Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the Patriot movies, this fanfiction is just meant for fun, no harm intended.
A/N: Also I like to say that the opinions presented in this story are not mine, it's just what I imagine the Dragoons attitude to be. As the story goes on please don't be upset, about my history not being accurate. If you care to tell me about the mistakes I made; I might be able to correct them. Whatsoever a few changes in history or to the movie or more like the history in the movie, will be made to keep Tavington in the game. Furthermore I'm not a native speaker, so if you are troubled by grammar mistakes – inform me and I remove them.
Chapter 1: The battle near sunset
It was a mild August afternoon. Col. William Tavington had spent a great deal of the day on his horse. They rode quite a distance, only resting shortly to give horses to the water and refresh themselves for a moment. At the nearest camp they switched horses and proceeded to the battlefront waiting for their time.
Just like this battle, the war went on and on. But Tavington was confident, that their side was going to win. He had been from the beginning. It seemed most unlikely to him that a bunch of traitorous rebels stood a chance against His Majesty's army. Especially with such excellent officers like Tavington himself at the king's service. He was a proud soldier, proud of his deeds and of his Green Dragoons.
Under his command they had become quite an efficient unit, winning battle after battle. And it had not come to him easily, but William had proven himself worthy of the responsibility. He had come to the colonies seeking an opportunity to improve his rank and status. It had not been long that he was promoted to Colonel and this command. His fierce and ruthless style of leadership had won him many battles before that. In fact he never lost one.
Colonel Tavington was aware that General Cornwallis was a brilliant tactician and still he thought just as highly of his own contributions to this war. After all, what were the best strategies worth, if there were no able men to lead the soldiers into battle? If the Colonel saw the need for an intervention by his Dragoons he did not hesitate. To Tavington war was no fancy affair with petty rules.
He did what was necessary. That had earned him a nickname - "The butcher". Tavington was not bothered by it. Actually it was more the opposite. With the populace being afraid, they were less likely risking their lives in this petty rebellion. If they were to, they deserved what came their way. Making the enemy fear one worked to one's advantage, that he had learned very early in his career.
Tavington was not sure whether he was more feared or respected by his men. It wasn't that important as long as they obeyed his commands without questions. Besides he had found an excellent and trustworthy second-in-command in Captain Bordon. He knew he could rely on him, Bordon's obedience came from respect for him and William knew the men respected the captain and were unafraid to approach him.
The captain sat silently and with his usually hard to read expression on his horse along side Colonel Tavington. Behind them the entire unit of fearsome Dragoons, all on high horses, with their dark bearskin helmets, ready to join the battle beneath at the first sign of their commanding officers. They knew Tavington was known to charge, when it pleased him. It was none of their concern, they fought when there were told to.
Before they were given any signal to interfere the colonial regulars on this battleground realised they had nothing to win here. Their strength was fading with the wind and so they scattered to join other the other smaller troops in the area or surrendered if they had no chance to escape. Tavington watched part of their foot soldiers being ordered to pursue the fleeing enemy, while quite a number of others were ordered to surround the at least two hundred surrendering regulars. There was no way William would let any manpower get wasted in such a manner.
"Charge", ordered the Colonel raising his sword and tipping his horse in the side. The magnificent animal rode down the hill, his men following. Both the British and the Colonial soldiers stared a moment in horror at the force that was riding towards them.
Galloping, weapons ready, the Dragoons appeared like an unstoppable wave that was rushing into a peaceful beach line. Even before Tavington rode past the first British regulars cutting of the head of colonial with a swift blow, the Dragoons intension were clear. It just took everyone a while to act upon it.
Tavington's men rode or cut down every blue white uniform that crossed their path. Those who finally reacted and tried to pick up their weapons, were shot down by the British regulars. The horsemen showed not even a small sign of mercy. In a matter of minutes all remaining enemies lay slaughtered and maimed on the ground. The Green Dragoons grouped themselves and finally looked at the result of their attack.
In most of their eyes an awakening horror arose as they saw the butchered men at the hoofs of their horses. Their regulars showed much more open the shock of what happened here. Tavington realised it. However he felt no such sentiment. Wars weren't won by kind gestures. It would have been damn stupid to bother and look them away. Now they wouldn't consume manpower, food and place and the men could go and join in the last echoes of today's battle.
"Lieutenant Green, take the men and swarm out, search the nearby woods as long as you still go the light", he ordered one of the Dragoons and the young officer took the largest part of the Dragoons and had them following the Colonels orders. That also took care of their being uncomfortable with the outcome of their actions. They were soldiers and always eager to forget and ready to obey another command.
"Bordon", he said and his second-in-command lead his horse to his side.
The fight was not yet over, but it had spread and was likely to continue into the night. Six-ponders were firing into fleeing troops and red coats closing in fired orderly timed rounds at them. Captain Daniel Bordon saw his superiors gaze going up to the hills around them. Their own foot-soldiers nervously keeping distance from the last remaining Dragoons and the commanding Captain approaching.
"We are returning to base camp," Tavington finished his orders without giving any notice to it. "Take care we are informed at dawn about the status of the enemy's troops."
"Yes, Sir", Daniel replied.
The fighting force of the Dragoons was less effective at night, so soon they wouldn't be able to intervene without setting their horses at risk. It simply was too dangerous taking horses in the darkness on uneven ground into battle.
"Colonel?", the trembling voice of the Captain in his still orderly uniform caused Tavington to finally give him his attention. Both Dragoons looked down at him turning their horses with gracious movements towards him.
"Yes, Captain?", Tavington said with a mocking tone.
"Those men were about to surrender", the still ash pale men informed them.
The Colonel raised an eyebrow and half smiling he said: "And?"
The Captain seemed to become even smaller his mouth snapping in search of words, but before he could find them, Tavington spoke anew: "I believe you have unfinished business left in this battle."
Not daring to meet the ice-blue eyes of the Green Dragoon again, he nodded and turned towards his men. Bordon took a last look at Tavington, who still was observing the feeble excuse for a British officer. A moment the admiration for the strength and determination that surrounded his superior officer showed through in Bordon's face. It was gone the moment Tavington turned to signal him with a nod, that he was dismissed.
Of the few remaining dragoons, two accompanied their merciless leader while the others rode of with Captain Bordon to do the Colonels bidding. The British soldiers left the sight of slaughter with a fast pace. Field aid were already rushing by picking up wounded. It was unlikely that they were to survive, even if they reached the surgeons alive. Medicine was crude and the wounds received often deadly.
But near the end of the fight only the dead were left for the animals who would feast upon the corpses.
Reaching the encampment Tavington past unimpressed the first wounded foot soldiers that lay around the tents – hurting and bleeding. He was all too familiar with the face of war, it had left much more bloods on his hands and then he was seeing here. It was not that he did not felt sorry for the wounded men who moaned in agony as the doctors tried to save their lives with their inapt skills. After all they were loyal men of the crown.
But there was only one useful thing that could be done about it: not paying attention to it. So the forward striving personality of the Colonel dismissed any further thoughts on the matter. It was not his field of duty.
William hated it when the fighting occurred so late in the day, but he looked forward exploring the area during the next day. Better him than some petty officer, who was going to take prisoners. A waste of time and resources, not to forgot, a man who rebelled once, was bound to rebel again and inspire more to do so.
He dismounted his horse and left it to the care of his men. Then the Colonel headed for his own tent, which he shared with Bordon. He could have one of his own, but he thought it to be obsolete. Beside it gave him time to exchange information with Bordon not meant for the ears of the other Dragoons. And often enough his right hand was taking his time to sit in with them and thus leaving him to himself.
After removing the helmet upon entry, Tavington unbuttoned his uniform jacket and laid it orderly over his chair. Another bit of fancy equipment, but this time rather useful. Maybe this phase of rest was not so bad at all. He sensed a much greater battle ahead. He was not to sure, but riding to the fort to find out about Cornwallis plans for the near future, was the last thing he wanted to do. The Colonel did not liked being called to report to the General. Besides that, he fought the battles, when they were at hand and in the time between he found means to make himself useful.
In the far distance six-ponders were still fired and a few shoots nearby, came to his ears as well. Tavington barely paid attention, he was aware enough to notice should the fighting come closer, but at the moment there was no need to be alert. He opened the small trunk were he kept his belongings and put his pistols in it.
He had not many things with him, but then there was little time to use them anyway. He had no pieces of memories like most of the other officers. All that once belonged to his family had been lost by his father, the very image of sloppiness and decadence. Sometimes he picked up a book, but in the past weeks William had not feel the mood to indulge himself in any kind of literature. He rather spent his spare time with Bordon, discussing about themes more related to their reality, or imagining what his future after the war might be like.
Tavington respected his second-in-command more than the did the lot of powdered wig carrying officers around Cornwallis. Still it was a professional friendship. Neither of them talked about their privates lives. It was fine with both of them, each having their difficulties with the past and neither enjoyed bringing it up again. They were both men looking forward to the future and both hoped to improve their situation in this war.
After sitting on the low field bed and stretching his neck to the left and right side, he let down his hair. Unlike Cornwallis and his club of wig carriers Tavington's hair was long and healthy. The slightly curly brown strains fell on his white shirt. He massaged the back of with his fingers for a moment. The Colonel felt comfortable in the uniform, but he also enjoyed taking it of now and then.
A while later he heard Bordon ride in the camp and instructing the men to prepare for tomorrow's actions. His second-in-command entered their tent a few moments later his helmet already under his arm.
"When the General hears about today, he won't be happy", Bordon said as blunt and honest, as he only was, when the two of them where alone.
"What's not to be happy about? We took the field, the enemy ran away in shame…", he lowered his hands looking at Bordon who removed his uniform jacket as well. "The General should be pleased."
"Nonetheless, they already had their weapons on the ground – you know him", Daniel reminded him. His voice was not criticising, but informal.
"He'll get over it", Tavington shrugged his shoulders. He was in no mood, to talk about the General and his fancy manners. It was worse enough that Bordon had a point. "Well I deal with it, when it becomes necessary", he added.
He did not want his right hand to think that he did not approve his input. Especially because Bordon was the only one that had the courage to talk to him.
"Anyway, I suppose we'll have the information we need quite early in the morning", Bordon said removing his boots.
"Good", Tavington said doing the same before lying down on the field bed. What would he not give to lay once in a while in a real bed.
They fell asleep quite soon, and the faint snoring from Bordon's side of the tent was completely covered by the noise of the still ongoing fighting.