Pride of the Line (Open)

[Bog]

OOC - Takes place post-Foraging.

IC -

The shame of being turned to flight by a smaller British force was almost too much to be borne. They were supposed to be soldiers, yet that was the last thing Strout felt like. Nearly everything about that fight had been in their favour, yet the regiment had broken and fled. Like they were no better than the damned militia.

"Stew, Ben," Jack Leech said, lumbering toward him with a steaming tin bowl in either hand.

Strout looked up from the work of cleaning his musket. "Thanks," he said and accepted the bowl gratefully. Running from the enemy gave a man an appetite, he thought derisively.

"We did all right today." Jack settled down nearby, producing a spoon from his haversack so he could tuck straight into his stew.

All right. Aye, they'd done brilliantly. Strout shrugged. "Could've been better," he muttered.

His mate glanced at him. "We're still alive, ain't we?"

That was true enough. Still alive and able to fight again, if only because of their collective cowardice. Best not think about it, maybe. Having no spoon of his own, Strout settled for eating with his fingers, despite the scalding temperature of his meal. Once everything worth fishing out was consumed, he drank off the broth. That was all right, that.

"Here," he said presently, having returned his attention to his musket-cleaning. "I'll be back. Gotta take a walk."

Jack nodded and collected the empty tinware. They'd need cleaning promptly to keep them from rusting. Strout screwed the lockplate back into place then hefted the musket up. After that, he found himself sorely in need of relieving his bladder. To achieve that, he had to go a short way into the woods, away from the main bivouac. It wouldn't do, after all, to piss on the ground where somebody would end up sleeping.

[faithfulguardian]

it had been a long day, long and exciting, and however he put it, Nathaniel could see no better way to join the cause of liberty. he had followed many regiments in the past few years, but he decided the best one to sign up for was the one from his home state of Massachusetts, he had followed them into the forest today and witnessed the battle from not far off, and even though they had lost, he felt nothing but pride at the way the men held themselves.

at a distance he watched them make camp, feeling a chill creeping through him as they lit the flames of their camp fires, and a growling emitting from his stomach as he watched them eat. after a while a man stood and picked up his gun from one of the circles, Nate's heart began to race as he realized the man was coming his way into the woods. he decided this was his moment to try to join the ranks. this was the time.

he made sure he was in full view, but tried to face the man on his left side, for on his right he was still nursing bruises on his eyebrow and cheekbone, a split lip was the only injury on the left and it had begun to heal anyway. he also forced his thumb into his pant line, wincing at the pain of a sprained or possibly fractured wrist. he began to worry as the man came closer, his head down, what if they wouldn't take him because he was wounded? what if they turned him away like all the others. he furrowed his brow at the comments that surfaced into his memory
"we don't need a scrawny pup like you, get lost boy!"
"aye, get back to the farm, horse boy!"

he clenched his jaw, even though it hurt to do so, he was determined this time to join the 2nd Mass. whatever it took.

[Bog]

There was a boy loitering near the edge of the camp. It was impossible not to notice him, for the boy wore no uniform. Even as motley as the regiment was, it was still easy to tell who was and who wasn't part of it. Strout glanced critically at the boy and noted too how the youngster kept his head down, as if trying hard not to be seen. Even though doing so mean he stood out all that much more.

"What d'you want, then?" Strout enquired, a trifle gruffly, as he slung his musket from his shoulder. Hopefully it wouldn't be anything too involved, because he had to pee, damn it.

[faithfulguardian]

Nate's mouth went dry. he had been ready for this, but now that it came to it, he found himself nervous. he set his jaw and lifted his chin to the man.
"I'm lookin' to find a place to sign up. been following yer tracks all week tryin' to find you boys." he said, trying to ignore the pain in his face.
the man was big, tough looking, and gruff, he reminded Nate somewhat like his father, only maybe less violent. he braced himself for the response, balancing on his toes should the need arise to flee. the man had his musket still in hand and Nate had no intention of getting on either end of it.

[Bog]

To sign up? Damn it. Strout didn't have time for this. His bladder felt nearly ready to burst.

"We ain't 'xactly been hard to find," he grunted, thinking that anyone wanting to find the regiment would only have had to follow the din of battle and inglorious retreat earlier that day. "But there's an officer here somewhere who can get you on the rolls. Or somethin'."

Though as he said it, he knew actually finding any officer would be a feat unto itself. Damn it again. He glanced into the dark treeline and sighed. "Wait a moment." If this kid had been tracking them for a week, he could stand to wait another minute more. Without a further word, Strout moved quickly into the darkness, until he had gone a respectful distance from the camp. Then, hissing quietly to himself, he unbuttoned the fall of his breeches so he could relieve himself at last.

[faithfulguardian]

Nate turned away from the man and rubbed the back of his head with his good hand, feeling apologetic at interrupting the man from his bathroom break. he shuffled his feet loudly in the dead leaves to cover the sound of the man's piss. but he could still hear it. the man was now past him, and if he turned to bring him back to the camp, he would be able to clearly see Nate's bruises on the side of his face. He decided to try to get to the other side before they reached the firelight and everything became visible in the evening light.
"Sorry to be interrupting, I didn't realize..."he began, not sure what else to say to the man. slowly, he stepped across the space that would put him on the right side, hoping the man wouldn't question it.
"Name's Munroe, Nate Munroe, but most folk call me Lex on account of I come from Lexington."

[Bog]

Of course he hadn't realised. Only an idiot would have failed to notice that Strout's haste had only one cause. Not that it mattered, really. Presently, Strout tucked himself back into his breeches and rebuttoned the fall.

"Munroe, eh?" Whatever other names the boy had didn't much matter either. At least not to Strout. "Well. Wantin' to 'list is enough for me. An officer'll need to see you though." It would probably end up being Captain Bennet, if the man could be found. Strout shrugged and started back toward the campfire, wondering if he could convince Ezra Marsh to find Bennet for him.

"You comin', then?"

[faithfulguardian]

Nate raised his eyebrows in surprise, that was it? he was in? well, not completely, but the man had said they only needed to find an officer. he jumped forward, forgetting for a moment his soreness, and bounded off after the man. he caught up to him right quick and fell into step with him, trying to hide the grin that wanted to spread across his face.
"Heck of a fight you boys put up today! wished I had seen those redcoats turn tail and run like a bunch of jack rabbits scared outta a vegetable garden! bet you they would have too if those germans hadn't showed up!" he jabbered excitedly. finally! a place where he could join up! a company to help him get revenge on those lobsterbacks!
"So what's yer name? where you from?" he asked the soldier beside him as they entered the camp of the 2nd Massachusetts.

[Bog]

Replace 'redcoats' with 'Second Massachusetts' and the lad would have it right, Strout thought sourly. If it hadn't been for those Germans indeed. Them and those thrice-damned militiamen who'd retreated from the British first.

"Boston's mine," he replied, relieved to have a simple pair of questions to answer. "Name's Strout."

Privately, he had to wonder at the boy's eagerness to join up with them, such that he'd been following them for days. Certainly he could have enlisted after Lexington and Concord, or even Breed's Hill. Not that it mattered. They could use every willing recruit, without a doubt.

"Cap'n Bennet's the one to be seen for recruitin'," Strout went on. "He's over there some'rs. Doin' office-ah things. Or somethin'."

In truth he didn't really know what Captain Bennet did, other than manage the regiment when it was on the march or in battle.

[faithfulguardian]

"Strout, got it." Said Nate, he calmed down immediately upon entering the camp. all around him were men who had fought that day, who had risked their lives for the Cause. they looked like they had been through hell and back, every one of them. they looked tired, and dirty and hungry, but worst of all, they looked dejected. Nate wished he could rally them with a stirring speech like he had seen Dr. Warren do in Boston all those years ago, or Captain Parker at Lexington Green where his father had been killed. but he had no voice for speeches, he was a farm boy, he spoke to few people growing up, mostly his family. the family he fought for now, for revenge on their murders.

He followed Strout's pointing finger to the direction of the officer, a Captain Bennet. he nodded and turned to Strout to thank him, his face lit up by the campfires. he stuck out his hand to shake, not realizing it was the sprained one.
"Much obliged, sir, hopefully I'll see ya afterwards?"

[Bog]

Strout shrugged. "Sure," he said. "Me an' the boys got our mess over they-ah."

He nodded toward their fire, which was easily spotted because of Jack Leech's sitting near it. The younger man's size helped him stand out. In truth, they had room for a new man, since Dan Cross had copped it at Long Island and no one had come along to join them since. There was room for two, actually, if he accounted for Ezra Marsh's loss before Trenton.

Then, belatedly realising Munroe was offering his hand, Strout shook it. "Shouldn't take very long. Cap'n Bennet ain't one for speechifyin' or anythin'."

[faithfulguardian]

Nate nodded and tried to hide the wince when Strout grabbed his hand. He turned in the direction the man had pointed and headed off that way, building up his courage for another confrontation, he hoped it wouldn't be too difficult to get him in.

Not a half hour later, Nate was walking, well, jogging through the campsite trying to find Strout again; this time proudly swinging a beat up old Brown Bess musket over his shoulder and a powder horn at his belt. it was the only things Captain Bennett could scrounge up for him, but Nate was grateful for it. he even found five rounds that he had stuffed in his coat pocket.
Nate spotted Strout sitting by the fire with his company mates and walked over proudly, he sat down beside Strout without an invitation and laid the musket across his knees.
"so, What brings you boys to New York?" He asked, a big grin on his face.

OOC: I wasn't sure if Bennett was a character, so I just skipped that part.

[Bog]

OOC - He is, sort of, but only when an officer is needed. Otherwise he's just there in the background.

IC -

The boy was back, this time suitably armed. It was probably a firelock that had belonged to one of the fellows lost at Princeton or something. Strout glanced up with a slight shrug and tried not to think about that.

"S'posed be turnin' the British out," was his reply. Though that was far from how things were going. "But they're a damned stubban lot."

[faithfulguardian]

"aye, ain't that the truth of it." Nate nodded as he sat next to Strout, staring into the warm fire.Stubborn and cruel and hateful. I remember when Sam Adams used to speak before the war started, how those redcoats wanted to shoot him dead, but to do it meant an uprising. well they sure got one when they tried to arrest him no doubt about that!"

Nate began rubbing his musket down with his shirt sleeve, cradling the weapon in the crook of his elbow instead of holding it with his bad hand.

[Bog]

Samuel Adams. It felt like a lifetime ago, when Strout had gone to hear the man speak at the Old South Meeting House. Doing so had got him in trouble with his apprentice-master but it had been worth it. Not long afterward, Strout had run away from Mister Hogarth's smithy to join Colonel Bailey's regiment.

"Aye, that weren't a happy time," he remarked. "S'pose we'll turn 'em out yet, though, if we learns to hold our ground."

There was a long way to go toward that, though, if today was anything to judge by.