After action report of
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Having received previous orders to send all available troops to rendezvous with Lt. Chauncey Goodrich at Commission Point at Lake George, Pvt. Robert Albrecht and myself, Cpl. John Bauer, were detached from the company for this mission. Monday, October 8th Pvt. Albrecht and I had made good time in our early morning forced march out of the Jerseys, and by10:30 in the morning had finished carrying the canoe and baggage to the landing site. We had flirted with some heavy rains south of Albany, and thought that we had left that all behind. It suddenly turned dark from a rain squall coming down the lake, and it was upon us in seconds. We pulled the canoe partly up the lake shore, covered what we could, grabbed our muskets and took refuge in the trees under a small square of oilcloth, hoping the storm would pass quickly. After several minutes during which we were slowly getting soaked, we decided to retreat to the transport and wait out the storm, which passed by in about an hour. Peter Bond of the 55th had traveled through the storm and met us as we were returning to the canoe. He had recently been ill, and was still under the effects. He prepared to walk in, and we left to examine our cached gear. We emptied the canoe of water, packed our gear and then paddled to our rendezvous at Commission Point. The weather had cleared with a slight breeze; it was good to be back at the lake. After exchanging greetings and information on the enemy with Captain Quintin Kennedy and this year's English Lake Commander, Lt. Chauncey Goodrich, we were left to hold the Commission Point and wait for additional expected troops. Several Dutch Traders in large bateaus were also there, a nuisance as usual. The Captain, Lt. and Pvt. Filkins opted to patrol the old road north, and had not been gone for long when several canoes of Indians rounded the point at Red Rock. We took up defensive positions, but it was impossible for the two of us to hold the point against such numbers. The patrol quickly returned, having seen the canoes before advancing too far. The Lt. ordered us to a more defendable position, but the Natives never attempted to land and engage us, trade with the Dutch, or even to mark our canoe as destroyed. Three members of the 55th soon joined us , and together we patrolled the old road north, searching for the French until it started turning dark. The Captain, Lt and Pvt. Filkins, who was also ill, preceded to their camp secreted away in the vast forests of the hillside and the rest of us turned back south. The Dutch Traders were gone but had left a fire burning, and at first we thought the natives had returned and taken the point. But numerous crows, feeding on the scattered remnants of their meal relieved those fears. The 55th continued to their camp, while we stayed to use the fire to cook our own dinner. Not certain of the location of the French , but suspecting their Native allies to be camped on nearby Fork Island, we waited till nearly dark to vacate the Point and make a cold camp out on Red Rock. The day had been warm, and I started off sleeping on top of my bedroll in shirtsleeves. It turned colder during the night, with an occasional drizzle, and by morning I was buried deeply in the old wool blankets. Tuesday October 9th We rose before first light, cooked a hot breakfast and broke camp. The canoe was loaded and with no small effort, carefully hidden. We rendezvoused with the Captain and Lt, learning that the Pvt. Filkins had not stirred since last evening and continued to be ill. Only two members of the 55th met us as Pvt Bond had also taken a turn for the worse and had returned to the fort. The Captain had a personal agenda to attend to, and took leave of us. The remaining five patrolled north on the old road and set an ambush in a favorable location, expecting the French to be traveling from the north. Instead, they advanced from the south. What should have been an easy victory for us turned to quick defeat with three klatches among us. The French wasted no time in taking quick advantage of the situation.
After a brief greeting, our patrol turned south and ventured out onto Red Rock, an area which I was not familiar with. Near Commission Point we observed a pair of fairly rare Pielated Woodpeckers which were working some of the blight infected hemlocks. We turned and patrolled back, the rear guard catching sight of six canoes with Indians advancing on Commission Point. We quickly gained the mainland and took up a secluded position to observe their coming and goings. The savages eventually passed by on foot heading north, and we quickly turned up the hillside and traveled paralleling the road south, hoping to overpower any guards left to protect the canoes. Much to our surprise, the canoes had been left unattended. The Lt. gave orders to the 55th and Pvt. Albrecht to continue back up the hillside, and we advanced so the Lt. could mark the canoes as destroyed. War whoops from the north informed us we had been seen. Hurrying off the point, we assumed the others had done as ordered (They had not. Instead, they secured some good cover and prepared to sell themselves dearly. See Pvt. Albrecht’s account below)
The heathens were quick to arrive and sporadic musket fire came from the direction where we had parted with the 55th and Pvt. Albrecht. Knowing by this they had not taken refuge up the hillside, and possibly cut off from joining them, we promptly secured some good cover and awaited the expected search to reveal our location. The musket fire withered away, and the savages raised a chant calling for “Chauncey.” The weather being warm, and with no immediate threatening hostile activity, I promptly took a much needed nap. Well after things had grown quiet, the Lt. eventually grew impatient and disturbed my slumber. It could not be determined if the savages held the point and were searching for us, or if they had left. We assumed that our comrades had all been killed. The Lt. knew that he had been marked by the Natives to be captured if the opportunity presented itself. Two of us caught in the open against such a determined force made that a likely prospect. Allow me to add two paragraphs from the 1999 Ward Pound Ridge Tactical written by my good friend and fellow Ranger, John Bernaski; “Lt. Lance ordered a run back to a bridge we could defend. Hot and tired, I no longer wanted to run anywhere. Indian “Little Cat” Efinger gave me the necessary enthusiasm by pointing out that the bad guys were hot on our trail and “captured” 20th century is only marginally better than captured 18th century. I never looked back.” “Ah, the heady perfume of musket and cannon fire! My Napoleonic dreams were shattered by a great French volley. I was promoted to Brevet Dead. The remaining two or three Rangers joined with other decimated units and overran the French lines-our Indians capturing a young French soldier. The poor devil was bound and led on a leash back to the Indian camp, where he was staked, spread eagle, on the ground. Humiliation, with a generous side order of degradation, was heaped upon this unfortunate soul. Straw was added and children tried to start flint and steel fires. “ Despite the Articles of War which apply to the Lake George Tactical regarding the taking of captives, John’s written word has always held great influence in such matters. Capture by the heathens was not an option in either of our minds. Attempting to travel the old road back north would have been too great a risk to take. We decided to cautiously head straight east up the steep hillside, hopefully to the old horse trail, then turn back north to our fallback position. Great plan, and far easier said than done. It was a strenuous climb, the heat of the day making it more so. Thoughts of the easy travel afforded on the old road plagued us both. We gave out on our uphill progress long before reaching anything that resembled a trail. Finally turning north, it would have been a convenience if my right leg were about a foot shorter!! We took several much needed rests in our journey, enjoying some great views of the lake. By shear luck (the Lt. credited it to my great skills as a woodsman and Ranger) we arrived to within yards of our starting point earlier in the day. Within a few minutes the 55th appeared heading south and back to their camp. It seems that they had eluded the Indians earlier, but had come north on the old road when the Indians left. (Sure wish we had known that.) Behind them were Pvt. Albrecht and from the Queen’s Grenadiers, Pvt. Abe Price. They had engaged a French patrol earlier, and were in search of a secure position to await our return. Our whereabouts had been unknown for hours. (Hell, it had even been unknown to me and I was there!!) We were all worn from the rigors of the day and the Lt. gave orders to rendezvous in the morning, and we all parted. My problems were just starting, as the French Commander’s bateau was docked not 200 feet from our hidden canoe. We advanced cautiously, and upon reaching the location, the bateau we observed out on the lake headed back to their camp. Good, I was tired, hot and hungry. We extracted our unmarked (unfound) canoe from its hiding place and quickly set up camp with Abe joining us for the night. Sleep came early and quickly with some drizzle again during the night. Wednesday, October 10th We were late getting up and opted for a cold breakfast to save time. The canoes were loaded, but I did not have the energy to go through the contortions required to hide the canoe again. And this time there were two. Not enough cover was available for two canoes. We decided to simply leave them tied to the dock and hope that no French patrols would come that way.
On the way to our rendezvous, we encountered a French patrol, and retreated to a better defensive position. I quickly made two kills, but saw the loss of Pvts. Albrecht and Price. Recognizing Peter Marques, one of the french milice, I also claimed a kill on him. He promptly, and rightfully so, “dressed me down” for claiming a kill out of range. At the time, he was clearly in full view, all of him from nose to toes (Peter is fair sized, mind you), and standing still. Peter is a worthy adversary and made for a very tempting target, but I was in error to have called the shot. Still an easy thing to do even after years of tactical experience. At any rate, both Peter and Med had worked their way to within range; I was a dead Ranger twice over. We continued to our appointed rendezvous and waited. Four members of the 55th arrived with information that the Captain had taken the ill Pvt. Filkins out by canoe earlier that morning. Although concerned about the absence of the Lt., we decided to seek out the French; after all, that is what we were here for. The 55th would keep to the old road, Pvts. Albrecht, Price and I stealthily flanking uphill. Our patrol had not gone far when the 55th engaged French pickets, and we quickly moved to come around the French left. We immediately encountered French milice to our front and right flank and fell into a sharp engagement. Every time I looked, more milice were coming. The 55th fell back and out of contact. We were surrounded and pinned on the hillside and picked off in short order. The 55th had retreated with heavy loss, the survivors avoiding the pursuit by climbing the steep hillside. We reunited after the engagement and took some refreshment. Now what? I proposed that we seek them out again. We formed back up and patrolled out to Old Fort Bear Necessity. We encountered two of the Milice relaxing in the confines of the old fort, and after a brief engagement Pvt. Price killed both, one in hand combat.
We determined to take a stand in the area of the Old Fort and see what happened. It did not take long for the French to come. When they realized that we held a strong position, reinforcements were quickly brought up, as it seems that we were very near a rather large French encampment. The Indians coming off Hazel Island shouted many idle challenges and boasts to us from the safety of their canoes out on the bay, but seemed to lack the grit to come to the fray. Except for Walker and Big John, the rest simply canoed away. Just as before, we were slowly being surrounded by lots of French, and again picked off one by one, Pvt. Albrecht and I being the last to fall. We rejoined the 55th, and being late in the day, we bid them farewell as they were required to return to other commitments tomorrow. This left the three of us, and we were growing concerned about the welfare of the Captain and Lt. Neither had kept to the appointed rendezvous locations or times, nor shown at any of our engagements. We feared that the French or their heathen allies had finally made good on their long standing threats and captured one or both, or they had fallen ill with the same ailment as Pvt. Filkins. We returned to our canoes which were marked, as expected, as destroyed by the French and decided to find an alternate camp for the night. We chose one of the small islands which we reasoned could be defended should there be any night offensives. That evening, the weather was giving some indication that we might have storms coming our way, possibly quite severe. We were in a quandary as to what to do. We did not want to cut the event short, but waiting out a two day storm was definitely not what we were prepared for, nor looking forward to do. After much discussion among us, we decided that we would leave tomorrow, but we should advise the French of our decision. Pvt. Price indicated that he had a “gift“ to deliver to Med later that evening and that a message could be included. I quickly wrote out a note regarding the coming storm and our desire for a parley in the morning, and also our concerns regarding the missing Captain and Lt.
It was a beautiful evening with a gorgeous sunset and the distant potentially threatening clouds. We relaxed, prepared a good hot meal, smoked our pipes and enjoyed some good beverage besides. But all was not calm. What sounded like Indians landed on Red Rock in the dark, possibly informed by the French that they had found our canoes there earlier in the day. We instantly took up defensive positions and kept a nervous watch in their direction, but the sounds eventually faded away. Abe left for his mission, leaving Bob and I to enjoy the quiet and solitude. The lake was dark, showing few features. The stars shone like they never do back home in the Jerseys, probably due to the light pollution. We watched several meteors streak across the sky and could clearly see the Milky Way. Thursday, October 11th Waking in the morning, we leisurely prepared a hot breakfast with good, hot coffee, then broke camp and packed the canoes. Paddling to Hazel Island and the Parley, we all began to question if there was really a storm coming. The day was bright with a light breeze from the north which gave no indication to raise any fears of a storm. But as the minutes rolled by, things began to change ever so slightly. The original plan was to Parley later that day and then camp that evening with the French. Bob and I were really looking forward to that. But the French had also heard of the coming weather, and like us were in no position to wait out a storm on one of the exposed islands or points. We enjoyed some fine drink and food, and also camaraderie among what have become good friends despite being on opposite sides.
Slowly, bateaus and canoes got loaded and pulled away from the dock, ours the last to leave. The weather was changing, the wind now coming from the south, thankfully not with the same force as during last year’s departure. Great dark gray storm clouds could be seen slowly building all around us. We stopped briefly at a vantage point out on the lake, and Chauncey and I wondered aloud just how far up that mountain we had been in our journey two days before. Chauncey thought that we crossed above some of the shear rock cliffs now visible from the lake. I’m not sure that I even want to know!! As has been our tradition, we stopped at a local Inn for a Toast to the King and a good meal together, then reluctantly parted and headed home. Rain drops dotted the windshield before we made the Northway, and we encountered heavy rains with thunder and lightening soon after and for most of the journey home, all of it headed north. We had chosen wisely to leave, and we hoped the French all made port safely prior to the storms arrival. All Honors belong to the French this year as they clearly outnumbered us and soundly beat us at nearly every engagement. They also controlled the water with four bateaus and numerous canoes. Hopefully we were worthy adversaries despite our numbers, and at least kept life interesting for them. Despite the odds against us, we had a great time and thoroughly enjoyed every minute. Now we must work at recruiting troops from among the English units, and contacting those who no longer come. It would be a shameful thing that the Lake George Tactical became a thing of the past because the English could no longer muster a force to defend King George’s lands and Honor. The good Lord willing, Bob and I will most surly come next year, for The Lake has become almost a spiritual experience for both of us. It will be a long year before we can come again.
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