[legendsport]

PART VII - BOMBS BURSTING IN AIR... AND ELSEWHERE

TALLADEGA, MISSISSIPPI TERRITORY, NOVEMBER 9, 1813: Andrew Jackson, promoted to Major General and put in command of U.S. forces in the south was tasked with one simple mission: defeat the Red Stick Creeks and restore order in the Mississippi Territory. If evidence was found of the Spanish providing support to the Red Sticks, Jackson was empowered to march on Pensacola. Despite the poor performance of the U.S. Army against the British and Indians in the north, Jackson planned on a quick victory in the Creek War.

Talladega was a Creek village a short distance east of the Coosa River, which Jackson had crossed with his "army" of around 2,000 in October. He had received a call for help from the friendly Creeks at Talladega, under attack from Red Stick warriors. The battle was short, but fierce. The Red Sticks had killed about 100 of the Tennessee militiamen, but Jackson's men had inflicted four times that many casualties on the Red Sticks, and carried the day. Now Jackson was on the horns of a dilemma. He stepped atop of barrel of gunpowder to address his men.

"Men, we have won victories every time we have the faced the enemy!" he began - and this was true, the Americans had done very well thus far. "We are winning this war, something our comrades up North can not claim!" Some of the men smiled at this, others just looked angry.

Jackson tried to look as many of the men in the eye as possible as he continued, "Now our work is not near done. Yet I know that your enlistments are expiring and most of you are planning on heading back to Tennessee." Now a large number of men were looking down at their boots.

"Men, we need to stick together! We need to show them fancy Virginia boys how real men fight a war!" Jackson's comment was an indirect attack on Winfield Scott, a Virginian thirty years younger than Jackson who somehow had been given command of the Army of the Centre - and had his tail whipped by Wellington.

He was losing them and he knew it. "Now the only way we can do that is to stick together. We can finish the Red Sticks in a few weeks if we stay together. If you boys up and leave I'm gonna have to train up a whole new batch of soldiers." He paused for effect and added, "And they might send me Georgia boys! And by the Eternal no Georgia boy is half as good as a Tennessee boy!"

He paused again and then finished. "I know you've got homes, wives and children to return to. But the work we're doing here will protect those families, those homes. We need to finish what we started. I hope you'll stay and finish this."

He stepped down and left to a smattering of applause.

By December, Jackson's force was down to 500 men and he was forced to retire to Fort Strother and await reinforcement.

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TRINITY CHURCH, NEW YORK CITY, DECEMBER 11, 1813: The Duke of Wellington finished his prayers. As usual he had prayed for the safety of his men, and for the souls of those who had been killed under his command.

That number had grown large, and would likely grow larger still. Though there were peace talks underway between the British and United States in Ghent, Belgium, the war continued. His army had invested New York City just two weeks earlier, meeting no resistance as they passed empty forts while marching down the east bank of the Hudson River.

Now Wellington had a fleet at hand. With the blockade of New England no longer in effect, the ships that had been on blockade duty there were now at his disposal. And he had plans for them.

He stepped out onto Broadway into the December chill. "This is no weather for campaigning, is it Colonel?" he asked Colonel James Butcher, who had joined him in prayer.

Butcher shivered a bit. "No, sir. It certainly is not."

The corner of the Duke's mouth curled up. "Then that is precisely why we shall have a little jaunt. I shan't call it a campaign, but movement does keep one warm," Now smiling fully, he concluded: "Therefore we shall move."

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THE EASTERN BRANCH OF THE POTOMAC RIVER, MD, DECEMBER 20, 1813: The British had caught them by surprise. President Madison could not believe it, but it was true. Despite Secretary of War John Armstrong's assertion that Washington was an unworthy target for invasion (Baltimore was where he was convinced the British would land - if they bothered at all with the peace talks now underway).

Despite Armstrong's theory, Madison found himself riding in a carriage to watch as a scraped-together force would try to stop Wellington's veterans before they could cross the Potomac and march on Washington.

Armstrong was silent as he sat beside the President. Madison was not a cruel man, he would not sink to reminding Armstrong of his error. It did rankle him, however that 15,000 men were defending Baltimore but barely 3,000 would try to hold off 25,000 British soldiers at a bridge in Bladensburg, Maryland.

"Do you believe General Winder's plan will succeed?" the President asked.

Armstrong thought a moment before responding. "The British must seize that bridge to cross the river. So long as Winder is successful at firing it and making them attempt to force a crossing, we have a chance."

Madison stared out the window as the countryside slid past. He had little faith in Winder. The man was inept. And the safety of the nation's capital was in his hands. So far the only generals who seemed even half competent were Harrison in the west and Jackson in the south. Scott... well he might prove competent were he given a trained army, and first he'd need to be released by the enemy.

"I'm not sure this is prudent, sir," Armstrong said softly, snapping Madison out of his reverie.

Madison barked a short, rueful laugh. "Prudent? John, it shall not matter in the balance of things if I am here at the bridge or back in Washington city. If Wellington crosses the Potomac he shall have the city."

The sound of gunfire announced their arrival at the battleground. Madison opened the door and stepped out before Armstrong could stop him.

A soldier in U.S. blue almost knocked him over as he ran down the road - away from the bridge.

Madison shouted at him, "Stop! Where is your musket, sir?" Then he noticed others also fleeing. His eyes widened as he saw horses crossing the bridge - and atop those horses, men in British red.

Another soldier was running past and Madison grasped at his arm. The man glared at him. "Release me you damned fool!" Shocked, Madison let go of the man who fled immediately. He too, had dropped his weapon.

The President took three steps toward the bridge. He heard another soldier yelling about rifles. He remembered Armstrong saying how effective the British riflemen had been and again wished he had some of Harrison or Jackson's men, who were also skilled with the new rifled musket.

He suddenly became aware of the fact that there were no longer any U.S. soldiers in the area. Fearful, he sprang towards the carriage, and had a glimpse of Armstrong's head and arms reaching out for him from the open door when a horse skidded to a halt between them and a sword appeared inches from his nose.

Madison could not see the man holding the sword - he was too focused on the sharp steel of its blade - but he heard a clipped British voice say, "I should advise you to take care, sir. You are now a prisoner of His Majesty's forces."

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ABOARD HMS TONNANT, OFF BALTIMORE, MD, DECEMBER 25, 1813: The Duke of Wellington could hardly believe his luck. What a Christmas gift! The President of the United States had been captured at the Battle of Bladensburg, the subsequent looting and burning of Washington city paled in comparison. Wellington forced himself to think on the matter at hand - the taking of Baltimore. But first, there was a small matter to deal with...

"Send them in, ensign," Wellington said to the man guarding his door.

The ensign saluted and stepped out of the cabin, returning a moment later with a pair of Americans.

Wellington sized them up. Both appeared to be frightened out of their wits. He tried to put them at ease. "Gentlemen, please have a seat."

The two men sat down as Wellington crossed to a table. "Would you like a drink?" he asked. Both men accepted the offer. "Sailors are fond of their spirits, I will say that," he said as he poured. "I can certainly understand. I'm not much of a sailor myself."

He handed a glass to each man, then sat down across from them. "Which of you is the prisoner exchange officer?" he asked.

The taller of the pair nodded. "I am, sir. Colonel John Stuart Skinner, at your service."

Wellington eyed the other man. "I can understand why Colonel Skinner is here, but why are you here, Mr. Key?"

The younger man Francis Scott Key, was a civilian. But he was self-assured as he replied, "Sir, I am here to help the Colonel plead on behalf of Dr. Beanes."

Wellington shook his head and frowned. "Dr. Beanes had no authority to place my men under arrest." He took a dim view of civilians taking on the perogatives of the military.

Skinner opened his mouth to speak, but Key responded first. "General, the doctor has shown great kindness to injured British soldiers. Certainly that weighs in his favor."

Wellington had already decided to release the doctor, but he wanted to play out the string. "That is true. I have several affidavits from British soldiers confirming that," he said and saw Key glance at Skinner hopefully.

"So you will release him to us, then?" Skinner asked.

"Yes, the doctor may return to Baltimore with you," Wellington said and both men smiled. "As soon as the battle is over," he added and saw both smiles disappear.

Several hours later, after a fine meal with Wellington and a pair of British admirals, Key and Skinner stood at the rail watching as a score of British warships shelled Fort McHenry, the primary defensive fortification in Baltimore harbor.

Key pointed to one of the British ships as it fired. "What are those?" he asked a nearby sailor.

"Congreve rockets, sir," the man replied.

Key shielded his eyes. "Their glare is fearsome."

Skinner shook his head. "How can anyone stand up under such bombardment?" he asked as the men watched timed balls exploding above the fort while others slammed into the massive walls. At first, the fort had fired back, but the British vessels drew out of range of the fort's cannon, yet could still reach it with their own.

As dark fell, Key shook his head. "The fort shall fall, and soon thereafter the city." He placed a hand on Skinner's shoulder. "Come, let's go below. I need rest."