AN: This is a basically America's thoughts on fighting in the Revolutionary War. Hopefully the historical background at the end enhances it but it should be understandable without prior knowledge.
I wrote this during a flight on a barf bag. Thank you Air Canada for the paper. It was basically "a hey we just finished the section of American military history which focused on ranging and we're about to start the Civil War so why not do a review".
"Wonderful" America breathed in the fog. He was surrounded by the scent of damp leaves and dirt. It reminded him of days long gone. Days before England.
He had never been allowed to do this before. But his people had. They'd done this from the beginning. But he'd been too young. Even now his generals did not approve but the reasons had changed. This was beneath him, they had insisted. It was dishonorable and primitive. How could they get the respect of their enemies if they behaved like savages?
Who wanted to behave like those tyrants? Even if this made him savage, they weren't any better. They drank. They kept camp women. They was no bigger threat to his people's freedoms. Honestly, he didn't understand why George was so insistent on copying them.
His people had always been fighters, always fighting to live like they wanted to. They had been good at it. They had reshaped the land, fought to keep it safe from invaders, and now they fought for him. How did they think their states had formed. They'd been carved out by frontiersmen ranging, of course. But they were too young to remember when everything had been as wild as this swamp.
A stream of red emerged from behind a tall mangrove. He poured black powder into his barrel.
England was so confident, so cocky. As if winning the South would win them the war. As if they could manage it. The North East had Boston, it had New York, great centers of civilization. You could take a city and freeze the area. But the South wasn't like that. It was spread out. If he took a plantation it would win him nothing more.
America had to admit, privately, there was reason for the confidence. The sun was always at England's back, the sea stretched out before him offering little challenge. He could circle the globe and never be without someone loyal to him. There were even people that would bow to him here. America was still technically a colony.
England had captured New York. He had millions of men at his command. He had thousands of ships. But not even his best ship could sale into this wilderness. There was no escape, relief, or supplies out here. Here there was only America and the Swamp Fox's rangers.
America aimed his musket. Before the smoke had cleared ten more shots had rung out. The dark dirt was speckled with red and an iron tang drifted on the the redcoats could fall back into a defensive position the rangers were gone. In another 20 minutes, another five miles away, everything would repeat.
England would have to fight for every mile. He would loose more men than he could replace, more men than America would. It didn't matter if he thought America was savage. This savagery came from his mothers blood, his people were born from it. He would win with it.
Historical Background:
Ranging focused on striking quickly and unexpectedly and then vanishing. Americans learned it from the Natives sulking way of war and used it against them on the frontier and in the French and Indian War. It was pretty effective when used properly but was viewed as being ineffective and uncivilized.
The Swamp Fox referred to above is Francis "Swamp Fox" Marion. He was one of the men commanding the guerillas in the Carolinias under generals Henry Lee and Daniel Morgan. I chose him to be named dropped because of the cool nickname.