Foraging (Open; for colonists?)

[Bog]

It was to be a busy day for them, Sergeant Merton told the grenadier company that morning after Rouse. A foraging patrol into New York - where they now were - and the first night of a week-long stint on picquet duty. The lads grumbled about that, after Merton had gone back to Captain Peter's tent, but they grumbled about most things. It was their right.

For his part, Gibbons didn't mind either part of their assigned duties. Being actively engaged, in anything, was a lot better than sitting idle. He adjusted the hang of his crossbelts and took care that his hanger scabbard was properly seated before bawling for his designated patrol party to gather at the double.

The sooner they got on with this, the more ground they could cover. And, hopefully, the more in the way of forage they could gather. He and his select half-dozen grenadiers set off, having laden themselves with extra bread-bags and a small push-cart. All were armed and carried full cartridge boxes. Like as not they would find themselves challenged by some bold militia or other.

Gibbons had made it clear already that no man in the party was to fire unless fired upon. There were only seven of them and they would have no ready support from the other foraging parties should they encounter trouble. It was only to be hoped that there would be no trouble at all.

The six grenadiers, Corporal Gibbons leading them, headed off into the woods, their muskets carried seemingly carelessly over their shoulders. No matter what happened, it was certain to be a long day.

[Chørd]

`James

Having spent some of the night on staggered picquet duty and, disappointingly enough, not spotted any enemy action, James was tired. Being a heavy sleeper, he normally was tired, but the last thing he wanted was to head off doing whatever it was his company was assigned to do that day. Still, as he half-stumbled into line in the morning, he was somewhat glad to be out of the way of his mother and step-father. Corporal Dunnett wasn't part of the light company, so rarely had to deal with his step-son, and Martha was too busy helping around camp to be able to bother her husband or her son.

James had heard the 23rd's grenadier company were off foraging. Good for them. Part of him hoped he'd be joining them, as foraging didn't really seem like a great deal to do, and the last thing he wanted to be doing was hard work. But then again, he doubted both his company and the grenadiers would be needed to perform the task.

"You owe me a shilling, you scheming cheat."
James smirked at the voice, and glanced aside at another private, then shrugged carelessly. "You ain't go any proof of that, now have you? Besides, I don't have a shilling."
The other man forced a smile. "Apparently we're patrolling. How fun."
"If it doesn't involve cleaning or digging, or some other back-breaking task, I'm up for it," the teen answered back under his breath, keeping rigidly straight as the Captain approached. He stared ahead, keeping still and quiet, daydreaming his way through the parade and information being given. When they were finally dismissed he stuck next to his usual partners-in-crime, though they were soon separated once the company had been divided into groups of ten, lead by a corporal or sergeant.

The groups spread out from the camp, muskets slung and casually watching the surroundings.
James adjusted the leather cap on his head and sighed exasperatedly as he trailed after the rest in the little patrol section. Most likely nothing would happen doing this errand either, though it saved the men lulling around in the camp with next to nothing to do. Bored soldiers got into trouble, so it was best to keep them entertained and on their feet.

---

OOC: Rusty rusty, terrible post, it's late, my browser's playing up, didn't know what to write, and I'm hoping it's ok? D:

[/size]

[Bog]

This was prime country, Gibbons thought. The fields were vast, stretching away over hills and filled with carefully-plotted rows. To his eye, it was obvious the farmers took particular pride in their craft. It satisfied the farmer in him to see it. Shame there wasn't yet anything to harvest.

"That'll be wheat, lads," the corporal said. "Come autumn." There was nothing worth taking from this field now, of course, but there was bound to be something within two miles they could claim for their use.

Will Kinsey uttered a chuckle. "Got a hook an' line with me, Corp'ral. If we gets near a stream, I'll try my luck."

Fish. Yes. That would be good. Gibbons nodded. "Take Lowrie with you if you go." It was not good sense to let a man wander about on his own, after all.

The party moved on, senses alert for any sign of trouble. On the other side of the wheat fields, Gibbons hoped they would find the farmhouse itself, where they might acquire a couple chickens. Or, if they were more than lucky, a whole cow.

Away in the distance, the crack of a single musket shot rang out. The grenadiers tensed up, hands going to their firelocks. Experience, though short, had taught them to be aware of any such occurrences. More often than not, solitary shots were warning signals. Announcements to the broader area that there were redcoats about.

"Check your flints," Gibbons advised, after doing the same himself. He would not be caught out by any damned rebel. Especially not when he wasn't actively hunting for them!



OOC - This one is pretty rubbish too, but for the purposes of bringing the two different patrols together, it sort of works.

[Chørd]

`James

The patrol group were mainly quiet as they traipsed along the edge of the woodlands nearby the camp, a few of the men muttering to each other - most likely complaining. Still, this wasn't as bad as some of the alternative jobs they could have been tasked with, and like as not they'd see nothing out of the ordinary about. James was partly lost in a daydream as he walked, half-heartedly watching his surroundings for anything unusual.
The area was undisturbed, apart from the occasional appearance of a grenadier foraging party in the woods or neighbouring farmland.

They'd been patrolling for no more than ten minutes when the sound of a solitary musket being fired broke the stillness in the landscape. The men's heads snapped in the direction of the sound, frowning.
"One of ours spotted somethin'?" A private spoke up and Corporal Kemp unshouldered his musket.
"Don't know," he answered slowly, "though either way, it probably means trouble."

James raised an eyebrow at the mention of trouble. If trouble meant firing at a rebel or two, he wasn't going to protest the idea.

Uncertainly at first, the group made their way towards the general direction the shot had been fired from, eyes peeled for any sign of activity and their hands resting readily on their firearms. They spotted a party of grenadiers, one of the groups out foraging no doubt, hesitated, then approached them. Seeing the grenadiers' corporal, Kemp headed over to him, leaving his men watching after him.

---

OOC: Can't think of anything else to write. Sorry for my muse being such a downer at the moment.

[/size]

[Bog]

"Somebody comin' up," Will Kinsey warned. "They - bloody Light Bobs."

The foraging party grumbled briefly amongst themselves, until silenced by a glare from Gibbons. He halted the little column and detailed two men as picquets. It never paid not to be wary in hostile country.

"Corporal," Gibbons greeted, privately pleased as ever that he towered over any light infantryman. This was, of course, no surprise. Grenadiers were always the tallest, biggest men in any regiment. It was what made them fearsome.

[Chørd]

`James

The nine light infantrymen relaxed slightly once the two parties' leaders met, and some of them unshouldered their muskets and leant on them idly, waiting to see the outcome of the meeting.
"Oh joy. The big boys," one of them scoffed, glancing aside at his peers with a sneer on his face.

James watched as the two corporals met, the grenadier significantly taller than the other man, and no doubt smug about that fact too.
Kemp returned the other's greeting with a nod, irritated by the fact he had to slightly incline his head to look at the other corporal properly.
"Seen any Yankees?" He asked, briefly looking over his shoulder at his group. None of them looked particularly happy at having encountered the grenadier group, nor did the grenadiers look pleased about meeting his boys either.
"Shall we join up?" Kemp offered. It would make sense to form a larger party just in case any rebels were skulking about; it was safety in numbers, after all.

"S'going on?" An older private muttered to James and he shrugged dismissively.
"I think Kemp's hoping to partner up," he sighed, taking off his cap scratching his head. "We can handle these bloody rebels ourselves. Don't see any need to trail around after them grenadiers."

[/size]

[Bog]

"Not a glimpse," Gibbons answered. "But for that one shot off thataway. S'pose that means we'll be seein' 'em soon enough." He shrugged. "You can come 'long if you wants. Better'n gettin' caught out by pieces."

Never mind that it would be good to have the extra muskets if it should come to a fight. While Gibbons had every confidence his grenadiers could hold their own, having additional men to throw into a scrap did not hurt. Besides that he could use the Light Bobs as pack-mules if they did well foraging.

[Chørd]

`James

Kemp nodded in agreement with the grenadier, then headed back to his group, who looked less than happy with the decision.

"We joining 'em?" One spoke up and Kemp nodded again. James groaned exasperatedly and stood up straight again, positioning his cap back on and sighing.
"We won't get a chance to fire at the bloody yellow-bellies," he grumbled, "not with them stood in front, blockin' the way."
"You can't see past the dead bears on their 'eads," another private smirked and the teen chuckled in response. They were alright, he supposed. They were no doubt just as irritated at having to be with light bobs as they were at being with the grenadiers.

"Look sharp, lads," Kemp instructed them, "and keep your eyes open. Y'wouldn't want them grenadiers to show us up, would you?"
The nine men bristled with pride, and glanced at the grenadiers as they approached them. James flashed an impish grin at one, then returned to his earlier occupation of casually watching his surroundings for any movement.

[/size]

[Bog]

Judging by the readiness with which his lads stepped off again, they were annoyed that Gibbons had saddled them with Light Bobs. To them it was no doubt considered a bit of nursery-maid duty. Gibbons himself did not care what his grenadiers thought of it, so long as they kept their gobs shut and did what they were told.

"Won't be much found at any farms, I'll wager," the big corporal remarked after a few minutes. "They'll have given the alarm we're about."

Which didn't, of course, stop them from setting snares or fishing lines. He was determined not to return empty-handed.

[Chørd]

`James

To say James was irritated at the fact he and his group had been attached to a foraging party would be an understatement. They grumbled to themselves, careful to keep their voices unheard by their corporal, who no doubt already knew that neither the light infantry or grenadier privates were pleased with being put together.

The light bobs put as much distance between themselves and the grenadiers as Kemp would allow them to, keeping their eyes fixed on their surroundings, occasionally flitting their gaze over to the grenadiers whenever they set up a snare or tried their luck with the fishing lines.

James broke away from the rest of his group, absent-mindedly half-helping the grenadiers with their foraging job. He strayed slightly further from the group, examining the shrubs and bushes bordering the fields, searching for any berries - or anything else edible, for that matter - on the branches.

He looked up from preening the bushes when he spotted movement ahead, staring straight in the direction of where he'd seen it, waiting for whatever it was that had been trepsing around to show itself.
Another light bob walked past and James tugged on his sleeve.
"See anything?" He asked and the other private followed his line of sight to the other side of the field, where there was definitely something moving, attempting to stick to whatever shadows they could find.
At the sight of a blue coat James's eyes widened - a Continental!

"Rebels ahead!" The other private called to the rest of the group, motioning with his hand to the said enemy. James briefly checked his flint then cocked the musket, hoping the corporals would see fit to challenge the spotted Yankees.

[/size]

[Bog]

There was only one thing to do upon hearing such a warning. At least as far as the grenadiers were concerned, that was. The Light Bobs could go whistle. With all their skirmishing pairs nonsense, they weren't likely to obey Gibbons anyway.

"Grenadiers," Gibbons snapped. "Close up into line! Two ranks, at the double!"

[Chørd]

`James

James didn't wait for Kemp to give any orders; the second the grenadier corporal ordered his men to form up, he headed out with the other light infantryman with him, keeping to the cover of the bushes with the intention of getting close enough to the rebels so that he could fire a decent shot.

His partner aimed and fired first, not hesitating to see if he'd managed to hit anyone, then dropped back a bit to allow James to move forward. He lifted the musket into his shoulder and took the time to take aim, before closing his finger around the trigger and firing. He grunted slightly from the kick, then dropped back to reload - the one part of musket drill he took the longest to perform.

---

OOC: Nurgh. Sorry for the shortness.

[/size]

[rebellioustory]

Elizabeth looked at the second model Bess in her hands, or rather, she looked up at it. She was only taller than her weapon by an inch or two yet she felt rather accomplished (how many other governesses get to fight for their home?) and hoped she'd be able to keep up with everyone without too much trouble. She didn't mind the foraging duty since it gave her time to explore her area and perhaps sketch some of the animals she found when the corporal wasn't looking. She pushed the round spectacles further up her nose and opened the sketchbook to the drawing she made of her firelock and took a bit of pride in its detail before quickly stashing it back in her haversack and attempted to look for edible things. She soon realized she wasn't with the Light Bobs then dashed over to where they were foraging, "Find anything?" she asked James then her ears perked up when she heard gunshots, Oh God! What have I gotten myself into!?

Commands were given to close ranks and everyone seemed to know what they were doing but her, What's going on!? What are we doing? Where's the enemy? I CAN'T SEE!" She pulled the foraging cap off of her eyes then followed the other Light Bobs looking around for whatever was out there to get them. Her heart was pounding as she was looking around trying to follow what everyone else was doing. She was thinking of the processes she had to do to prime and load, the marching maneuvers they might have to do, and yet still had no idea what was going on. No one told her where the enemy was coming from, what regiment they were in, how much powder to put in the pan to make it spark or what. She tried not to think and just do, but that only made her think even more. The command was given to prime and load. She took a cartridge out of the box, bit the end of it, primed the pan then shut it, cast the gun about and dumped the rest of the powder and bullet down the barrel then put her gun then shouldered it and filed behind one of the grenadiers next to James with every intention of following what he did. Her husband had taught her to prime, load, and fire, yet she had no idea how handy this knowledge would come until now. She stood on her toes to look over the Grenadier's shoulder, cocked the gun to make ready, brought it over the grenadier's shoulder when the command was given to present, and were suddenly given the order to fire. She didn't have time to think, she simply fired, halfcocked the firelock, and shut the pan and put the gun at her hip to prime and load again.

[Bog]

There went the light infantry, haring off like so many almshouse escapees. That was no way to fight a war at all!

"Second rank! Prime and load!" Gibbons had his own musket at his hip, one hand reaching back for his cartridge box. That initial volley had been a waste of powder and ball and he was not about to let such carelessness occur again. "First rank! Fix, bayonets!"

Whatever the light infantry got up to was none of his concern. All Gibbons needed to know was where the enemy was, in what strength, and which direction they were moving. To find out these important details meant advancing toward the enemy and that was something he was very good at.

"Grenadiers! Twenty paces forward, march!"

[Chørd]

`James

After firing another shot - delayed thanks to his skill-lessness when reloading - James dropped back again, glancing round to see where the other light infantrymen were. He could see the grenadiers, all properly formed up. Did it matter if you were in the correct rank and file when firing, so long as you actually achieved something? In any case, he'd rather choose skirmishing pairs for his preferred method of fighting; one reloading while the other fires - that way a near enough constant flow of lead was being packed into the enemy's ranks. And what was better was that you could get under cover whilst doing it.

Still, what the grenadiers did was up to them. Providing they didn't decide to thunder on in and steal the glory for themselves, he didn't mind.

He took out another cartridge from the box at his hip, bit off the top and spat it on the ground, before priming his weapon and shutting the pan. He dropped the gun's butt to the ground, poured the rest of the powder down the barrel, fumbling as he pushed paper from the cartridge and the lead ball in as well. Licking his lips, frowning slightly at the peppery metallic taste of the gunpowder that was already starting to tinge his lips, he drew his ramrod, forced it and the cartridge down the barrel, then returned the rammer to its place.

His partner had fired, and he moved forward, cocking his own musket and lifting it into his shoulder and aiming it the best he could, considering the rebels still remained stealthily hidden. The second he spotted movement he fired in its general direction, stepping aside to let his partner take his place again.

James looked around briefly to see where Bee had gotten to. He liked the new recruit, and wanted to make sure they were ok. After all, if he looked after them, then they could look after him with their alcohol rations once they'd settled in good and proper.
He spotted him, in line with the grenadiers, and grinned, beginning the reloading process again while glancing over every so often to check the newest member of the group was still alright.

His attention was averted to the grenadiers, however, when they started moving forwards.
"The buggers."
He turned to his skirmish partner, returning his rammer to its brass tube holder, and half-cocked his weapon. "Get closer, Blakely. Don't want to get left behind, do we?"

[/size]

[rebellioustory]

Why weren't any of the light infantry lined up in ranks like the heavy infantry? This wasn't what she knew and that made her afraid Do not think! Do not think! Whatever you do DO NOT TH- Oh God! I'm thinking again! She bit another cartridge, the powder smeared on her face when she wiped nervous sweat from her brow, and reloaded her weapon, Erm, excuse me?" she tapped her filmate's shoulder and he turned around

"What?!" he snapped putting his gun in the "recover" position and she bit her lip,

"Just where is our enemy? I don't see any Rebels." she said as he fired, Who are you firing at? Why are they not lined up and in sight like we are? Is that not how a war is fought?" if not, it should be fought like that! The short Irishman shoved her forward as a bullet whizzed by her hat sending it cocked to the other side of her head.

No time to think, schoolboy!" he replied, "Just shoot where you think the firing's coming from. I dinna see them, either, kid!" he replied as he reloaded. He pulled her back by the crosswhites as he saw the grenadiers marching forward and the other light bobs moving, "Halfcock that firelock ang shut the pan! Frizzen cover on! she did her best to do the orders as he was running around still holding onto her crosswhites. Oh there's James! Surely he had a clue what was going on! Her filemate, Harvey, wouldn't tell her anything as far as she knew.

"James!" she ran up beside him followed by Harvey, "What's going on?"

[Bog]

With only seven grenadiers, including himself, Gibbons' line was not an impressive one. He was perfectly aware of that. He was also aware that his lads were the best at what they did. They'd give a good accounting of themselves no matter what.

Twenty paces. The line came to a halt. From the corner of his eye, Gibbons saw the light company men dashing around pell-mell. One of them had even been in the grenadiers' line, standing behind Lowrie. Indiscipline, Gibbons thought with disgust. Pure indiscipline. Then again, what else could you expect from men who even shunned wearing a proper longtailed coat?

The first of the rebels were drawing themselves up in a show of defiance. Gibbons noted they were even forming line opposite. The distance was a decent one. Some seventy yards, he guessed. A bit far to expect accurate fire from either side, but a lucky hit was still a hit. He grinned, briefly. Being wounded here, at this stage, would be impossible to live down.

"Front rank!" Gibbons bawled. "Prime an' load!"

He'd give the rebels a volley anyway before advancing again. The closer they got, the greater the chance they could affect a bayonet charge. The lads in the front rank were quick about loading their muskets, and soon enough were back at attention, their firelocks shouldered. It was like watching excellence, thought Gibbons.

"Front rank! Make, ready!" He lifted his own musket away from his shoulder, bringing it up before him so the doghead screw was directly before the end of his nose. With his right hand, he pulled the flint back to full-cock. "Present!"

A quarter step back with the right foot, bring the musket down so its butt was pressed firmly into his shoulder and the muzzle held slightly above the plane on which he meant to fire. The others in the first rank would be in similar stances. Gibbons counted to three in his head.

"Fire!"

[faithfulguardian]

Danny stopped dead in her tracks, or rather, the deer tracks she was following. Gunfire. it was definitely gunfire off in the distance, she had heard something in the distance but wasn't sure until she got closer. she unslung her Pennsylvania rifle, a gift from an old colonist friend, and checked that it was loaded. that was the one thing she hated about the bloody thing, it took forever to load compared to her old Brown Bess. she had left that one at the camp with most of her supplies, this was a simple scouting trip, and for it she had donned her brown buckskin tunic and blue leggings, all that she carried, not including her pistol, sghian dubh, and dirk, was her powder horn, some cartridges, a water canteen, and a pair of hares the snares had caught earlier that day. She considered dropping them to see what was ahead, but did not want to risk losing them, so she crept forward on moccasined feet and reached the top of a ridge, lying on her stomach she crawled the rest of the way until she could see what was going on below.

it was a foraging group, a larger one than normal to be sure, but still foragers. she could recognize a light company when she saw one, they looked like the same group of boys from the 54th; dirty, clumsy, and hungry for rebel blood. the other half of the group was Grenadiers. Danny rolled her eyes, the 23rd. the army's elite. they would have books written about them someday, and all the other soldiers would be forgotten. she hated to admit they were good, but the order in which they fired was incredible.

Danny turned her gaze to the other side. from her vantage point on the ridge she could see a good number of Americans, none of them matching in uniform, all of them skilled despite it. she knew where her loyalties were supposed to lie, yet she still found it hard to bring up the rifle and aim at the frontiersmen. she also brought out her pistol and set it beside her. pulling back the hammer on the rifle, she took aim at a particularly tall man in a blue coat, fired, and let a small smile escape her lips as it grazed the man's broad shoulder and caused him to drop his musket. she grabbed the pistol and quickly fired it above the heads of the Americans, the more shots from their flank the more enemy they thought was surrounding them. she shuffled backwards and rose to reload the blasted rifle.

OOC: this is my first post! please be gentle!

[Chørd]

`James

James looked around when he hearded his name being shouted. He could tell just from the pitch that it had to be Bee.
"Where's the fire?" He teased, glancing at the other light bob holding onto the younger recruit. What was going on?
"Rebels," he grinned back, deciding that was a good enough answer, before pressing forwards again, frowning as the grenadiers let out another volley from their position several paces ahead. Around James, in the half-cover of hedgerows and small trees on the edge of the forest, the rest of the men from his light infantry party were rushing forwards to get closer to the rebels, who had formed up into a line to return the fire.

Once he was a suitable distance from them, James brought his musket up to his shoulder again, aimed it at the flank of the rebel line, and closed his finger round the trigger. He then turned back to Bee and pulled them sharply towards them.
"You fire while I reload, and vice versa," he explained. "It means the enemy are nearly constantly being fired upon."
He decided it was probably best he adopted the new guy as his skirmishing partner for now, until they were sure on what they were doing. Last thing he wanted was for him to get hurt in the process of panicking.

He moved forwards again until they were near-enough in line with the grenadiers. The rebels had a few casualties, but the British were near enough untouched - with luck, after a few more volleys, the enemy would rout.
James started to reload his musket again, his fingers and lips slightly stained from the gunpowder he'd been firing with. He offered Bee a reassuring grin, then pulled back the hammer on his musket to half-cock after finishing reloading.

---

OOC: Sorry guys, it's all I could work up. My muse is running a little dry today. And no worries Faithfulguardian, it's fine. ^_^

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[rebellioustory]

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile and shake her head when James teased her. It was at this point when she realized how silly she seemed asking questions in a time like this; she was a private and did not need to think, just shoot. Thinking was the officers' job, she just needed to follow orders and now that she was with someone who knew what he was doing, she can actually get to soldiering and stop running around like a chicken with its head cut off. She ducked in the hedge next to him and began reloading quickly glancing up to see another lad that looked around her age shoot a man in the shoulder and decided to pull her act together to load and fire. "That makes sense." she said as he explained what was going on, "I can do that."As James shot into the Rebel rabble, she quickly began to reload Can I do this? she asked herselfCan I actually bring myself to kill anyone? I know they're Rebels, but they're people, too... she then recalled the Rebels who threw her out of her home and the Rebels who wounded her husband that one time. She remembered the wounds she had to cauterize, the limbs she had to amputate, "Better them than me..." she said shooting someone in the leg before ducking again to reload.

She poked her head out of the bush to see the other lad run back and reload without a skirmish partner and that's when an idea hit her. Perhaps she could bring that other private over with her and James and the three of them could take turns firing, it would give them each more time to prime and load since she noticed James was a bit slow with that. She could help them both out and not be seen as a coward and not get harassed for it. She needed people who knew what they were doing and those two knew what they were doing. It then dawned on her that it would be a good idea to make up for her earlier freakout and recalled the grenadier corporal's scowl at her when she fired with them (she was used to watching the heavy infantry and thought that was what she was supposed to do!). If she showed she was brave, perhaps she wouldn't get into too much trouble! She began thinking about this as she was reloading and decided to go for it, "That private over there doesn't have a skirmish partner." she said pointing to the boy, "I am gonna bring him over here with us. If we have three people, it would give us more time to prime and load and it would be more effective. I'll be back! she put a hand on his shoulder then ducked out making a run for the other private. The distance didn't seem that far when she was in the safety of the hedge but now that she was out, it seemed a mile away!Ohhh! Why don't I think these things over before I do them!? she dodged bullet after bullet careful not to trip over various tree roots or get in the way of others' line of fire when she finally approached the boy... Who was armed to the teeth... "See that hedge there?" she asked pointing back but when she looked back, all she could see was smoke, "Well, there is one there somewhere." she scratched her head, "My friend and I are there and-uh- well, you're here. I'll cover you! Follow me!" she beckoned the lad to follow her into the smoke and fire, Careful! there's a big tree root here!" she said hopping over it before shooting at one Rebel making ready to fire before successfully finding the hedge again, "See? Not long at all!" she really hoped that proved she wasn't a coward running around like a chicken with its head cut off.