Death or Victory

cantom

cantom

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This may really belong in the Blackpowder forum, but this is where I normally hang out and there may be more people to read it here...I wish there was a history forum.

This looks really interesting, well worth reading. Why were we not given something like this to read in History class in high school?

Anyone who thinks the British had a cakewalk at the Plains of Abraham needs to read this.

I think I'll be getting this book, Dan Snow appears to be a hell of a writer. Death or Victory is the name of the book.

A Bloody Morning


An hour before sunrise the hated drummers marched along the rows of tents. Their sticks beat the "General," driving a clear message into the sleeping brains of the men. Even those befuddled by "screech," cheap rum brewed by boiling the sediment from molasses barrels, were dragged from their slumbers. Men clambered over their drowsy comrades and emerged into the open air. Their feet squelched in the urine-soaked ground. Soldiers invariably eased themselves at the entrance to their tents or even inside where they slept. For an hour a mass of figures in the semi-darkness jostled and cursed. But as the light grew so did their regularity. By the time the drummers beat the "Assembly" at 0500 hours the tents had been struck, kit packed, weapons retrieved and the men bundled onto the assembly area to line up by company and regiment, ready for inspection, colours unfurled, sharp new flints securely fastened in the jaws of their muskets. Companies consisted of between 50 and 100 men and were commanded by a captain who knew every one of them by name. When he was happy that his men were properly attired, their weapons clean and 36 rounds in their cartridge cases he reported to the major or lieutenant colonel and soon the whole force was ready to march.

http://www.nationalpost.com/todays-paper/bloody+morning/3629404/story.html
 
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Just ordered it. What's not to like, Brown Besses, tomahawks and Highlanders?

"Brown Bess"

In the days of lace-ruffles, perukes and brocade
Brown Bess was a partner whom none could despise--
An out-spoken, flinty-lipped, brazen-faced jade,
With a habit of looking men straight in the eyes--
At Blenheim and Ramillies fops would confess
They were pierced to the heart by the charms of Brown Bess.

Though her sight was not long and her weight was not small,
Yet her actions were winning, her language was clear;
And everyone bowed as she opened the ball
On the arm of some high-gaitered, grim grenadier.
Half Europe admitted the striking success
Of the dances and routs that were given by Brown Bess.

When ruffles were turned into stiff leather stocks,
And people wore pigtails instead of perukes,
Brown Bess never altered her iron-grey locks.
She knew she was valued for more than her looks.
"Oh, powder and patches was always my dress,
And I think am killing enough," said Brown Bess.

So she followed her red-coats, whatever they did,
From the heights of Quebec to the plains of Assaye,
From Gibraltar to Acre, Cape Town and Madrid,
And nothing about her was changed on the way;
(But most of the Empire which now we possess
Was won through those years by old-fashioned Brown Bess.)

In stubborn retreat or in stately advance,
From the Portugal coast to the cork-woods of Spain,
She had puzzled some excellent Marshals of France
Till none of them wanted to meet her again:
But later, near Brussels, Napoleon--no less--
Arranged for a Waterloo ball with Brown Bess.

She had danced till the dawn of that terrible day--
She danced till the dusk of more terrible night,
And before her linked squares his battalions gave way,
And her long fierce quadrilles put his lancers to flight:
And when his gilt carriage drove off in the press,
"I have danced my last dance for the world!" said Brown Bess.

If you go to Museums--there's one in Whitehall--
Where old weapons are shown with their names writ beneath,
You will find her, upstanding, her back to the wall,
As stiff as a ramrod, the flint in her teeth.
And if ever we English had reason to bless
Any arm save our mothers', that arm is Brown Bess!

Rudyard Kipling
 
A highly interesting book. Much of it is from the point of view of the French in Quebec as well, a great read for both sides of the fray.

I used to think Canadian history was boring....

[YOUTUBE]9sOTBLqS5L4[/YOUTUBE]
 
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One story I heard was that as the troops were advancing,a British officer, annoyed by the pipers told them to stop playing, The Scots wavered, until another officer countermanded that order. the pipers started again, and the rest is history.;)
 
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