Tail Gait

December 25, 1779

Snow squalls swirled through the camp, promising heavier snows soon. From each barracks, a tendril of smoke attempted to escape from the log fireplaces—only to be flattened by the low pressure. Brick would have been far better for the fireplaces, but logs, charred, cost nothing. Central Virginia’s red clay made excellent bricks, but brick, practical and beautiful as it was, proved expensive. An all-brick home shouted Money! Many lovely clapboard homes splurged on brick fireplaces. However, not the primitive log barracks now housing the British prisoners. And worse, from time to time, a downdraft pushed the smoke back into the rectangular interiors.

Sergeant Edward Thimble’s thatching of the roof helped keep in the warmth. When the needles died on the cross-laid firs, and the rain, sleet, and snow filtered inside, accentuating the gloom, the sergeant was suddenly much in demand to thatch other barracks. The commandant of the prison camp secured extra funds from the colony’s legislature for straw. His appeal was met with grumblings from the governor of Virginia about how wickedly the colonists who were imprisoned by the British were being treated. Many rebel prisoners were held in the holds of ships anchored in the harbors of coastal cities occupied by the British. And for helping the Continental soldiers, many civilians were also suffering in miserable conditions. The accepted rules on the treatment of prisoners of war were ignored by the British, although the standards were known throughout the Western world. As far as the Crown was concerned, these rebellious people were criminals at best, traitors at worst. Since they were not recognized as soldiers, they could not be exchanged, and were subject to deplorable conditions. Many died of disease. The terms of surrender at Saratoga had now been emphatically denied by the Crown, creating uncertainty for all.

In contrast, the Continental commanders behaved with decency toward their captives.

General Washington was distressed by the suffering of men he considered patriots, men he considered under his care, but his entreaties and letters to Britain’s General Howe and others were ignored. Clearly, the king and his ministers meant to teach the upstarts a painful lesson. And so they did. They also hardened the colonists’ resolve.

The war that the British had thought to win quickly dragged on and on.

As the small number of captives from Captain Alexander Fraser’s regiment sat around the fire, smoking clay pipes, they wondered how long they would be imprisoned. Edward Thimble groaned, “I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of women I have seen since I was brought here!”

“Oh, Edward, ’tis not that bad!” Samuel teased. “The sutlers’ wives come along, and some have daughters.”

“Not enough. I’m tired of looking at your ugly faces.” Then Edward laughed and quickly glanced at Charles West. “Not yours, Lieutenant!”

At that moment, they heard the men in the next barracks singing, men from the Braunschweiger Regiment. “They keep their customs,” Edward remarked of the Hessians.

Charles simply noted, “As do we.”

Sam lowered his voice, although no one other than his mates was near enough to hear him. “When spring comes, we have got to put ourselves forward to work on the farms. Better than being cooped up here.”

Thomas counseled, “Do your job for the family that takes you. Who’s to say, Samuel, they won’t have a beautiful daughter! Falling in love with a woman isn’t a crime now, is it?”

A silence followed this observation, then Sam piped up: “With my face?”

They laughed. Thomas said, “ ’Tis different for you, isn’t it, Sir?”

Charles nodded. “As an officer, I do not know if I would be allowed to go out for farm work. But I would not mind. Along the way on our long march here, Americans could have spit on us, thrown rocks, but they did not.”

“They wanted our money,” Edward caustically observed.

“And why not?” Thomas challenged him. “There’s no harm in making a shilling, now, is there? If we marched on London, people would sell food for a price. People have to make out as best they can, and ’tis no crime to feed a man.”

“No,” Charles quietly spoke. “But I fear we are here for a long time.”

“They cannot win,” Edward said of the war, his voice carrying belief. “They have had some luck, and they can fight. I thought they would run the first time they saw Redcoats drawn in a line, but they did not. Still, they cannot win.”

“Their rifles are better than our muskets.” Thomas admired their firearms. “Their gunsmiths are good, very good.”

“Cannons not as good as ours,” Samuel observed without emotion.

“What good does that do unless you’re on flat ground?” Edward asked. “We couldn’t get our cannon proper set at Saratoga. That’s what Howard said.” Howard Wilson, 53rd Regiment, had gotten separated from his unit in the smoke, but he had seen the problems with the cannon and the hard push by the Continentals. He was assigned to another barracks.

“What do you think, Lieutenant?” Thomas asked.

“We underestimated them, but for how long can they hold on?” Charles shook his head. “War costs thousands and thousands of pounds. The Crown can afford it. I doubt the colonists can. But I will wager it will not be over soon.”

“And more of us will be coming here, I think.” Thomas reckoned they were building more barracks for a reason.

“Lieutenant, you can do anything with a pen and paper. We saw the drawing you did for Captain Schuyler.” Sam folded his large, rough hands together. “To the life! And your handwriting is like your drawing, wonderful to see. Would you write a letter for me? For my little brother?”

“Of course. I will write for any man who cannot write.”

Edward admired Charles’s skill. “I can write, but not with flourishes.”

“I want clear papers,” a corporal said. “Papers that state where I served. We will all need them to collect our pensions.”

“You will never see a ha’penny,” puffed Edward.

Thomas sat quite still for a moment. “A man could make a good life here. Why go back to England to fight and wait for what’s owed? I’m here. I will stay here.”

Quiet enveloped them. No one protested. Then Sam said, “A man could make a good life here with the right woman!”

They all laughed. They laughed even harder when Piglet scratched at the door. Charles opened it and the intrepid dog burst through with a string of wurst. Charles brushed off what had to have been part of the Hessian Christmas celebration, gave one to Piglet, and all the men took one.

“Happy Christmas, Piglet!” Edward cheered.

Later, Charles lay back, his head next to Piglet’s own. He thought how strange life was. The certainties vanish. What takes their place is resourcefulness and thanking God for life.