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Lake George Tactical 2004 2004 Lake George Tactical main page | All Lake George Tactical Reports
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Monday, October 11Upon arriving at the rendezvous point at dawn on Monday, I made my way along the northward trail that runs on the east side of the lake. By my reckoning, there were several parties in front of me, due to footprints and canoe landing marks I observed. Friendly or hostile, I do not know. When I reached the first set of large rocks, I fired my musket to alert both friend and foe that I came to be part of the overall events that will shape the world to come.
What I carried was a medium weight blanket, 1 pr. of spare socks, 1 pr. of moccasins, fire-starting gear, all wrapped in a 6x10 foot oilcloth I use for a tent, tied up with spare rope and fastened with an adjustable belt so as to allow ease carry over my right shoulder. Under this layer I had my haversack carrying 2 apples, oats, jerky, dried corn, bouillon, 4 hard bread rolls, 4 hard boiled eggs, spoon, ginger, salt, light weight shirt and sleeping cap. Wrapped in the top cover was my rain shirt with an extra heavy shirt. The next layer was my 1 quart copper canteen wrapped in wool (for quietness and to allow the canteen to be used as a hot water bottle of sorts when necessary) and my tin cup. I wear these items in this order in case I have to suddenly make haste and leave stuff behind, while allowing the following items to be accessible. On my left shoulder, I have my double D style shooters bag containing all necessary supplies for my .65 cal 1744 model horse carbine musket. The bag contains 24 pre-made powder cartridges of 110 grains of FF and 5 lbs of bar lead equaling the weight of 60 round balls. My engraved powder horn (map of Lake George, Ft. William Henry, and Ft. Carillon) fits under the right elbow, protected by the outer flap of the shooters bag, holds ¾ of a pound of powder. Around my waist I wore a belt containing my large knife, tomahawk and plug bayonet, plus a small belt bag containing a second fire starting kit, a handful of rations, and a compass. What I wore was a brown wool sleeved waistcoat, green sleeveless linen coat, white linen shirt, brown silk scarf, green linen britches, gray wool stockings, brown leather leggings, brown leather garters, hard soles shoes and black trimmed in white cocked hat. I proceeded to a point they call The Castle, where my instructions where to reconnoiter the area and wait for possible additional British. This area is a large rock outcrop facing west that gives a good look north and south of the lake. Seeing no moving watercraft and no foot traffic after ½ hour, I continued northward. The next stopping spot was Red Rock. This is a large peninsula which contains several areas that could hide canoes. Whenever I stop to check an area, I leave my extra gear hidden off the trail so as to allow free movement and to prevent supplies from falling into the wrong hands if captured. North of Red Rock is another peninsula that faces Hazel Island. I stashed my gear again and checked out this area. Here I found a camp of several people, totally unoccupied and unguarded. Not disturbing anything, I left and went northward again, leaving my gear stashed. Three-quarters of a mile up the trail I meet two British who were watching the fork of Black Mountain and the lower trail. I told them about the camp and offered its protection to them. They had heard shooting in the morning but no action on their part as yet. About three in the afternoon we went back to the camp and there met 12 rangers. There were no outlying scouts around the camp and we were assigned that task. When it got near dark, we were relieved from post. I had a VERY hard time finding my gear and thought that maybe tonight I would be sleeping under the stars and pine boughs. When you are walking through brush, trying not to make noise so as to alert the enemy of your presents, it can be nerve racking. After password assignments, I went to bed. In the middle of the night I heard noises below my camp, on the rock cliff face. Thinking action is better than nothing, I fired upon the entering foe. Turns out, I should have used the password call-outs, because all I did was kill our Captain, who was returning from a night canoe raid. Lesson learned for both of us.
Tuesday, October 12Tuesday brought the camp to an early rise. All of us thought that the French would be attacking in force at dawn. Three hours went by without any show of aggression. We expanded our perimeter for several more hours. Captain Kennedy headed south to meet with other forces he was expecting to join us. Sgt. Chauncey led me, Pvt. Dave Broach, Pvt. Bill Filkins, and Pvt. Bob Stoner northward to gather information about the enemy. On our way, we saw a French flotilla moving southward. Filkins was dispatched to warn the captain and the troops he was bringing in from the south. Broach and Stoner were positioned in the woods to watch the road, while the Sgt. and I went to find what we could about where the French were going. We found a couple of British militia on the hillside, and while conferring with them, we were attacked by some of the enemy moving up from the south. They fired on us and I jumped behind a hillock. The Sgt. ran through the woods. They passed me by (I'm a little guy so I hide easily), and I stayed hidden until I could have an opportunity to find my own forces. I have learned that it is usually better to save self to fight again later than to die worthlessly. That didn't happen until we regrouped some time after noon. We all returned to camp with the newcomers, posted guards, and ate supper while the captain planned our next attack.
Around the campfire we all celebrated our good fortune for having a great leader and the Lord’s guidance. Two gills of rum and some homemade concoction helped the celebration.
Early in the morning, we discovered the enemy was nearby, a single Frenchman on Hazel Island, and we made preparations to capture him. While Pvt. Filkins was on watch, the captain put a plan into action. He and one other went to the north end of the island, out of musket range to distract the French while Sgt. Paul and I went to the south end. The plan worked like a charm. We now had a captured foe. Shortly after, a canoe bearing a single person was spotted going north on the westward side of the island. Lt. Paul and I gave chase. The canoe turned around to try to make it to Red Rock. We cut him off just as he was rounding Sarah Island (immediately south of Hazel Island). He tried to turn around again to head north but our captain and crew had snuck up on him while he was looking for Paul and me. Meanwhile, my fellow rangers found that a bateau had sailed between Hazel Island and the camp, and they killed all members of the bateau with our swivel guns (land based) and musket fire.
The captain learned from the prisoners that some of the forces we had seen traveling south yesterday were still there. This led him to send a 10-man expedition southward. With the captain leading, we reached a point between Red Rock and The Castle. Here we found a French bateau and canoe just leaving the area. Racing to the waterfront, the captain and several members fired upon the nearest bateau before they could bring their swivel gun to bear, killing one and wounding several of the enemy. My firearm refused to fire when I needed it most. That afternoon, two of the Kings’ 55th Foot (Pvts Handy and Peterson) were tasked to probe the French defenses, wherever they were. The captain and I went with them as flankers.
The four of us arrived at Black Mountain Pt. (north of our camp, south of the French-held islands). The redcoats of the 55th were on the west side of the trail and the captain and I took a position in the rocks east and above the trail. An enemy watch post spotted the two redcoats and a swarm of Indians appeared from the point, all on the west side of the trail. Capt. Kennedy and I could only watch as first one gallant solider fell and then the second was captured and tortured to death. One of the original orders was that at all cost, do not all get killed because someone has to bring back the report of the enemies’ strengths and weaknesses. Therefore, both the captain and I turned to return to camp. However, one of the enemies (Gregg Champlin) had snuck up to our area, thinking he would flank the two from the 55th, when he ran into the captain, who was just leaving his hiding spot. One shot and our leader was down. I looked back and saw his scalp being lifted so I made haste, up and away from this killing area. Not knowing how many were following me, I hid in some large rocks near a stream until I felt secure enough that I could return to our camp alive. Upon arrival at camp, I reported to Sgt. Goodrich of the horror and sorrow of the battle. After dinner, a counsel was called as to what the wishes of the group were. Several of us wanted revenge tonight. A plan was made that Pvt. Dave Broach and I would scout the east side of the trail northward near dusk, camp near the French and make a night raid into their camp. The rest of the camp would attack in force on Thursday am.
Dave and I left camp with a small bedroll each, plus a handful of food. We went to the forks of Black Mountain trail, left our bedrolls and then went in a counter-clockwise arc so as to approach the French from their northeast quarter. Trying to maintain quiet was very difficult in the underbrush. An owl screeched between the enemy and us. Several musket shots from them, plus language suggesting they thought the owl was Capt. Kennedy and company. Dave and I had several campfires in front of us and we did not know how many people were around the small fires. We wanted to hold our ground until the fires went out, but they burned steady for several hours. Finally, Dave and I decided to attack the campfires. Sneaking in, we found that they were candles in candleholders, so as to light the path. Blowing out the candles, Dave and I proceeded towards the enemy. All this time, the French and Indians were shooting at any noise, still thinking the owl was our captain come to kill them in their sleep, as he is renowned for doing. By the musket and swivel gunfire, we could get a rough idea where the enemy was stationed. Dave and I were within 30 yard of the nearest sentries when they lit and discharged a flash grenade, revealing their position and ours. They did not expect us so close and were not ready to repulse us. However, we did not realize how many of them were still at their posts. It was more than we could handle, so we left post haste. Retreating to our bedrolls, Dave and I waited until dawn for reinforcements. We learned later that the captain with Pvt. Bill Filkins had come near the waterfront by canoe not long before Broach and I first took up position. The captain and Bill had retired, shouting, “Sleep well tonight because tomorrow morning will be your last”.
At dawn, Chauncey and Capt. Kennedy arrived to explain that the attack wouldn’t be until mid-morning. With that news, Dave was sent back to Fort Edward to ask General Webb, some 20 miles distant, for reinforcements. I remained as a forward scout and Chauncey and the captain returned to our camp to get the troops.
While I was waiting for our troops to arrive, I moved my hiding spot closer to our camp. I found a perfect spot to defend, or from which to ambush. There were two large fallen trees parallel to the trail, which was thirty yards downhill from me. On the other side of the trail was the lake, only 10 feet from the trail. Behind me were two more fallen trees, thirty yards up-hill. Beyond that, there was 20 yards of open ground, leading to a large boulder field, all up-hill. This allowed me the advantage of cover fire downhill. If necessary, I could retreat uphill twice and still have protection. If the enemy attacked from above, I could first advance to the middle fallen trees then retreat to my present position and finally escape up or down the trial. After several hours, my persistence was rewarded. A lead British scout appeared from my left, on the trail. Then several more, all about 15 yards apart. When the middle two scouts were directly opposite me, I hailed out “Which one of the two of you would like to be dead today?” That stopped the column straight in their tracks. All easy targets if I were inclined to shoot my own troops. Or I could have waited until the bright red dressed officer, near the rear of the patrol, was in my sights. At that moment, all of them realized what a trap they were in, if I had been the enemy. After the proper passwords, I reported to the captain the lack of southward movement of the French along the trail. Hoping that they were still at French Point, the column continued northward into history.
Arriving at the French outer defenses, we met their flanking scouts. At once, three of us raced forward to the high ground, east of their position. Myself, being in the lead and alone, called for help to secure the vital rocky knoll. Two French proceeded to leap frog between trees, not presenting any clear shots, in my direction. I could see some of our men were down at the area where the two 55th members were lost yesterday and the rest of us were spread in a crescent shape from the water up the mountainside. The enemy started from the trail area, worked towards our center and also tried to get the high ground. Being out- numbered and in danger of being surrounded, I ran back towards our men. The next thing I knew of was a sharp burning in my side. WOUNDED. How serious I did not know but I managed to hide behind a large tree with another fallen member and we watched and listened. Our men pushed on uphill and out of earshot and sight, maintaining the advantage of height above the overwhelming numbers of the enemy who chased them. However, two of our men had stayed below the trail, near the water line. While most were off chasing the Rangers, these two entered the French camp and killed the French commander! After an hour, the returning French made a sweep of the area. That is when they found several of our wounded, including
myself. We were brought to the French hospital and treated with respect. While in their care, a second alarm arose and the
enemy again went forth. This time, the English were right at the entrance of the camp and after a sharp battle, a parley
was called. Long Live the King. |
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