Disclaimer: The Patriot and anything pertaining to it is obviously not mine. However, that does not mean I can not own Jason Isaacs. Mwua ha ha ha ha!
A/N: Yes, it's been a while since I updated. I finally got off my lazy ass and wrote another chapter after several demands from you guys. So here it is. Hope y'all enjoy it!
P.A.T.R.O.I.T
After the first day of training, Tavington was looking forward to the next. The assignment he thought would be so terrible was now shaping up to be quite the amusing project. He could hardly stand the wait of a night to start training again in the morning. It came soon enough though.
The next day, he stalked purposely out onto the field carrying a large basket with the men following in a two neat rows behind him. When they had reached the middle of the training field, he set down the basket and turned to face them. He ordered them all once more in a line before him. Today, their fear was nearly tangible. The pitiful few men that had tried to run during the first training session would swiftly learned to never act cowardly again. Tavington's punishment would be cruel but effective.
Strode up and down the line, speaking loudly so all could here him. "You must not be afraid to shoot a man! The rebels are your enemies no matter if they were once you neighbors! Do you think the Ghost's militia will show you any mercy! We are at war! Mercy has no place in it contrary to popular belief!"
They shifted their weight nervously. The fact that their anxiety was so thick that he could almost taste it made him smile. The expression on his face made them tremble. Ahhh, how he loved instilling fear into these simpletons.
"Where are the men that tried to run away from their training?" Tavington asked calmly as though the matter were no more important than the weather or the color of ones underpants.
Six men stepped forward like they were heading for the gallows. He gestured for them to come form a line near him then he ignored them for a moment. Instead he focused his attention on a young man probably not even out of his teens that was standing with the remaining men in the first line.
"You, boy! Do you believe you can shot a man?" he glared at the poor young fool.
The boy practically jumped out of his skin when addressed. "Y-yes, sir!"
"Really?" Tavington remarked in amusement.
The boy gulped. "Yes, sir!"
"Shot him," Tavington pointed to one of the six men standing away from the others. His voice was smooth and his expression disinterested. He may as well have been pointing out a piece of dust.
"B-beg your p-pard-?"
"Shot him dammit! You heard me!"
The young man nearly dropped his gun. "B-b-but!"
"Now!" Tavington bellowed, finally losing his temper. He drew his own pistol and leveled it at the boy. "Shot him or I will shot you!"
The young man fumbled with his gun in his haste to bring it to bear on his target. Tavington pulled the trigger of his pistol. The gun exploded in a loud bang of released gun powder and the bullet went spinning off in the direction of the hapless young man. The boy's gunshot echoed Tavington's report only a second behind. When the smoke cleared and the echo of the gun shots faded, the young man and his intended target still stood–though barely– on quivering legs. The boy's hat lay on the ground behind him with a bullet hole in it while the man who had been his target stood unscathed but nearly ready to faint from fear. Tavington stood as cool and collected as ever. It seemed as though he has not even batted an eye at the whole endeavor. The rest of the men were to stunned by Tavington's newest training idea to move or make a sound.
"You must learn to put your bullet where you intend it to be! Missing is not an option! It is a waste of a bullet that we can not afford! You shoot what you aim for! Do you understand?" He snapped.
The men jumped and gave quick nervous affirmatives.
"You can not show fear! You must be willing to kill or be killed! Your enemy will not discriminate who they shot while in battle whether you were once a friend or not! You shot or you die. It is that simple." Tavington scowled at all of them for a long moment then he turned his attention back to the boy. "Now. Reload!" he ordered.
The young man hurried to comply.
"Shoot him!" Tavington indicated a new target. "Hit what you aim for."
This time the young man's aim was steady and true. The loud crack from the gun shattered the stillness. His target's hat sailed from his head and landed with a dull thump on the ground.
"Good!" Tavington smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. If anything he looked more sinister when he smiled that way. The men wished he would go back to scowling at them. When he smiled they never knew what the Colonel was thinking and it was usually something bad. Tavington reached down into the basket he brought with him. He pulled out several small green apples. He walked to each of the six men being used for targets and placed an apple on their heads. He turned around, staring at the young man he had chosen as his first victim. "Do it again," he commanded. "Aim for the apple."
The young man swallowed and did as he was told. Over and over they all did the exercise for the rest of the afternoon. The exercise was not only to erase the fear of shooting a man but also to refine their aim. It worked well on both accounts. The men managed to not hit their own while shooting decently at what they aimed for. Tavington felt somewhat satisfied by the out come of teaching them aiming techniques but more so by getting to act cruel and get away with it.
The rest of the month went by quickly. Each day was more fun for him then last while the men remained as fearful of him as the first day they had met him. The fact that they were still frightened of him was a source of great entertainment to him. He did not give them a moment to relax or feel secure. He wanted to keep them off balance. He wanted to teach them to be ready to fight in any situation. He did endless drills, hand to hand combat training–sometimes pitting them against his Dragoons–, and learning to hit moving targets. He taught them how to survive on their own if separated from the army and surrounded by enemies. He taught them to load and shot under any circumstances in any kind of situation or weather. They learned how to march, the rules of war, how to work together, and much more. The colonials learned all to well why the rebels feared the Colonel of the Green Dragoons so much.
P.A.T.R.O.I.T
"My Lord, really, his training is abominable! He is training them to fight like savages!" O'Hara protested after seeing the latest methods Tavington was using. Of course, he had run to Cornwallis right away to squeal on his nemesis. Any opportunity to land Tavington into more trouble was always a welcome indulgence. However, this time Cornwallis was not acting nearly as concerned as O'Hara had hoped he would.
"Perhaps that is the kind of training they require. After all those country men are so unruly." General Cornwallis remarked, shifting through a stack of important looking papers on his desk. He seemed to barely be listening to his subordinate's concerns.
O'Hara frowned. "Indeed, however My Lord, surely you must find his methods unorthodox and cruel."
"I gave him no specific instructions or limitations in the way of training those men. He is allowed to do as he sees fit. However, his month is nearly over and if you are having such trouble in laying your doubts aside about his training methods perhaps it should be your men that put his to the test." Cornwallis suggested.
"I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I do not understand," O'Hara blinked rapidly.
Cornwallis gave him a patient look. "We will test Tavington's militia as planned by having a mock battle. Pick twenty of your best men from you command to face Tavington's. Perhaps this test will prove that Colonel Tavington's training was necessary and effect."
O'Hara frowned. "I am not sure I agree with this plan, my Lord."
"It is only a test."
"My Lord, we do not have enough powder to waste on such a thing," O'Hara protested.
Cornwallis smiled. "Nonsense! We just had a shipment arrive yesterday and one on the way. It will do no harm using a little for such purposes."
"But, my Lord, really-!"
"Are you afraid of losing to a militia of ruffians?" Cornwallis smirked ever so slightly.
"Certainly not, my Lord!" O'Hara cried indignantly.
Cornwallis smiled. "Then you have nothing worry about."
O'Hara bowed smartly before stalking out of the room. This was not at all what he had in mind. Cornwallis was supposed to take his side and agree that Tavington was treating those men appallingly. Now he had somehow wound up having to fight Tavington's men instead. He did not like this idea at all. He just had the feeling that everything was going to go badly. However, he would be damned before losing to Tavington. He smirked to himself. Yes, he would teach those men the Colonel had trained what fighting against real soldiers was like. He hurried off in the direction of Tavington's camp to inform him of Cornwallis's orders.
P.A.T.R.O.I.T
Tavington looked up from the book he had been reading by the cooking fire to stare coldly at O'hara, who had just arrive in his camp. His militia men were arrayed about, sprawled on logs or in the dirt, waiting for the stew to be ready. O'Hara barely managed to hide his sneer of contempt at the motley little band.
"General O'Hara," Tavington greeted with a chilling smile, not bothering to stand up. He knew his lack of respect rankled the doll faced man. His men shifted uneasily about the fire, sensing trouble.
"Colonel Tavington," O'Hara answered in a clipped voice.
"To what do I owe the pleasure-," he spat the word out like it was poison, "-of your company?"
O'Hara raised his chin in a haughty manner. "I have come to inform you that the Lord General Cornwallis will be assessing how well you trained you men tomorrow."
"How so?" Tavington sat up straighter.
"In a mock battle...against my men." O'Hara did not bother to hide his smirk.
Tavington's eyebrows raised in surprise before a slow smile began to spread across his face. It was perhaps more frightening then the cold smiles that never reached his eyes. At least with those smiles one could tell the adder was about the strike. This smile was pure enjoyment–steel hidden behind silk–that made one think of how the devil must look while watching men burn in hell.
O'Hara cleared his voice anxiously. He did not like the look anymore than the men about the fire. "The mock battle will be held in the training field mid-morning. Your men will be facing thirty of my Regulars. I suggest you prepare your men for a quick defeat." he tried to sound arrogant and not in the least bit worried. He failed miserably.
"On the contrary, General O'Hara, we will prepare for a swift victory," Tavington's unnerving smile did not waver. His men sniggered softly. "Until tomorrow, General O'Hara."
O'Hara scowled. "Yes, until tomorrow." He turned and hurried away.
P.A.T.R.O.I.T
Tavington marched out onto the field with his men once more lined up in two rows behind him. Beside him, O'Hara strutted with twenty regulars all in perfectly clean, well tailored uniforms. The Colonel couldn't help but roll his eyes at O'Hara's need to show off his superiority complex. He could sense his men becoming somewhat nervous. O'Hara's men looked sharp and professional. They looked like the well trained, seasoned veterans that they were. Tavington knew though that those regulars had not been as severely trained in battle tactics as his men. They would be easy to defeat if he could just think of a way to stop their anxiety.
He glanced over at O'Hara and smiled slightly when an idea came to mind. "So, General O'Hara, did you dress your men up to look good for your swift defeat?" He could practically feel the regulars bristling. His own men managed to stifle their laughter to quiet snickers.
"At least my men have the decency to dress like proper soldiers," O'Hara sneered.
The two stopped halted in front of General Cornwallis and several other high ranking officers. They stepped forward to greet the officers formally before Cornwallis gave them the rules of the battle. Behind Tavington, the regulars sneered and glared at the militia men. He could hear their soft mutters of contempt. He knew his idea was working.
"They do not expect us to fight these ruffians, do they?" one of the regulars grumbled just loud enough for the militia men to hear.
Another snorted rudely. "Why should we? They are militia. It is insulting."
"Look at them. What a pathetic lot."
"We will have to put them in their place."
"Militia will never be as good as Regulars."
"Even with Tavington this fight will be a lark."
When Tavington rejoined his men he could practically feel them shaking with barely suppressed anger. Perfect. He marched them across the field to take up their positions. They stood less than thirty paces from the regulars.
"This will be a mock battle, men! No killing..." he paused for a moment to smile coldly. "That does not mean, however, that we can not rough them up a little bit. General Cornwallis set no rules against hand to hand combat."
He watched the slow, wolfish smiles spread across their faces with a smirk.
"These men are your enemies while this battle is on. No mercy! I do not think I need to point out just how those men feel about you. They seem to have done that themselves. Now form a line!"
They hustled to do as they were ordered.
"We will be using soft wood pellets. If you are 'shot' and you are hit in a place that would cripple or kill you In a normal battle then you must drop to the ground. You are not allowed to rise until this battle is over. No excuses or pardons! You will shoot twice then rush them. Load your guns and prepare yourselves!"
A moment later, Cornwallis gave the signal to begin. The first round of fire shattered the air. Only two fell on each side. Tavington's militia moved forward, reloaded quickly, then fired again. This time their aim was better. Two militia men dropped while five of the regulars did also. Tavington waited until O'Hara's men were beginning to reload their weapons. He gave a shout and his men rushed forward, slamming into the regulars head on. The regulars were to stunned by the move to retaliate. His men fought fiercely. To them it was not a 'mock' battle it was a chance to show the stuck up regulars that colonials could fight. More regulars 'fell' then militia men. O'Hara's men were no match against Tavington's in hand to hand combat. It was almost embarrassing to watch the regulars being beaten like little girls. In a matter of minutes it was all over. Not one regular was left standing while three quarters of the militia stood unscathed.
Cornwallis strode across the field coming to a halt in front of Colonel Tavington. "That was rather a barbaric move, Colonel Tavington, but effective. My compliments to you, Colonel Tavington. You have trained your men well. You are dismissed to take them back to camp then I would like to see you in my office."
"Yes, my Lord," Tavington bowed before turning back to his men.
O'Hara glowered. This was not at all like what he had planned. He had thought his idea was fail proof. Colonel Tavington training a small band of colonials. Tavington was sure to fall flat on its face. The Colonel hated the colonials. Somehow though the whole plan had turned itself around on him. Now the colonials had become one of the best trained fighting forces in their army. How had this happened? It wasn't meant to be this way at all!
He gritted his teeth as he glared at Tavington and his group of miscreants. The one time he finally thought he could get that bastard back for what he had done to him at the ball. He stopped just short of stomping his foot in rage. Perhaps being raised with so many sisters did have an adverse reaction. There were to many of their temper qualities he had picked up.
The brigadier general sighed heavily. What was he to do? How could he turn this situation around to his advantage? He stood still for a moment, then an evil smirk began to spread across his feminine features. He could take all the credit for it. After all it had been his idea from the beginning. It was he who had suggested the punishment. If Tavington did well then it was indeed he who should be given the praise.
"General O'Hara, come with me." Cornwallis commanded.
Feeling empowered, he turned and strode after the General without question. Let Tavington fantasize about all the praise he would receive. O'Hara would have it all snatched away from right under his nose. Oh, the plan was even better than the first one.
P.A.T.R.O.I.T
O'Hara waited patiently in Cornwallis's office for Colonel Tavington to arrive. He was eager to set his plans into action. He was only waiting for the General to give him just the right opening. It came much sooner than he expected.
"Colonel Tavington has done remarkably well." Cornwallis commented as he poured himself a glass of port then sat behind his desk.
O'Hara nodded. "Yes, his training methods were as effective as you suspected, my Lord. They learned rather well beneath Colonel Tavington's tutelage." He despised having to agree but it was all for the greater good.
"Colonel Tavington has born up to this challenge far better than I could have ever anticipated. It seems this punishment as honed his leadership qualities." Cornwallis remarked, sipping himself a glass of port.
"Indeed, it was fortunate that I suggested he be given the task."
Cornwallis nodded. "Yes, it was quite a brilliant bit of genius on your part. How did you ever think that he could do such a task?"
"It just seemed his forte, my Lord. I thought perhaps his ambitious behavior needed to be directed to more constructive activities then raids."
"He has much to thank you for then, General O'Hara."
O'hara adopted a humble expression. "No, that is not at all necessary. I was only hoping to help all parties in concern. There is no need for such things."
"Come, General O'Hara, you must receive some praise for your part in all of this. I am sure Colonel Tavington would agree." Cornwallis said.
"I am certain he would, my Lord," O'hara replied with a gracious smile before turning to hide his smug expression by looking out the window. Victory was only a few moments away. His revenge would be swift and brutal. He would show Tavington that he was not the only one who could attain the perfect revenge in a cruel manner.
Tavington strode proudly into Cornwallis's office and sketched a bow before clasping his hands behind his back. He had been waiting for this moment for a month. Finally, he would hear some praise for his efforts. He would receive long over-due credit. He could practically hear it already.
"You have done an admirable job, Colonel Tavington, in preparing these men for combat. I am suitably impressed." General Cornwallis smiled.
Tavington seemed to swell with pride.
"I suppose you have proven to myself and General O'Hara that the militia as well as yourself are worthy of respect and a fair measure of praise." Cornwallis glanced over at O'Hara, who hastened to agree.
"Indeed, my Lord," O'Hara smiled through tight lips.
Tavington somehow managed to hold back his smirk.
"Very well done, Colonel Tavington. Your men will be transferred to your command. Your punishment is finished. I will be giving you a new assignment tomorrow."
The Colonel allowed himself a brief smile.
"General O'Hara, I am sure as a word or two for you as well," Cornwallis prompted his second in command.
"Yes, well, my compliments you, Colonel Tavington. You trained your men very well," O'Hara said through gritted teeth. He looked like he wanted to swallow his own tongue.
"Thank you, General O'Hara," Tavington smiled another one of those devilish smiles. Just to hear the pompous little ninny forced to give him praise was worth the entire month he had lost when he could have been doing much more important actives. It was perhaps an even sweeter victory then the one he had at the ball.
"I think it is General O'Hara to whom you should give a good deal of thanks to, Colonel Tavington. He was the one who recommended that you be the best choice to train the colonials. He had a much more faith in your abilities then I did at the time." General Cornwallis remarked from behind his desk.
Tavington's eye twitched. Surely, Cornwallis was not proposing that he do such a thing. O'Hara had suggested him for this task as a way to get back at him. Why should he thank him for that? The only reason he had worked so hard to train those men was to make that little prick feel like an ass. There was no way he was going to turn around and–
"Surely, Colonel Tavington, you can think up a proper way to show O'Hara your appreciation. His gesture helped to raise your esteem in my eyes once more," Cornwallis remarked casually.
O'Hara was smirking much to smugly. Tavington's eyes widened in horror. It all suddenly made sense. The bastard! He had gotten to Cornwallis first. O'Hara had somehow influenced the General in seeing how it had been he who had directed it all from the beginning. All of his hopes of praise and further advancement seemed to be implode. He wanted to kill something. Badly.
"Yes, my Lord, I am certain I can," he said through gritted teeth.
"You are dismissed, Colonel Tavington. You have the rest of the day to yourself," Cornwallis gestured toward the door.
Tavington bowed stiffly before stalking out of the room. He had the urge to slam the door and stomp down the hall like a little child. He barely restrained himself from doing it. How the hell had it all gone wrong? Everything had been perfect! The praise, the compliments, finally getting some respect only to have it all turn away from him and onto O'Hara! How? The sneaky little son of a bitch! He would pay for this. Oh yes! He would certainly find a way to give O'Hara his 'thanks.' Perhaps a few rounds of ale at the pub would help give him ideas. He smiled tightly, heading off to find Bordon and drag him along once more.
P.A.T.R.I.O.T.
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