Marching made John tired, especially after the battle. It was 5th of May 1780, and the English war machine was rolling up the east coast of the new world. John was the 2nd Lieutenant of the 131st Regiment of Foot. His regiment was part of the main battle line. They lost 500 of their 2000 men in this battle alone.
They had won of course, The Great British empire was the most powerful empire since the Romans.
Marching back to base camp was a short ten miles, but after a full day of engagement, it felt more along the lines of 50 miles.
Looking to his left was his good friend Edward, who was stumbling over his every step.
“You all right, Ed?” John asked with wide eyes.
“I think so,” Ed replies, short of breath.
“Hold on we’ll be back at camp before you know it.” John smiles with hopes of setting Edward’s mind at ease.
For the Johnny Newcombs, the last four miles were the worst. The entire regiment looked as if they ran the ten miles instead of marching. After the first few hundred miles, a man gets limber with his feet.
Every soldier at one point or another has asked himself, ‘is war necessary?’ John believes that war brings men together as a unit. A wise general once said, “To be a good soldier, you must love the army, to be a good commander you must be willing to order the death of the thing you love. Although we do expect the occasional empty chair, a salute to fallen comrades, but there are times where we are just not ready for so many to die.” War makes men stronger and, sometimes, war must devastate all of what we know before peace can reign.
Arriving at camp, John was now able to do as he pleased. He walked through the camp, past the cook and surgeon.  Beyond them were hundreds upon thousands of tents, tents as far as the eye could see. Each one was a home for two of his fellow men. There was a large lone oak tree on a small hill at the end of the dirt path he followed through camp. This was his favorite spot, this where he would come to nap in the cool shade. Since it was May, the weather was getting rather warm.
John sat at the base of the tree. “Ugh,” he groaned as an immense weight was lifted from him. Lifting his red coat, he went for a bundle of letters that were housed by the inside pocket of his coat. Taking out the letters, he handled them with great care. These were no ordinary letters, each one of them was from “Ann”. John has read every letter at least five or six times and he has answered every letter he has received. When more post arrives from Ann, he puts it in his coat.
The next day the 131st and the 132nd received orders to move five miles to the west. Scouts reported the enemy attempting a sort of flanking maneuver, and the two regiments were just supposed to ‘check it out’. Marching the five miles took no time at all as both regiments came to an open field. John was expecting to hear the ‘Halt’ order and both regiments would spread out across the field. That was procedure, But they didn’t stop, just kept putting one foot in front of the other. There was a hill in what seemed to be the center of the field. Without any hesitation what so ever, they proceeded up the hill, but God could not prepare them for what was on the other side. Nearing the crest of the hill, John could make out white banners…or…flags.
“No, it can’t be,” John thought to himself in doubt, sweat beginning to form on his brow. It was the French. Four regiments of line infantry, “We can’t fight that; we’re heavily outnumbered.” As John finished the thought, the French formed their battle line and began to advance.
“Form a line for battle! Spread out!” shouted a voice. The 131st and 2nd formed their line, on hundred and eighty men abreast and eight rows deep.
“Forward!” There was a long pause. John was in the first row. Sweat was dripping from him and his legs were shaking.
“March!”
Both lines started forward. Each step brought them closer and closer to the enemy line.
“Halt!” Johns regiment stopped dead in its tracks. The enemy was almost in range
“Load!” Every man began loading their Brown Bess musket
Still the French marched closer on the edge of firing range.
“Present! Arms!” The front lines of both regiments slung their weapons up, and as they did the French came in to range.
“FIRE!” Clouds of smoke erupted from the barrel as each line yanked back on the trigger. Through the smoke John saw enemy soldiers drop instantly. After the first shots were fired they fell into the fire by rank pattern. The first line fired then kneeled and reloaded as the second line would fire, then the third line. By then the first line was loaded and stood, fired, repeat.
The enemy was now about twenty to thirty yards away when they started to fire. Good men dropped around John, but they had to keep up the fire.
“Pour it into them!” shouted a British officer.
“Keep up the fir-“John looked over his left shoulder. He was aghast. The captains of both regiments were on the ground, dead. As he looked up and down the lines. They were torn to pieces. They still had more men, but when they would fill the rank of their comrades, they would be hit.
”This means I’m in charge,” John realized. He quickly fell back behind his lines. On the edge of his vision, there was a sort of stone fence. “We’ll make them come to us,” he said aloud.
“Fall back!” John shouted at the top of his lungs. The British regiments, without question, followed John back to this stone fence. “If they think we’re on the run, they have another thing coming,” he told himself. The fence was uphill so this would be the best place to draw them in.
“Form a double file line behind the fence” He shouted “Spread out as far as you can” John finished.
One man began the line, another stood behind him. Two more filed in on the left. Then two more and as quickly as the line began, it ended.
The French were already closing as the line finished.
“Load!” The French lines were starting up the hill
“Present! Arms!”
“Fire!” More enemy soldiers dropped. “What a bloody mess,” John quivered.
What the enemy did then was the completely unexpected. They turned a one eighty a marched back down the hill. At the bottom they seemed to try to reform their lines. They were going to try again. As quickly as they turned around they began back up the hill.
“Make Ready!” John yelled.
“Fire!”
The mussels flashed and exhaled large amounts of smoke. French soldiers fell in their ranks.
“Sir!” John jumped and looked around for the cry. It was Ed.
“Sir we’re running out of ammo!” Ed cried. The enemy was still advancing. ‘We’re British’ John thought ‘We can’t run, but if we stay here we’re dead.’ A wild thought entered his head. He couldn’t do that. It was suicide. ‘But it’s our only option’
“Fix Bayonets!” As John yelled he followed his own command. Since the British army relied on discipline to stay together, each man fixed his knife to the barrel of his Bess. John looked over his line. ‘We’re spread wide enough to engulf the enemy if we charge them’.
“Ready!” every man lowered his musket.
“CHARGE!” The line quickly pushed forward. It was a mess, a grisly scene; John had hoped to never see this. It was too much to put into words. Everyone was acting like animals.
The French we’re quickly overwhelmed. They shattered and ran. Without any order the English lines reformed and resumed fire, killing any stragglers.
“Shall we pursue, Sir?” Looking over to his left, it was Ed.
“No, I believe they have had their fill,” John remarked. He looked over again and gave Ed a once over.
“You alright Ed?” John asked as if just to reassure himself.
“Oh just lovely, Sir,” Ed replied with a smile.
“Good, now let’s round up the hooligans and get back to camp. They’ll want a full report.” John rolled his eyes and smiled.
“Well this thought me a valuable lesson.” John smiled
“Oh, and what would that lesson be Sir?” Ed inquired
“Stubbornly persist, you will find that the limit of your stubbornness will go far beyond the stubbornness of your limits.”
“Oh and by the way Ed.” He looked again.
“Yes Sir?” Ed said with question in his tone.
“Stop calling me Sir.” John said and began down the hill to rally his men. It had been a long day the sun was setting and the air was cooling.
The army was moving further west in a few days. “We’ll be seeing them again very soon” John remarked aloud. The four miles home was going to feel like fifty.

Men Quoted:
General Robert E. Lee
Robert Brault