Some of the British tried to do the
same. But Braddock had no knowledge of savage warfare. To fight in
such a manner seemed to him shocking. It was unsoldierly; it was
cowardly. So he swore savagely at his men, calling them cowards,
and beat them back into line with the flat of his sword. And thus
huddled together they stood a brilliant, living target for the
bullets of the savages.
Braddock himself fought with fury. He dashed here and there, swearing,
commanding, threatening. Four horses were shot under him, and at
last he himself fell wounded to death.
Washington too fought with fearless bravery, trying to carry out
Braddock's frenzied orders. And although he escaped unhurt his
clothes were riddled with holes, and twice his horse was shot under
him.
For nearly three hours the terrible carnage lasted. Then flesh
and blood could stand no more, and the men broke rank and fled.
All night they fled in utter rout, bearing with them their wounded
leader.
At length they reached Dunbar's camp. But even them they did not
pause. For the news of the disaster had thrown the whole camp into
confusion. Frantic orders were given, and obeyed with frenzied
haste. Wagon loads of stores were burned, barrels of gunpowder
were staved in, and the contents poured into the river; shells and
bullets were buried. The, the work of destruction complete, the
whole army moved on again in utter rout.
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