by Pete Clark
The French had signed an alliance with the Americans. This was a great boon to the cause. Most of 1778 and 1779 passed in relative predictability. There were battles, but none that really swayed the war; political discussions and back stabbings went on, even among allies and friends.
Arnold had no patience for this sort of back room dealing. He felt he was the best leader and he was not treated as such. Fired by a lack of respect and his need to fulfill the prophecy, he decided to betray his country. Arnold had managed to secure a command position at West Point, a significant military base. He had begun communication with the British high command. They had made promises that he accepted. He would become a general in the British army once he arranged for the unimpeded capture of West Point. This, Arnold could arrange. And, in fact, he gave the illusion that this is exactly what he would arrange. However, Arnold was no traitor. The prophecy decreed that he be a traitor and be hated by those whom had once thought him a hero, but it did not say he had to be a successful traitor. As such, Arnold arranged for information about the whereabouts of his main British contact, Major Andre, to be leaked to the colonials. Andre carried documents with Arnold’s name on them. These clearly showed his betrayal and would lead to Arnold’s condemnation, but the cause of liberty would not suffer.
The information was leaked, Andre was caught, and Arnold’s fate was sealed. He escaped vengeance by fleeing to the British forces once his betrayal was confirmed. Arnold spent the rest of the war leading British troops. However, his bold innovative aggression seemed to have left him. He simply muddled about the country occasionally capturing small munitions dumps. He had changed, or rather he had not. He simply fulfilled his responsibility to his nation and managed to become the enemy he needed to become, without truly harming his country. And so, Benedict Arnold disappeared into the folds of the American Revolution and his name became synonymous with betrayal. Not the respect a hero deserves and yet all too often the fate that he receives.
****
With the death of the vertex, the numbers of rippers had decreased despite the war. However, that would not last. Prescott knew that that the final piece once again hung with de Lavoir. The cowardly vampire was no doubt assembling his ripper army in an attempt to clear out both the British and the Americans. But where was he hiding and how was he building an army of monsters in secret? Prescott thought about contacting his old semi-nemesis Sam Adams to see what he knew. But he had proved to be unhelpful in the past. His best lead came from Daniel Morgan. Morgan was in the process of maneuvering for a major battle. There was a chance that de Lavoir would intervene there, but no guarantee. No, Morgan’s battle, although likely key, was not the kind of landscape altering fight that de Lavoir was likely waiting for. He was probably done with anything small. He would want to conserve what forces he had for a massive and crucial battle, in which he would have the chance to crush both armies at once. But when was that to come?
****
January, 1781. The Cowpens
Daniel Morgan’s back hurt. He had been rejected for full generalship, much like Arnold. However, he was less bitter; because of his sciatica, he was prepared to retire from the battlefield anyway. Yet, as the next few years passed and victory was not achieved, Washington decided to call on the man for whom battle tactics were second nature. There was a British leader who had begun to strike fear in the ranks of the patriots. He seemed unbeatable. He was Banastre Tarleton, a fine and aggressive commander; he led a powerful mixed infantry and cavalry unit that was as yet undefeated on the field. With Cornwallis moving up from the south and the main patriot southern army being led by Nathaniel Greene, Washington needed a great leader to swing the fates to them. Morgan was that man.
Although Morgan had trouble moving and he was his usual ornery self, due to not getting his promotion a few years back, he had heard of Tarleton and how the man killed prisoners who surrendered. It was not something he had made a continued practice of, but once was enough. And so, due to an overly long conversation with Washington, Morgan agreed to help. That was why he now found himself, in the middle of the night, trying to fortify a cow pasture, while two armies worked to surround him. Cornwallis’ force had decided to give up on Morgan and had left him to Tarleton, but not before Cornwallis gave nearly one third of his men to the daring commander. It was a gamble to split your forces, but that was also what Greene had done. He sent Morgan west to draw attention and he had succeeded. Of course, now Morgan was on the run and in danger of being captured.
“We can either ford this river or dig in here,” Tim Murphy said.
Morgan considered. “I have no interest in allowing this Tarleton to capture us knee deep in water and unprotected. No. These cow pens will serve. We have little time before he arrives, but let’s use it well.”
Morgan knew war and he knew warriors. His group was a mix of untrained, nervous militia, and seasoned warriors. The trick was how best to manipulate these factors. Morgan decided to take his stand between the two nearby rivers. This tactic seemed idiotic at first glance, as it made retreat a near impossibility. Of course, Morgan knew that his scared militia would see this, too. With retreat not a feasible option, that left nothing but fighting to the death. This was exactly what Morgan wanted. He set up three lines of men. The middle line was made up of militia. Even with retreat unlikely, he knew that if there was a cavalry charge, they would panic. Therefore, he made their job simple.
“Fire two shots each,” he croaked. “Then run like the devil was after you. Act scared,” he said. “But be smart. Retreat along our left lines. You will be ignored for cowards that they can scoop up later. But you are not cowards,” he told the militia, “but soldiers. Soldiers who will circle around and reform behind us to provide an additional line that the British will not anticipate.”
In the last line, at the top of a hill, stood Morgan’s riflemen. Traditionally, the best troops are in front. Here, Morgan put his best in the rear, knowing the Brits would crash through, but be weakened in the attempt. That would leave the strongest resistance to come and a hill to climb as well, plus the militia reinforcement. Indeed, Tarleton had better be at the top of his game.
Tarleton was not at the top of his game. His troops had been marching at a breakneck pace for several days. They were hungry and tired. Better trained, better equipped, and of larger numbers were the Redcoats, but they were ill prepared for the best tactical plan of the entire war. Tarleton advanced toward Morgan’s position. One of the most historically interesting things about this important battle was that no rippers took part. The reason, as Morgan would later surmise with Prescott and others, was that what rippers were left were being gathered into a fighting force by de Lavoir and he did not view this as his opportunity to strike.
Tarleton, however, did. He saw Morgan’s deployment, at what he considered a foolish place to make a stand, and decided to attack head on and crush the weak militia quickly and efficiently. That is how the battle appeared to start out. The British pushed forward hard. Most of the Americans fought for a few moments, and then rolled out in an apparent retreat. The British force continued onward with great confidence, until it slowly began to dawn on them that the majority of their officers had been killed and, with each successive break in the American lines, the opponent grew stronger. What’s more - the American numbers, for all of the retreating, did not seem to be dwindling. Still, the Americans seemed to be in full retreat over the hill. Tarleton ordered a full charge of his cavalry and bayonets to run down the fleeing patriots. However, as they crested the hill, they saw a fully dug in line of the finest riflemen to see the field in this war. Stunned, the charge was held up. Foolishly, they stopped their momentum a mere thirty yards from the sniper line. The Americans fired into the confused cavalry and decimated their numbers, in what may well have been the single deadliest volley of the war.
After shredding the British, Morgan ordered his own bayonet charge. This caused the utterly perplexed British to panic and attempt to retreat. Howeve
r, in their zest to roll forward, they had not properly protected their flanks. The formerly fleeing militia had wrapped around both sides of the British force, essentially encircling the entire army. Staring into the face of certain death, the majority of the Brits surrendered on the spot, many simply collapsing in panic. Tarleton gathered a few stray men together and managed to push his way out and escape. The battle was a one-sided victory for the Americans. Not only was nearly one-third of Cornwallis’ southern army captured, but it was most of his finest troops. This victory crippled England’s southern army and was the spark that would ignite the destruction of Cornwallis.
CHAPTER TWELVE:
Whispers of Vengeance and Freedom
de Lavoir knew the time was near. The Americans could smell victory in the air. Whether they finished off the fleeing Cornwallis or not mattered little to the vampire. The important thing would be to take the advantage. de Lavoir’s ripper army was a motley collection of violent beasts. The numbers were not what he had hoped. The descendant’s success at killing the vertex and cracking part of the curse was taking its toll. Still, the time was now. The two armies would meet and de Lavoir would sweep in. The story would spread. Both armies decimated, humans ravaged, and deformed bodies strewn across the field. This would spark fear - and fear was helpful. Fear was more fuel for the rippers. War was best, but fear would do. Once the soldiers were gone, the people would go back to hiding in their homes as the night spilled into their windows. The shrieks of human victims were the sweet sounds of youth to de Lavoir. He had had enough of this time, where humans walked freely at night. Even during a full moon, humans did not run screaming in terror from the creatures of the night. They stood still and fought. But that was not to be for long. Kill the warriors, crush their spirits, and inherit this vast land. Indeed, the chance was coming; his army was ready. As for Prescott, that bothersome hunter, de Lavoir was going to be sure that he would stare him in the eye before he killed him.
The thoughts calmed de Lavoir like a soothing bedtime story. He stood on a narrow stone ledge that circled around the interior of the cave. Within the mighty walls of stone stood nearly a thousand supernatural beasts of every order. From centaur to werewolf, from gargoyle to succubus. They all viewed him as their leader. It had been no easy feat and it had taken years, but de Lavoir had bent them to his will. He had convinced them that his interests were their interests, and they would serve him well. They could all die as long as they helped him accomplish his goal. After all, he still had friends in France. Friends who would enjoy the freedom of these wild, open lands.
****
The hall itself was nothing to be impressed by. However, the occupants were another story. Within the walls of this large yet simple room stood many of the heroes and leaders of this revolution. They had gathered to discuss strategy. Indeed, they could feel that the tide had turned and, against all hope, the line of freedom could be seen before them. If they could capture Cornwallis and finish off the British presence in the south, could the northern army really stand alone? The patriot cause did not think so.
“Now are the times that try men’s souls,” Benjamin Franklin began. “These words are not mine, but of another inspired patriot, Thomas Paine. These words tell us that now is the time. Now is when the true heroes are to step forward. Steel is not forged in the pleasant mountain winds, but rather in the flames of hatred. A man does not prove his courage by not being afraid, but by overcoming his fear, and that is what is before us now.”
Washington took up the podium. “We have struck a number of recent and significant victories. Daniel Morgan’s victory at the Cowpens, Nathaniel Greene at Guillford Court, and countless other small wars fought every day. The unheralded men who have fought and fallen have helped to purchase this opportunity. They have purchased it with their lives and we will not waste the fee.”
“These two guys can really sling words around; you have to give them that,” Dawes said quietly to Boone and Prescott.
“Yes,” Boone replied. “But it’s good for morale and I assume he will be getting to the point soon.”
Washington continued. “The southern army of the British has been weakened. Cornwallis must make a decision. Should he push north, retreat south, or head inward toward the west? We do not know which choice he will make. What we do know is that we will concentrate our forces in an attempt to capture that army.”
“Won’t that leave the northern army free to take control of New England?” Marion asked.
“A fine question,” Washington said. “We will leave troops to the north. In fact, we hope to disguise our numbers and trick the northern army into believing that the bulk of our army is attempting to escape from them.”
“Do you think it will work? It seems a little flimsy,” Marion, the trap-specialist, stated.
“True, but the British have always believed us to be inferior. They have rarely respected us as a military force and, even now, they have the opinion that we are a mostly confused rabble running haphazardly about the land. It is this misconception that we will play upon. They already think us cowardly and inept. If we feed into that belief, they may fall for it, as it is what they themselves wish to be true. What they think is true.”
Washington and the other generals referred to a large map. “Now let us consult the large map, as large maps are awesome.”
Prescott began to lose interest. The tactics did not interest him. He just wanted to know the time and place. He knew that de Lavoir would be there, and so, Prescott would have his chance for revenge.
“You’re not paying attention,” Dawes said to Prescott.
“I’m not interested in the details.”
“At least we’re not in a goddamn tavern,” Dawes smiled.
The talk turned to how best to use the French infantry and naval support that would be arriving. A number of French tacticians had already arrived, and one was even now trying to reinforce the idea to Washington that it was best to leave Clinton chasing ghosts in New York, while they went after Cornwallis.
“Clinton himself views the south as the key. He has sent a large chunk of his own army to support them. This adds to our challenge, but also to the strength of the victory we can achieve,” said General Rochambeau, a seasoned and quick-witted member of the French military.
“Yes,” Washington capitulated. “It has always been a good plan. But I have found that second guessing a plan, once decided upon, often leads to finding a better way.”
“All fine points,” said Franklin, as he started to wind himself up again. “Yet it is the boldness of faith that leads men out of darkness. A man whose blindness is nobility can never be led astray. The true test of a plan is the fervor of those who carry it out.” Franklin paused. Was he looking for applause?
“Okay,” interjected Nathaniel Greene. “But what about the creatures?”
Everyone paused and all eyes turned toward Prescott.
“Mr. Prescott,” said General Greene. “I believe you are the expert in this area.”
“That explains how we got invited,” Dawes whispered. “I was thinking the security here was pretty lax.”
Prescott rose. How the hell does Greene know my name, he thought. I may indeed be a professional monster hunter, but I am the worst at staying under the radar. Everybody knows me. “Well, General Greene, esteemed attendees...” Esteemed attendees? I suck at speaking, he thought. Soon, I’ll be famous as that weirdo at the meeting who said esteemed attendees. “The monsters, or rippers as we call them, are in a temporary state of decline. A number of costly victories...” He paused, his brain involuntarily forcing him to see the image of Hannah’s body being ripped open by de Lavoir. His face grew flush and his fists tingled with rage. “Ahem, a number of costly victories have given the rippers pause and lowered their numbers. But we believe that they are actually getting themselves organized.”
“Organized?” Washington asked. “But I was of the opinion that they were basically no more organized than pack animals.”
“That was not the case at Saratoga, sir,” Morgan added from a dark corner across the room.
“Indeed, they are organizing,” Prescott continued. “There is one among them who has gained their trust and acts as a leader. He is, we believe, gathering a sort of ripper army. It is my understanding that he will use this army when we clash with Cornwallis, whenever or wherever that may be.”
“How can someone lead the rippers?” Washington asked again. “It’s not Arnold, is it?”
“No. We believe that the leader is a creature as well, but not necessarily a ripper.”
“What is it then, Prescott? Do you know?” Greene asked.
“It’s a vampire, sir,” Prescott muttered.
“I knew it.” Revere nearly fell off his chair with fright.
“No, no. I realize things are tough,” Washington said. He spread wide his arms and walked to the center of the room to establish dominance. “However, we can’t start believing in every little fairy tale.”
“My cousin was killed by a gargoyle,” said someone from the back.
“Yes,” the father of our country continued. “But gargoyles are real. They are not some silly story made up to frighten children. Vampires are not real.”
Rochambeau stepped forward. “Actually, General Washington they are very real.”
“Damn it. I hate this supernatural horse shit,” declared the future first president.
“That may be so but our resolution shall not be altered. We will mass our forces where Cornwallis decides to make his stand. We will give Clinton’s army a ghost army to chase and with our gathered might, we shall defeat the British and the rippers,” Franklin declared. There were no huzzahs, so he continued. “This is our nation and it is a nation that will be free of oppression, Redcoats, unjust taxes, and monsters that suck your soul out through your eyes.” He pounded his fist into his hand for emphasis; that cued up the huzzahs.
