#Washington Light Infantry

[awendaw-red]

[rebelsandtherest]

Alfreds first time encountering arthur on the battlefield in his revolution

Hi! Thanks for the ask! This “drabble” turned into a 4,000 word oneshot, so thanks for the prompt! I’ve had an idea sort of like this batting around in my head for a while, thanks for prompting me to write it down.

Spare the Rod

Ao3 | ff.net

WARNINGS: Death, blood, a little gore, some minor dismemberment—I feel like I’m pretty much giving away the story in these warnings and I swear it sounds way worse than it actually is, but I went kinda hard in the violent portion and want to make sure everyone knows to proceed at their own risk.

--------------------

Alfred had been tracking game through these forests longer than his commanders had collectively walked the earth, so it had been the easiest decision he'd made in months when he'd accepted the assignment. The lieutenants had been furious that a child was being entrusted in their stead, but it was hardly their call to make. The General had given the full plans of the operation to Alfred alone.

Naturally, neither General Washington nor his army knew the details of what Alfred was, but George had proved himself to be a shrewd spymaster who could spot a natural talent when he saw it. Even if, for example, that natural talent happened to be a seldom-bathed, ill-kempt, mouthy, over-enthusiastic and untried teenager who looked to be, as far as anyone could tell, about fourteen years old. Alfred had been hanging around the General's camp for over a year now, little more than a glorified page, but had only enjoyed a relationship with the General himself for a few months when his continued presence in the camp became impossible to ignore. The taller man chided Alfred for his appearance and his manners, always finding time amidst battlefield duties to instruct the boy on etiquette and even gifted him a new comb strong enough to brush out his unruly hair. Alfred assumed the General's unusual care for him stemmed from Alfred's visible youth—he was likely the youngest man in the camp, and the older men who missed their own children tended to mother him.

However, after a particularly rainy, boring day revealed that Alfred had a sound understanding of chess and of basic military tactics, George had begun to look at Alfred in a different, more mature light. He had begun inviting him into his war tent more and more often, to listen and learn as the General's own aide.

But when George found out Alfred could read and write, well, that had opened a door to an entirely new kind of job.

Squatting low under the cover of the trees, Alfred shifted his feet in their soft leather moccasins to ensure none of his toes had gone numb. The forest floor around him was still quite wet from last week's rain, and while his shoes kept him dry, he wished for a thicker shirt. He'd removed his coat several miles back, knowing the added fabric and buttons could create the kind of noise that'd get him killed. The sun had finally set, but daylight lingered in the clearing below where the redcoats had set up camp. It would be hours before it was dark enough to proceed, so he tuned out the ache in his feet and the cold around his neck and watched the commander's war tent below, ensconced by smaller tents on all sides, it would be a difficult target to reach.

There were two guards at one end of the tent, and judging by the traffic Alfred could see passing on the opposite side, he wagered there would be two on that side, too—that was probably where the commander slept. The long sides were doorless, but surrounded by large open spaces for soldiers to walk perimeter, and small structures beyond. On the west side nearest to him, there were multiple tents smaller than the war tent but larger than the one-man infantry tents dotted across the hillside. Those were most likely for officers. On the eastern side, the situation seemed much the same, but the tents lacked the movement and activity of the officer's quarters. Alfred would bet a dollar they were being used to house food and supplies, because those were guarded too, damnit.

He heaved a sigh, the loudest thing he'd done all day. If he weren't so damn small, he'd be able to take out a guard and use his clothes to waltz right into camp as a redcoat. But while the dim half-moon light might've obscured his face, there was no way to change how short he was. He'd need to be an actual ghost to get inside the camp, let alone to the war tent.

He craned his neck to watch as the two visible guards stepped aside to let their replacements take up the post. Alfred glanced upwards at the sky—thank God it was a clear night—to check the position of Pisces. It'd been two hours since they last changed the guard. He checked the other constellations to verify his timing before looking around the camp to check the other nightly shifts; a new guard taking perimeter, the old ones headed to bed, a check on the supply tents to make sure nothing had walked off. He'd seen it all in the shifts before—but then something new caught his eye.

A small errand boy, about his size and height, was making rounds to the officers' tents. It was difficult to see what chore he was about, but judging by the bucket Alfred was willing to bet he was emptying chamber pots. It was an odd thing to do so late at night, but Alfred would not look a gift horse in the mouth. Quietly, he rose to a crouch and picked his way through the undergrowth, quieter than the deer he'd hunted for centuries, and certainly quieter than a redcoat.

-------------------

Two hours later, and the errand boy was trudging his way back to his tent, which was all the way at the fringes of the camp. Expecting a cold and hard if not at least dry bedroll waiting for him, he was caught entirely by surprise when a pair of arms grabbed him from behind, one hand wrapped around his mouth and the other around his neck. Too surprised to scream, the boy began to struggle, but when his assailant dragged backwards, he was forced to scrabble back with him in order to breathe.

There was a heart-pounding tussle and then his back was on the forest floor and there was a knee on his chest and a razor-sharp dagger pressed against his throat. The man—no, boy—above him didn't look quite like a soldier, nor did he look quite like an Indian. He did, however, look very ready to use the knife. After a few heart-pounding moments, his attacker leaned close and loosened the hand over his mouth.

"What is your name?" he asked. His accent was a colonial one.

"H-Henry," he choked out, eyeing the knife.

"Right, Henry, here's what's going to happen. You're going to take off that jacket, the hose, and the shoes, and then you're going to stay right here and be quiet. It's up to you whether you're going to be quiet alive or quiet dead, got it?"

Henry nodded his head frantically, eyes wide.

"Good," the American was young, about Henry's age, but the threat felt far more real than the ones he'd heard from the other boys. He moved back slightly, knife at the ready. "Jacket. Shoes. Now."

In the end, Henry was left gagged and tied quite securely, but the American had at least sat him upright in a soft bit of earth, leaned against a tree—facing away from camp, he realized belatedly.

I'm going to be in so much trouble, he thought, head sagging.

-------------------

Alfred waited for Pisces to signal that they'd reached the tired end of the guards' shift, and then he made his move.

He was not a gifted actor. Even when he was small, Alfred had never been very good at feigning innocence when he knew he was doing something naughty. However, when life and limb were on the line and his heart was beating out of his chest, the world came into focus and suddenly he felt as though he could bluff his way out of hell itself. Therefore, while his head was buzzing madly with adrenaline, it was very easy to cross the British camp, head down and bucket in hand, until he was at the war tent itself. At the main entrance, of course, the guards stopped him.

"It's far past time for chores, boy," said one, lowering the butt of his musket to block his path.

"Please, sir," Alfred was shocked he could still muster an English accent, after all the bizarre changes the sound had undergone recently, "he… I mean, I forgot to service the main tent, and the're be here early in the morning, and it would be so embarrassing if—"

"Who's 'he'?" the other guard interrogated. Alfred took a moment to look sheepish.

"He… Henry, sir. He was meant to look after all the officer's tents tonight but he skipped the main one, and—"

"Well then it's Henry's error to fix, isn't it?"

"Sir please, he's not been sleeping well, after the…" Alfred's brain raced to recall the battle reports he'd overheard in Washington's tent, "after the ambush last week. He's been having horrible nightmares, he's not been thinking right, and… I'm just trying to help him, sir, please. Please." It was a gamble to appeal to his pity, but perhaps this man had his own nightmares, because he sighed, exchanged a look with his compatriot, and moved his musket.

"Be quick, lad," he growled, looking around to see that no other guards were looking.

"Thank you," Alfred sighed out, and darted inside. He could hear the guards immediately begin to bicker over whether or not they should have let Alfred in, but Alfred was too busy to care. He set the bucket aside and went straight for the desk in the center of the tent. Quietly as possible, he opened the drawers and began rifling through the papers inside.

He dug into his breaches and pulled out the folded sheet of parchment they'd afforded him for this job and began to feverishly scribble any scraps of information he thought were important. He'd learned shorthand while working for a bookkeeper some years ago, and it came in handy now as he darted glances from the correspondence and plans on the desk to the flap to the door of the tent. The guards were infantry, and probably had no idea how long it took to 'tidy up' a war tent, which was likely the only reason Alfred hadn't yet been interrupted.

He couldn't find the latest dispatch. They knew it had been delivered, they'd seen the Royal mail handed off to a courier not three days ago. It was the primary reason Washington had sent him here, and he couldn't find it. Stomach sinking, Alfred looked back at the canvas flap that separated the main tent from the General's quarters. Washington usually kept his most important correspondence on or near his person until he was ready to deliver orders to his Generals, Alfred knew. It would only make sense for the Brits to do the same. He gulped. Tucking things into place and carefully removing his shoes, he crept close to the canvas wall. He could faintly hear breathing, low and even in the rhythm of deep sleep. Working quickly, he untied the latch of the door flap toward the General's space and snuck in, retying it loosely in case he needed to make a hasty escape.

The General was a great heap of blankets on the cot and Alfred had no way of knowing where his correspondence would be. Under his pillow? In his hand? He spotted the officer's red coat resting on a valet stand by the closed door, and decided it would be the easiest target. He dug frantically through the pockets, but found nothing but an envelope of tobacco and an empty notebook. There was a great coat folded on the chair next to the valet, though, so he looted that next, His heart leaped when he found a tightly folded envelope, the seal broken but tied shut again with twine and resealed.

The filtered moonlight caught on the shape of the new seal, and Alfred hesitated, bringing it closer for inspection. At the exact same moment he recognized the seal, there was movement behind him.

"What are you doing in here?" a groggy, dangerous, English voice asked him. Alfred was frozen to the spot by the sound, unable to move. Centuries worth of memories were flashing across his mind's eye.

"Boy, I asked you a question," the General repeated, a familiar timbre of anger replacing any sleepiness. "What," he repeated, "are you doing in here?" Alfred could hear the man shifting in bed, hand slipping across a pillow, under it. A metallic click. He shoved the envelope in his waistband, whirled around, and launched himself on top of the man's legs before he could think better of it.

He caught Arthur Kirkland's wrist with one hand before the pistol could level with his head. In the silent beat that followed, he met eyes with his estranged guardian, who within seconds looked just as shocked as he felt. It was mere milliseconds before the shock turned to unbridled rage.

"You," Arthur snarled, leaning forward and bringing up his free hand to grab at Alfred. Panicking, Alfred dug his thumb into the soft inside of Arthur's wrist, forcing his fingers to go lax and drop the pistol. Alfred scrambled to keep Arthur's free hand from catching it as it fell, and the General cursed as he missed the grip by centimeters. Using Alfred's strong grip against him, Arthur yanked the boy towards him and headbutted him in the nose. A terrible crack echoed across Alfred's skull and he cried out, involuntary tears springing from nothing.

"You ungrateful, ill-bred brat," Arthur growled, trying unsuccessfully to buck Alfred's weight off of him. Blinded by the dim light and his injury, Alfred could see Arthur's face as an amalgamation of two centuries worth of anger and disappointment. One-handed, Arthur scrambled for the musket leaned against the tentpole while Alfred remained dazed. "I should've had you shackled while I had the chance, you rebellious, insolent, devil's excuse of a child—you want to be your own country? I won't spare the rod any longer."

Blood flowing down his face and desperate to survive the next few seconds, Alfred leaned forward, using his leverage over Arthur to push the man back into the cot, but Alfred was still much smaller than Arthur. The General's fingertips brushed the musket and allowed it to fall across Arthur's waist. But the gun was long and the two men were scrambling against each other, each trying to incapacitate the other before he found the trigger. Arthur yanked Alfred toward him once more, forcing the colony to use his free hand to brace against the cot to avoid losing purchase over Arthur's legs. Arthur used the opportunity to reach for the boy's throat, but as Alfred tugged away, the hand landed on the front of his jaw, which he grabbed hard, digging nails into the soft flesh near his mouth.

Though stunned by the sudden assault, Alfred felt a finger land on his lips, so he opened his mouth and bit down as hard as he could. Arthur screamed, and Alfred dimly realized he'd actually bitten off a fingertip. He spat it out and gagged, overcome with disgust, but his hesitation had allowed Arthur to at last wrest his right hand from Arthur's grasp and scrabble two-handed against the slip of his own blood with his musket.

"Sir," the guards outside the tent must've heard the general scream, "sir, is everything alright?"

Alfred was struggling to keep Arthur's hand from reaching the trigger, but the tears in his eyes and the blood all over Arthur's hand was making it difficult. He only realized Arthur's other hand had detached the bayonet from the muzzle when Arthur let go of the gun entirely, allowing Alfred's free weight to come crashing into the blade, piercing him through the side with blinding force.

"That ought to teach you a fucking lesson," Arthur spat in his ear. Looking down between them, Alfred was so shocked by the sight of metal protruding from his own body, he didn't realize that Arthur had recovered his pistol from the ground until he could very nearly see straight down the barrel.

"Sir? Sir!" Alfred heard the flap to the tent open, and knew that the shock of the bloody scene before them would only make them hesitate for a moment.

Acutely aware that there were two more bayonets behind him who'd be right at home alongside the one in his belly, Alfred grabbed the muzzle of the pistol in his fist and forced it back across Arthur's wrist so the man had to let go before it broke bones. He'd only meant to get the gun out of Arthur's hand, but in his panic Alfred had pushed so hard and so fast that Arthur's hand had no time to slip away. The older man grunted in pain against cracking bones right as Alfred's fist slammed the muzzle of the gun down onto his chest.

In the span of a single second, there was a click, a flash, a resounding boom that rattled his teeth, and Alfred screamed and lurched back, eyes and hand burned by the heat of the gun and spraying powder.

Deafened by the shot, Alfred opened his eyes to the moonlit scene of Arthur Kirkland, his guardian, his teacher, his family, his enemy, staring dead-eyed and open-mouthed at the sky with a chest singed by gunpowder and pouring blood, mangled hand dangling listlessly off his cot. Terrified at the body and at himself, Alfred scrambled backwards across the floor and knocked into a tentpole. His impaled side jostled and he screamed.

"—Up! Hands up!" One of the soldiers was saying, a musket aimed at his head while the other hoisted him up to standing. Looking down at his side and back at Arthur's dead body, Alfred realized he was going to die, and he should not—no, he absolutely could not resurrect inside a British camp where Arthur would be waking up, too. In a burst of inexplicable strength and extreme stupidity, Alfred reached up and grabbed his captor's arm, pulling him forward over Alfred's shoulder, so when the second guard fired his shot, he shot his comrade instead. Alfred climbed over the moaning body and knocked the stunned gunman to the ground, and he ran.

He ran and ran, and heard shouting, horses. Barefoot, twigs and rocks sliced at the soles of his feet, but it was nothing compared to the bonfire in his side, so he ignored it and kept running. He knew better than to remove a blade lodged so deep, so he continued on with the bayonet still stuck in his liver, kept upright and moving only by the fear of what Arthur would do to him if he allowed himself to die and fall into British hands. Though he tried to stay quiet, he groaned and cried out as he moved. Eventually, he found a cave to collapse into until the British had moved on. He was shaking and seeing spots by the time he could move.

Astounded he was not dead and still terrified by the memory of Arthur's dead face, Alfred picked his way across the secret trails Washington had advised him to use. Impaled, bloody, and mad with pain, he trudged on. He was beginning to see the ghosts and spirits that he could only ever see when he had one foot in the grave and the other falling in, and somehow all of them looked like Arthur. He tried to walk faster, but the world was moving slowly around him.

After what could have been centuries, Alfred looked up and saw two of Washington's scouts. He recognized them. I'm safe, he realized, the dispatch is safe. It took a moment, but the scouts recognized him, and both dropped their weapons and bolted to his side, screaming words at him. Surprised by the fact that he couldn't hear anything but his own wet breathing, Alfred's eyes remained on them even as he allowed himself to finally—finally—crumble to the forest floor.

Hands were touching him and they felt extremely cold, the entire world was extremely cold. Alfred snaked a hand down to the waist of his breeches, digging in the secret pocket sewn on the inside of the hip, and tugged out the envelope as well as his notes. There was blood on them; he hoped they'd still be legible. Unable to lift his hand, he dragged them out on the ground until one of the men saw the motion and the letters.

"Wash'ton," he said, and though deaf, knew he hadn't said it clearly. "F'r Gen'r'l Wash'ton," he slurred, and decided that was good enough. The ghost of a patriot long-since dead peered down at Alfred as his living friends frantically assessed his injuries. Usually scared of ghosts, Alfred thought he recognized the fellow from years past, back in Boston. He'd been a good man.

"Oh," he said, at least to himself. He wasn't sure his mouth was moving anymore. "Good to see you."

-------------------

He woke up the next day, and gave the chaplain the fright of his life when the subject of his last rites rolled out from beneath the white sheet coughing, vomiting, and gasping for air.

Stripped nude and still grimy, Alfred grabbed the sheet and curled into it, feeling scared, shaky, and slightly offended they'd not bothered to fully clean his body before burial. It was only moments before the fainted chaplain came to. After wordlessly verifying that Alfred was, in fact, alive, he bolted from the scene, screaming for a medic and a lieutenant. Why a lieutenant was necessary, Alfred did not know, but the chaplain surely thought he was some kind of demon. He curled in on himself and winced harder. His people had always ended up at 'demon' or 'witch' whenever he'd had the misfortune of resurrecting where they could see. The 'witch' option hadn't been in vogue for some time, so he tried to imagine how the Continental Army would respond to news of an actual demon in their midst. Not everyone here was that sort of religious, but regardless, it wouldn't be a warm welcome. He struggled to remember exactly where they were camped. It would be days before he could get to a place where he'd be safe.

The medics came and examined him head to toe, shocked to see his wounds closed up and his eyes clear. Though he was in an obvious amount of pain, he didn't know how to explain that it was because his stomach was remembering how to make acid again, and his entrails ached from regenerating overnight. He was bathed and clothed and put into the infirmary, in a small curtained-off portion of the tent that only added to his 'demon' theory. He was fighting off tears over the whole predicament when a tall figure ducked into the tent.

It was Washington. Alfred's heart sank down through the bedrock of the Earth.

"G-general, I'm so ssss-sorry," he said, muscle memory still jittery and sluggish as his tongue recalled how to form words. "I'm not—the letter, did you get th-the letter? I'm—listen, I d-d-don't know what they told you, I s-sw-swear to you it's not my fault, I didn't do anything, I, I'm, I'm not, please understand, I should've told you before," Washington said nothing as he closed the curtain behind him and then lowered himself to the floor, so he could sit almost eye-level with Alfred in the cot. Wide eyed and feverish, Alfred watched him. "I swear," he said again in a whisper, "I swear I'm not a demon." Washington suddenly let out a surprised, breathy laugh, and Alfred's fear cut short.

"Peace, son, I don't think you're a demon," Washington said in his baritone, soft-spoken way. "how are you feeling?" Alfred stared at him, stunned. Survival instinct warred with a new and unfamiliar hope that maybe, just maybe, this human would understand. Alfred swallowed thickly.

"Like I got sliced up, died, and came back just before I was put in the ground," he said, and it clearly took Washington off guard. However, while the General looked away and blinked his eyes rapidly in surprise, the hint of a smile—a rare expression for him—hid at the corner of his mouth. At length, the General took a thoughtful breath and spoke:

"When I was a young man, just at the start of my military career, about to be sent to the French frontier, I happened to meet a man. A General, actually. He'd come all the way from Britain to oversee the training of the royal troops. There was a skirmish, an ambush not a week after he'd arrived, and he was shot in the head. I saw him fall. When he came with no more than a bandage, we were told that what we'd seen was a trick of the light, and he'd only been grazed by the shot, knocked unconscious. But I saw it all quite clearly." The General was speaking with an even, serious tone, jarringly calm given the circumstances. He looked up to meet Alfred's eyes. "So you can understand my surprise when he was out of bed two days later."

"Arthur," Alfred heard himself whisper.

"Is that his given name?" Washington raised his brows. He looked down at something in his hands. "He was an enigmatic person. I only ever knew him as General Kirkland," he held up the envelope Alfred had stolen from Arthur's coat—the Kirkland seal now broken open—and actually smiled when Alfred's eyes went wide. "Have you ever met a Mr. Benjamin Franklin, Alfred?" Washington asked. Alfred blinked, taken off guard.

"Yes," he said. He'd actually worked in Mr. Franklin's print shop for several months while he found his footing in Philadelphia. He was an eccentric man, but had always seemed interested in Alfred. "Why?

"He's been in France for some time now, and has been writing to me about his diplomatic efforts there. He's related some rather unbelievable stories about the sorts of people he's meeting in Europe, and had some particularly remarkable things to say about a Monsieur François Bonnefoy." Alfred was not sure how his eyes could get any wider, but they did, and Washington looked vindicated to see the recognition.

"O-oh?" Alfred squeaked.

"To be candid, Mr. Franklin's description of the man and, indeed, of others like him has illuminated some rather colorful tales my grandfather used to tell me when I was very young. And thankfully, he's also given me the language to convince our poor dear Chaplain that you are not, as you say, a demon. However," The General leaned toward Alfred slightly, and though the boy very much wanted to lean away, he didn't dare.

"It seems a silly thing that I should learn the names of England and of France before I learn the name of my very own land. So what should I call you, Alfred?"

Alfred was rooted to the spot, and though his tongue felt like cotton in his mouth, he swallowed around the feeling. He'd been called so many things over the years, United Colonies had stuck to him like tar for decades now. That was a name Arthur's people had given him. Arthur, who'd broken his nose and skewered him on a bayonet. His new name was one he'd never used out loud before, one he didn't know how it was going to sound.

"My friends," he said after a while, "my friends call me United States." Oh, and how that felt hot and sparkling in his mouth, like young cider. He coughed around the feeling. "Or so I'm told," he added. "You'd be the first to do so."

Washington rarely smiled, but he did then. "I can think of no greater honor," he offered his hand. "I'm pleased to be a friend to you, United States. Now, do try to find the strength to stand. You and I," he waved the stolen letter as he stood, a towering figure in the small tent, "have a great deal of work ahead of us."

Alfred looked up at him past his still-crooked nose. His guts felt like soup and his feet were on fire, and every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Arthur's dead face. You want to be your own country? It was the sort of anger that would've made Alfred cry, back when he was small. Even now, he was sure the memory would haunt him for some time yet. Still, he couldn't get out of his head how Arthur had seemed so much smaller than he remembered. I won't spare the rod any longer.

Neither, Alfred decided, will I.

"Yes, sir," he told Washington, dragging his legs out from under the blankets, pain beaten back by the crackling sound of his own name left ringing in his ears. "I look forward to it."

[mariacallous]

IVALO, FINLAND—Only 20 miles of forest separate the Lapland Border Guard base in the Finnish town of Ivalo from Russia. From here, well above the Arctic Circle, the Border Guards monitor the activities of their not-so-friendly neighbor. And now, after Finland joined NATO in April last year and Helsinki and Washington decided to further strengthen their cooperation by signing a defense cooperation agreement in mid-December, the United States is officially authorized to position troops and equipment at the base.

The United States has similar agreements facilitating military collaboration with the other NATO members bordering mainland Russia: Norway, Estonia, and Latvia. These agreements also specify which of the hosting country’s bases can be used by U.S. forces. After Finland and the United States signed the agreement, Ivalo became the closest base to mainland Russia immediately accessible to U.S. troops.

“It is premature to assess what will possibly be invested in Ivalo, and the criteria are not public,” says Ville Ahtiainen, the deputy commander of the Lapland Border Guard, “but the overall result will be good, and it will deepen the cooperation between our countries.”

NATO’s new 830-mile-long border in Finland draws the alliance’s attention much more to the north, says Kristine Berzina, the managing director of the Geostrategy North program at the German Marshall Fund think tank. The area, she says, has “not received much consideration in the past, especially from a land forces domain.”

This despite Russia’s powerful forces nearby, which include its crown jewels: the Northern Fleet and its nuclear submarines, held in and around the Russian port of Murmansk. The strategic harbor is so close that road signs point to it in Ivalo’s icy streets.

While Finland is counterbalancing Moscow’s superiority in the high north, the enhanced military presence comes with a trade-off. As Berzina notes, the new border also “increases exposure to Russian threats.” After the signing of the December agreement, Moscow declared that it “would take the necessary measures to counter the aggressive decisions of Finland and its NATO allies,” and it has many tools at its disposal. Whether it is weaponized migration, covert operations against infrastructure, or airspace violations, these hybrid attacks are now not only Finland’s problems, but also NATO’s.

In joining NATO, Finland abandoned the policy of military neutrality it had maintained since shortly after World War II. Despite being a NATO partner since 1994, the Nordic country had never been able to count on the protection of allies. Consequently, for decades it took care of its own defense, developing impressive military capabilities and a society trained to fight. According to military experts and security officials, Finland’s presence in NATO brings to the club a sort of Arctic Sparta, a highly trained force that will move the alliance’s center of gravity to the north. (The missing brick in the anti-Russian northern wall is Sweden, which is expected to join the alliance soon, once Hungary gives the green light.)

“Our biggest asset is the concept of total defense that we have developed in all these years,” says Ville Sipilainen, a special advisor to the Finnish defense minister, who closely followed the cooperation agreement’s negotiations. “As a small country, we had to use the entire society for defense. We have very developed infantry, artillery, and of course, the expertise in Arctic warfare.”

On Feb. 11, Finland will go to the polls to elect its new president. The two candidates, Alexander Stubb and Pekka Haavisto, share a decisive anti-Russian position, and no major changes in foreign policy are expected after the vote.

In Ivalo, dozens of young conscripts (usually between 19 and 21) have just arrived and shaved their heads to start military service. They can be seen marching around the base and learning the basic concepts of discipline in the first days. Finland is one of the few EU countries where military service is mandatory, and with 285,000 soldiers ready to be armed, it has one of the largest wartime infantries in NATO. (Around 900,000 people out of a total population of 5.5 million have had military training.)

The Border Guard in Ivalo trains the conscripts especially in reconnaissance along the frontier, where the atmosphere has recently been tense. Last fall, about 1,300 asylum-seekers from countries such as Somalia, Syria, Yemen, Kenya, Morocco, and Pakistan started showing up at Finland’s border crossing points, including the one close to Ivalo. Helsinki has accused Moscow of transporting the migrants to the border and pushing them to seek refuge on the other side, posing “a serious threat to Finland’s national security and public order.” At the end of November, the government closed the entire border, which will remain shut at least until April 14. Also last year, Helsinki started building a 124-mile fence along its eastern frontier.

Weaponized migration is not the only hybrid attack Moscow has been accused of recently. In October, a pipeline connecting Finland and Estonia was severely damaged by what Finnish investigators think was the anchor of a Chinese cargo ship. Rumors of Russian involvement have inflamed the debate in the media since. In the last weeks, GPS disturbances have also affected Finland and the Baltic region, and many Finns suspect that Russia is the source.

During the migrant crisis, the Border Guard received the support of one of, if not the, most skilled Arctic formations in the world: the Finnish Jaeger Brigade. Located in Sodankyla, 100 miles south of Ivalo, it owes its name to a unit of Finnish nationalists created in Germany during World War I, when the grand duchy of Finland was still part of the Russian Empire. For Finland’s NATO allies, the Jaegers and the winter combat course that they organize have become the go-to guys when it comes to Arctic warfare, and Western countries—including the United States—have been sending their troops there to train for years. Since Finland’s accession to NATO, those requests have increased.

The Arctic section leader of the brigade, Maj. Mikael Aikio, 39, has been an instructor at the winter combat course since it was created 10 years ago. Originally from the region, he is a quarter Sámi—an Indigenous people of northern Norway, Sweden, Finland, and northwestern Russia. He recently helped design the country-cross skis used by the Finnish Army. This year, he’s teaching 14 Finns and 15 foreign soldiers from the United States, United Kingdom, Estonia, France, and Belgium. “One of the strengths of the Finnish army is that there is a lot of initiative even at low levels,” he says in his office in the Arctic section of the base. “Squads and platoons can make decisions themselves and do things independently. That’s the culture.”

But to make good decisions autonomously, you need skills. While preparing for a day with his students, he puts some newspaper in his boots to absorb moisture. “The devil is in the details,” Aikio says while remembering a training day spent with temperatures that reached 38 degrees Fahrenheit (39 Celsius) below zero.

The brigade’s barracks are scattered across the snow-covered spruce of the Finnish taiga. In mid-January, daylight is less than three hours, but the 29 winter combat course trainees can take advantage of the high latitudes’ long twilights. One of them, Staff Sgt. Cameron Daniels, 29, arrived in Sodankyla at the beginning of January from Fort Drum, New York, where he serves in the 10th Mountain Division. The Finns equipped him with many layers beneath a surprisingly light jacket, three different kinds of gloves, and rubber boots made by a Nokia spinoff company, with a means to attach the skis. “They have excellent gear and great skills I’ll bring back home,” Daniels says, packing his bag. “Their camouflage is great.”

Daniels’s division was founded during World War II, after the U.S. Army observed, impressed, the Finnish feats against the Soviet Union. After signing the nonaggression pact with Germany in 1939, the Soviet Union had launched an offensive against Finland to increase the buffer territory around Leningrad in case of a future attack from Berlin. Then, as in today’s Ukraine, Moscow justified the invasion of the old imperial province by pretending to come to the aid of a minority in Finnish territory. Then, as today, the operation didn’t go as expected. The Red Army suffered huge losses against the Finnish troops, which were much more prepared to fight in the harsh winter conditions. The Finns were particularly effective in small units, and they had some good snipers in their ranks. The most famous of them, Simo Hayha, earned the nickname “White Death” after at least 505 confirmed kills, making him widely considered to be the deadliest marksman ever.

“After the collapse of the Soviet Union, there were hopes that Russia would move closer to Europe,” says Henrik Meinander, a history professor at the University of Helsinki. “Moreover, Finland joined the EU in 1995, and it was expected that a common European defense would be created. Nobody felt the urgency of a NATO membership.” A few steps from the campus, the statue of Tsar Alexander II dominates the capital’s main square. But Russian tourists, the most numerous in Finland before the Ukraine invasion, have almost disappeared. “If Russia had not attacked Ukraine, Finland would not have joined NATO,” Meinander says.

Finland doesn’t just bring massive infantry and ski troops to the table. The country boasts a stronger artillery than any in Western Europe, with about 1,500 weapons and substantial heavy ammunition production. In December, the Defense Ministry announced that it would more than double production to build up its own capabilities as well as to keep supplying Ukraine’s forces. Helsinki recently bought the David’s Sling high-altitude air defense system from Israel and 64 F-35s from the United States. The F-35s purchase brought the country’s expenditure on defense in 2023 above 2 percent of GDP, which is the theoretical minimum required for NATO countries but followed by only a third of the members.

Unlike Estonia or Latvia, Finland will be able to take care of its airspace by itself without the support of NATO allies. According to Sipilainen, the Ministry of Defense advisor, airspace violations from Russia were quite common before Finland joined NATO, but there have been none since then: “Clearly, there is respect for NATO airspace.”

On the other side of the border, Finland’s old enemy is struggling to maintain a solid conventional ground force. The Russian counterparts of the Jaeger Brigade, the 80th Motorized Rifle Brigade and the 200th Motorized Rifle Brigade, have suffered hefty casualties in Ukraine.

“There is not much left,” says Col. Kimmo Kinnunen, the commander of the Jaeger Brigade. “But they have a lot of other capabilities,” pointing to air and naval forces as well as the nuclear submarines based near Murmansk.

In Ivalo, the passage to Murmansk is now closed. Along the border, the situation is quiet, but the Border Guard are tight-lipped about the confrontation with Russia. “We don’t know what will happen, but I hope it will be back to normal,” says a conscript. His superior is in the room, and they exchange glances to be sure he is using appropriate words.

Cpl. Topi Kinnunen, in his early 20s, has just finished his first mandatory six months of service and has now decided to start another six months to train and lead the newcomers. “I chose to come here because it is a tough place, but rewarding,” he says while the recruits come to grips with the Finnish-made RK 62 rifles, designed on the model of the Soviet Kalashnikovs.

Over the past decades, Finland has produced enough to arm its entire reserve. Soon, the armory in Ivalo could also open its doors to weapons from the Pentagon.

[nordleuchten]

24 Days of La Fayette: December 10th - George Augustine Washington

Todays Aide-de-camp is the nephew of George Washington – and one of his favourite nephews as well. George Augustine was born around 1759 to George Washington’s youngest brother Charles Washington and his wife Mildred Thornton Washington.

While not much about the early years of George Augustine is known, his service in the American War of Independence is very well documented.

He joined the army in 1777 and was initially offered a junior officer’s commission in William Grayson’s Additional Continental Regiment. George Augustine declined in favour of an equal position in the prestigious corps of light horse. In 1778 he was made a coronet in the partisan legion under the command of Major Henry Lee. During this period of his life, young Washington’s health began to seriously suffer for the first time – in the course of the coming years he sometimes enjoyed better, sometimes worse health, but he would never again fully recover, and he died at a young age. By the end of 1778 he was forced to resign his post due to this illness. In the summer of 1779, he was well enough to serve as a volunteer aide-de-camp to General George Washington. On February 16, 1780, he was on duty with the Commander-in-Chief’s Guard. By mid-1780, La Fayette had been given command of a light infantry division and George Augustine Washington joined the Marquis’ staff as an Aide-de-camp.

George Washington Augustine is only seldomly mentioned in La Fayette’s letters, but it can nevertheless be judged, that the two of them had a close relationship and that La Fayette trusted Washington with important tasks. It also appears that Washington got quite well along with the other officers in La Fayette’s staff and the other (foreign) officers.

La Fayette wrote to the Vicomte de Noailles on September 2, 1780:

MM. Washington and Gimat send you a thousand compliments, and I embrace you.

Vol. 3, 156-159

Although his illness, today believed to be tuberculosis, again flared up during this time, he was very active during the Siege and following Battle of Yorktown. Upon La Fayette’s second return to France in 1781, George Augustine returned to the staff of his uncle before resigning once and for all in the spring of 1782 due to his deteriorating health. George Augustine spend much of the following three years travelling to the southern parts of the United States as well as abroad to Bermuda and Barbados in search of a cure for his ailments. In May of 1785, he had returned to his native Virginia and promptly proposed to Frances “Fanny” Bassett. The pair was married on October 15, 1785 and initially moved in with George and Martha Washington. In 1786, George Augustine and Fanny were gifted more than 200 acres of land from George Washington to start their own family there.

Charles Washington, son of Augustine & Mary, married Mildred Thornton, daughter of Colonel Francis Thornton of Spotsylvania County, by whom he has four Children, George Augustine, Frances, Mildred & Samuel. George Augustine married Frances Basset, daughter of Colo. Burwell Basset of New Kent by whom he has had four Children, three of whom are living—viz.—Anna Maria, George Fayette, & Charles Augustine. Frances, married Colo. Burgess Ball by whom she has had several children. Mildred and Samuel are unmarried.

“Enclosure: Washington Genealogy, 2 May 1792,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 10, 1 March 1792 – 15 August 1792, ed. Robert F. Haggard and Mark A. Mastromarino. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2002, pp. 334–338.] (09/30/2022)

By autumn of 1785, George Augustine had begun managing his uncle’s estate Mount Vernon. He was taught the ropes by Washington himself and in later years, when Washington’s call to public service led to longer absences, undertook more and more responsibility. George Augustine was a military man, accustomed to duty and discipline – sentiments that leaked into his managing-style and were often remarked upon. Here is a sample of George Augustine's handwriting from his plantation records (work and weather report) from October 27, 1792:

George Washington Papers, Series 4, General Correspondence: George Augustine Washington, Plantation Records: Work and Weather Report. 1792. Manuscript/Mixed Material. Retrieved from the Library of Congress. (10/19/2022)

George Augustine missed La Fayette’s return to the United States in 1784 and subsequent visit to Mount Vernon by a few days but wrote to his uncle on August 14, 1784:

(…) should my worthy friend the Marquis be with You I beg to be rememberd to him in the most friendly terms. I should have wrote Him but apprehending from a peeice of information I recieved from a person immediately from Philadelphia, that He had not accomplished His visit, He mentiond that accounts had been recieved of His having saild but from a desaster that befel the Vessel He was obliged to return (…)

“To George Washington from George Augustine Washington, 14 August 1784,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Confederation Series, vol. 2, 18 July 1784 – 18 May 1785, ed. W. W. Abbot. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1992, pp. 39–41.] (09/30/2022)

His health had been long suffering. His bodily state became so worrisome, that George Washington felt prompted to write the following lines to Tobias Lear on September 21, 1792:

Poor George! He is, I believe not far from that place, from whence no traveller returns. He is but the shadow of what he was; he has not been out of his room & scarcely from his bed these six weeks. At times he has intervals of ease which flatter a little, but I have little hope of his surviving the Winter.

“From George Washington to Tobias Lear, 21 September 1792,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 11, 16 August 1792 – 15 January 1793, ed. Christine Sternberg Patrick. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2002, pp. 133–135.] (09/30/2022)

George Washington also wrote to the Marquis de La Fayette on June 10, 1792:

I am afraid my Nephew George, your old aid, will never have his health perfectly re-established, he has lately been attacked with the alarming symptom of spitting large quantities of blood, and the Physicians give no hopes of a restoration unless it can be effected by a change of air, and a total dereliction of business (to which he is too anxiously attentive he will, if he should be taken from his family & friends, leave three fine child:—viz.—two Sons & a daughter—the eldest of the boys he has given the name of Fayette to and a fine looking child he is).

“From George Washington to Lafayette, 10 June 1792,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 10, 1 March 1792 – 15 August 1792, ed. Robert F. Haggard and Mark A. Mastromarino. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2002, pp. 446–448.] (09/30/2022)

There have actually been two children named Fayette. Two boys were named George Fayette Washington, but the older son only lived for a few short weeks. The younger son, born on January 17, 1790, died on August 6, 1867.

George Augustine Washington himself died on February 3, 1783. His death hit George Washington hard. He wrote to David Humphreys on March 23, 1783:

(…) and the death of my Nephew, the poor Major, will, I apprehend, cause my private concerns to suffer very much. This melancholly event took place on the 5th of last month at Colo. Bassett’s, where he had gone hoping to benefit from a change of air & situation—Altho’ it had been long expected—and indeed, to me, of late, appeard inevitable; yet I have felt it very keenly.

“From George Washington to David Humphreys, 23 March 1793,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 12, 16 January 1793 – 31 May 1793, ed. Christine Sternberg Patrick and John C. Pinheiro. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2005, pp. 362–364.] (09/30/2022)

On April 9, 1783, George Washington wrote to Bryan Fairfax about his nephew’s funeral service:

At One ’oclock afternoon on Thursday next, I mean to pay the last respect to my deceased Nephew—by having the funeral obsequies performed.

If you will do me the favor to officiate on the occasion, it will be grateful to myself, & pleasing to other friends of the deceased. No Sermon is intended, and but few friends will be present; for these dinner will be ready at half after two Oclk, at which I should be happy & shall expect to see you.

“From George Washington to Bryan Fairfax, 9 April 1793,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 12, 16 January 1793 – 31 May 1793, ed. Christine Sternberg Patrick and John C. Pinheiro. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2005, p. 442.] (09/30/2022)

The service was performed on April 11, 1793.

La Fayette had been caught up in the French Revolution at the time of George Augustine’s death and only much later learned of the young man’s death. He wrote to George Washington after his release from prison on May 9, 1799:

George had on his return from America acquainted me with the melancholy news that my Dear aid de Camp, your worthy nephew was no more—I heartily feel the affectionate attention he had to call after me his eldest Boy—my tenderest wishes shall ever attend what remains of that excellent Man.

“To George Washington from Lafayette, 9 May 1799,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Retirement Series, vol. 4, 20 April 1799 – 13 December 1799, ed. W. W. Abbot. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1999, pp. 54–59.] (09/30/2022)

George Augustine’s widow went on to marry Tobias Lear, George Washington’s private secretary, in 1795 before dying herself of tuberculosis in 1796.

[dearestcorrespondence]

Nicholas Fish to Elizabeth Hamilton, [March 22, 1822]

22 March, 1822 Dear Madam, The circumstances which I had the honor of communicating to you some time since in conversation, relative to the introduction of French troops into this country during our revolutionary war, I fully intended long since to have stated to you in writing, but the disordered and painful state of one of my eyes, which for several months, occasioned by confinement to a dark room, has till now prevent me from doing. You will perceive Madam in the statement which I now have the honor to transmit on that Subject, that I have introduced some particulars, which though not immediately connected with the principal fact, will tend to show the existence of a long established friendship and intimacy between General Hamilton and myself and the relative situation in which we were placed, and thereby be explanation of confidential communications made to me by him. In the campaign of 1781 Genl. Hamilton, after he had retired from the family of Genl. Washington, was appointed by him to the command of a select corps of Infantry, of which had the honor of being next in command, this Corps was composed of the light companies of the New-York line, and two light companies of the Connecticut line, and thus organized marched with the main army from the banks of the Hudson River to Virginia, where the Marquis La Fayette was then in command, with a body of light troops, previously detached from the army—On General Washington's arrival in Virginia with the combined army, (American & French) La Fayette, with his troops joined the army, & Hamilton's Corps was annexed to the Marquis' command—the French fleet under the command of Count de Grasse having arrived in the Chesapeak to co-operate with the combined army, the siege of York-town commenced; during which, and throughout the whole of that Campaign, I had the happiness and good fortune of being the mess mate of Genl. Hamilton, and of occupying with him the same tent—this added to our previous intimacy and uninterrupted friendship from the year 1775, when he was a student of King's College, and where with a few others we had formed a weekly club, for improving ourselves in debating & public speaking, naturally led occasionally to confidential and unreserved conversations; in one of these, the General speaking of the Marquis La Fayette, said, The United States are under infinite obligations to him beyond what is known, not only for his valor & good conduct as Major Genl. In our army, but for his good offices & influences in our behalf with the court of France—the French army now here, co-operating with us, would not have been in this Country, but through his means, he then said, that for some considerable time previous to the arrival of the French army under Count Rochambeau; he Genl. Hamilton had conceived the idea, and had weighed in his own mind the propriety of such a measure, and having satisfied himself on that subject, he had suggested the idea to the Marquis La Fayette, expressing to him at the same time, not only the powerful effect that would be produced in our army, and the Country generally, by the introduction of a small military force from France, to cooperate with us, but the increased effect that would result, should the Marquis himself be appointed to the chief command—This project met a welcome reception, and after some remarks, as to the details of the plan, the Marquis with all the zeal and promptitude which characterized him, addressed the French Government, and their Ambassador here, on the subject, urging the advantages which would result to both nations, from having a French military force in this Country; this proposition was immediately patronized and inforced by the family & connections of the Marquis, who were then in power and great influence in France, and accordingly adopted by that Government.

An army under County Rochambeau was sent to this Country: a fleet under County de Grasse, was also sent, and the capture of Lord Cornwallis' army which terminated the war, and sealed our Independence, was the consequence—As the idea of introducing into this country, a small auxiliary army from France, first presented itself to the mind of Genl. Hamilton, as avowed by him to me, and possibly not communicated by him to any other friend, I deem it a duty incumbent on me, and a tribute due to his memory, that the knowledge of that fact should not be lost, but be preserved and recorded as an additional evidence of his brilliancy of imagination and preeminent services to his Country. When the siege of York town had commenced, our first parallel line was thrown up, it became evident, that the two Redoubts which Lord Cornwallis had constructed in front of the town, would prolong the siege, until they could be allowed by our cannon, or taken by storm; the former of these methods would probably have been preferred and preserved in with confidence of ultimate success, had not the French Admiral announced his wish to return with his fleet to the West Indies, intimating that circumstances would compel him to depart in a few days—thus circumstanced Genl. Washington and induced to change his plan of regular approaches, for the more expeditious one of storming those works-to this end an arrangement was made that one Redoubt should be attacked by a column of American light Infantry, and the other by a column of French Grenadiers. The command of the American Infantry consisting of two Battalions one commanded by Col. Gemat, the other by myself—was given to Genl. Hamilton, and a signal from our grand battery answered by a correspondent signal from the French battery, put the two columns of attack immediately in motion. The American Infantry animated by the address and example of their leader, marched to the attack, with Muskets unloaded and Bayonets fixed relying on their Bayonets alone for success; they soon arrived at the counterscarp, under a heavy and constant fire from the redoubt, which they bravely sustained, and surmounting all difficulties and impediments of abattis, ditch and palisade mounted the parapet and took possession of the work together with those who had defended it, and Major Campbell the commanding Officer; all this was effected agreeably to previous arrangement made by Genl. Hamilton; and his troops regularly formed within the Redoubt and order completely restored, while the other column, whose mode of attack was different, were yet engaged in the conflict.

I have the honor to be With great respect Dear Madam Your friend & humble servant

Nichs. Fish

[macaron-n-cheese]

I recently finished writing an essay about James Rivington in the Culper Ring for the Daughters of The American Revolution essay contest! Hopefully they like my essay! I can post updates on how far it gets in the competition. I won't be publishing it since it is an official national academic contest.

Rivington is SO underrated. TURN may have entirely skipped on the past about him being a spy or his legitimate friendship with Robert Townsend but from what I've read his personality is spot on. He's so silly I love him!

I appreciate it even more that there's evidence of he and Washington having a little secret alliance. I just imagine them talking

Rivington: Haha remember that time I told everyone you died? Washington: *sob* Everyone was mailing me letters for weeks after asking if I was ok!

I wish there was even more evidence on Rivington! All of his publishings are so spread out across tons of libraries and universities that I can't read them!

Fun fact: RIVINGTON PUBLISHED "THE BRITISH LIGHT INFANTRY" SONG!!!! THANK YOU SIR, I LOVE IT!!!!

[nationsandcannons]

Breechloaders: advanced Black Powder firearms for Scouts and Skirmishers

Ferguson wrote that he and three of his Sharp Shooters were scouting the American lines near Chadd's Ford, along Brandywine Creek (hence the name of the ensuing battle). He and his men heard the approach of two horsemen. The first was a brilliantly clad Hussar and the second rider, a few paces behind, was wearing the traditional blue and buff uniform of an American Senior Officer, mounted on a bay horse and wearing "a remarkably large cocked hat". He also noted that the Officer was of "exceptional distinction". It is obvious that if Ferguson had indeed recognized General Washington he would have said so, and not take the time to describe him as he did. It is important to note that in the 18th century, there were few likenesses published, so Ferguson would have had to have met or at least seen Washington to have recognized him.

Ferguson continued: His first thought was to cut the two riders down where they sat, so he ordered his men "to steal near to them and fire at them". He then changed his mind and signaled his men to hold their fire. He thought his first impulse was "disgusting". He then stepped from his place of concealment and ordered the Hussar, the closest of the two, to step down from his mount. The hussar shouted an alarm. Washington whirled his horse, Nelson, around and galloped off. Ferguson wrote "As I was with the distance, at which in the quickest firing, I could have lodged a half dozen balls in or about him before he was out of my reach, I had only to determine, but it was not pleasant to fire at the back of an unoffending individual who was acquitting himself coolly of his duty, and so I let him alone."

Source: AmericanRevolution.org

Breech-loading firearms like the visionary Ferguson rifle changed the battlefield forever, allowing a small force of soldiers to punch far above its weight. For this reason they were first adopted by light infantry, or advance scouts and skirmishers that are a perfect fit for a typical adventuring party.

Because breechloaders can be reloaded once per turn as a bonus action, they typically deal less damage than single-shot flintlock firearms but provide a more consistent damage output. At higher tiers of play, they pair well with a variety of sidearms for a character with Extra Attack. Simple proficiency breechloaders act as a great primary weapon for classes like Rogues and Artificers.

GMBinder Link: Breechloaders

[usafphantom2]

Russian invasion of Ukraine shows 'airpower value', says head of USAF

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 09/18/2022 - 16:00in Military, War Zones

Air superiority, or airspace control, sustained all modern U.S. conflicts. In addition, the U.S. has carried out some important operations in recent decades, such as NATO intervention in Kosovo and the campaign against ISIS, mainly by air. But the Russian invasion of Ukraine became a time of war back to the future and forced military aviation to face a reckoning of accounts.

The Russian Air Force, the second largest in the world, was unable to control the skies in its invasion of Ukraine, held by Ukrainian military personnel who skillfully unfolded their air defenses, such as the use of S-300 mobile systems and portable Stinger missiles to capture aircraft flying low trying to escape the radar. As the battle moved to the vast extension of eastern and southern Ukraine, it became a war of artillery and infantry.

In this photo released by the Press Service of the Russian Ministry of Defense on Saturday, July 2, 2022, a Russian ground attack jet Su-25 fires rockets on a mission in an undisclosed location in Ukraine. (Photo: Russian Ministry of Defense)

"None of the sides has air superiority," said the Chief of Staff of the Air Force, General Charles Q. Brown Jr., on September 16 at the International Conference of Heads of the Air Forces in Washington, D.C. "It is turning into a complete land war, including with artillery. You can almost go back to [a] kind of World War I war, where you are just moving things back and forth."

The role of air power has been the subject of much debate after what happened in the skies of Ukraine. Large and advanced air forces rarely interacted, even in the war. In Syria, where the U.S. and the Russians are engaged in support missions to different sides of the conflict, the two air forces operate a conflict line that is used daily, confirmed the commander of the Ninth Air Force, Lieutenant General Alexus G. Grynkewich, to Air & Space Forces magazine.

Ukrainian drone Bayraktar TB2.

Although the Bayraktar made in Turkey and the commercial drones ready for use have been used ?? In attacks on Russian armored vehicles, are they not used ?? to police the sky. In fact, they play some of the roles grossly played by aircraft in Brown's analogy with World War I, such as artillery reconnaissance and location.

Russia's inability to establish its will over a smaller nation raised the question of how the U.S. would engage in a conflict with an adversary like China, which, like the United States, emphasizes air superiority as part of its doctrine. As a result, U.S. generals and external experts raised the possibility of no-a-air, not superiority.

Russian Ka-52 helicopter damaged during the conflict in Ukraine.

"Normally, we think of superiority as a duality," said Lieutenant General S. Clinton Hinote, deputy chief of staff for strategy, integration and requirements, on September 6. "We will use the space and deny its use to others. The barriers to entry by negation, for denying the use of airspace, are much, much smaller nowadays than the entrance barriers to extend control and maintain control of airspace." Hinote said that the U.S. Air Force should prepare for a conflict in which denial, not control, is the goal.

However, Brown threw cold water at the idea that the U.S. military would fundamentally change his view of air power in the light of recent events.

Ukrainian Air Force Su-25 attack jets. (Photo: SERGEY POPSUEVICH / EPA)

"You also need to think about the doctrine and how our Western air forces are operating," said the U.S. Air Force chief officer. "We have freedom about how we operate as part of the planning team."

Instead of demonstrating the need to rethink the fundamentals, the Russian invasion of Ukraine showed "the value of air power [and] what it can and can do," Brown said.

Source: Air Force Magazine

Tags: Military AviationAir PowerWar Zones - Russia/Ukraine

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. It has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

[quicksiluers]

Hubert Anton Casimir Dilger was born to Dr. Eduard and Emmeline Duerr Dilger on March 5, 1836, in the village of Eugen, Germany. His early education as a cadet in the military academies led to service as lieutenant in the Grand Duke of Baden’s Horse Artillery, primarily at the garrisons of Karlsruhe and Rastatt, where he developed unique and unconventional artillery tactics emphasizing close support for infantry, rapid mobility, and accuracy and speed of fire. Dilger secured a leave of absence from the Duchy and traveled to America offering his services to the Union, first commanding 1st Battalion, Virginia Light Artillery under Major General John C. Frémont and later Battery “I,” 1st Ohio Artillery in Major General Franz Sigel’s 1st Army Corps, Army of Virginia. Dilger was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions at the battle of Chancellorsville in May 1863. In the Western Theater, Dilger’s accuracy and speed with his guns became legendary. Nicknamed “Leatherbreeches” due to his preference for buckskin trousers, the dashing and handsome young man became a popular personality, and a life-long friend of Adolph Metzner. Dilger purchased property near Front Royal, Virginia, and lived out his life as a farmer. He died on May 4, 1911, and was buried at Rock Creek Cemetery in Washington D. C., beside his wife who passed in 1906.

[revolutionarywarhistory]

British "masters of the field" : The disaster at Brandywine

Illustration of the Battle of Brandywine, drawn by cartographer, engraver and illustrator Johann Martin Will (1727-1806) in 1777. Image is courtesy of the Library of Congress.

This post is reprinted from Academia.edu and my History Hermann WordPress blog. It was originally written in September 2016, one day after the anniversary of the battle, when I was a fellow at the Maryland State Archives for the Finding the Maryland 400 project. Enjoy!

On the night of September 10, 1777, many of the soldiers and commanding officers of the Continental Army sat around their campfires and listened to an ominous sermon that would predict the events of the following day. Chaplain Jeremias (or Joab) Trout declared that God was on their side and that

“we have met this evening perhaps for the last time…alike we have endured the cold and hunger, the contumely of the internal foe and the courage of foreign oppression…the sunlight…tomorrow…will glimmer on scenes of blood…Tomorrow morning we will go forth to battle…Many of us may fall tomorrow.” [1]

The following day, the Continentals would be badly defeated by the British and “scenes of blood” would indeed appear on the ground near Brandywine Creek.

In the previous month, a British flotilla consisting of 28 ships, loaded with over 12,000 troops, had sailed up the Chesapeake Bay. [2] They disembarked at the Head of Elk (now Elkton, Maryland) in July, under the command of Sir William Howe, and had one objective: to attack the American capital of Philadelphia. [3] Howe had planned to form a united front with John Burgoyne, but bad communication made this impossible. [4] At the same time, Burgoyne was preoccupied with fighting the Continental Army in Saratoga, where he ultimately surrendered later in the fall. With Howe’s redcoats, light dragoons, grenadiers, and artillerymen were Hessian soldiers fighting for the Crown. [5]

Opposing these forces were two sections of the Continental Army. The first was the main body of Continentals led by George Washington, consisting of light infantry, artillery, ordinary foot-soldiers, and militia from Pennsylvania and Maryland. The second was the Continental right wing commanded by John Sullivan, which consisted of infantry from New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Virginia, and Maryland. The latter was led by William Smallwood and included the First Maryland Regiment. Other Marylanders who participated in the battle included Walter Brooke Cox, Joseph Marbury, Daniel Rankins, Samuel Hamilton, John Toomy, John Brady, and Francis Reveley. While the British were nearby, the 15,000-man Continental Army fortified itself at Chadd’s Ford, sitting on Brandywine Creek in order to defend Philadelphia from British attack. [6]

A map by Johann Martin Will in early 1777, in the same set as the illustration of the battle at the beginning of this post, which shows British and Continental troop movements during the Battle of Brandywine.

The morning of September 11 was warm, still, and quiet in the Continental Army camp on the green and sloping area behind Brandywine Creek. [7] Civilians from surrounding towns who were favoring the Crown, the revolutionary cause, or were neutral watched the events that were about to unfold. [8]

Suddenly, at 8:00, the British, on the other side of the creek, began to bombard the Continental positions facing the creek complimented by Hessians firing their muskets. [9] However, these attacks were never meant as a direct assault on Continental lines. [10] Instead, the British wanted to cross the creek, which had few bridges, including one unguarded bridge called Jeffries’ Ford on Great Valley Road. As Howe engaged in a flanking maneuver, which he had used at the Battle of Brooklyn, the Marylanders would again find themselves on the front lines.

As the British continued their diversionary frontal attack on the Continental lines, thousands of them moved across the unguarded bridge that carried Great Valley Road over Brandywine Creek. Washington received reports about this British movement throughout the day but since these messages were inconsistent, he did not act on them until later. [11] At that point, he sent Sullivan’s wing, including Marylanders, to push back the advancing British flank. [12]

These Marylanders encountered seasoned Hessian troops who, when joined by British guards and grenadiers, attacked the Marylanders. Due to the precise and constant fire from Hessians and a British infantry charge with bayonets, the Marylanders fled in panic. [13] Lieutenant William Beatty of the Second Maryland Regiment, who would perish in the Battle of Hobkirk’s Hill, recounted this attack:

“…[in] the Middle of this Afternoon…a strong Body of the Enemy had Cross’d above our Army and were in full march to out-flank us; this Obliged our Right wing to Change their front…before this could be fully [executed]…the Enemy Appeared and made a very Brisk Attack which put the whole of our Right Wing to flight…this was not done without some Considerable loss on their side, as of the Right wing behaved Gallantly…the Attack was made on the Right, the British…made the fire…on all Quarters.” [14]

As a Marylanders endured a “severe cannonade” from the British, the main body of the Continental Army was in trouble. [15] Joseph Armstrong of Pennsylvania, a private in a Pennsylvania militia unit, described retreating after the British had crossed Brandywine Creek, and moved back even further, at 5:00, for eight or nine miles, with the British in hot pursuit. [16]

Despite the “heavy and well supported fire of small arms and artillery,” the Continentals could not stop the British and Hessian troops, who ultimately pushed the Americans into the nearby woods. [17] The British soldiers, exhausted and wearing wool, were able to push back the Continentals at 5:30 on that hot day. [18] As Washington would admit in his apologetic letter to the President of the Continental Congress, John Hancock, “…in this days engagement we have been obliged to leave the enemy masters of the field.” [19]

As the smoke cleared, the carnage was evident. Numerous Continentals were wounded, along with French military men such as the Marquis de Lafayette. [20] Despite Washington’s claim that “our loss of men is not…very considerable…[and] much less than the enemys,” about 200-300 were killed and 400 taken prisoner. [21] This would confirm Lieutenant Beatty’s claim that Continental losses included eight artillery pieces, “500 men killed, wounded and prisoners.” [22] In contrast, on the British side, fewer than a hundred were killed while as many as 500 were wounded. [23] Beatty’s assessment was that the British loss was “considerable” due to a “great deal of very heavy firing.” [24] Still, as victors, the British slept on the battlefield that night.

Not long after, the British engaged in a feint attack to draw away the Continental Army from Philadelphia and marched into the city without firing a shot, occupying it for the next ten months. [25] In the meantime, Congress fled to York, Pennsylvania, where it stayed until Philadelphia could be re-occupied in late June 1778.

In the months after the battle, the Continental Army chose who would be punished for the defeat. This went beyond John Adams’s response to the news of the battle: “…Is Philadelphia to be lost? If lost, is the cause lost? No–The cause is not lost but may be hurt.” [26] While Washington accepted no blame for the defeat, others were court-martialed. [27]

One man was strongly accused for the defeat: John Sullivan. While some, such as Charles Pickney, praised Sullivan for his “calmness and bravery” during the battle, a sentiment that numerous Maryland officers agreed with, others disagreed. [28] A member of Congress from North Carolina, Thomas Burke, claimed that Sullivan engaged in “evil conduct” leading to misfortune, and that Sullivan was “void of judgment and foresight.” [29] He said this as he attempted to remove Sullivan from his commanding position. Since Sullivan’s division mostly fled the battleground, even as some resisted British advances, and former Quaker Nathaniel Greene led a slow retreat, the blame of Sullivan is not a surprise. [30] Burke’s effort did not succeed since Maryland officers and soldiers admired Sullivan for his aggressive actions and bravery, winning him support. [31]

Another officer accused of misdeeds was a Marylander named William Courts, a veteran of the Battle of Brooklyn. He was accused of “cowardice at the Battle of Brandywine” and for talking to Major Peter Adams of the 7th Maryland Regiment with “impertinent, and abusive language” when Adams questioned Courts’ battlefield conduct. [32] Courts was ultimately acquitted, though he left the Army shortly afterwards. However, his case indicates that the Continental Army was looking for scapegoats for the defeat.

The rest of the remaining Continental Army marched off in the cover of darkness, preventing a battle the following day. They camped at Chester, on the other side of the Schuylkill River, where they stayed throughout late September. [33] Twenty-four days after the battle on the Brandywine, the Continental Army attacked the British camp at Germantown but foggy conditions led to friendly fire, annulling any chance for victory. [34] While it was a defeat, the Battle of Germantown served the revolutionary cause by raising hopes for the United States in the minds of European nobility. [35] It may have also convinced Howe to resign from the British Army, as commander of British forces in North America, later that month.

In the following months, the Continental Army continued to fight around Philadelphia and New Jersey. After the battle at Germantown, the British laid siege to Fort Mifflin on Mud Island for over a month. They also engaged in an intensified siege on Fort Mercer at Red Bank, leading to its surrender in late October. In an attempt to assist Continental forces, a detachment of Maryland volunteers under Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Smith were sent to fight in the battle at Fort Mifflin. [36] By November, the Continentals abandoned Fort Mifflin and retired to Valley Forge. Still, this hard-fought defense of the Fort denied the British use of the Delaware River, foiling their plans to further defeat Continental forces.

As the war went on, the First Maryland Regiment would fight in the northern colonies until 1780 in battles at Monmouth (1778) and Stony Point (1779) before moving to the Southern states as part of Greene’s southern campaign. [37] They would come face-to-face with formidable British forces again in battles at Camden (1780), Cowpens (1781), Guilford Courthouse (1781), and Eutaw Springs (1781). In the end, what the Scottish economist Adam Smith wrote in 1776 held true in the Battle of Brandywine and until the end of the war: that Americans would not voluntarily agree with British imperial control and would die to free themselves from such control. [38]

– Burkely Hermann, Maryland Society of the Sons of American Revolution Research Fellow, 2016.

Notes

[1] Collections of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Vol. 1 (Merrehew & Thompson, 1853), 70-72; Lydia Minturn Post, Personal Recollections of the American Revolution: A Private Journal (ed. Sidney Barclay, New York: Rudd & Carleton, 1859), 207-218; Virginia Biography, Encyclopedia of Virginia Biography Vol. V (New York: Lewis Historical Publishing Company, 1915), 658. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; George F. Scheer, and Hugh F. Rankin, Rebels and Redcoats: The American Revolution Through the Eyes of Those who Fought and Lived It (New York: De Capo Press, 1957, reprint in 1987), 234. Trout, who was also a Reverend, would not survive the battle. While some records reprint his name as “Joab Traut,” other sources indicate that his first name was actually Jeremias and that his last name is sometimes spelled Trout.

[2] Andrew O’Shaughnessy, The Men Who Lost America: British Command During the Revolutionary War and the Preservation of the Empire (London: One World Publications, 2013), 254; Ferling, 177; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 87; “A Further Extract from the Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; by a Committee of the British House of Commons,” Maryland Journal, December 7, 1779, Baltimore, Vol. VI, issue 324, page 1.

[3] Washington thrown back at Brandywine, Chronicle of America (ed. Daniel Clifton, Mount Kisco, NY: Chronicle Publications, 1988), 163; “The Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; before the House of Commons,” Maryland Journal, November 23, 1779, Baltimore, Vol. VI, issue 322, page 1. Joseph Galloway, a former member of the Contintental Congress who later became favorable to the British Crown, claimed that inhabitants supplied the British on the way to Brandywine.

[4] Stanley Weintraub, Iron Tears: America’s Battle for Freedom, Britain’s Quagmire: 1775-1783 (New York: Free Press, 2005), 115.

[5] Bethany Collins, “8 Fast Facts About Hessians,” Journal of the American Revolution, August 19, 2014. Accessed August 31, 2016. They were called Hessians since many of them came from the German state of Hesse-Kassel, and many of them were led by Baron Wilhelm Von Knyphausen.

[6] Chronicle of America, 163; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 33. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 37. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 41. Courtesy of Fold3.com; The Annual Register or a View of the History, Politics, and Literature, for the Year 1777 (4th Edition, London: J. Dosley, 1794, 127-8; Mark Andrew Tacyn, “’To the End:’ The First Maryland Regiment and the American Revolution” (PhD diss., University of Maryland College Park, 1999), 137; The Winning of Independence, 1777-1783, American Military History (Washington D.C.: Center for Military History, 1989), 72-73.

[7] John E. Ferling, Setting the World Abaze: Washington, Adams, Jefferson, and the American Revolution (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 175-176; O’Shaughnessy, 107. O’Shaughnessy argues that the encampment at Chad’s Ford was an “excellent defensive position.”

[8] Thomas J. McGuire, The Philadelphia Campaign: Brandywine and the Fall of Philadelphia Vol. I (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2006), 172-173. Reportedly, some Quakers ignored the dueling armies and went about their daily business but others such as Joseph Townsend did watch the battle and worried about their fate if the British were to be victorious.

[9] Ferling, 175-176; “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” Maryland Historical Magazine June 1908. Vol. 3, no.2, 109. The British had endured two weeks of horrible weather conditions in their journey from Elkton.

[10] Tacyn, 138; Ferling, 175; O’Shaughnessy, 7, 226, 228.

[11] “II: From Lieutenant Colonel James Ross, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “III: To Colonel Theodorick Bland, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “IV: From Major General John Sullivan, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “V: From Colonel Theodorick Bland, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “VII: Lieutenant Colonel Robert Hanson Harrison to John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “From George Washington to John Hancock, 13 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “To George Washington from Brigadier General Anthony Wayne, 19 September 1777,” Founders Online,National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Scheer, and Rankin, 235.

[12] Tacyn, 138-9; Scheer, and Rankin, 236; McGuire, 184-185, 167, 171, 186, 193, 196, 241.

[13] The Winning of Independence, 1777-1783, American Military History (Washington D.C.: Center for Military History, 1989), 72-73; Tacyn, 139; David Ross, The Hessian Jagerkorps in New York and Pennsylvania, 1776-1777, Journal of the American Revolution, May 14, 2015. Accessed August 31, 2016. The British and Hessians advanced with minimal casualties.

[14] “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 109-110; Muster Rolls and Other Records of Service of Maryland Troops in the American Revolution Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 18, 189, 310, 344, 345, 363, 379, 388, 519. William Beatty would become a captain in April 1778 in the Seventh Maryland Regiment, then in the First Maryland Regiment in early 1781.

[15] Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 49. Courtesy of Fold3.com.

[16] Pension of Jacob Armstrong, Revolutionary War Pensions, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, pension number S.22090, roll 0075. Courtesy of Fold3.com; “VII: Lieutenant Colonel Robert Hanson Harrison to John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016. Jacob served as a substitute for his father, Simon Armstrong.

[17] The Annual Register, 128-129.

[18] Ferling, 176.

[19] Weintraub, 118; “VIII: To John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 53-53a; “VIII: To John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016. This letter was published by order of Congress.

[20] Tacyn, 140; The Annual Register, 129-130; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 53-53a; “VIII: To John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 287. Courtesy of Fold3.com; “To George Washington from Brigadier General William Woodford, 2 October 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, 1781-1784 Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 48, 458; Scheer, and Rankin, 240.

[21] Ferling, 177; O’Shaughnessy, 109; Washington thrown back at Brandywine, Chronicle of America, 163; Letters from Gen. George Washington, Vol. 5, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_344144_0001, item number 152, p. 53-53a; “VIII: To John Hancock, 11 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Petitions Address to Congress, 1775-189, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_419789_0001, item number 42, p. 159. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of Jacob Ritter (prisoner after battle), Revolutionary War Pensions, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, pension number S.9080, roll 2052. Courtesy of Fold3.com; John Dwight Kilbourne, A Short History of the Maryland Line in the Continental Army (Baltimore: Society of Cincinnati of Maryland, 1992), 14; Howard H. Peckham, The War for Independence: A Military History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979), 68-70; Scheer, and Rankin, 239. Washington’s letter was later published by order of Congress.

[22] “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110.

[23] O’Shaughnessy, 109; The Annual Register, 129-130; “To George Washington from Major John Clark, Jr., 12 November 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; Peckham, 70; Scheer, and Rankin, 239.

[24] “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110; Peckham, 70; McGuire, 209. Claims by Continentals that there were many British casualties may have been explained by British tactics.

[25] “A Further Extract from the Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; by a Committee of the British House of Commons”; “The Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; before the House of Commons”; Weintraub, 115; Tacyn, 143; Trevelyan, 249, 275; O’Shaughnessy, 110.

[26] John Adams diary 28, 6 February – 21 November 1777 [electronic edition], entries for September 16, Adams Family Papers: An Electronic Archive. Massachusetts Historical Society

[27] “A Further Extract from the Examination of Joseph Galloway, Esq; by a Committee of the British House of Commons” ; “General Orders, 19 October 1777,” Founders Online,National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “General Orders, 25 September 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016; “General Orders, 3 January 1778,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016.

[28] Tacyn, 142; Letters from General Officers, Papers of the Continental Congress, National Archives, NARA M247, Record Group 360, roll pcc_4345518_0001, item number 100, p. 69. Courtesy of Fold3.com.

[29] Tacyn, 141.

[30] Tacyn, 140-141.

[31] Tacyn, 143.

[32] “General Orders, 19 October 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified July 12, 2016.

[33] Pension of Jacob Armstrong; Weintraub, 116-117; O’Shaughnessy, 109; “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110; Kilbourne, 14.

[34] Pension of Jacob Armstrong; The Annual Register, 129-130; Sir George Otto Trevelyan, The American Revolution: Saratoga and Brandywine, Valley Forge, England and France at War, Vol. 4 (London: Longmans Greens Co., 1920), 275; O’Shaughnessy, 110; Ross, “The Hessian Jagerkorps in New York and Pennsylvania, 1776-1777,” Journal of the American Revolution, May 14, 2015. Accessed August 31, 2016; “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110-111; Kilbourne, 17, 19. As Beatty recounts, Marylanders were joined by the Maryland militia and were still part of General Sullivan’s division.

[35] Trevelyan, 249; O’Shaughnessy, 111; Christopher Hibbert, George III: A Personal History (New York: Basic Books, 1998), 154-155.

[36] “Journal of Captain William Beatty 1776-1781,” 110; Kilbourne, 14.

[37] Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, April 1, 1778 through October 26, 1779 Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 21, 118; Kilbourne, 21-22, 24-27, 29-30, 31, 33.

[38] Adam Smith, Chapter VII: Of Colonies, Part Third: Of the advantages which Europe has derived from the Discovery of America, and from that of a passage to the East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (ed. Edward Canman, New York: The Modern Library, reprint 1937, originally printed in 1776), 587- 588.

[casbooks]

Books of 2023

Book 15 of 2023

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98 Phan Dinh Phuong Villa, VNM Saigon - Brink BOQ (Vietnam War), VNM Saigon - Capital Kinh Do Theater, VNM Saigon - Caravelle Hotel, VNM Saigon - Cercle Sportif Saigonnais, VNM Saigon - Chi Hoa Prison, VNM Saigon - Continental Hotel, VNM Saigon - French Fort, VNM Saigon - Le Lai BEQ, VNM Saigon - Plantation Road, VNM Saigon - US Embassy (Vietnam War), VNM Saigon Provost Marshalls Office (Vietnam War), VNM Soi Rap River, VNM SOM SS Yellow Dragon Incident (Vietnam War), VNM Song Tu Cau, VNM Tam Ky, VNM Tan Chau, VNM Tan Son Nhut Air Base, VNM Tan Son Nhut Air Base - Defense Attache Office (Vietnam War), VNM Tan Son Nhut Air Base - Grey House (Vietnam War), VNM Thach Han River, VNM Thu Bon River, VNM Thua Thien Province, VNM Thuan An, VNM Tien Sa Peninsula, VNM Tu Cau Bridge, VNM U Minh Forest, VNM US CIB Combat Information Bureau - Da Nang (Vietnam War), VNM US MACV Military Assistance Command Vietnam (Vietnam War), VNM US USAF Air Force Advisory Group (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC AHCB An Hoa Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC CAG Combined Action Group (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC Camp Horn (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC CAP Combined Action Platoon (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC DHCB Dong Ha Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC ECB Elliot Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC FLC Force Logistic Command (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC III MAF Marine Amphibious Force (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC KSCB Khe Sanh Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC MMAF Marble Mountain Air Facility, VNM US USMC QTCB Quang Tri Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USMC VCB Vandergrift Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USN Camp Tien Sa (Vietnam War), VNM US USN CBMU 301 (Vietnam War), VNM US USN CBMU Construction Battalion Maintenance Unit (Vietnam War), VNM US USN COMNAVFORV Commander of Naval Forces Vietnam (Vietnam War), VNM US USN Da Nang Officers Club - Stone Elephant (Vietnam War), VNM US USN HSAS Headquarters Support Activity Saigon (Vietnam War), VNM US USN LSB Ben Luc (Vietnam War), VNM US USN LSB Logistic Support Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USN LSB Nha Be (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NAF Naval Air Facility Cam Ranh (Vietnam War), VNM US USN Naval Communication Station Cam Ranh (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NCSA Saigon (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NCSU Da Nang (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NCSU Saigon (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISOV Naval Investigative Service Office - Vietnam (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISRA Da Nang (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISSU Cam Ranh Bay (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISSU Chu Lai (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISSU Quang Tri Combat Base (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NISSU Vung Tau (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NSA Naval Support Activity - Da Nang (White Elephant) (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NSABT Naval Support Activity Binh Thuy (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NSAD Naval Support Activity Detachment - Cua Viet (Vietnam War), VNM US USN NSAD Naval Support Activity Detachment - Thuan An (Vietnam War), VNM US USN River Patrol Boat Flotilla Five (Vietnam War), VNM Vietnam, VNM Vietnam War (1955-1975), VNM VNN VNI Vietnamese Naval Intelligence, VNM VNN VNNSB Vietnamese Navy Security Bloc, VNM VNN VNNSS Vietnamese Navy Security Service, VNM Vu Gia River, VNM Yankee Station (1964-1973) (Vietnam War) Rating: ★★★★(4 stars) Subject: Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.Naval, Books.True Crime

Description: “NCIS History-Special Agent Vietnam is a comprehensive account of naval counterintelligence and criminal investigations in Vietnam. Doug Hubbard's first-hand experience provides unique insights into this little explored topic of the war, and the addition of a broad spectrum of his photos complements the narrative with a real life appeal. In an era when the term "terrorism" was not yet in vogue, NIS' investigations of insurgent attacks against US troops is a grim reminder of current threats our military faces in Afghanistan and around the globe on a daily basis.” Michael Sulick, Former Director, CIA National Clandestine Service “Although the Viet Nam War gives up its secrets grudgingly, former special agent Douglass Hubbard unveils an intriguing account of U.S. Naval Intelligence operations in the Republic of Vietnam. Drawing on his three years’ service in Vietnam and his subsequent research and interviews, Hubbard weaves a masterful story with 'NCIS History Special Agent Vietnam' that is equally inspiring and frustrating-just as the war itself proved to be.” Colonel Joseph H. Alexander, USMC. (Ret.) author of the Battle History of the U.S. Marines “Doug Hubbard Jr. explores the seamy underside of the Vietnam War from his ‘catbird seat’ as a special agent of the Naval Investigative Service. At the most there were never more than twenty-one of these Naval Intelligence officers serving in-country, and they had to deal with an overload of such unsavory matters as counter espionage, sabotage, black marketing, currency manipulation, simple theft, drug trafficking, subversion, rape, and murder. Sometimes these investigations came to a brilliant resolution that Sherlock Holmes would have applauded. More often they foundered because of command apathy or indifference.” Brigadier General Edwin H. Simmons, USMC, Chief of Staff of the First Marine Division in 1970, former head of the Marine Corps History Branch, and author of Frozen Chosin: US Marines at the Changjin Reservoir “Doug Hubbard’s exposition with NCIS History Special Agent Vietnam defines a period of counterintelligence development in the Vietnam conflict and records its events for the first time. Compiled personal recollections of wartime special agents make this historical narrative a defining work in the legacy left by the group of Naval Intelligence professionals who devised rules for counterintelligence and force protection in the challenging and dangerous arena of Vietnam in the 1960s. Theirs was a monumental contribution to the U.S. government’s efforts to achieve stability in the Republic of Vietnam, particularly in the early days of the mission when much was accomplished by a select few.” Maynard C. Anderson, former Assistant Deputy Undersecretary of Defense for Security Policy

Review - It was a decent book with a lot of historical information on the Vietnam War and NIS's members. The main problem with the book was how light it was on actual cases vs pages and pages of commentary of who was assigned when and where. Another major issue were the multiple misspellings (Viet Congo is a common one) and repeated paragraphs. It's not unreadable, but it had issues. But for the historical information, and a few insights into deserters, fraggings, and a few interesting cases, it's worth a read.

[e350tb]

Red Alert - Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Boris

The Pentagon Day One

A small, blue panel van had been parked by the side of Washington Boulevard, just across from the great military complex that was the Pentagon. The soldiers hurriedly building barricades outside paid it no heed - there were a lot of abandoned cars lying around, so what was another one?

The big, black-bearded Soviet commando took a drag of his cigarette before lifting his binoculars, his assault rifle slung over his shoulder. He couldn’t have looked more stereotypically Russian if he tried - under his parka he wore a blue-striped shirt, and his ushanka was adorned with the hammer-and-sickle emblazoned star of the Soviet Armed Forces. This was Boris - just Boris - one of the USSR’s most skilled commandos.

“Hmm… riflemen… some armour…” he muttered. “And… what is this?”

Just behind the cordon, at the front entrance, a line of three infantry fighting vehicles had rolled into the parking lot. They were big, long, six-wheeled vehicles with heavily sloped frontal armour, small turrets with autocannons, and a heavy machine gun next to the cupola. About two dozen officers, many wearing Class-A uniforms, were hurriedly gathering around them - and at the rear, Boris could see a bald general officer with a cigar.

“Carville,” he muttered.

He lowered his binoculars, reaching into his breast pocket and producing a map - it had been torn from a tourist guide. He let out a low ‘hmm’ and circled the intersection of Iveson Street Branch Avenue. Nodding, he turned and strolled back to the van, climbing in the back, where there sat a small squad of paratroopers.

“Comrade Captain, what is the plan?” one of them asked.

“We cut them off at Silver Hill,” replied Boris, his thick Ural accent underlining his words. “Get me radio with strike force, I want them dropped off there, da?”

“Da tovarisch,” nodded the paratrooper. “We’ll hit them there.”

-------

“Alright, move, move, move!”

Staff piled into the first two IFVs as Carville made his way to the back. There, Colonel Fraser was checking a map, his brow furrowed - behind him, about five staff officers, including the woman with the Tommy Gun, were being helped into the back of the vehicle by a pair of soldiers.

“Fraser, I want you in the middle vehicle,” said Carville.

“Yes sir, but, uh, what route are we taking?” asked Fraser.

“Down through Alexandria and over the Woodrow Wilson Bridge,” replied Carville. “Better to avoid the main road.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Saddle up, boy, we’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” grunted Carville.

Fraser hurried to the middle IFV while Carville climbed into the rear IFV. He checked the lever-action rifle, grimacing - it was going to be a hell of a ride.

“This is Baker-One, we’re ready to roll!”

“Copy Baker-One,” the driver said. “This is Baker-Three, ready to move.”

“Copy Baker-Three - forward the Light Brigade.”

-------

The White House Day One

“Eagle is on the move!”

The Secret Service agents bundled Dugan and his army attache towards the three IFVs rolled up at the front of the White House. Marines were gathered all around - some had been gathered up so quickly that they were still in their dress blues. The captain of the marine guard was standing next to the lead IFV, barking orders to everyone around. He saluted as the President reached him.

“We’ll put up a fight here, sir, make ‘em think you’re still here,” he said.

“Why aren’t we taking Marine One?” asked Dugan.

“Too obvious, sir,” replied the captain. “Russian’s MiGs own the skies, they’d blast you a second.”

“Where the heck is our air support?” demanded Dugan.

“Comms are a mess, Mr. President,” replied the captain. “Nobody knows what anybody’s doing.”

Dugan shook his head.

“This is supposed to be the most powerful country in the world,” he muttered, climbing into the back of the middle IFV.

“It will be again, sir,” the captain replied, saluting. “God luck and godspeed.”

The door closed - the President and his detail were illuminated by the sinister red glow of the IFV’s internal lights. There was a roar - the vehicle rocked and began to move…

-------

The corner of Iverson and Branch, Washington DC Day One

The van skidded to a halt in the middle of the intersection, and the paratroopers burst out of the rear.

Boris looked around - there were a pair of Hind helicopters dropping infantry on either side of the intersection, and a heavy tank was idling on Iverson Street. This was a Rhino, a formidable piece of military technology. Packing a menacing 120mm rifled gun in its big, mushroom-domed turret, the tall hull was sloped at the front, but the sides were comparatively flat. Even so, every angle was impressively armoured. If the Rhino did have major flaws, they were its somewhat slow speed and the cramped conditions in the turret.

Boris marched up to the tank, banging on the side with the butt of his rifle. The commander burst out of his hatch, scowling.

“The hell is your problem?!” he demanded. “We just had this damn thing painted!”

“Move tank into trees!” ordered Boris. “I don’t want Americans seeing it until they’re on top of us!”

The commander glanced to his right - there were trees on both sides of Iverson Street.

“Which trees?” he demanded.

“Use initiative,” grunted Boris. “Just make sure you cannot be seen, da?”

The commander grumbled to himself and climbed back into his tank. With a low growl, the tank began to traverse to the right, rolling towards the treeline.

“Make sure to hide infantry too!” called Boris, walking towards one of the Hinds. “I want complete surprise!”

-------

Approaching the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, Washington DC Day One

The IFVs sped off the turnpike onto the I-495, the big concrete bridge over the Potomac ahead of them. General Carville stood in the command cupola of his vehicle, watching for any threats - he had exchanged his general’s cap for a helmet in order to look less conspicuous. North of the bridge he could see fires licking the skyline - the airships had reached the city of Washington.

“God damn it,” he muttered.

He turned south, just in time to see three black dots approaching quickly down the Potomac - a trio of Hinds, coming in fast. He grit his teeth.

“Choppers, 3 o’clock!” he growled.

“This is Bravo-Three, eyes on Hinds.”

The turret shifted to the right, and with a steady phut-phut-phut it began to fire. One of the Hinds broke left, but the other two flew on. The middle one bore straight on the centre IFV, Bravo-Two.

“Bravo-Two, he’s comin’ for you, evade.”

“Breaking right, breaking right.”

Bravo-Two lurched to the right, but it was already too late. With a flash of flame and a plume of smoke, the Hind fired its rockets. For a brief second, Carville could see Colonel Fraser peeking out of the cupola - then Bravo-Two was a ball of flame.

Phut-phut-phut! Bravo-Three’s 20mm gun found it’s target. The offending Hind began to spin, flames licking the tail rotor - it tumbled down into the Potomac, splashing into the cold water.

“Got ‘im, still one more.”

The third Hind shot over Carville’s head, but it was already scrambling to turn and make another run. The brief window of vulnerability gave Bravo-One the chance it needed. There was another burst of fire, and the final Hind exploded - a round must have hit one of it’s rockets. The fireball tumbled into the suburb of Alexandria and was gone.

Bravo-Three shifted, passing the wreckage of Bravo-Two. There were loud bangs as the rubber tires burst from the heat of the flames - a jet of fire poured out of the cupola, shooting high into the sky. Even from a few metres away, Carville still winced at the intense heat - the air smelled of cordite and burning rubber.

“Bravo-Three, can you pick anyone up?”

“That’s a negative, Bravo-One, they’ve brewed up. Nobody’s getting out of that.”

“Copy, Bravo-Three, keep moving.”

Carville stared back at the burning IFV as it disappeared behind them - he could still see the flames long after the hulk itself was out of sight.

-------

The corner of Iverson and Branch, Washington DC Day One

In the distance, Boris saw the IFVs.

There were three of them, pelting along the wrong side of the road and heading due south, directly towards his ambush. Gently, he clicked the safety off of his rifle and turned to the man next to him, who was cradling a rocket launcher.

“Remember, comrade, wait for the tank,” he whispered, “and hit rear vehicle.”

“What if Carville is in one of the vehicles we destroy?” asked the soldier.

Boris sighed.

“War is war,” he replied. “Command will understand.”

“But the Captain said that General Khabarov told him that he’d be shot if Carville was harmed!”

Boris grinned.

“Theatrics, comrade, theatrics. Now get ready.”

The vehicles drew ever closer - Boris could almost smell the hot dogs (which he generally assumed most Americans smelled like.) The rocket man massaged the trigger of his RPG, but he waited all the same. He’d know when it was time - they all would.

BOOM.

The Rhino fired, and the shockwave bristled Boris’ beard. The first IFV took a direct hit to the turret - it flew off as the vehicle skidded sideways, blocking the path of the vehicles behind.

To his credit, the rocket man needed no prompting. He sighted in the third vehicle and fired, the rocket soaring into the front armour. To Boris’ intense annoyance, it bounced off the sloped surface, flying into the sky and exploding far above the scene.

“Chyort!” he spat, “Molotovs, now!”

About five men burst out of the tree cover, each hurling a Molotov cocktail over his shoulder. A soldier had already scurried onto the IFV’s machine gun - he opened fire, mowing the men down like grass, but their aim was true and the Molotovs smashed against the engine deck. The engine combusted, sending plumes of smoke and flame into the sky.

The back door flew open, and men scurried out like rats. The conscripts around Boris fired wildly, mowing them down before they had the opportunity to resist - or surrender.

“Nyet! Nyet!” Boris shouted. “I want them alive!”

He sprung to his feet, sprinting towards the middle IFV, a couple of his paratroopers behind. A secret service agent in a scuffed black suit pulled himself through the cupola, a compact submachine gun in his hand. He pointed it towards the attackers and squeezed the trigger, riddling one of the paratroopers with bullets, but Boris was soon leaping onto the top of the vehicle.

“Afternoon, comrade!” he called, grabbing the agent by his tie and yanking him out of the cupola. He hurled him into the road before jamming the muzzle of his gun into the cupola.

“Out!” he barked. “Out!”

A hail of pistol fire met him and he stumbled backwards. He winced - it looked like they weren’t doing it the easy way. He sprinted back, jumping back down into the road in front of the doors. The other paratrooper was already here - he grinned and held up an explosive charge.

“Good man,” nodded Boris. “Blow it open.”

The paratrooper stepped forward, fixing the charge to the doors. He stepped back, and both he and Boris aimed their rifles at the vehicle.

There was a dull bang, and the doors flew open. As the smoke cleared, four suited men staggered out, blasting away with their pistols. Boris tutted as he fired back - why did they always have to go out guns blazing? Riddled with bullets, the agents staggered to the floor.

Beyond that was another suited man and an army officer in sunglasses, who promptly drew two pistols and began blasting away.

“Die you red bastards!” he screamed. “You’ll never take us alive! We’ll fight you on the beaches, and on the streets…”

The paratrooper gurgled as he was hit in the throat, and Boris turned his rifle to the officer. He took a moment to remember what Carville looked like - this didn’t look at all like him, and in any case, it was doubtful that the officer could be taken alive.

Boris squeezed the trigger, and the general was riddled with bullets. He crashed back against the back of the IFV, and Boris stepped inside.

Click. Click. Click.

Boris turned. The general was still trying to fire his empty pistols at him, even as he bled out on the floor.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” muttered Boris.

He drew his pistol, pointed it at the general and shot him in the head.

He turned to the suited man. He didn’t look like much - just a fellow in a suit - but Boris quickly realised he recognised him.

“I wanted Carville,” said Boris, leaning down and putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. “But you will do well, Comrade President.”

-------

Soviet Airship V. I. Lenin, Washington DC Day One

“So you didn’t get Carville?”

“Nyet, Comrade General. We are still looking, but it seems likely he evaded us.”

Khabarov stood on the observation deck, flanked by Zofia as he looked out the big windows. His hand was over his earpiece - he was speaking with Boris.

“Did you check the bodies in the convoy?”

“Da. He’s not here.”

Khabarov nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “It is unfortunate, but President Dugan is a useful asset regardless. Return to the Lenin, we will contact the Premier immediately.”

“Will Comrade Cherdenko not want to…”

“I’m sure he would like to present the President to Premier Romanov,” replied Khabarov, “but I’m afraid he will have to stick to boasting of his real achievements. Bring him here, Boris.”

“Da tovarisch.”

Khabarov deactivated his earpiece.

“Cherdenko had achievements?” Zofia asked.

Khabarov shrugged, turning his attention back to the view from the observation deck.

“I suppose he can boast of this,” replied Khabarov, “unseemly though it is. I would have preferred it intact, myself. Good for parades.”

“I believe he calls it communist rejuvenation,” said Zofia. “Removing the monuments of the capitalist age.”

“Hmm,” grunted Khabarov.

Below him, the Capitol Building was smothered by flame, the dome having already collapsed. Soviet soldiers were gathering congressmen in front of the building; among them were the sinister black uniforms of the PsiCorps. Flametroopers aimed their terrible weapons into the windows and fired, exacerbating the inferno. Atop it all, the American flag still flew - ragged and burning, a last desperate cry against the invasion. In the distance, every other building Cherdenko’s men could get their hands on also burned - the Smithsonian, the National Gallery, and in the distance, the White House itself.

Washington DC had fallen.

[mariacallous]

Ukraine’s Ambassador to the United States has just about as much trouble answering the question “how are you?” as many Ukrainians these days.

“I usually tell people we are kicking, fighting, but to say that we are fine is hard,” Oksana Markarova told the Kyiv Independent during our first conversation over Zoom from her office in Washington, D.C. in late November. 

In between near 24/7 work with the Pentagon to secure much-needed weapons for Ukraine’s fight against Russia, the ambassador says she is able to get in touch with her family, affected by Russia’s constant attacks on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure, when they have power. 

“They’re more or less hanging in there, but it’s cold,” she said.

Since Oct. 10, Russia has launched a series of mass missile and drone attacks at Ukraine, damaging and destroying critical energy infrastructure in the middle of winter. Millions across the country have faced frequent heat, water, and power outages. 

Markarova says Russia’s goal with its attacks on Ukraine’s infrastructure is pretty clear: to completely subjugate and occupy Ukraine. “It’s just that their means are evolving as they fail to do so.” 

According to the ambassador, it’s all part of Russia’s perennial strategy to absorb Ukraine into its orbit. Even before 2014, when Russia invaded eastern Ukraine and annexed Crimea, Russia went to lengths to install its puppets in government positions, managing to get its own citizens into leadership positions in Ukraine’s Defense Ministry and security services, she said. 

“When that didn't work, and people said a resolute no on Maidan to (then-President Viktor Yanukovych’s decision) not to join the European Association, that's when the war started.”

But Markarova is certain that no matter what Russia does to try and scare Ukrainians into submission, they will not be successful, despite living with frequent blackouts in the middle of winter. 

“Talking to not only the president but also to family and friends (these attacks) have made everyone more resolute,” the ambassador said. 

It is not just Russia’s attacks on critical infrastructure that have made Ukrainians more determined. As Ukraine continues to liberate territories and evidence of Russian war crimes comes to light, Ukrainians understand that they “only have one choice, to fight,” Markarova said. 

Gaining and maintaining support from the US

Fighting Russia will require a steady stream of support and weaponry from Ukraine’s Western partners. 

American support for Ukraine has been on a roll lately. In late December, the U.S. announced $1.85 billion in military aid to Ukraine, including the first Patriot air defense system–a big hand in protecting Ukraine’s skies. 

Following President Volodymyr Zelensky’s trip to Washington, during which he delivered a historic address before Congress on Dec. 21, the U.S. announced more than $3 billion in military aid–this time with the long-awaited Bradley infantry fighting vehicles. 

Markarova believes Zelensky’s trip to D.C. has a lot to do with this latest military aid package–the largest so far. 

“Zelensky’s trip energized everyone. There was no guarantee that the Congress would support a bill that big, they could have let the next congress decide. I think the trip was essential to that decision,” Markarova said during a follow-up conversation over Zoom in early January. 

Traveling to D.C. also allowed Zelensky to talk to U.S. President Joe Biden one-on-one. “There are so many things that you cannot discuss even over the secure phones,” she said. 

During the trip, Zelensky also spoke to leaders of Congress about the possibility of confiscating Russian assets to use as assistance for Ukraine through the Foreign Assistance Act. That made it into the bill just days before it was passed, Markarova said. 

The recent and seemingly sudden change of heart among Western politicians who earlier claimed sending more advanced weaponry could escalate the war and antagonize Russia is also partly the result of 11 months of empty Russian threats, according to the ambassador. 

“During the past 11 months, Putin himself has proven how the new capabilities that help us to liberate our territories and our people do not result in anything escalatory on his part,” Markarova said, citing the lack of major Russian escalation or retaliation after each time Ukraine liberated its territories.

Ukraine’s cause enjoys widespread support not only in the halls of the U.S. government but among the American population. According to the latest poll by Reuters in October, three-quarters of Americans say that the U.S. should continue its support for Ukraine despite any threats by Russia. 

When asked where this support comes from, Markarova says that firstly, Russia’s full-scale invasion is black and white: “This is horrible injustice being done by a large nuclear, barbaric country to a much smaller democratic country that never attacked Russia.” 

But on another level, Markarova believes that the support is deeply rooted in American culture. Ukrainians “are fighting now for the values on which this country is built. And it's not just great words. It's its freedom, its independence, I think this fight is so deep in every American heart.”

True or not, support for Ukraine among Americans didn’t just happen, Markarova said.

After February, diplomats were no longer diplomats but soldiers of the country, she said. This means being “everywhere all the time” and finding ways to co-organize and co-sponsor pretty much every major event in support of Ukraine. 

And everywhere Ukraine appears to be. In April, Zelensky gave a speech to the crowd at the Grammys. New York City’s Metropolitan Opera and Carnegie Hall gave concerts in honor of Ukraine, with the likes of film director Martin Scorsese giving keynote speeches. Ukrainian flags have been seen popping up all over the country, even in seemingly unlikely places. 

Which is why the ambassador isn’t too concerned with the recent shift to a Republican-led Congress in Washington. According to the ambassador, support for Ukraine is “really bipartisan and has always been bipartisan, regardless of different ideas” that some members of Congress may have about aid to Ukraine.

Markarova nonetheless cautions being overly optimistic about the support. People’s attention has a way of wandering, and maintaining support for Ukraine requires constant work: “work with the administration, Congress, and with so many people.”

Fighting Russia on all fronts

A large part of generating support for Ukraine is combating Russian disinformation and propaganda, which Markarova says didn’t begin with Russia’s full-scale invasion, or even with Ukraine regaining independence in 1991. 

Over the past 400 years, the world has seen the region through the eyes of Russian imperial, Soviet, and current-day Russian propaganda, according to Markarova. 

Russian President Vladimir Putin’s war agenda may be “based on a false history which he created in his mind,” as Markarova puts it, “but he’s not the first Russian ruler who put it on paper, and for generations, billions were spent on promoting that (history) outside of Russia.”

“Some people might say that weapons and sanctions are the priority now and we can leave history and culture for later, but as a matter of fact, it can’t because it’s all very much interrelated.” 

In addition to coordinating with the defense sector on weapons, the Ukrainian embassy in the U.S. works with universities, think tanks, and museums “because in so many places we still find artifacts from Kyivan Rus marked as Russian.”

Combatting centuries of Russian disinformation is no simple task. Despite the widespread support for Ukraine in the U.S., Markarova understands that Ukraine’s diplomats “have to constantly explain, get the truth out about Ukraine, about Russia, and the truth about every event because every time they do something to us, they also try to spread lies about it.”

When Russia blocked Ukraine’s Black Sea ports amid the first days of the full-scale invasion, Russian propaganda claimed that it was Western sanctions that prevented grain shipments from getting to countries that needed it most – "a total lie,” Markarova said. 

Even after a U.N.-backed deal between Russia, Ukraine, and Turkey to allow for some grain shipments out of Ukraine’s ports, Russia falsely claimed most of the grain was going to Europe instead of the countries that needed it most. “We have to stay on top of it,” Markarova said. 

One upper hand Markarova does see Ukraine has over Russia on this front is freedom of the press in both the West and in Ukraine, as there “is no such thing in Russia.” 

Markarova believes Russia simply doesn’t stand a chance against the number of journalists in Ukraine who are unhampered by a lack of freedom and 21st-century technologies that can get the truth out quickly. 

Winning the war 

Winning the war against Russia is as much about liberating Ukrainian territory as it is about helping to solve global problems, according to Markarova.

And Ukraine is the answer to many of those problems, Markarova says. Ukraine possesses the most arable land in Europe. Markarova says that after victory, Ukraine can double, even triple, its agricultural production to be a solution in food security. 

Ukraine’s energy sector, which had begun exporting energy to other European countries even before the war, has the ability to be a crucial actor in Europe’s green energy goals. 

“But we have to win first. The faster we can get more weapons, the faster we isolate Russia, the faster we increase sanctions, the faster we can actually win.” And it’s not going to be easy, she said. 

Russia is counting on a drawn-out war scenario in which people get tired and begin to focus on their own problems.

But as Markarova says, “President Zelensky and the people of Ukraine have been very clear that after this brutal, full-fledged war, after all these war crimes and atrocities, we will not give up, and we will not surrender.”

President Zelensky has outlined his 10-step plan for Ukraine’s victory, which he presented at the G20 summit in November. The plan includes restoring Ukraine’s territorial integrity and sovereignty, and that includes Russian-occupied Crimea. “We have to return our people, all of our people.” 

Part of winning isn’t just kicking Russia out but seeking justice for those who started and carried out this war, Markarova says. Ukraine has recorded over 50,000 war crimes committed by Russian soldiers and has filed cases with the International Criminal Court in the Hague and the European Court of Human Rights.

“It is not only important to have justice for Ukraine, but also to prevent other dictators from doing something like this in the future.”

Which is why President Zelensky said people should not waste time proposing something that excludes parts of Ukraine, like Crimea.

Regarding calls for negotiations among certain Western voices, Markarova said she hears fewer suggestions for a negotiated peace with Russia that would involve territorial concessions from Ukraine. 

She also said that her counterparts in the United States government have been firm in their stance that they will be with Ukraine as long as it takes. 

But Markarova admits that some, but not everyone, she said, “want the issue to be somehow resolved and go away.”

But for Ukrainians, reaching a deal with Russia that does not involve the full liberation of Ukraine’s territories is not an option, Markarova said. 

“We did not start (this war). We did not choose it. And the choice for us is pretty clear. It's either fight and liberate Ukraine or die. And we choose not to die.”

[grimdarkandhandsome]

Twilight State

A Twilight fanfiction AU

History

1944

On December 24, Vice President Henry A Wallace murdered President Franklin D Roosevelt & falsely claimed that he was unable to appear in public due to illness. It would later come to light that Wallace had for some years been a vampire. He was the sole public-facing agent of a conspiracy of vampires in Washington, who had since 1914 been scheming to overthrow Volturi rule.

By supernatural means, Wallace obtained the forgiveness of the Judicial & Legislative branches & retained control over the presidency even after evidence of his murder & inhumanity came to light. However, most of the states joined against him in the Second Civil War. And after the Day of Disobedience (1945 January 23), around 90% of US military personnel effectively joined the secessionist side.

1945

The Civil War (1945-1947) was complicated by uncertain loyalties, ignorance, & rejection of orders at all ranks. At far too high a price, it became clear that no amount of numerical superiority would help the FAS take ground held by vampire infantry, & that the CUS was unwilling to openly conquer land claimed by other states.

1947

June 2: In the first & only use of atomic weapons in an armed conflict, an unconfirmed actor detonated an experimental bomb near Florence, Italy. While Benito Mussolini was only 47 miles outside the primary blast radius at the time, he was likely not the target. A majority of historians agree that the weapon was probably a nuclear landmine planted by the Washington, DC coven of the CUS, which likely wiped out the Volturi of Volterra.

Indeed, the very next day began a series of worldwide crises known as the Summer of Demons. While incomprehensible at the time, these events were later understood to all have the same cause: across the planet, vampires were no longer forced to hide.

1948

The Toronto Treaty nominally formalized the borders of the modern CUS. However, low- to medium-intensity warfare between the post-USA nations continues to simmer even today. It has been theorized that a certain minimum military death rate is required to support the CUS's blood economy.

2005

Present day.

Taxonomy of Regimes

Vampire dictatorship - Open dictatorship by a vampiric individual, with unlimited term length

Vampire regime - Upper levels of government are dominated by vampires

Vampire tolerant - Vampires are banned from upper-level leadership, but tolerated as residents

Antivampiric - Vampires are banned from the region entirely

Canada

Vampire dictatorship

Constitutional United States (CUS)

After the Second Civil War of 1946, only the northeastern portion of the USA remains loyal to Washington DC. The CUS, as it is now known, retains control of Missouri & those states north & east of it. Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Kentucky, & Virginia border the secessionist union of FAS (see below).

Vampire regime - While the CUS has only seen one vampiric president, vampires still have extremely influential rules in the Cabinet & in many other government positions. Permitting the facade of human democracy contributes to the high public opinion of vampires within the CUS.

For example, the mayor of New York City is the vampire Aaron Burr. He claims to be the same Aaron Burr who served as Thomas Jefferson's vice president, saying he became a vampire & faked his death in 1836, then concealed himself from public life until the end of the Pax Volturi.

Federation of American States (FAS)

In the Second Civil War, most of the USA seceded & formed the FAS, unwilling to accept a vampire presidency.

The FAS is antivampiric, denying both citizenship & entry visas to vampires.

The southern & western states created the FAS as an emergency replacement for the compromised federal government. Its constitution is identical to the US Constitution, with the addition of a 22nd Amendment preventing presidential succession via criminal means.

Mexico

Vampire-tolerant democracy: While vampires are permitted to reside in Mexico, many consider them invaders.

South America

Legally antivampiric, but rumored to retain a secret undead aristocracy that still follows the laws of the Pax Volturi.

Subsaharan Africa

One of the regions of greatest antivampiric success, having driven out many ancient covens.

Europe & Mediterranean

Almost exclusively vampire dictatorships.

West Asia

Highest rates of direct intervampiric warfare in the world. Since vampiric aggression here is mostly directed against other vampire groups, human institutions have remained relatively intact for now. However, the violence of newborn-based warfare has been very destructive in many large cities.

Asia Pacific

The PRC (China) has the largest human-led military in the world. It has also secured the (temporary?) loyalty of dozens of vampire soldiers.

Most of the rest of the region has succumbed to varying degrees of vampire control.

New Personnel Briefing - Minnesota Theater - Annual Status Report

CLASSIFIED Tier D Secret by the War Department of the Federation of American States

ISSUED TO: Pvt Isabella Swan (RECIPIENT EYES ONLY)

ENEMY DISPOSITION IN THEATER: While numerous vampiric infantry units are stationed in theater, conventional defenses are relatively light. Generally speaking, our ability to penetrate & perform short-term missions is high, but our ability to claim & hold territory against enemy vampires is near zero.

TYPICAL ENEMY UNITS:

Conventional mechanized infantry. Company-scale forces. Armament: Rifles, grenades, body armor, Jeeps. High loyalty. High prevalence.

Vampiric officer cavalry (VOC). Operate individually, within 1-5 miles of conventional CUS units. Armament: Motorbike, rifles, grenades. Low prevalence. High loyalty. Note: A vampire is fully capable of firing one rifle in each hand. Note: A vampire can throw grenades & light vehicles up to 1000 yards with extreme accuracy. Note: Vampiric officers often command precision artillery fire on their own position when engaging in CQC.

Vampiric espionage asset (VEA). Individual nighttime operations. Armament: Poisonous substances. Low prevalence. Low loyalty. Note: Do not engage.

Vampiric air squadron (VAS). Squadron-scale force plus 1 vampire commander. Armament: Bomber aircraft, wingsuit, rifles. High loyalty. Rapid-response air unit. Vampiric component is deployed at altitude then descends or falls onto target. Air components then provide recon & fire support to ground-deployed vampiric component. High prevalence. Note: Occult phenomena response protocols advised.

Canadian vampiric agent. Individual combatants. Armament: Long metal spear and/or vampiric head weapons. Note: May use spear for throwing, vaulting, or even deflecting bullets. Note: Head weapons are the severed heads of enemy vampires, mounted to a handle, with the lower jaw removed. Teeth are extremely sharp. Low prevalence. Assume hostile to all factions.

TYPICAL FRIENDLY UNITS:

Conventional airborne infantry. Platoon- to company-scale forces. Armament: Rifles, grenades, body armor, Ospreys. High prevalence.

Conventional helicopter gunships. Individual- to squadron-scale forces. Armament: Kinetic, explosive, & white phosphorous munitions. Can harass vampiric targets from above their jump height.

Conventional armor. Individually-deployed tanks. Armament: HE & incendiary munitions. Low prevalence. Note: Cannot quickly be disabled by enemy vampires. High explosive munitions useful for removing cover around a vampire such as buildings, or for distracting vampires.

Choir platoons. Armament: Rifles, body armor, close air support. Human infantry with occult abilities, group by similarity of ability. Low prevalence. NOTE FROM CO: THIS IS YOU, AEGIS PLATOON.

Neomorph infantry. Platoon-scale forces, 50% conventional 50% neomorph. Armament: Rifles, grenades, body armor, Ospreys. Low prevalence. NOTE FROM CO: THEY TURN INTO WOLVES.

HOW TO KILL A VAMPIRE:

Neomorphs

White phosphorous munitions

Concealed explosive at point blank

Ceiling weight traps (CWTs)

Carpet bombing

[authorsrus]

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

[militaryleak]

SMARTSHOOTER Awarded US Army Contract for Additional SMASH 2000L Fire Control Systems

SMARTSHOOTER, a world-class designer, developer, and manufacturer of innovative fire control systems that significantly increase the accuracy and lethality of individual and Crew Served weapons, announced that its US subsidiary, SMARTSHOOTER Inc. was awarded a follow-on contract to supply additional SMASH 2000L fire control systems to the US Army, including spares. Systems from the first Army award are now deployed for the purpose of defeating drones. The addition of this contract will outfit more troops for the same critical need.At this year’s AUSA Annual Meeting and Exposition in Washington DC, SMARTSHOOTER will showcase a new collaboration with Leonardo DRS and HDT Global. Together, they introduce the ‘SMASH Hunter WOLF’, an innovative unmanned ground vehicle (UGV) designed to support light infantry. This powerful robotic platform, with best-of-breed power offload, is able to integrate DRS’s tactical radar technologies and SMARTSHOOTER’s SMASH Hopper light remotely controlled weapon station, delivering an end-to-end solution for countering drones and shortening the sensor-to-shooter cycle. #military #defense #defence #usarmy

SMARTSHOOTER, a world-class designer, developer, and manufacturer of innovative fire control systems that significantly increase the accuracy and lethality of individual and Crew Served weapons, announced that its US subsidiary, SMARTSHOOTER Inc. was awarded a follow-on contract to supply additional SMASH 2000L fire control systems to the US Army, including spares. Systems from the first Army…