His Excellency's Orders
Written By: Commander Cody CC-2224
CHAPTER 10
Ben made his arrival back to the camp of Washington's Army, which at this point was still in its busy, vigilant mood. By the time he made his arrival there, his comrades Walter and Brady had already joined up with him from behind.
"Hopefully, you boys had time to say farewell," he said to them.
"I did," replied Walter. "I said good-bye to Sarah. Her dark-brown eyes were literally pleading me not to go." Walter was soon to be engaged to a girl named Sarah Bennett.
"Brady's farewell with his young wife, however, was tearful," Walter added. "I literally had to be with him just to get his spirits up."
This answer led Ben to make a glum face to himself. As dramatic as it would seem, Ben's awareness of the inherent dangers of Fifth Regiment assignments would warrant such descriptions from Walter, and emotionally upsetting behavior on Brady's part, especially if they knew that it might be the last time they would see their again their young wives or the girl they were soon to be engaged with.
"I understand," he answered them in a sympathetic manner befitting a true friend. "But we can't afford to have our spirits low, gentlemen. Once we're in this mission, we're committed, no matter what."
"As usual," said Walter, who didn't seem at all surprised at the prospect of not returning. "You get used to that after a while."
"I'm hoping not to," said Ben. He didn't exactly see it as something to get used to. When the war was over – if the war would ever be over, he could go back home to Williamsburg to fulfill his contract with Mr. Merriman. And he would see Felicity again.
By that point in time Ben and his squad had already reached the middle of the camp. Behind them an officer of the Fifth Regiment was gallantly making his approach.
"Sir, a word, if you please," he said briskly.
Ben and his squad turned around approached the officer. Recognizing the officer as a major, he was the first to salute.
"Sergeant Benjamin Davidson, sir," he greeted.
"Sergeant Davidson. Of course," the officer greeted back, taking note of him and his squad before facing directly to Ben. "I was told by His Excellency to pass on the reminder that you and your squad need to undergo a change of military uniform. He doesn't want any of you to leave traces of your affiliation with this special assignments branch of the Continental Army."
It was usually standard procedure for Fifth Regimenters going on an infiltration assignment to do that; however, in this case, Washington ordered his squad to do that. In the event of being captured, all manner of affiliation with the Fifth Regiment were to be disavowed and no traces should be there.
"We could simply cast off all manner of rank and insignias off our current uniforms, though," said Walter.
"I beg your pardon, sir?" the officer asked Walter, shifting his eyes on him.
"Well…I was just saying…we could simply cast off all manner of rank and insignias off our uniforms, sir," Walter proposed for what seemed to be the second time.
"Unless you want to go through the trouble of stitching them back yourselves, you're welcome to try," the officer reminded Walter.
Ben, however, had no intention of lingering on this matter for very long, so he spoke up immediately. "We'll change our uniforms, sir," he said, anxious to close the matter.
"As you wish, Sergeant," replied the officer. "Good day."
Ben saluted the major, who in turn saluted back to him. Ben and the squad were about to leave when Brady called the major.
"Sir, where do we change?" he asked him.
The major pointed at the tailor's makeshift shop, which was not that far from the armory. Following the major's pointing, he was the first to catch sight of the shop itself.
"We'll stop there first," said Ben.
As Ben had planned, he and his squad made their first stop to the tailor's makeshift shop. The shop boasted an assortment of cotton clothes and dyes. Most of the merchandise stocked in the shop was mostly army uniforms, many of them belonging to the Continental Army. If Fifth Regimenters needed uniforms, they usually purchased a standard Continental infantry uniform and decorated them with their own insignias.
"Hopefully, you'll find something that fits," said Ben.
"Shouldn't take too long," said Walter. "After all, we're all about the same size."
"We'll definitely keep the boots," said Brady. "The officer didn't say anything about changing the boots."
"Right," said Ben.
He and his squad personally selected three ordinary uniforms of the Continental Army private. Then they selected three ordinary tricorn hats. Each of the Fifth Regiment boys paid twenty-five dollars in Continental currency, which was slowly decreasing in value. As long as that paper currency was not redeemable in any specie, the value of the money would slowly decline.
Ben, Walter, and Brady then made their heading over to the camp armory, which was under the charge of the camp's gunsmith. The gunsmith kept an assortment of firearms, which included, rather unusually, the Ferguson rifle. That particular rifle had twice the capacity of a Brown Bess rifle, in the sense that a rifleman could fire two shots without reloading.
"And what can I do for you today, gentlemen?" the gunsmith asked the three boys.
"Have the guns been cleaned?" Ben asked the gunsmith.
"Aye," replied the gunsmith.
Brady was the first to take notice of the handful of Ferguson rifles stacked at the back end of the makeshift camp armory. "I'm also here to acquire one of them Ferguson rifles," he declared to the gunsmith.
"That won't be necessary, Brady," Ben said to him. "We're on an infiltration assignment. You'll simply end up leaving it behind."
"But you never know if they'll have them available," said Brady.
"I take it he's a sharpshooter?" the gunsmith asked him.
"Quite," Brady answered.
"We can arrange a special deal with the young lad here," said the gunsmith. "I'll let him acquire one of these special rifles and when the war is over, he hands over an I-owe-you."
"That's assuming, of course, if he's not dead already," said Ben rather cynically. "It's your call, Brady," he said to the young lad.
Brady made a silent nod of his head. After signing the I-owe-you on a piece of paper the gunsmith handed him the special rifle.
The rest of the squad, meanwhile, set themselves to acquiring a handful of firearms. Ben loaded up on a rifle and pistol. Walter toted two muskets and a pistol, and Brady, who had sharpshooting skills, toted a rifle and a pistol as well. They also loaded up on additional ammunition and gunpowder.
Ben and his squad members also stocked up on provisions, as the journey to Charles Town in South Carolina would last about a couple of days.
Ben and his squad headed back inside their tent. They laid aside their weapons and personal effects and set to work on changing their uniforms.
"Hey, Brady, you'll need to leave that Ferguson rifle of yours behind," Ben reminded him.
"Yes, sir," Brady answered back to his superior.
While Walter and Brady had no problem with changing their uniforms, Ben found himself staring intently at the new uniform he was going to have to change into. Because the new blue uniform lacked any external indication of rank, Ben almost felt that he was being demoted back to a private.
"Sergeant?" Walter called him. "What's the problem?"
Ben immediately turned around. "What? Oh…nothing," he found himself stammering.
"I see," said Walter, seeing the new uniform, too. "The new uniform. Well…'tis only temporary. You can still get to exercise the privileges of the rank. It just…won't be recognized…externally," he finished."
Ben took off his sergeant's uniform waistcoat and cast it on his bed. Then he donned on the uniform waistcoat of a Continental Army private.
"Finish up quickly, gentlemen," said Ben. "We don't want to be late for our ride."
The squad was waiting at the other edge of the army camp. The clip-clap of horses' hooves could be heard from nearby, as well as the sound of creaking wheels. The carriage had come.
A driver in uniform stepped down his seat.
"Excuse me, sir…but are you Sergeant Davidson?" he inquired.
Ben stepped forward. "I am," he answered the driver simply.
The driver simply stared at him in queer sort of way. "I beg your pardon, sir?" he asked. He had difficulty taking Ben at his word, considering that his uniform was devoid of any external indication of rank.
"I'm still sergeant," Ben told him. "I was not demoted. We were told to…'undergo a change of uniform'," he finished, quoting the words of the Fifth Regiment officer who gave him and his squad those instructions.
The driver needed a moment to let Ben's statements sink in. He took a breath.
"Of course…sergeant," the driver acknowledged. He saluted. "Private Bowles at your service, sir," he said. Ben saluted back.
"I was told to have my carriage available for the use of you…and your men," said the driver.
"Thank you," said Ben. "Let's hope we last this journey, though."
"Journey should only take a couple o' days, sir," said the driver. I'll be taking you and your men as far as the Quarter House up north of the Neck."
"You know your way around?" asked Walter.
"Been traveling this road during my supply missions," the driver answered Walter. "Why don't you all climb on board," he said to the squad.
"Of course," said Ben. He and his men headed to the rear of the hooded carriage and climbed on board. They could feel a jolt on board as the carriage made its move forward.
Their mission was about to begin.
End of Act II