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America: Defiance
Hi,
Apologies for the length of time between installments. Halloween had me partying hard.
This is the fourth story in a series. The others are in separate posts entitled:
1.America: In Peril
2.America: Balance of Power
3.America: One Fateful Day
The story so far: While returning from a meeting with her father the President of America, Anna Roosevelt Mölders' was kidnapped by German mercenaries mysteriously pretending to be Iroquois. Ironically, the mercenaries were then assaulted by a small group of Iroquois rangers who had been secretly observing the Germans for days. Believing Anna slain by Iroquois and under pressure from the Deutschland government, the President declares war on the Iroquois Confederacy of Six Nations ending over five millenia of peace. Meanwhile, Anna, lost in the American plains, has offered to hire the Iroquois rangers to guide her home.
Chancellery Building, Berlin, Deutschland.
Ambassador Heinrich Von Klein waited until all of the advisers had filed out of Bismarck's weekly Ministry briefing before approaching Field Marshal Schellinger in the antechamber. He gave the nosy Claudia Abel, Minister of Domestic Affairs, a perfunctory smile as he slowed his stride to match those of the old Field Marshal. He watched her pass well out of earshot before speaking, “What are we going to do about this business with Anna?”
The Field Marshal threw a stern gaze towards the scheming Ambassador. “We are going to forget that the entire sorry episode was ever concocted. You should be thankful that your meddling did not seriously damage the Chancellor's overall plan. America is at war with the Iroquois Confederacy of Six Nations and Bismarck is pleased.”
Von Klein waited for a secretary to pass by before speaking again in a fierce whisper, “Are you out of your mind? We lied to Bismarck about her death. It's only a matter of time before she resurfaces and claims that Germans tried to kidnap her as Iroquois. She is a credible source. If news of this were to reach America...”
“You should have thought of that before countering my order for her outright assassination,” admonished Schellinger. He did not have time for this petty intrigue. Now that the Iroquois had mobilized against America, it was only a matter of time before the puny American armed forces would be overrun. Once that happened German forces would 'liberate' those areas and re-incorporate them into Greater Deutschland. International law would then recognize Deutschland official claim to the former American territory as spoils of war taken from the Iroquois Confederacy of Six Nations. America would then have to accept the situation or declare war on Deutschland itself, a situation that would even be welcome at that point, but unlikely. With a little bit of good fortune, America would be prostrated within a few months and then not even Anna's resurfacing would have any impact. “Our spies in Deutschland and America have already been notified to quietly eliminate her if sighted. Have your people at the German embassy in Washington to be on alert for any incoming telegraphs. She will either try to contact us, which would play right into our hands; her husband, virtually unreachable at the front; or the President of America. As long as the latter does not occur we are safe.”
Anna Mölders, model wife of Deutschland's greatest hero was to be von Klein's greatest conquest and trophy. She was one of the few women in all Deutschland who never seemed to be taken by his power, wealth, and charms. Only a week ago that he had fantasized about her role in his secret harem in Persia, but the situation had grown too volatile now and as much as he was loathe to admit it the Field Marshal's plan was the most sensible for all involved. He nodded in reluctant agreement, “Yes, you are right.”
Iroquois army field hospital, America
“Yes, you are right,” said Anna quietly. It was still difficult for her to draw a breath without her chest hurting, but the worst was over. She gingerly sat up on her straw mattress with the assistance of Deganawida and turned to look sadly into his grey eyes, “I just can't believe we're going to head into Iroquois occupied Miami. That everyone thinks I'm dead. That America is at war. It's all so crazy. It's like some bad dream or story.” She looked out of her tent and out onto the encampment. A light mist was falling which chilled the afternoon air. Many of the medical tents had been stowed into horse drawn wagons and the patients had slowly thinned out during the week.
“You cannot return to Deutschland. At least not before understanding why your own people attacked you. It is also too dangerous to move further into America now that America has joined the war.” Deganawida took out a change of clothes for Anna from his pack. The beautifully crafted deerskin dress with the distinctive bead trim and dye work of his tribe brought a long unseen smile to Anna's face. “Ummm, I figured that it will be easier for us to travel to Miami if you looked a bit more like us. Very few of our women are as tall as you so I hope it fits.”
Anna unfolded the gift with admiration. It was an unremarkable dress by the standards of a woman of her station in Deutschland, but it was hand made with care and unlike anything she had ever worn. She stood and let the dress fall against her body. “Thank you. It's beautiful. It's going to be a bit tight around my middle, but it'll do.” When she looked back up she caught Deganawida stealing a glance at her with those intense grey eyes partially shielded by long black hair.
It wasn't the first time it had happened since her abrupt rescue by the Iroquois rangers over two weeks ago. He had given her first aid when it became apparent that she had sufferred multiple fractured ribs in the carriage accident. He had continued to watch over her quietly in the days ahead when it was apparent her condition was worsening. He had fought with his fellow rangers to have her moved to this field hospital and acted as her American translator here in the camp. There was a good chance that this man saved her life and that of her unborn child. Anna had a lot to thank Deganawida and his people for, but increasingly disquieting was that she most wanted to thank him for the attention he had shown her. For a moment she became distinctly aware of a damp mist being blown onto her through the open tent as conversation stopped. Her heart was racing. She shivered. She knew she had to look away or say something, but could not or would not. It was irrelevant because she took two quick steps forward and pressed her lips greedily against his.
Southern Front, Iroquois Confederacy of Six Nations; 2 weeks later.
The 2nd Army of Deutschland, commanded by General Frederick Mölders, invincible on the field of battle, just to the vanquished, and unquestionably loyal to the flag of Greater Deutschland had spent weeks hacking its way from the frozen Azteca lands and through Iroquois territory. Unprepared for the Azteca cold and unaccustomed to the unchivalrous Iroquois guerrilla tactics, the 2nd Army had lost many of its best units in recent weeks. Even worse, the resupply of men, ammunition, and food was virtually non-existant as Berlin's orders were to keep troops in conquered Azteca as a bulwark against a possible Iroquois thrust southwards. For some reason Berlin instructed Mölders to only swing northwards towards America and ignore the easy capture of vital Iroquois cities, places that could have afforded them rest and shelter, along the way. Now, a day's ride from the American/Iroquois border the beleagured army's scouts had found a daunting challenge before them.
Hauptman Konrad Weiss' war horse trotted up to General Mölders' and reported the grim situation, “The good news is that there are only about 3 divisions of riflemen. The bad news is that we are outnumbered by 2-to-1 in calvary not including any reserves that they may come from within Miami. If we force march starting now we may be able to make Philadelphia and safety by mid-morning tomorrow.”
Weiss was a trusted commander and friend. Mölders knew that he would never advise against taking the offensive unless absolutely necessary. Mölders looked back at the lines of proud, weary, soldiers in his command partially concealed in the Iroquois woods. These elite units of Deutschland would follow him unquestionably and he had no intention of forfeiting their lives or loyalty, but more was at stake here than any of their lives. “Hauptman Weiss, move the troops further into the woods and set up a defensive perimeter. We rest here today and prepare our strike. We've already discussed this situation.”
Looking around to ensure that no one could hear them, Weiss signaled for Mölders to ride further forward from the troops. Then Weiss cast a worried expression at Mölders, “Sir I urge you to reconsider this plan. I give the Americans a 50/50 chance of surviving this war. If they fall so do we.”
Mölders' mount snorted and twitched as if simply standing as beneath the breeding of the magnificent coffee coloured stallion. The General gave his response with uncharacteristic feeling, “If we do what Berlin wants. If we take and hold America's cities for Deutschland we will have had a hand in destroying the only nation on this continent capable of lasting peace. You saw as well as I what Deutschland ordered her soldiers to do to the people in Azteca. I use to think that helping to guarantee Deutschland's might was the most important thing I could do with my life. I was wrong.”
Mölders paused in his speech for many moments struggling to compose himself. When he spoke again his eyes were hazy and he stared off into some space beyond Weiss, “My dear sweet departed Anna use to insist that 'Might does not make right.' I use to tease her about her liberal American leanings and launch into lectures about how Deutschland's might was tempered and just and a strict guiding force in a world of chaos and war. I was a fool. Might does not make right Konrad. Deutschland under Bismarck and Field Marshall Schellinger has become a monster.” Mölders reassuringly slapped Weiss in the shoulder as he turned to ride back to the camp, “We both know this to be true. With this army though we can do something about it. We will defend America.”
The White Mountains west of Boston, America
On this clear day Jeff could even make out the ragged lines of refugees still streaming in from Miami. That city had been lost within days of the war commencing with the Iroquois Confederacy and now Boston was threatened with the same fate unless he and his makeshift army of musketmen could continue to hold the line against the determined Iroquois regulars. Jeff was a baker, beside him was a man named Steve, a construction worker. Next to him, was Joe, a librarian. Jeff doubted that there were more than a dozen professional soldiers left in the four companies of musketmen and cannon stationed on what had become known as Bunker Hill. From here the Americans rained cannon shot on any passing Iroquois troops effectively forestalling a mass charge by the hordes of Iroquois cavalry.
“My God, there must be two thousand of them!” came a shout from Joe. Today, for the third day in a row, the Iroquois calvary would attempt to take Bunker Hill. Jeff leveled the antiquated musket at the calvary still trotting up the side of the hill. The Iroquois knew the range of the American weapons and would not break into a charge until they were within the outer limits of American guns. This time, however, the calvary was supported by a mass of riflemen who advanced steadily up the hill.
Jeff wiped his moistening hands on his shirt and then re-aimed the musket. “They really mean it this time. You guys be sure to keep up.” Jeff was speaking to the grey haired woman, Marion, a refugee from Miami and the young boy, Ty, who worked to supply him with loaded muskets. They nodded and then ducked instinctively as American cannons roared to life with an opening salvo. From a line further upwards, American snipers equipped with the scarce percussion rifles began to pick off Iroquois troops at long range.
This was the part that Jeff hated. They were impotent until the enemy was about 50 metres away and thus the American musket force could only lie still while enemy bullets zinged by overhead.
“Here they come!” yelled Steve as the first wave of calvary broke into a charge. American cannons poured fire onto the first wave and immediately the battle field began to fill with smoke and falling men and horses. As the cannons reloaded the call to action came.
“Musketmen! Take Aim.....FIRE!”. A hailstorm of shot and smoke hammered the Iroquois calvary so effectively that only a handful made it to the first line of muskets. Those that did were quickly located and hit by sniper fire.
Jeff tossed back the expended musket and Ty immediately handed a loaded weapon forward. The calvary were so close that Jeff could see the expressions of fear in the Iroquois riders as their line once again leveled on their targets and opened up. The musketmen were not supposed to be able to fire at this rate of speed and another wave of Iroquois calvary were slammed back. Jeff had no idea if he or someone else had struck the target he was aiming for, but the idea was to just fill the hillside with shot and it only really mattered that the targets were falling. The reloaded cannons poured further fire onto the struggling enemy as the musketmen again exchanged their weapons for fresh ones.
A third volley followed by a fourth and fifth exhausted the first calvary charge and the hapless survivors pulled back, but by this point the Iroquois riflemen were dangerously close and their superior weapons were beginning to take a toll on the first line of musketmen.
“First line fall back!” came the dreaded order. Jeff took a last loaded musket from Marion and then waved them back to the second line of musketmen uphill. He could just make out a small team of exceptionally foolhardy Iroquois riflemen running up to try to take advantage of the line withdrawal. Jeff leveled the musket at the closest of them and fired. They dropped to take cover, but did not seem otherwise injured.
“Come on let's go!” yelled Steve as Jeff muttered a quick prayer and turned his back to the advancing enemy and began running. The second line was a good 40 metres away and uphill. The snipers provided as much cover as they could, but there was an equal chance of being cut down by friendly fire at this point. The thought had just passed his mind when Steve took a bullet straight through the chest from behind and went down. Just a bit further ahead, Joe was hit by no less than six separate gunners and tumbled back lifelessly towards the abandoned line. Jeff willed himself to just keep running as he heard more retreating Americans cry out. He was within 10 metres of the second line when he saw that Marion had fallen injured, but was still trying to crawl forward. Ty was trying desperately to tug her along, but the nine year old lacked the strength to do more than make himself a target for the rapidly advancing Iroquois. Jeff ran right by them both and dived behind the second line of earthen fortifications. For the remaining years of his life he would always remember he scene and wonder if he too would have perished if he had stopped to help.
The Battle of Bunker Hill was a slaughter for all involved with both sides fighting until sunset. In the aftermath, it was discovered that the American forces had at most three volleys of ammunition left by the time the exhausted Iroquois finally pulled back under fading light and horrendous losses. Fifteen hundred Iroquois troops perished that day for the loss of four hundred and fifty Americans – almost all of them civilian volunteers. Although the American General Washington, senior commander at the battle saw the losses as devastating, the Iroquois were never to try to take the hill again and Boston would remain unthreatened for the rest of the war.
Next: The series concludes! Frederick Mölders arrives in Miami and the future of America is decided. And then there's that troublesome Anna...
Apologies for the length of time between installments. Halloween had me partying hard.
This is the fourth story in a series. The others are in separate posts entitled:
1.America: In Peril
2.America: Balance of Power
3.America: One Fateful Day
The story so far: While returning from a meeting with her father the President of America, Anna Roosevelt Mölders' was kidnapped by German mercenaries mysteriously pretending to be Iroquois. Ironically, the mercenaries were then assaulted by a small group of Iroquois rangers who had been secretly observing the Germans for days. Believing Anna slain by Iroquois and under pressure from the Deutschland government, the President declares war on the Iroquois Confederacy of Six Nations ending over five millenia of peace. Meanwhile, Anna, lost in the American plains, has offered to hire the Iroquois rangers to guide her home.
America: Defiance
Chancellery Building, Berlin, Deutschland.
Ambassador Heinrich Von Klein waited until all of the advisers had filed out of Bismarck's weekly Ministry briefing before approaching Field Marshal Schellinger in the antechamber. He gave the nosy Claudia Abel, Minister of Domestic Affairs, a perfunctory smile as he slowed his stride to match those of the old Field Marshal. He watched her pass well out of earshot before speaking, “What are we going to do about this business with Anna?”
The Field Marshal threw a stern gaze towards the scheming Ambassador. “We are going to forget that the entire sorry episode was ever concocted. You should be thankful that your meddling did not seriously damage the Chancellor's overall plan. America is at war with the Iroquois Confederacy of Six Nations and Bismarck is pleased.”
Von Klein waited for a secretary to pass by before speaking again in a fierce whisper, “Are you out of your mind? We lied to Bismarck about her death. It's only a matter of time before she resurfaces and claims that Germans tried to kidnap her as Iroquois. She is a credible source. If news of this were to reach America...”
“You should have thought of that before countering my order for her outright assassination,” admonished Schellinger. He did not have time for this petty intrigue. Now that the Iroquois had mobilized against America, it was only a matter of time before the puny American armed forces would be overrun. Once that happened German forces would 'liberate' those areas and re-incorporate them into Greater Deutschland. International law would then recognize Deutschland official claim to the former American territory as spoils of war taken from the Iroquois Confederacy of Six Nations. America would then have to accept the situation or declare war on Deutschland itself, a situation that would even be welcome at that point, but unlikely. With a little bit of good fortune, America would be prostrated within a few months and then not even Anna's resurfacing would have any impact. “Our spies in Deutschland and America have already been notified to quietly eliminate her if sighted. Have your people at the German embassy in Washington to be on alert for any incoming telegraphs. She will either try to contact us, which would play right into our hands; her husband, virtually unreachable at the front; or the President of America. As long as the latter does not occur we are safe.”
Anna Mölders, model wife of Deutschland's greatest hero was to be von Klein's greatest conquest and trophy. She was one of the few women in all Deutschland who never seemed to be taken by his power, wealth, and charms. Only a week ago that he had fantasized about her role in his secret harem in Persia, but the situation had grown too volatile now and as much as he was loathe to admit it the Field Marshal's plan was the most sensible for all involved. He nodded in reluctant agreement, “Yes, you are right.”
Iroquois army field hospital, America
“Yes, you are right,” said Anna quietly. It was still difficult for her to draw a breath without her chest hurting, but the worst was over. She gingerly sat up on her straw mattress with the assistance of Deganawida and turned to look sadly into his grey eyes, “I just can't believe we're going to head into Iroquois occupied Miami. That everyone thinks I'm dead. That America is at war. It's all so crazy. It's like some bad dream or story.” She looked out of her tent and out onto the encampment. A light mist was falling which chilled the afternoon air. Many of the medical tents had been stowed into horse drawn wagons and the patients had slowly thinned out during the week.
“You cannot return to Deutschland. At least not before understanding why your own people attacked you. It is also too dangerous to move further into America now that America has joined the war.” Deganawida took out a change of clothes for Anna from his pack. The beautifully crafted deerskin dress with the distinctive bead trim and dye work of his tribe brought a long unseen smile to Anna's face. “Ummm, I figured that it will be easier for us to travel to Miami if you looked a bit more like us. Very few of our women are as tall as you so I hope it fits.”
Anna unfolded the gift with admiration. It was an unremarkable dress by the standards of a woman of her station in Deutschland, but it was hand made with care and unlike anything she had ever worn. She stood and let the dress fall against her body. “Thank you. It's beautiful. It's going to be a bit tight around my middle, but it'll do.” When she looked back up she caught Deganawida stealing a glance at her with those intense grey eyes partially shielded by long black hair.
It wasn't the first time it had happened since her abrupt rescue by the Iroquois rangers over two weeks ago. He had given her first aid when it became apparent that she had sufferred multiple fractured ribs in the carriage accident. He had continued to watch over her quietly in the days ahead when it was apparent her condition was worsening. He had fought with his fellow rangers to have her moved to this field hospital and acted as her American translator here in the camp. There was a good chance that this man saved her life and that of her unborn child. Anna had a lot to thank Deganawida and his people for, but increasingly disquieting was that she most wanted to thank him for the attention he had shown her. For a moment she became distinctly aware of a damp mist being blown onto her through the open tent as conversation stopped. Her heart was racing. She shivered. She knew she had to look away or say something, but could not or would not. It was irrelevant because she took two quick steps forward and pressed her lips greedily against his.
Southern Front, Iroquois Confederacy of Six Nations; 2 weeks later.
The 2nd Army of Deutschland, commanded by General Frederick Mölders, invincible on the field of battle, just to the vanquished, and unquestionably loyal to the flag of Greater Deutschland had spent weeks hacking its way from the frozen Azteca lands and through Iroquois territory. Unprepared for the Azteca cold and unaccustomed to the unchivalrous Iroquois guerrilla tactics, the 2nd Army had lost many of its best units in recent weeks. Even worse, the resupply of men, ammunition, and food was virtually non-existant as Berlin's orders were to keep troops in conquered Azteca as a bulwark against a possible Iroquois thrust southwards. For some reason Berlin instructed Mölders to only swing northwards towards America and ignore the easy capture of vital Iroquois cities, places that could have afforded them rest and shelter, along the way. Now, a day's ride from the American/Iroquois border the beleagured army's scouts had found a daunting challenge before them.
Hauptman Konrad Weiss' war horse trotted up to General Mölders' and reported the grim situation, “The good news is that there are only about 3 divisions of riflemen. The bad news is that we are outnumbered by 2-to-1 in calvary not including any reserves that they may come from within Miami. If we force march starting now we may be able to make Philadelphia and safety by mid-morning tomorrow.”
Weiss was a trusted commander and friend. Mölders knew that he would never advise against taking the offensive unless absolutely necessary. Mölders looked back at the lines of proud, weary, soldiers in his command partially concealed in the Iroquois woods. These elite units of Deutschland would follow him unquestionably and he had no intention of forfeiting their lives or loyalty, but more was at stake here than any of their lives. “Hauptman Weiss, move the troops further into the woods and set up a defensive perimeter. We rest here today and prepare our strike. We've already discussed this situation.”
Looking around to ensure that no one could hear them, Weiss signaled for Mölders to ride further forward from the troops. Then Weiss cast a worried expression at Mölders, “Sir I urge you to reconsider this plan. I give the Americans a 50/50 chance of surviving this war. If they fall so do we.”
Mölders' mount snorted and twitched as if simply standing as beneath the breeding of the magnificent coffee coloured stallion. The General gave his response with uncharacteristic feeling, “If we do what Berlin wants. If we take and hold America's cities for Deutschland we will have had a hand in destroying the only nation on this continent capable of lasting peace. You saw as well as I what Deutschland ordered her soldiers to do to the people in Azteca. I use to think that helping to guarantee Deutschland's might was the most important thing I could do with my life. I was wrong.”
Mölders paused in his speech for many moments struggling to compose himself. When he spoke again his eyes were hazy and he stared off into some space beyond Weiss, “My dear sweet departed Anna use to insist that 'Might does not make right.' I use to tease her about her liberal American leanings and launch into lectures about how Deutschland's might was tempered and just and a strict guiding force in a world of chaos and war. I was a fool. Might does not make right Konrad. Deutschland under Bismarck and Field Marshall Schellinger has become a monster.” Mölders reassuringly slapped Weiss in the shoulder as he turned to ride back to the camp, “We both know this to be true. With this army though we can do something about it. We will defend America.”
The White Mountains west of Boston, America
On this clear day Jeff could even make out the ragged lines of refugees still streaming in from Miami. That city had been lost within days of the war commencing with the Iroquois Confederacy and now Boston was threatened with the same fate unless he and his makeshift army of musketmen could continue to hold the line against the determined Iroquois regulars. Jeff was a baker, beside him was a man named Steve, a construction worker. Next to him, was Joe, a librarian. Jeff doubted that there were more than a dozen professional soldiers left in the four companies of musketmen and cannon stationed on what had become known as Bunker Hill. From here the Americans rained cannon shot on any passing Iroquois troops effectively forestalling a mass charge by the hordes of Iroquois cavalry.
“My God, there must be two thousand of them!” came a shout from Joe. Today, for the third day in a row, the Iroquois calvary would attempt to take Bunker Hill. Jeff leveled the antiquated musket at the calvary still trotting up the side of the hill. The Iroquois knew the range of the American weapons and would not break into a charge until they were within the outer limits of American guns. This time, however, the calvary was supported by a mass of riflemen who advanced steadily up the hill.
Jeff wiped his moistening hands on his shirt and then re-aimed the musket. “They really mean it this time. You guys be sure to keep up.” Jeff was speaking to the grey haired woman, Marion, a refugee from Miami and the young boy, Ty, who worked to supply him with loaded muskets. They nodded and then ducked instinctively as American cannons roared to life with an opening salvo. From a line further upwards, American snipers equipped with the scarce percussion rifles began to pick off Iroquois troops at long range.
This was the part that Jeff hated. They were impotent until the enemy was about 50 metres away and thus the American musket force could only lie still while enemy bullets zinged by overhead.
“Here they come!” yelled Steve as the first wave of calvary broke into a charge. American cannons poured fire onto the first wave and immediately the battle field began to fill with smoke and falling men and horses. As the cannons reloaded the call to action came.
“Musketmen! Take Aim.....FIRE!”. A hailstorm of shot and smoke hammered the Iroquois calvary so effectively that only a handful made it to the first line of muskets. Those that did were quickly located and hit by sniper fire.
Jeff tossed back the expended musket and Ty immediately handed a loaded weapon forward. The calvary were so close that Jeff could see the expressions of fear in the Iroquois riders as their line once again leveled on their targets and opened up. The musketmen were not supposed to be able to fire at this rate of speed and another wave of Iroquois calvary were slammed back. Jeff had no idea if he or someone else had struck the target he was aiming for, but the idea was to just fill the hillside with shot and it only really mattered that the targets were falling. The reloaded cannons poured further fire onto the struggling enemy as the musketmen again exchanged their weapons for fresh ones.
A third volley followed by a fourth and fifth exhausted the first calvary charge and the hapless survivors pulled back, but by this point the Iroquois riflemen were dangerously close and their superior weapons were beginning to take a toll on the first line of musketmen.
“First line fall back!” came the dreaded order. Jeff took a last loaded musket from Marion and then waved them back to the second line of musketmen uphill. He could just make out a small team of exceptionally foolhardy Iroquois riflemen running up to try to take advantage of the line withdrawal. Jeff leveled the musket at the closest of them and fired. They dropped to take cover, but did not seem otherwise injured.
“Come on let's go!” yelled Steve as Jeff muttered a quick prayer and turned his back to the advancing enemy and began running. The second line was a good 40 metres away and uphill. The snipers provided as much cover as they could, but there was an equal chance of being cut down by friendly fire at this point. The thought had just passed his mind when Steve took a bullet straight through the chest from behind and went down. Just a bit further ahead, Joe was hit by no less than six separate gunners and tumbled back lifelessly towards the abandoned line. Jeff willed himself to just keep running as he heard more retreating Americans cry out. He was within 10 metres of the second line when he saw that Marion had fallen injured, but was still trying to crawl forward. Ty was trying desperately to tug her along, but the nine year old lacked the strength to do more than make himself a target for the rapidly advancing Iroquois. Jeff ran right by them both and dived behind the second line of earthen fortifications. For the remaining years of his life he would always remember he scene and wonder if he too would have perished if he had stopped to help.
The Battle of Bunker Hill was a slaughter for all involved with both sides fighting until sunset. In the aftermath, it was discovered that the American forces had at most three volleys of ammunition left by the time the exhausted Iroquois finally pulled back under fading light and horrendous losses. Fifteen hundred Iroquois troops perished that day for the loss of four hundred and fifty Americans – almost all of them civilian volunteers. Although the American General Washington, senior commander at the battle saw the losses as devastating, the Iroquois were never to try to take the hill again and Boston would remain unthreatened for the rest of the war.
Next: The series concludes! Frederick Mölders arrives in Miami and the future of America is decided. And then there's that troublesome Anna...
, but because I would like to see how everything turns out 
Let's see Anna herself get involved in the fight again and trade some fire with the natives. She's gotta go down eventually. By the way, I think it would be better if you used the same thread for your story instead of opening a new one for each episode. That way people could refer back to previous entries if necessary and it helps to keep the forum uncluttered (especially with 20 or so nes thingys messing it up).
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