would be called into the Earl’s presence and will likely, then, become a powerful enemy.

***

The morning of the 16th proves to be bitterly cold. The aching bones of the colonialists match the weakness of their fortitude. The men muster to order with great effort. Tonight, in the cover of night, they are to reach the Shenandoah, a 30 mile journey through elevated terrain. The sun had not shown its face in two days’ time, but the coldness of morning reminds them that their day had begun early in the pre-dawn. The dark clouds overhead paint a lowly backdrop to the downtrodden men.

Within the ranks of Washington’s men is a young blacksmith from New York named William Kont. He joined an American militia unit and became a Continental soldier in the fall of 1775. His story is unremarkable and his history even less interesting. The only aspect that stands out about the young Kont is that he is the youngest of Washington’s enlistment. That a scrawny metal-worker from colonial New York could survive the harsh travels of the Continental Army is a testament borne to witness as the will for victory exampled in the hearts of the General’s men. He expects death in the upcoming battles, just as all men expected, yet the only circumstance bothering him is that his General would never know him in person. As one who is remembered only for his insignificance, this boy fights as a man betrayed in the brave New World.

***

The journey to Shenandoah was arduous. They entered camp in the dead of night as snowfall began over the Appalachians. An abandoned British outpost was the ideal location to scavenge for food and munitions, an important consideration since their supplies are running low as is.

Lost in the foraging for necessities, the Continental division under Washington is unaware of a large detachment of soldiers stationed in the nearby woods. Scouts had spotted activity of soldiers at the hilltop outpost and had reported back to their base camp. As night quickly grew denser, a raiding party was being gathered not 30 minutes neigh, downhill. Within the hour, Washington’s battalion would be engaged.

Housed for the night in an officer barrack, Washington sits entranced in deep thought. He ponders the successful taking of Richmond, but struggles to believe in his means. He knows that any disturbance of Richmond’s substantial defense would result in outright massacre of his men. Successful planning will be the difference between victory and certain death.

The strategy requires surprise and timely incursion into the governor’s district. If the leadership is removed successfully, British orders would stop and the Continental efforts in Virginia would have opportunity to regroup. The defeat of Governor John, Earl of Dunmore, is the impetus needed to push American liberty forward. The 200 men, equipped with standard black-powder muskets and bayonets, represent a weak force. Due to their limited size, heavy weapons became a portability issue. It was simply impossible to move and protect extensive supplies and equipment.

The Appalachian Trail, segments of which are mostly unknown to the British forces, provides distance from population centers and allows direct access into Richmond. Traversing the lengths through Charlottesville, Washington hopes to bypass large British regiments stationed along the Virginia coast. A flanking maneuver places the Americans in close proximity to the governor’s mansion. Because Richmond is heavily guarded under Colonel Fanning, Washington planned to avoid direct fighting for the short period of time it would take to reach the Earl’s estate.

Suddenly, as Washington completes his final thoughts, musket fire rings out at the southern end of the outpost. Continental soldiers shout and cry as they scramble for cover. The attack is so sudden and rapid that men are unable to light their muskets in time, leaving dozens slaughtered before they could stir. The incoming band of soldiers had scaled the outpost hill quietly, avoiding the watch guards overlooking the terrain.

As quickly as the fighting began, it ended. The only sound left is the moaning of dying men as they lay where they were shot. The dust and gunpowder smoke dissipates and a horrifying realization dawns. The raiders who had just slaughtered a third of Washington’s men are all wearing blue coats. They are Continental Army.

The raiding party was a small cadre of guerillas from the 1st Rhode Island Regiment, a British regiment that assimilated into the Continental Army under Colonel James Mitchell Varnum. They had no way of knowing that Washington’s men were staying in the British outpost, especially since it was pitch- black. Even greater to their surprise is the fact that it is General Washington, far from Valley Forge, who stands as enemy command.

Mind numbing shock is tangible as men stare in dismay at the carnage befallen them. The raiders push their muskets to the ground to aid the wounded and the aura of silence increases as Death passes through the camp. The consequences of this tragedy are yet unknown, but Washington knew that his chance for victory fractured with every man who had fallen. It became more and more likely that Washington’s expedition to Richmond would be his end.

Washington’s men are escorted to Colonel Varnum’s camp. A makeshift fortress had been erected in colonial fashion with tall timber walls bound by metal studs. A trench two men deep was dug in front of the barriers, creating an ethereal appearance to the double-story fence. The general stands at the front, watching the entrance open as crackling of timber grinds timber.

The site is in sorry state. Wounded men are gathered towards the north end while soldiers in faded uniform stand guard. A ragtag man in Colonel’s attire approaches slowly. It is apparent that a leg injury had not set properly as he angled forward on a steelhead cane. The ghostly apparition inches forward painfully as Colonel Varnum, veteran of the great Roanoke battle, materializes to salute Washington. General Washington is saddened, realizing the sight of a man who cannot trek the necessary distance of destiny that rests in the wild lay of the land. This fortress, in many ways, has become the colonel’s grave.

Varnum’s regiment is formally organized under General Nathaniel Greene, a cohort of General Washington. Their notoriety arose from the African-American companies of blacks that constitute many of Varnum’s enlisted. Varnum’s regiment had been coined the “Black Regiment”, leading many people to believe that the force comprised entirely of African-Americans. They helped to defend Boston against Red Coat attacks and had made their way down to Virginia under General Greene’s orders. Their intended destination was Charleston, South Carolina where Major Benjamin Lincoln had been routed by British forces. Major Lincoln’s call for reinforcements had fallen upon General Greene’s desk and Colonel Varnum was dispatched soon thereafter.

Colonel Varnum had reached a dead end. His forces were stymied in the Shenandoah after repeated engagement with the British. While traveling from upper New York to Virginia, Varnum and his men were forced to relinquish many brethren to the heavens. Although originally numbered in the thousands, Varnum was reduced to barely 600 men. Supplies were also a major handicap as their relatively large force had undergone huge losses in both men and supplies. Many companies were beginning to starve as the indigenous rat and squirrel population had been hunted into extinction.

With Washington’s arrival, Varnum had found a reason for hope. The tragic meet was, indeed, a terrible loss to Washington’s belabored camp, yet the opportunity was now presented for Varnum’s men to fight again. The alternative is to rot away in the lush greenery of Shenandoah’s lifeless valley.

Fighting men live and die according to purpose.

Early the next morning, the 17th of December, 1777, Colonel Varnum sits with General Washington in the officer tent. Colonel Varnum is the first to break the cold silence, lowering his gaze and says, “General Washington, I would like to begin by expressing my sincere sorrow for the previous night’s calamity. We were completely unaware of your presence in the Shenandoah and had not been properly informed of your regiment’s occupation of the abandoned outpost. I have no way to redress the dear men that you have lost, but I do have some matters of great importance to discuss with your person if you were so inclined to entertain my humble word.”

Washington replies, “As a man of honor I know you to be. It was not in malicious intent that you assaulted our encampment, nor was it your desire to cause our men injury. You faced an unknown enemy in the darkness of night during this period of desperate war. I muster not any anger on matters pertaining to your choice of action nor do I wish you disfavored sentiment. Furthermore, you have my gratitude for the response of you and your men, having taken in our road weary detachment and tending to us as if we were your own. Our kinship and standards of duty demand that I accept your service as an act of proper atonement. You will not find an enemy under my command.”

Varnum paused but for a moment and in regiment discipline he furthers the conversation, saying, “In your witness you can observe that I am of ill means. My men are sickly and my injuries disallow any extensive movement of our regiment. For three months we have been deferred to this limbo, unable to make way for our orders from General Greene. We are to enter Charleston, South Carolina in order to assist Major Benjamin Lincoln, charge of Charleston City. Because of constant engagement with the British, our numbers have been decimated and my men have lost the power of purpose. It is my request that you, General Washington, take on the able-bodied remnant of my men and proceed

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