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Message-ID: <47428asstr$1081815003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 012 Doing My Duty
Lines: 261
Date: Mon, 12 Apr 2004 20:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 012.txt" begin>

Rebel 012.txt (Old Bill)  (MF hist)

 Doing My Duty

	For the Hessians, rape was evidently a normal part of making 
war.  Anything portable, they took; anything burnable, they 
burned, and any woman they caught, of almost any age, they raped 
brutally and repeatedly.  They also had other nasty habits including 
a seemingly inbred inability to take prisoners. And they seemed to 
love the bayonet while most of the Americans I knew hated the 
damned thing. (But I must admit I often enjoyed using mine.)  On 
many occasions they killed men who had laid down their arms, and there 
were a few instances of prisoners being spiked to trees by laughing 
Germans.

	I had just come down out of the woods on a scouting mission 
when I saw two blue-coated soldiers chasing chickens in a farmyard 
and another wrestling with a woman near the cabin door.  I decided 
to ignore the chicken thieves for the time since they seemed 
unarmed and fully occupied, each with a bird or two in his belt, and 
concentrate on the screaming woman who was holding her own 
against her attacker until he leaned back and hit her with his fist.  
She fell to her hands and knees, head drooping and dripping blood.

	I drew out my big bayonet, clamped it on my musket, ran from 
the tree line a dozen or so strides and drove my long blade into the 
man's ribs as he stood over the dazed woman working on his 
britches' buttons.  He obviously never heard me coming with all the 
fowl squawking going on behind him.  He screamed as I speared him 
back to the log wall, pulled out my bayonet and chopped at his neck 
with a slashing blow.  He crumpled, almost decapitated, and I helped 
the sobbing woman to her feet.  She wiped blood from her mouth, 
pulled her dress together and then stood with her hands on her hips 
as I confronted the two unarmed Germans in her yard with my 
dripping bayonet.

	They dropped the birds they were holding, took the ones 
from their belts and put them on the ground gently, gabbling all the 
time to me in their guttural tongue.  With gestures and my few 
words of Fredericktown German I got them moving behind the 
barn, and when I was sure the woman could not see me, I 
bayoneted one in the belly and then shot the other in the back as he 
ran toward the woods.  He flung out his arms and stumbled for 
several more steps before he fell to his knees and by then I was on 
him and stuck my blade through his thick neck.  The other soldier 
was trying to crawl away, blood pouring from his mouth and 
stomach.  I kicked him a few times until he fell to his back and then I 
smashed in his face with the butt of my musket and left him moaning 
in the dirt with his belly ripped open and what was left of his nose in 
his mouth.

	I walked back to the house getting my breathing regulated, 
handed the woman my musket and dragged the body from her 
yard and back behind the barn to lie beside the dying German 
whose broken teeth gleamed in his shattered face, one eye still 
working, following my movements, what was left of his mouth 
producing red bubbles.  I cut his throat for him and wiped my blade 
on his jacket.

	"Is there a swampy area nearby?" I asked the woman, who 
poured me a drink of water when I came to sit on her back step and 
apologized for having nothing better.  I resisted the urge I had for 
immediate sex, excited by the killing as I usually was.

	"No," she said, wiping her hands on her apron, "but I got a 
wagon.  We can haul `em to the river."

	"Maybe we'd get spotted.  Hard to explain three dead 
Hessians."

	"There's some deep places and tangles in the woods."

	"It'll have to do.  Long as the birds don't start circling like 
there was a dead cow in there or something.  We can throw dirt on 
`em.  You all right?"  I looked at her for the first time, a plain and 
strong woman with good shoulders and a pleasant mien, maybe 
thirty years or so. Her dress had been torn open and a bruise 
showed on her chin, but she pushed back her hair and faced me, 
gray eyes calm and steady.  She shook her head, shivered once and 
stood.

	"Let's get at it," she said.

	I rifled the bodies, found nothing worthwhile, took their boots 
and cartridge pouches out of habit, and together we dragged them 
into three different areas, deep in the thick and scrubby second 
growth.  I stuffed one under some deadfall limbs and another we 
rolled into a big patch of berry brambles.  Where it was possible, I 
kicked dirt and stones over the bodies.

	"You alone here?" I asked the woman as we washed up at her 
well.

	She nodded.  "Man I lived with run off when the militia call 
come," she said.  "Didn't hold with it, war making.  Quaker he was."

	"Where'd he go?"

	"Into the hills, comes down now and again to lie with me."

	"So you do all the work?"

	"Tain't a big place.  Did have a cow.  Germans took it first time 
they was here."

	"Poke you then, did they?"  It was on my mind, obviously, and 
I guess it was on hers too.

	She did not answer as we walked back to her house.  She 
stirred up her fire and swung her kettle over the flames.  "That'll 
take some time," she said.  "I ain't had a man for a while, but I sure 
didn't want them foreigners a'swiving me again.  I'm glad you come 
by."  She smiled, a good smile full of truth and warmth.  She sat on 
the side of her bed and pulled off her boots and then examined her 
torn bodice, evidently noticing the damage for the first time.  Then 
she stood and took off her skirt.  "What `chu waitin' for?" she asked, 
"Don't chu wanna?" and I was out of my boots and britches before 
she could pull up a quilt.

	We got lost in each other fully and by the time we paused to 
get our breath, we could smell the stew scorching.  She rolled out, 
pulled down her shift, poured some water in the kettle, stirred the 
stew a couple of times and almost ran back to the bed and my arms. 
We enjoyed each other again, urging our strong bodies to do our 
will until we were spent and moaning happily together.

	We ate her stew and cold corn bread, drank some water, 
talked for a while and got back in bed to make much-more-gentle 
love until we slept.  In the morning we enjoyed ourselves with 
joyous shouts of pleasure.  I plowed her like a fallow field, and we 
arched and moaned together in her quilts.

	"Lord," the woman said, as she made hoe cakes and boiled 
coffee, "you sure are the biggest man I've ever knowed, hairiest too.  
I ain't done like that since I was a young `un and that's been some 
time.  Didn' know I still could."

	"I'm willing to spend the rest of the war right here, but I got a 
job to do.  Got to see what the British are doing down yonder."

	"Hope you'll stop by next time you're in these parts," she said 
with a smile.  "I surely do."

	I assured her I would and gobbled the hoe cakes with some 
kind of berry jam.  We both stopped eating when we heard horses 
in the yard and somebody yelling commands.  We had three short 
pattern muskets and three pairs of boots in the house, plus my 
weapons, some cartridge boxes and other things, so we didn't want 
anybody snooping just then.  While I loaded my firelock as well as 
the Germans' guns, she went outside to see what was going on.  I 
could hear part of the conversation through the open door.  They 
were looking for some men who failed to report.  They had seen 
buzzards in the morning.  It was five men, an officer who was 
dismounting when I peeked through the crack, and four mounted 
men, jaegers, dragoons, whatever they were called then with high 
boots, straight sabers and shiny hats.

	The officer, using broken English and crude German curses, 
demanded to search the house and followed the woman inside. 
pushing her along roughly, looking at her swinging buttocks.  When 
she closed the door, I hit him in the side of the head with the gun 
butt and he fell like a board, his head bouncing off the hearth.

	"You know how to load?" I asked her, putting a ramrod and a 
handful of paper cartridges on the table.  She nodded and licked her 
lips.  "We've got four guns, and there's four of them," I said, priming 
the first two pieces and leaning one by the door.  "I'll fire, step back, 
put the gun down and you start loading.  Ready?"  I bit a cartridge.

	She nodded as the officer on the floor moaned.

	I opened the door, stepped out on the small porch and shot 
the nearest horseman in the chest.  He looked up at me in surprise 
before he fell off his horse's rump with his hands over the dark hole 
in his middle.  I stepped into the house, set the empty musket down, 
picked up another, and hit another Hessian at about ten yards who 
was trying to calm his rearing animal and draw his short carbine.  He 
screamed and tumbled off, his foot still in a stirrup, his left arm 
almost blown away.  I put that musket on the table and picked up 
the next gun, primed it with the cartridge I'd held in my teeth and 
fired at the man spurring toward me and yelling, his saber in his 
hand.  The ball grazed the horse's neck and hit the man in the throat 
as the horse turned away close enough to touch.  The Hessian 
dropped his blade as he thundered past the steps, both hands at his 
neck, trying to stop the flow of blood.

	I primed and raised the fourth musket and could not find a 
target.  Then a shot boomed from inside the barn and a big puff of 
dark smoke gave away the enemy soldier's position. The ball struck 
well above the open door.  I clamped on my bayonet and ran at the 
cloud of powder smoke.  The blue coat was furiously reloading as I 
skidded around the entrance, knelt quickly and shot him down.  He 
fell and rolled over with his ramrod in his hand, and I skewered him 
for good measure although I had hit him somewhere in the belly.  
Four hits in a row with smoothbore muskets made me feel awful 
good and very lucky, like I had won a turkey shoot back home.

	I checked the two bodies in the yard on my way back to the 
house.  Both were very dead.  The third Hessian lay heaped near 
the fence line, downhill from the house, his hands still at his neck.  
The horses were standing together, heads bobbing.

	"Get him?" the woman asked as I reentered her home.  She 
was ramming down a load, a serious look on her calm face.

	I nodded and looked at the officer.  He was groaning and 
trying to sit up so I turned him over and pulled him to his feet.  The 
woman gave him a cup of water.  "You gonna kill him?" she asked.

	"Think I'll take him back," I said.  "They might give me a 
reward, maybe a day or two off." I smiled at her.

	"Hope so," she said.  "That was first class shooting."

	We got the German moving, found some tools, and he and I 
dug a pit in some soft ground near the treeline, a big pit, about six 
feet on a side.   In a couple of hours we were both sweating hard.  
We went to the well, drank deeply and I looked up at the sun, 
decided it was after noon, and we ate something and then went 
back to digging.  We were down three or four feet when we hit 
rock and quit.  I made him drag the bodies to the hole and roll them 
in, and then we covered them up and tamped down the soil.  The 
woman fed us as best she could, and I took the German to the barn, 
made him take off his boots and tied him firmly to one of the posts 
with his hands behind him.  He looked at me with fear and hatred 
so I kicked him in the belly and tied his head back to the post, three 
coils of hemp under his chin.

	With the woman' s help and her hard soap, I got out of my 
clothes and bathed at her pump; then I shaved after a fashion.  It 
had been a month since I'd washed all over, and it made me feel 
extra good.  We sat on her step and shared a pipe while the breeze 
dried my skin, and then we got in her bed and rogered ourselves to 
sleep.  In the morning, we did it again, fiercely, her legs wrapped 
about me and my thick horn plunging in and out of her.

	The German was right where I left him, looking morose.  I 
gave him a cold hoecake, put him on a horse and headed back 
toward our camp.  Lieutenant Foster was happy to see me and the 
horses, took charge of the aching prisoner, and told me to go do my 
job.  By nightfall I was back in the bed I had left that morning, doing 
my job.  When the woman screeched with pleasure, I considered it 
well done and slept, looking forward to the morning.





<1st attachment end>


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